Because I challenged my wife’s untouchable “white knight,” she sent me to the Crawford Research Institute as an experimental subject. She said I was too consumed by jealousy and needed a small punishment. I was injected with unknown substances, force-fed drugs, given spoiled food, and beaten. After a year of inhuman torment, as she wished, I became obedient. She came as scheduled to pick me up, standing high above, staring at me coldly: “Have you learned your lesson?” A shudder rippled through me as I hastily dropped to my knees, admitting fault: “Master, I’ll be an obedient dog.” But she broke down. ###The harsh sting of slaps yanked me out of unconsciousness, the beeping of monitors a constant background noise. I curled up, my body pulling at the festering wounds, stinking of infection, each movement igniting a pain so intense that even a moan refused to escape my lips. I knew it was time for another injection. Needle marks covered my arms so densely that I couldn’t feel them anymore. I was too weakened by the pain to resist. “Not dead yet? If not, wake up—it’s time for your shot.” The man withdrew his hand, a mocking grin stretching across his face. A pair of sharp pincers dug into one of my open wounds, twisting mercilessly. I screamed, raw and primal. Another set of pincers stabbed into a different gash, silencing me instantly. I choked back the scream that had barely left my mouth. These monsters once told me that the louder I yelled, the more eager they’d be to torment me, pushing until I nearly died. Once, after being injected with an unknown serum, the pain felt like my insides were being torn apart. I screamed uncontrollably. Seeing my frenzied reaction, they grew more excited, injecting me with multiple substances until I passed out from the agony. They’d throw water on me to wake me up and then douse my back repeatedly with boiling water, calling it “artistic expression.” My back would blister, seeping thick, yellow pus. My teeth were knocked out long ago during slaps, and my hearing had been nearly destroyed. After that, I never dared scream again. No matter how excruciating, I swallowed my cries, praying silently, “Pass out soon. If I pass out, I won’t feel the pain.” “Look at you, clinging to life like a pathetic rat!” The man scoffed and kicked me hard in the wound, causing my breath to hitch and my face to go pale. Laughter erupted around me. “Still not dead? Just as we thought—worthless!” “Yes, yes, I’m nothing, just a lowly creature at your mercy,” I knelt and pleaded, echoing their words. Only when I played along did their mood improve, sparing me worse torment. After a year in this place, I’d grown used to such humiliation. When I first arrived, I was proud, defiant. I fought back, clashing with them. But a few enforcers pinned me down, tying me to the experimental table, injecting me with all manner of concoctions. I was force-fed drugs and even live insects. My stomach wrenched with pain every day. Over time, the relentless torture broke my spirit, turning me into an obedient tool. I knew these men were sent by Vanessa Hale, who watched over me through them. It was all her doing. She called me unruly and said I needed to be taught a lesson for challenging Marcus Sterling. So, she sent me here for “discipline.” And so, I endured inhuman abuse. ###

But this time was different. One of the guards pulled out a phone—I recognized it as mine, confiscated when I first arrived. “Your time’s almost up. You finally turned into the obedient dog Vanessa wanted. She said you could talk to her. She’ll be here soon.” The call connected quickly, her voice coming through, cold and void of emotion. “Zachary Monroe, after all this time, do you look forward to coming home?” Tears of relief ran down my face as I dropped to my knees. “Yes, yes, I can’t wait! If you tell me to go east, I won’t go west…” “I’m finally going to escape this place!” Vanessa seemed satisfied with my response and ended the call. The guards, knowing I was about to leave, seemed disappointed that their entertainment was over. They cracked their knuckles and spoke of a send-off. I was stripped and hung upside down at the entrance of the Crawford Research Institute. Every employee who passed by marked their arrival by lashing me with a whip laced with salt and chili powder. The deeper the welt, the bigger the bonus they received. They etched designs into my skin with surgical blades, calling it borderless art. When I passed out from the pain, they revived me with electric shocks, starting the torture all over again. I became nothing more than their toy. The day Vanessa Hale came to get me, they dressed me in the same clothes I wore when I arrived, wrapping my wounds in thick bandages to prevent blood from soaking through. After a year, I finally saw daylight again. I stumbled out of the building. Vanessa stood by her car, dressed impeccably, smoking a cigarette. When she saw me, her expression turned cold. “It’s been a year, Zachary. Have you learned your lesson?” The moment I heard her, I fell to my knees instinctively, knocking my forehead on the ground. “I was wrong, I’ll never go against you again, or Marcus. I’ll do anything you say.” I was terrified she’d send me back here. A fleeting look of surprise crossed her face before a smile appeared. She nodded approvingly. “Not bad. It seems this year wasn’t wasted. You’re obedient now.” “Keep it that way, or back here you go.” At those words, I hit my head on the ground harder, the impact splitting the skin, blood trickling down my face. Vanessa’s eyes showed a hint of disgust. “Get up. Don’t you care that the ground is filthy?” I didn’t. In this place, they’d force me to drink vile black serum, swallow live rats, and choke down concoctions teeming with bacteria and viruses. The mere memory made me retch. Unable to help it, I vomited in front of Vanessa, yellow-green bile mixed with blood spilling onto the ground. Eating those things had left my stomach writhing with pain daily. My body was now just a vessel of poison, ready to burst beyond repair. I sat by the car window, ashamed and distancing myself from her, afraid that my stench would offend her. Her expression softened. “What’s wrong? Stomach bothering you?” ###

Stomach pain was an understatement; my stomach had been corroded and ruined by what they had fed me. I knew all too well the number of times I had vomited blood. “You’ve changed a lot. Looks like sending you there was worth it,” Vanessa Hale remarked as she sat nearby, observing my compliant behavior. My body trembled instinctively. At the Crawford Research Institute, daily beatings were routine. They locked me in with pythons, just to see how much a human could endure before being devoured. If my reactions weren’t up to their expectations, they would escalate to electric shocks, rinse my eyes with pepper spray, burn my chest with searing irons, or let flesh-eating bees sting me until I passed out and needed resuscitation. The mere thought made me shudder, leaving me too scared to even consider disobedience. Perhaps noticing my fearful demeanor and the blood still clinging to my lips, Vanessa’s gaze softened. Her voice lost its harsh edge, turning into a gentle reprimand. “I sent you there to learn discipline, not to destroy yourself. Look at you now, your stomach is in shambles.” She reached out to cradle my face. To me, the gesture was as terrifying as a death sentence. I flinched, nearly losing control, and dropped to the floor, pleading. “Please, don’t hit me! I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you say—just don’t hurt me again.” I was like a pitiful dog, desperately begging for her mercy. I wouldn’t dare desire my master anymore. When I was first sent to the institute, they warned me: never look at Vanessa Hale that way again—she belonged to Marcus Sterling. Back then, I was defiant, taking pride in the bond we shared, refusing to bow to anyone. The first round of beatings didn’t break me, nor did the second. But when Robert Lang, her trusted bodyguard, injected me with that vile black serum, my spirit shattered. Under their creative and unending torture, I became an object—a thing to be used and discarded. What right did someone like me have to get close to Vanessa Hale? Her outstretched hand froze midair, her eyes glimmering with anger and confusion. She stared at me, searching for answers in my face. I could only lower my head, unable to meet her eyes. A dog has no right to make eye contact with its master. I understood that well. Yet, Vanessa seemed even more infuriated. Why? Isn’t this what she wanted? To my surprise, instead of taking me back to Hale Estate, she drove me to Sterling Enterprises. Throughout the five years we had been together, she had never allowed me to set foot in that place. Even when I offered to visit, wanting to show support and deliver lunch to assert my position over Marcus, she had shut me down with cold finality. But now, she was taking me there willingly. The company was hosting a product launch, and the employees lined the halls, clapping as we arrived. Marcus Sterling stood front and center. He handed me a bouquet, his smile warm and welcoming. “Welcome back, brother.” That smile sent an icy wave down my spine, my legs trembling uncontrollably. I had seen that face too many times at Crawford Research Institute. Each time, he brought new, creative ways to torment me. The staff at the institute replicated his ideas, filming my screams and delirium as entertainment. “Hmm, not brutal enough.” “What about roasting his back until it oozes, then sprinkling chili powder on it?” “Dead rats are good, too. Should taste interesting.” They’d openly discuss the next method of torture, with no hint of remorse. ###

Vanessa Hale sending me to the Crawford Research Institute as an experimental subject was all because of him. I was her latest fascination, but Marcus Sterling was her “white knight,” holding a permanent place in her heart. So, she believed every word he said. Marcus narrowly escaped a car accident that almost disfigured him. He accused me, claiming I had cut his brake lines simply because his car was parked at the Hale Estate for a couple of days. Important documents went missing from his office, derailing a crucial business deal. The next day, those same documents mysteriously appeared in my room. A few days later, Marcus, with a noticeable limp, approached Vanessa and claimed it was all my doing. He said I had even hired people to beat him up, leaving him near death, almost taking him away from her forever. Vanessa didn’t hesitate; she believed him without question. She froze all my bank accounts and confined me to a room under round-the-clock surveillance. I couldn’t step outside, not even for the bathroom, without being watched. I was furious. It felt like a violation of my basic dignity. When Marcus showed up, gloating and smug, I grabbed a vase and threw it at him without thinking. I never expected him to stay rooted, making no move to dodge. The vase hit him squarely on the forehead. Blood trickled down slowly. The surveillance cameras captured everything in perfect clarity. For the first time, Vanessa Hale lost her composure. Her face was a storm of rage, but her hands were gentle as she touched Marcus’ bleeding head, before rushing him to Mercy Hill Medical Center. This time, there was no defense I could make. Vanessa listened to Marcus’ suggestion and sent me to Crawford for “training.” “You’ve really let me down this time, Zachary. I hope that when you come back, you’ll understand your mistakes,” she said, disappointment written all over her face. In the lab, I endured two brutal beatings before Marcus himself showed up. He ordered the guards to inject me with that black serum and forced a three-day-old dead rat into my mouth, making me swallow it. Then he lifted the mask off one of the guards. I knew that face well. It was Robert Lang, Vanessa’s personal bodyguard—and once mine. So, Vanessa had known all along. I felt my resolve disintegrate, my spirit crushed, leaving me an empty shell. My brokenness drew stares, and Vanessa’s expression grew displeased. She leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Zachary Monroe, I thought you’d changed, but you’re still the same. Do you want to go back to ‘training’?” Fear gripped me, and I almost dropped to my knees. But I realized we were standing at the entrance of Sterling Enterprises—I couldn’t embarrass her here. I swallowed my instinct and stayed upright. To Marcus, the whisper appeared intimate, and a shadow of jealousy darkened his face. He walked up quickly, pulling me into a strong embrace. But it wasn’t just an embrace. He squeezed my wounds with enough pressure to make my teeth clench, cold sweat trickling down my back. I didn’t dare react. Screaming meant punishment—it was instinctual now. Years of torment had hardwired that into me. “It’s all in the past now. Let’s make amends,” Marcus said, extending his hand. I hesitated, and Vanessa slapped my shoulder hard. “What’s wrong with you? He’s offering peace, and you’re standing there like a fool?” Her slap landed right on a painful spot. I felt the blood seeping slowly under my shirt, concealed only by the black fabric. The stumble didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. He stepped closer, a sly smirk on his face, and punched me in the chest. “Looks like your training paid off, brother. Your chest is as solid as steel—it even hurt my hand,” he said, pretending to massage his knuckles. A muffled groan escaped my lips as I suppressed the pain. My chest, wrapped tightly in bandages, still bore the remnants of four broken ribs from the institute. Vanessa noticed my slight reaction and shot me a sharp glance. “Enough with the act. Get in, now,” she commanded. I followed her unsteadily. This was Sterling Enterprises’ luxury swimwear launch. Models in swimsuits strutted down the runway, showcasing the latest designs. A mischievous coworker called out, “Hey, I heard Mr. Monroe’s been training for a year. I bet he’d look better in a swimsuit than those models! Why not have him show off?” The crowd erupted with cheers. The playful culture of the company often saw employees and even executives participating in shows like this. Panic surged through me. Taking off my shirt meant exposing the network of scars covering my body. Would Vanessa really go that far? To my horror, after a moment’s contemplation, Vanessa agreed. Seeing my reluctance, she cast me a look of disdain before leading me backstage. Marcus, now visibly rattled, stepped in to intervene. “Vanessa, he doesn’t seem too eager. Why not let it go? You know my physique isn’t bad either!” he added, throwing in a wink. But Vanessa wasn’t swayed this time. “Marcus, stay out of this. He trained for a year; I need to see if it made a difference. He’ll be taking over eventually.” With that, she led me back toward the stage. No one saw the fleeting look of jealousy and worry that crossed Marcus’ face. Vanessa’s hand was as soft as I remembered from our early days, back when she confessed her feelings and gave me the hope I had clung to. But now, the warmth only felt suffocating. The memories of a year of torment stripped any comfort they once held. I clenched my fists, yanking my hand from hers. Her expression darkened with irritation. “Zachary, what’s your problem?” “This isn’t for you; it’s to pave the way for the future. Didn’t you once say we should face everything together?” For a moment, a touch of tenderness returned to her eyes. But I was trapped, whispering, “Shouldn’t it be Marcus standing with you for that?” Vanessa’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I would never—” Before she could finish, I dropped to my knees, bowing my head. “Please, Ms. Hale, I’m just a lowly dog. I’m not worthy of you. Let me go.” “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have crossed Marcus. My jealousy was my downfall. I’ve paid for it. Treat me like the garbage I am and throw me away!” Vanessa’s eyes flared with anger. “Zachary Monroe, I didn’t send you to that place to come back as a broken man. Looks like you’re hopeless.” Her words struck a strange note. Was she saying that sending me there was supposed to be for my good? How absurd. Suppressing the bitter taste rising in my throat, I continued my act. “Yes, yes, I’m worthless. Marcus Sterling is the one worthy of you.” Before I could finish— “Enough, Zachary! You’re insufferable!” I staggered behind them, trying to keep up. This was Sterling Enterprises’ launch event for their new luxury swimwear line. The runway was full of models clad in sleek, high-end swimwear, showcasing the latest collection. Suddenly, one of the more mischievous colleagues shouted, “I heard Mr. Monroe’s been through a year of intense training. From the looks of it, his chest muscles put the models’ to shame. How about Mr. Monroe tries on a swimsuit and gives us a show?” The room erupted in laughter and chatter. Marcus Sterling’s confident expression faltered for the first time, his smile fading. Terror gripped me. Stripping down would mean exposing the web of scars that crisscrossed my body. Would Vanessa Hale really push me to that point, tearing away even this final shroud of dignity?

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Two cars collided, and I, along with another pregnant woman, was rushed into the maternity ward. “This patient’s water has broken, she needs emergency care! Quick, get a family member to sign!” Just as I was about to be wheeled into the operating room, I quickly said, “My husband is busy, I can sign myself!” Before I could finish, the other pregnant woman’s husband rushed up, covered in blood and panic-stricken. “Save her first, she’s in worse condition; she has a heart condition!” Despite his blood-streaked face, I recognized him immediately. Dr. Samuel Hartley. My husband. “I’m Dr. Samuel Hartley from Midtown Medical Center. Trust my professional judgment,” he announced confidently. I reached out to him, only for him to push my hand away sharply. “But this patient’s water has already broken,” someone argued. Samuel cast a brief glance my way. “She won’t die. I’m her husband; I can sign the waiver.” The car accident had happened so suddenly, leaving the hospital staff overwhelmed and short-handed. The surgery slot, initially set for me, was quickly redirected because my husband, the highly regarded OB-GYN at Midtown Medical Center, had made the call. Trusting his judgment, they postponed my surgery. As my gurney was pushed aside, Samuel didn’t spare me even a glance. His focus was entirely on Lila Whitmore, his expression a mix of concern and devotion. “Don’t worry, I’ll personally handle your surgery once the paperwork clears,” he whispered to her, his voice laced with a tenderness that stung my heart. Lacking an available bed, I was left in the hallway, forced to watch as he lavished care on someone else. The other patients around me were surrounded by anxious loved ones, arms offering support. But my source of support had been granted permission to help someone else—his ‘goddess.’ He passed by me, pausing for a moment but never turning back. His words echoed coldly as he walked away: “You’re not going to die. Trust my professional judgment.” I didn’t know how long that surgery took. Exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted into a fitful sleep. When I was woken up, a flurry of medical staff surrounded me. “The patient is experiencing acute amniotic fluid embolism! Contact the blood bank immediately!” “Where’s Dr. Hartley? He’s the only one in the city who’s handled this before! We’re not equipped for this!” The rush of footsteps and urgent voices filled the corridor as male nurses wheeled my bed at a breakneck pace, offering reassurance. “Don’t worry. Your husband is the most renowned OB-GYN in the city. He’s handled amniotic fluid embolisms with a 99% success rate. You’re young and strong; you’ll make it.” Bright white lights flooded my vision as I was wheeled into the operating room. Amid the chaos, I heard data about my vitals being read aloud. “No! Her oxygen levels are dropping too fast; she won’t last much longer! Where is Dr. Hartley?” My attending physician’s hand was icy as he gripped mine. “Dr. Hartley finished Lila Whitmore’s surgery and left… said she wanted soup, and he was going to make it for her himself,” a nurse stammered. “Call him!” “No answer…” “The baby! There’s no heartbeat! The mother’s losing consciousness—she won’t hold on!” My attending doctor squeezed my hand with conviction. “As long as I’m responsible for you, I won’t give up. You need to fight, too. Notify Pediatrics—we’re saving both mother and child.” I blinked weakly. If someone in this world wanted me to live, I had to try. Trainee doctors scrambled to reach Samuel, while my attending physician led a team of specialists in a race against time. Bags of blood were brought in, used up, and replaced, as beads of sweat gathered on the doctors’ foreheads. The weight in my chest felt unbearable. Suddenly, one of the interns held up my phone triumphantly. “Dr. Hartley’s calling back!” The speaker was activated, and the whole room heard his voice, sharp and impatient. “Morgan! Where’s your delivery bag? You won’t need it anytime soon, so I’m taking it to Lila.”

I saw my attending doctor’s frown deepen as he handed his tools to the senior physician beside him. He approached the intern and took the sanitized phone. “Dr. Hartley, your wife is experiencing an acute amniotic fluid embolism. We need your expertise immediately to help save her,” he said firmly. The call disconnected with a cold series of beeps. “What’s wrong with him? Ignoring his wife to cater to someone else?” an angry voice burst out. “Some ‘expert’—he’s just a total jerk!” I couldn’t help but smile faintly at the truth in his words. Realizing the potential effect of his outburst, my attending doctor looked apologetic. Through the fog of anesthesia, I managed a silent glance that said it was okay. Because he was right. But that fleeting understanding gave way to a deep, gnawing despair that swallowed the last remnants of my resolve. “Patient’s oxygen is plummeting! Request more blood from the bank!” Riverside Community Hospital began urgently requesting blood from across the city, and news of the embolism spread quickly. Just then, a doctor from Midtown Medical Center entered the room, a familiar face who had handled such cases with Samuel. “Can you believe it? Dr. Hartley’s wife is giving birth here too. I happened to come by and rushed over to help.” Dr. Hartley’s wife? My attending physician instinctively looked at me. Samuel’s colleague, already experienced from assisting him before, took charge smoothly. The tension began to ease, and a light conversation ensued. “I saw Pediatrics bring the newborn back earlier—a chubby little boy,” he remarked. “Strange, though, no dad came to see him. Is she a single mom or something?” The attending doctor cleared his throat. The oblivious doctor continued. “Odd, considering Dr. Hartley’s wife is just down the hall. Why isn’t he here? You’d think he’d prioritize helping his own wife deliver.” Before anyone could respond, an intern snapped, “Dr. Lee, the woman in front of you is Dr. Hartley’s actual wife, Morgan Bennett.” Dr. Lee chuckled dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worked with Samuel for years. His wife is Lila Whitmore—not this Morgan person.” “Great,” the attending doctor muttered as my previously stable vitals began to nosedive. “We’re not joking; this is Dr. Hartley’s wife. Your careless words just drained whatever willpower she had left.” Dr. Lee smacked his forehead. “I thought you were all kidding!” Just then, the faint cry of a baby echoed in the room. “Bring the baby to the mother,” my attending doctor directed Pediatrics. I strained to open my eyes and saw a tiny, purple-tinged baby. Despite everything, a smile tugged at my lips. He was so ugly, resembling Samuel in every way. But I couldn’t help loving him—a visceral, uncontrollable kind of maternal affection. After a grueling, day-long battle and over 500 units of blood, I survived. Once out of the ICU and transferred to a regular room, the postpartum nurse, Mrs. Evelyn Carter, arrived looking uncomfortable, holding a used diaper. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. Dr. Hartley insisted I help Ms. Whitmore first. I couldn’t refuse…”

I was about to respond to Mrs. Thompson when I heard Samuel Hartley’s voice from the hallway. “Mrs. Thompson, hurry up! The baby spit up again, and Lila’s too weak to hold him.” The door to my room swung open, and Samuel stood there, momentarily taken aback. Our eyes met, and he spoke with a nonchalant tone. “Our son is still in the incubator, so we don’t need Mrs. Thompson for now. I’m letting Lila use her. I assume you don’t mind.” “Oh, and I called your parents to come take care of you. I’m too exhausted from looking after Lila to take care of you too. I hope you understand.” As he finished speaking, a few of his colleagues arrived, their arms full of gifts. “What are you doing here? Lila needs you!” one of them said. “What’s wrong with Lila?” he asked instinctively, already moving toward her room. His colleagues followed, leaving Mrs. Thompson in the room with a confused look on her face. “You’re really Dr. Hartley’s wife, right? Isn’t Lila just a friend? Why does everyone call her ‘Mrs. Hartley’?” she asked, puzzled. I chuckled. “It’s probably just a misunderstanding.” Mrs. Thompson threw her cloth onto a chair in frustration. “He can’t correct them? He just lets people believe it? Seems to me Dr. Hartley wants everyone to think Lila is his wife.” Anyone unfamiliar with Samuel would see his intentions clearly. Lila Whitmore had been his unattainable college crush. He never dared to confess, but everyone knew he was infatuated. If it weren’t for that alumni gathering, I wouldn’t have realized that even someone as proud as Samuel could act so humbly. When faced with Lila, he would always look down, unable to meet her gaze. His old college friends would joke with the newly divorced Lila, saying, “If you’d accepted Sam’s confession back then, you’d be the wife of Midtown’s top OB-GYN now, not someone else.” And I, that “someone else,” would sit quietly at the table, cutting my steak. Samuel’s college friends never liked me. They saw me as the obstacle between him and Lila, the reason their “goddess” was alone. Samuel seemed to agree. After the reunion, he became distant, using work as an excuse. He would come home once a week at most and even stopped attending my prenatal appointments. But he appeared regularly in Lila’s Instagram Stories, painted as her “good friend.” Lila never denied the assumption that she and Samuel were together; she’d just smile and let it pass. Samuel was the same way. He seemed to enjoy people believing that the beautiful and charismatic Lila was his wife. We had argued about this once. He said, “The truth speaks for itself. I don’t need to prove anything. Respect my right to have friends.” Whenever Lila showed even a small hint of affection, he would leap forward eagerly, like an obedient dog. But with me, he assumed he was my best option. He believed that before the baby, I needed him, and now with the baby, I needed him even more. It made him increasingly audacious. What he failed to understand was that I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t going to be a loyal dog that would always come back for scraps. Lila’s room was right next to mine, and a steady stream of visitors, including Samuel’s colleagues and Dr. Mason Wright, who’d helped with my emergency, went in and out. “Samuel! What you’re doing is disgusting! Your wife isn’t Lila, and yet you don’t correct anyone. We’ve all been calling her ‘Mrs. Hartley’ for so long, and it was humiliating when I realized that we got it wrong while saving your actual wife,” Dr. Wright’s voice boomed through the thin walls. Samuel was silent for a while before replying, “I never told you to call her that. You chose to.”

“Can’t you just say she’s your classmate? Your wife just survived an amniotic embolism and barely made it, yet you’re here taking care of Lila Whitmore without even checking on her? Aren’t you afraid she’ll leave you?” Dr. Mason Wright’s voice was sharp as he tried to push Samuel Hartley toward my room. Samuel slammed the door shut, his face cold. “Afraid? I’d be relieved if she left. She chased me relentlessly for years, holding on like I was her last hope. Now that she’s finally married to me and has a kid, she won’t go anywhere,” he said with a mocking laugh. “She’s not like Lila. Lila has heart problems, she’s frail. Morgan’s an athlete; an amniotic embolism is serious for most, but to her, it’s nothing.” “Are you serious? You’re supposed to be an expert in obstetrics! Don’t you know how high the mortality rate for an amniotic embolism is?” “Remember the athlete who died last year during surgery? She was in perfect health. But she still died from an embolism in under half an hour. Morgan’s just lucky. Maybe fate took pity on her because she married someone like me,” Samuel sneered. Dr. Wright’s frustration was palpable. Samuel didn’t even step inside the room. Instead, he sent me a transfer of $20,000 with a curt message to take care of myself. I blocked him and deleted every way to contact him. Later that night, my attending physician visited to let me know that a local news station wanted to interview me. Surviving an amniotic embolism was rare, with a survival rate of only 1%. “Don’t worry, it’ll be a brief interview. Executives from Midtown Medical Center and other major hospitals will be present. It’ll be good for you.” “Okay.” I agreed readily. On the day of the interview, Samuel showed up, dressed in a tailored suit, mingling with the crowd as he recounted how challenging the surgery had been. Dr. Wright stood to the side, looking drained and silent, while several hospital executives looked at Samuel with admiration and dropped words of praise. “Operating on your own family is something no doctor should have to do. But Samuel here had to choose between his wife and unborn son. It takes a strong heart to face such pressure and achieve a perfect outcome,” one executive praised, glancing approvingly at Samuel. Samuel walked up to me. “You know this is a big chance for my promotion. It’s all set up because of this. Don’t mess it up. Just say I performed the surgery, and don’t mention anyone else,” he said, ruffling my hair like he used to. But he quickly wiped his hand, as if noticing for the first time that I hadn’t washed my hair since giving birth. The interview began, but my attending physician was blocked from entering by the hospital staff. A reporter handed me a microphone. “Ms. Bennett, surviving such a life-threatening condition must have been an incredible ordeal. What would you like to say about it?” I paused, holding the microphone firmly. “I want to thank the doctors who never gave up on me, even when I was ready to give up on myself.” The reporter’s eyes lit up, glancing between Samuel and me. “Which doctor would you say you’re most grateful to?” they asked. I saw Dr. Wright turning to leave and quickly pointed to the door. “My attending doctor and the team at Midtown Medical Center…” All the cameras turned to Samuel, who stood ready with a prepared speech. But I continued, looking elsewhere. “…and especially Dr. Mason Wright.” The room erupted in whispers. Samuel’s eyes widened as he looked at me, fumbling with his phone to text me, only for his face to darken when the message wouldn’t send. Dr. Wright looked stunned, almost on the verge of tears. “Anyone else?” the reporter pressed, looking uncertain. I smiled. “Yes. I also want to thank my husband.”

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“Eliza, would you come with me?” The wedding hall fell into complete silence as I stood there, stunned, with the ring halfway onto Eliza Monroe’s finger. Her long-lost love, Julian Hart, stood up yet again, shouting across the room at her. “Eliza, I’m here to take you away. Will you come with me?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Eliza pulled her hand away from mine, lifted her dress, and walked gracefully toward Julian. Tears glistened in her eyes, filled with an emotion I hadn’t seen before, as if Julian were the one she was meant to marry today. And there I stood, the actual groom, under the glaring spotlight, reduced to nothing more than a clown in a suit. With conviction, Eliza extended her hand to Julian, her voice ringing loud and clear for everyone to hear. “Julian, I will!” ###It couldn’t be more evident. Eliza Monroe, the woman I loved, had been swept away by her long-lost love, Julian Hart. But I didn’t feel angry. Instead, there was a strange sense of inevitability. After all, this was the third time in a month that my wedding had been interrupted by Julian. I let the ring fall from my hand, its imprint digging sharply into my palm. No one moved to stop them—not even Douglas and Vivian Monroe, who sat unmoving at the head table. I just stood there, watching their little drama unfold. The first time Julian crashed our wedding, I was furious. I shouted at him with every ounce of rage I had. This was supposed to be Eliza’s and my day. I had planned it meticulously, and I couldn’t let him ruin it. Red-eyed, I rushed to tackle Julian, intent on stopping him from stealing the woman who’d promised to be my wife. But our relatives blocked my path. Julian, standing protectively beside Eliza, smirked and said: “See? He flies off the handle at the smallest thing. He’s bound to hurt you one day.” “Be glad I’m testing this for you. Otherwise, think of how much you’d suffer in the future!” In that moment, the crowd turned against me. Their whispers painted me not as the groom but as the villain. The voices surrounding me scolded me, saying it was just a test, and I had overreacted. It ended with me handing out a few hefty checks, and Eliza reluctantly agreeing to marry me again. The second time, I didn’t shout. I didn’t lose my temper. I fell to my knees, holding Eliza’s dress, pleading with her not to leave. I loved her, and I recounted every single reason why. Julian pointed at me, disdainful. “Pathetic. You think you can manipulate Eliza with this show of weakness? You’re just a coward. What do you bring to the table besides clinging to her?” Once again, I was judged and condemned. Everyone there was one of Eliza’s friends or relatives. I had no family—no one to stand by me. The verbal onslaught came from every side, and Eliza simply nestled into Julian’s embrace, a sweet smile on her lips. Anger wasn’t enough. Begging wasn’t enough. Everything I did was wrong. So, I chose to do nothing. I stood in silence, watching. Julian’s voice cut through the room once more. “See? Blake Carrington doesn’t even care enough to fight for you. How could you marry a man like that?” “He’s failed all three tests. He’s not worth marrying.” Anger failed. Pleading failed. Indifference failed. What do you want me to do? Eliza’s eyes flicked back to me, and she threw the bouquet at my chest. “Blake! What are you doing just standing there? I’m being taken from you!” “You don’t care at all, do you? You never loved me!” Her expression was a mixture of rage and frustration. But I merely brushed off the flowers clinging to my suit, straightened my tie, and walked toward the emcee, taking the microphone from him. “Eliza, go. This wedding is over.” ###

When I finished speaking, the entire wedding venue fell into silence. Everyone assumed Eliza Monroe had me completely under her control—that no matter what she did, I wouldn’t end things. Eliza snapped out of her shock quickly, her eyes narrowing in rage. She grabbed a champagne glass and threw it at me, soaking my custom suit, one I had bought specifically for this day. “Blake Carrington, have you lost your mind?” she shouted. “How dare you say the wedding is off? You’ve got some nerve!” “You didn’t even pass a single test, and now you say something like that?” Tests? A single wedding costing tens of thousands of dollars. Dresses, photography, the emcee, flowers, venues. Three weddings, costing millions in total. I laughed bitterly. Every cent came from me. “Oh, so they were tests, not real weddings? Fine.” “All three weddings came to four hundred fifty thousand. Pay it back—can you do that?” Eliza’s face fell. She couldn’t possibly pay it back. Every dress, every piece of jewelry she owned—I paid for. The house her parents lived in, the car they drove, even their jobs at my company—they all came from me. She wouldn’t be able to come up with that money, no matter what. The luxurious life Eliza enjoyed was funded solely by me, but none of that mattered to her. Instead, she doubled down, eyes blazing as she grabbed another glass and hurled it at me. “Spending money on me is a privilege!” “What do you have besides a pile of cash? You think that will tie me down? And now you dare to demand it back? I’ll make you regret it!” With that, she stormed out, wedding gown trailing behind her, and Julian Hart followed close, casting a triumphant smirk my way as they exited. I watched them go, a hollow feeling taking root in my chest. Five years of love, and this was who she really was. I glanced down at the wedding band still pressed into my palm, its outline sharp against my skin, and finally, the tears fell. Eliza and Julian had been together before. When her family fell from wealth, Julian had walked away. That’s when I came in, loving her fiercely, supporting her through everything. When she accepted me as her partner, I thought my love had won. Then Julian came back from overseas, ruining everything in an instant. Eliza fell for him again without a second thought. She stopped caring about me, my objections—everything except my money. She only cared about Julian. She used my love as a pawn for his gain, trampling over my feelings and dignity. The relationship had been decaying for a long time. I’d just been too naive to see it. I reclaimed the money I had given to her parents as a bride price and told the emcee to clear the guests from the hall. I changed out of my soaked suit, grabbed my car keys, and prepared to head home when one of Eliza’s relatives grabbed my arm, sneering. “Blake, so when’s the next wedding?” he said, laughing at my expense. They thought it was a joke—that I would never truly leave her. I said nothing, walking straight to my car. There wouldn’t be another wedding. ###

I drove back to my house, determined to remove every trace of Eliza Monroe from my life. The house was filled with memories—proof that at one point, there had been love between us. As I looked around, my mind drifted back to my childhood. I was an orphan, with no family to care for me, scavenging for food on the streets. One day, I found a scrap of meat and held it up, triumphant. Suddenly, a starving dog lunged, grabbing it from me. Desperate, I fought it, wrestling the animal with everything I had. I sat against a dumpster, bruised and bleeding, chewing on what was left of that meat while watching children pass by, holding their parents’ hands and laughing with candy in their grasp. I wished I knew what that tasted like. A little girl in a princess dress noticed me. She let go of her mother’s hand and came over, holding out a piece of candy. “Here, this will make the pain go away,” she said, her smile radiant, angelic. That smile and that moment stayed with me, etched deeply into my heart. Years later, in college, I saw a woman who looked like the grown-up version of that little girl. Her name was Eliza Monroe, but she was already with Julian Hart. I buried my feelings, never daring to hope. When her family lost everything and Julian left, I stepped in. My company, Carrington Holdings, was just taking off, and I used every dollar I had to help her family. Her parents invited me to dinner, and that night, they sent Eliza into my arms. I knew they were after my money, but I had enough to spend a lifetime, and I was willing to use it for the woman I believed to be my angel. No matter what they wanted, I complied. I believed that if I loved her enough, I could take Julian’s place in her heart. I saw her as my sun, blinding myself to reality. But today, reality burned me to the core. I looked around the room, filled with remnants of our time together. Tears fell once more. I remembered the day we bought this house. Eliza had stood next to me, wearing a mask, her wide eyes sparkling as she gazed up at it and talked excitedly about the future. I had thought I’d won her heart completely. But she had probably been thinking of Julian even then. My phone buzzed with an alert—a hotel charge. Eliza didn’t have her own card; every expense went through mine. I knew exactly where she was: at The Grand Union Hotel, still in her wedding gown with Julian. Just hours earlier, I had been holding her hand, asking her if she’d marry me. How could the angel I once adored have turned into this? I sank onto the sofa, hands over my face, as tears came once more. Three days later, after packing up all the reminders of our relationship, I sat in the now-bare living room, waiting for the moving truck. The front door opened unexpectedly. Eliza walked in, laughing with Julian, their happiness like a knife in my heart. ###

Eliza froze when she saw the empty room. She pulled away from Julian, storming up to me. “Blake Carrington, what do you think you’re doing? Haven’t you caused enough trouble at the wedding?” she snapped. “How dare you turn our house into this? Are you out of your mind?” Julian, ever the actor, chimed in with mock regret. “Eliza told you, those weddings were just tests. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so concerned for her.” He shifted the blame neatly onto me, painting me as the unreasonable one. I stared at them, the smirk barely hidden on Julian’s face and the superiority in Eliza’s eyes, and I laughed. “Let me guess, I’m supposed to beg for your forgiveness?” “Should I apologize for being humiliated and then apologize again for the inconvenience?” Eliza didn’t catch the sarcasm, nodding as if satisfied. “If you’d just apologize properly, we might be able to work this out,” she said, looking me up and down before adding, “But like this? Never.” “Blake Carrington, we’re going to file for divorce tomorrow.” Eliza had used the threat of divorce before, and each time, I’d caved for the sake of love. Not this time. Julian, sensing my silence, egged me on. “See? He’s too proud, too weak. Can’t even apologize for his wife.” I chuckled, the absurdity of it all finally sinking in. If Eliza had been my wife in the true sense, I would have apologized for anything. I’d fought stray dogs for scraps; there was no humiliation I couldn’t endure. But she wasn’t my wife. She had just come from a hotel room with Julian, her face still flushed from whatever they’d done. And they expected me to apologize. “Fine, you want an apology?” I said, eyes locked on hers. “Tell me, Eliza, where were you these past two days?” Her face paled, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her brow. She knew that without me, she was nothing. She tried to sound fierce. “I was at my parents’. What, I can’t visit them when I’m upset? At least Julian cares enough to check on me. Have you ever done that?” Even now, she was trying to manipulate me, turning my love against me. I pulled out my phone and held it up for her to see. “Look closely. The hotel room charge is right here. Still want to lie to me?” She slapped the phone out of my hand, shouting, “Hotel? I don’t know anything about that!” “Blake, if you’d just come to your senses, maybe I’d forgive you! Even if you leave, you’re leaving the house and the dowry. That’s my compensation for wasted years.” Compensation? For what? Since we started dating, she hadn’t spent a single cent of her own. Now, millions in wedding expenses down the drain because of Julian’s provocations, and she dared to demand money from me? I reached into my bag, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted, and tossed them at her feet. “Here’s your compensation.” “Trash belongs with trash. I hope you both have a long, miserable life together.”

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Patrick Monroe took me to a party hosted by a beautiful lady named Caroline Bishop. While eating a piece of cake, I bit into a cherry hidden in the filling and immediately spit it out. I had once nearly died from breaking out in hives after eating cherries, so even at my young age, I knew that taste too well. Caroline looked disappointed and said, “Just like finding a coin in a New Year’s pastry for good luck, I hid a cherry in the mini cake as a special treat. I didn’t think Charlie would be so ungrateful.” Before I could explain, Dad shoved me outside into the yard as punishment. Mom always told me that with the temperature over 100 degrees, I should stay indoors and not run around. So this is what hot weather feels like. My skin felt itchy, and it was getting hard to breathe. I wanted to find Dad, but no matter how much I knocked, he wouldn’t open the door. Through the glass patio doors, I saw him glance coldly at me before looking away, refusing to let me back inside. When Mom found me using the GPS on her smartwatch, I was lying on the ground, my skin covered in red, itchy hives. Dad was nearby, still muttering, “Your son is just spoiled by you! No manners at all, spitting food on the table when there’s a trash can right there. Can’t even accept a simple gesture. He’s just like you…” Mom, furious, slapped Dad and then scooped me up and ran to the hospital. I hovered above, watching everything unfold quietly. I hated Dad. He never cared about Mom or me. Yes, I was dead. So this is what death feels like. Was old Mr. Thompson next door floating like this when he passed last year? I didn’t see him then, so could it be that Mom and Dad can’t see me now? But I could see them. I watched Mom holding me, crying desperately as she waited for an ambulance. Then she pleaded with the doctor to save me. The doctor stared at a screen and sighed. Three flat lines, perfectly still. Mom rushed around, doing everything by herself, as I watched “me” being wheeled into a small chamber. Later, a man handed Mom a small urn. She sat on the curb, clutching that urn and staring blankly at the traffic until night fell and she finally went home. In bed, she would sob into her pillow or stare at the ceiling in silence. I lay beside her, trying to pat her like she used to do when she put me to bed. But I could only watch as my hand passed right through her. I screamed, startled, but Mom didn’t react. She lay there, unmoving, so I got up and walked to the half-finished building blocks we’d been playing with. I tried to finish building it, but my hand went right through the pieces. I tried turning on the TV to watch cartoons, but that didn’t work either. So I went back to the bed to lie next to Mom. At least being there in silence wasn’t so bad. But wasn’t Mom hungry? She didn’t get up to eat. I missed Mom’s honey-glazed chicken wings! But I was dead, which meant I’d never have them again. I counted to the third day, and Mom finally got up. She looked at her phone. No messages. I was dead, and despite Mom’s sadness, Dad hadn’t called even once. Do other dads act like this too? I watched as Mom took a stack of papers from her nightstand. I recognized the big words at the top: Divorce Agreement. That document had been in her nightstand for as long as I could remember. She’d often glance at it, then look at me, and put it back. Finally, Dad came home. He stormed into the living room and began yelling, “Your son is so rude! Caroline put so much thought into hiding that cherry in the cake—it was a sign of good luck—and he just spit it out! Then he learned to complain to you when I made him stand outside!” “And you! That was Caroline’s house! She asked why you were there, and you didn’t even answer before barging in and pushing her!” “Can’t you act civil? Did you know Caroline fell and cut her hand because of you?” Mom listened, expressionless, maybe because his words couldn’t hurt her anymore. Ever since Caroline had reappeared in our lives, Dad had grown increasingly impatient with Mom, saying things that hurt her deeply. I wanted to tell him, “I’m already dead. Isn’t that enough of an apology to Caroline? Can you stop blaming Mom now?”

When Mom didn’t respond, Dad’s voice rose again, “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” “Do you know how embarrassed I was when you slapped me in front of everyone?” “Your son’s awful behavior comes straight from you! He’s nothing like Caroline’s daughter!” He got up and started towards my room. “I’ll raise him myself from now on. I won’t let you turn him into a spoiled brat!” Mom stepped in front of him, smirking sarcastically. “You remember Charlie is your son? You always call him ‘my son, my son,’ and I thought he was just mine. Fine then, let’s get a divorce.” Dad scoffed at the papers in front of him. “You’ve got to be kidding. This marriage was something you begged for. Now you want to end it just like that?” Mom sighed, exhaustion written all over her face. “Yes. You don’t love me or Charlie. Let’s stop torturing each other. Sign it, and you can be with your ‘one true love.’ What’s stopping you?” Dad shoved her hand away, making her stumble. “You’re crazy! You barged into her home, and Caroline was kind enough not to press charges. Otherwise, that would’ve been breaking and entering! Your son learned from you—no manners at all. I made him stand outside, and he acts like he’s dying.” “And you indulge him, then come at me with this divorce nonsense. What’s in your head?” Mom’s voice shook with rage. “What’s in mine? What’s in yours? Did you know Charlie is allergic to cherries?” “The first time he ate one, he broke out in hives and couldn’t breathe. There was a cherry in that cake—why wouldn’t he spit it out?” “I had to save my son—why wouldn’t I burst in? If Caroline hadn’t stopped me… maybe Charlie…” Tears started streaming down Mom’s face again, and I wanted to hug her, to comfort her like she always did for me. Dad just scoffed, even chuckling dryly. “Oh, please. A cherry? That’s nothing. An allergy? Next, you’ll tell me he’s allergic to air.” “How would I not know if that happened before? You’re always using him as a way to control me. You think you wouldn’t have told me if that had happened? You’ve got quite an imagination.” “Other kids aren’t allergic. Why is our son the fragile one? Today, I’m going to fix this.” “All he does is cry and whine. Anyone would think he was dead already!” With that, Dad went to the kitchen, grabbed the cherries he had brought home a few days ago, and headed for my room. Mom watched him, shaking her head, and sat back down on the couch, silent. Caroline loved cherries. Every time Dad came back from her place, he brought a bag of them “for us to share.” They would sit until they rotted, and Mom would throw them out. If Dad caught her, he would scold us for wasting a thoughtful gift. Every time, Mom reminded him that I was allergic, but he never believed it. Once, when Mom wasn’t home, Dad had ordered a cherry smoothie and tried to force me to drink it. He muttered, “Your mother keeps saying you’re allergic to cherries. I don’t buy it. She’s just refusing Caroline’s goodwill.” In desperation, I bit him, and he let me go, shoving me to the floor and kicking me a few times before leaving. Cherry juice was everywhere—on the floor, on my clothes.

I didn’t want Mom to worry, so I mimicked what I’d seen her do and put my clothes in the washer, then mopped up the mess. When she came back and saw I’d changed, she asked why. I blushed and lied, saying I’d had an accident. She laughed at me for days over that. Dad, of course, wouldn’t find me in my room now, because “I” was already in a little urn. He glared at Mom. “Helen, you’re crafty, aren’t you? Hiding the kid before bringing up divorce.” “You have no money, no job, no background, and you know you wouldn’t win custody. You’re trying to hold on to him to keep me close, huh? Want money, is that it? How sly can you get?” “Fine, we can divorce, and I might even give you a little something. But Charlie stays with me.” Mom listened to his cruel words without saying a word. Then she stood up, grabbed her packed bags and my urn, and walked out without looking back. Dad shouted after her, “Go! Get as far away as you can! If it weren’t for my parents, I’d never have married you. Don’t come crawling back!” Even though I knew Dad couldn’t hear me, I shouted at him, “I don’t want to go with you. I want Mom! You’re a bad dad!” I then ran to catch up with Mom, leaving that hateful place behind. Mom used to tell me stories before bed, including how she and Dad met. She probably thought I was too young to understand, but I remembered every detail clearly. Mom and Dad had known each other since childhood. Their families were close friends, and they had been engaged from a young age. Later, Mom’s family suffered financial ruin. Grandma and Grandpa, unable to bear the blow, passed away one after the other. Patrick’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, took in my mom, who was still in middle school, and insisted that the engagement be honored. At first, they were too young to grasp the concept of marriage, so they just went about their days eating, laughing, and playing together as close friends. But when they reached college, Dad fell for Caroline Bishop. Caroline, however, didn’t feel the same way. She was in love with her professor, a married man in his forties. She even followed him abroad. Dad wanted to follow her. Mr. and Mrs. Monroe were furious and confined him to the house, forcing him to marry Mom. Mom said she never really loved Dad. She had been cherished and protected by her parents and later by Patrick’s parents, never facing hardship—a flower in a greenhouse. If she didn’t marry him, she wouldn’t have known where to go or what to do. Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe had raised her with the sole hope of her marrying Patrick. She couldn’t turn her back on that. Mom thought that, at the very least, their childhood bond would allow them to live as respectful partners. But Dad grew to resent her for it. He thought Mom had been after the family’s wealth and feared that if he married someone else, she would no longer benefit from the title of fiancée or Mrs. Monroe. He was convinced she had tattled on him and begged Mr. and Mrs. Monroe to push the marriage. To him, she was the one who had stopped him from pursuing his love, separating him from his true happiness. From what I could remember, Dad hardly ever came home. Especially after Caroline reentered his life, every visit ended in a bitter argument. Mom and I moved into an apartment that Mr. and Mrs. Monroe had signed over to her before their deaths. Maybe they foresaw this day and wanted her to have a place of refuge. The small apartment was cozy. Mom placed “me” in a corner on a low cabinet. I heard her speaking to me, “Charlie, I’m sorry I couldn’t take better care of you these past few days. I’ve been so overwhelmed. I’ll find you a resting place soon, okay?” I nodded, but remembering she couldn’t see me, I felt a wave of sadness. Mom would never see me again. We’d never bake cookies, build towers with blocks, or share bedtime stories… I followed her as she searched for a cemetery. Mom picked a spot high up on a hill where we could see the amusement park in the distance, with its giant Ferris wheel turning slowly. Just as she was about to sign some papers handed over by a manager, her phone rang. It was the property manager at Maplewood Apartments, telling her someone had forced their way inside. Mom rushed to grab a cab back. Mark Sanders, the property manager, and James Turner, the security guard, were held back by a few large men. Inside, Dad’s voice roared, “How hard is it to search a few rooms? Where is he?” Mom hurried into the room. “What do you think you’re doing?” Patrick Monroe stood with his hands in his pockets, glaring at her. “Good, you’re here. Hand over Charlie. I’m taking him to apologize to Caroline.”

Mom stared at him in disbelief. “Patrick, all this because Charlie spit out a cherry he’s allergic to? You won’t let it go? He’s your son!” Dad waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t have a son like that. A kid who’d endanger someone’s life! When I find him, he’s getting the punishment of a lifetime!” I shouted, “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Even though I was young, I knew bad people hurt others, and I wasn’t a bad person! But Dad couldn’t hear me. Mom was so angry, she wanted to strike him. “What nonsense are you talking about? Charlie’s too young to hurt anyone!” Dad, as if struck by a sudden thought, pointed at her. “That’s right! You must have put him up to it. A kid like Charlie couldn’t get acid on his own. It had to be you who told him to throw it at Caroline!” Mom, furious, grabbed a decorative vase by the door. “Throw acid? When? Where? Do you have proof? If you dare accuse my son, I swear we’ll go down together!” “Yesterday morning. Caroline was at Riverside Mall when a kid fitting Charlie’s description splashed acid on her. The security footage caught the whole thing!” Dad pulled out his phone, opened a video, and tossed it to Mom. I stood on tiptoe to look with her. The footage matched Dad’s claims. But I had died days ago—how could it have been me? Dad saw Mom’s silence as confirmation that she recognized me in the video. He crossed his arms, speaking with a condescending tone. “It’s undeniable, right? Charlie is my son. I wouldn’t mistake him. Hand him over, and I’ll take him to apologize to Caroline. With my relationship with her, she’ll forgive him. That way, the Central Police Department can close the case quietly. If the police come, it’ll be a whole different story.” “It’s not me! That’s not me, bad Dad! My shirt had a tear on the pocket, and Mom patched it with a pink pig sticker. The kid in the video doesn’t have that.” I reached out to hit Dad, but my fist just passed through him, hitting nothing but air. Mom, however, smiled coldly, eyes full of mockery. “Fine. Let’s wait for the police.” Dad’s face darkened. “Helen, don’t push your luck.”

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One day, I heard some strange noises coming from my mother-in-law’s room. I thought my father-in-law had come home. Little did I know, my mother-in-law was actually having an affair! My mother-in-law was confident I wouldn’t dare reveal this, and continued to treat me rudely! But a few days later, my mother-in-law was suddenly diagnosed with AIDS! And her affair partner had died… It was the height of summer, and the cicadas were chirping loudly outside. I rolled over groggily in bed, but was jolted awake by a stinging pain in my fingertip. Feeling irritated, I finally woke up fully. Today had been such an unlucky day. In the afternoon when I went grocery shopping, some mischievous kid had apparently stuck a needle in the seat of the shared bike I used. I got pricked when I sat down. Then when I got home, my mother-in-law criticized me for not buying the right groceries. In my flustered state, I accidentally cut my hand while cooking. The cicadas outside were getting louder and louder. Having lost all desire to sleep, I decided to get up and use the bathroom. As soon as I stepped out of my room, I heard intense female moaning coming from my mother-in-law’s bedroom. I could even faintly make out the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. I was startled. Looking more closely, I saw an old pair of men’s leather shoes in the entryway. The shoes were quite worn, with traces of dirt still on them. It must be my father-in-law who had come home. My father-in-law was often away on business trips. Even though my mother-in-law lived alone, she always kept up her appearance. She even had a more complete collection of makeup than I did. It was understandable that my father-in-law couldn’t resist her charms. Not wanting to linger, I quickly ducked into the bathroom. When I came out, my mother-in-law’s voice hadn’t quieted down at all. In fact, it had become even more uninhibited. Too embarrassed to stay outside any longer, I hurried back to my room without even getting a drink of water. Looking at the pitch-black room, listening to the moans that even the closed door couldn’t fully muffle, I suddenly felt a strange emptiness inside. I also couldn’t help but wonder – Daniel and my father-in-law both worked at the same research institute. They usually came home together from work trips. Why had only my father-in-law returned this time? The warmth on the other side of our double bed was long gone. Outside, the cicadas gradually quieted down. I drifted back to sleep. The next morning, I purposely woke up extra early. Sometimes my father-in-law had to leave in a hurry for work. Worried he might have another urgent assignment, I specifically got up early to make breakfast. Although my mother-in-law and I didn’t get along well, my father-in-law had always been kind to me. The relationship between my mother-in-law and me was largely mediated by my father-in-law and Daniel. I was very grateful to my father-in-law. After I had set all the breakfast dishes on the table and turned to get my mother-in-law’s soy milk, I heard her start yelling from outside again. “Other people’s daughters-in-law are frugal homemakers. But look at you, making such an extravagant breakfast! People from the countryside really have no sense!” My anger instantly flared up. I was abandoned at an orphanage as a baby and adopted by a kind couple in the countryside when I was 10. After graduating college, I came to work in the city and married my husband Daniel. After marriage, Daniel and my father-in-law were often away on business trips. My mother-in-law used the excuse of poor health to force me to quit my job and be a full-time housewife. I gave in to her wishes, but her criticisms didn’t stop there. In the years since, things were okay when Daniel was home. But whenever he went away for work, my mother-in-law would find endless faults with me at home, saying I just ate without doing any real work no matter what I did. I walked out of the kitchen and set down the milk forcefully, about to argue back. But then I caught sight of my wedding ring, and the anger slowly dissipated. Although my mother-in-law had always looked down on me, I could see how much Daniel cared for and loved me over the years. Moreover, before he left last time, he told me to wait just one more month. Once he finished his current work, he would take me to move out and live on our own. I took a deep breath and patiently explained: “I didn’t mean to make so much food. I just heard Father-in-law come home last night, so this extra portion of breakfast…” Before I could finish speaking, my mother-in-law suddenly stood up, grabbed the glass of milk I had just set on the table, and splashed it in my face. “You little hussy! You haven’t even given our family a child yet, and you’re already trying to manipulate me? Let me tell you, you’d better behave yourself. Otherwise, I’ll make Daniel kick you out of this house sooner or later!” Over the years, my mother-in-law had inexplicably given me a hard time before, but she had rarely been this directly aggressive. I stood there stunned for a moment. My mother-in-law sat back down smugly, picking at the breakfast as if she had just won a victory. I gritted my teeth and swallowed my anger. Forget it. In just one more month, Daniel would take me to move out. There was no point in burning bridges with my mother-in-law now. I suppressed my anger and went back to my room to change clothes. Behind me, I heard my mother-in-law let out a cold snort, as if she was certain I wouldn’t dare do anything to her.

By the time I changed and came back out, my mother-in-law had already left. The breakfast table looked like it had been hit by a bomb. I kept telling myself there was only one month left before we could move out. After cleaning up the table, I went to tidy up Daniel’s clothes. The weather had turned colder lately. Daniel had only packed seasonal clothes when he left last time. I was worried he might catch a cold. After a busy morning, I had just finished making lunch when my mother-in-law called. “Have you made lunch yet? Hurry up and bring it to the club.” Before I could say anything, she had already hung up. My mother-in-law had been treating me like the family’s maid for years. But for Daniel’s sake, I still packed up lunch for her. I barely had two bites myself before rushing off to the club. “You’re so slow even just delivering food. What else can you do?” My mother-in-law glared at me as she took the lunchbox. The aunties next to her couldn’t help speaking up for me. “Margaret, your daughter-in-law is already very good. She even brings you lunch every day.” My mother-in-law ate big mouthfuls while glancing at me sideways with a cold smile. “She’s just a country bumpkin from some village. She’s living off my son’s money. Bringing me lunch after eating her fill first – that’s nothing special!” By this point, I was no longer listening to what my mother-in-law was saying about me. Because I had spotted those familiar old men’s leather shoes with traces of dirt – the ones I saw in our entryway last night. They were now on the feet of Mr. Johnson standing next to my mother-in-law! The person in my mother-in-law’s bedroom last night wasn’t my father-in-law at all, but Mr. Johnson who often played at the club with her! My mother-in-law was brazenly having an affair at home! “What are you staring at? Didn’t you hear what I said?” My mother-in-law slammed down the lunchbox. Her tone was fierce, but her eyes couldn’t quite meet mine. My mother-in-law shoved the lunchbox at me. “Forget it! I’m sick of looking at your face! Hurry up and get out of here!” I took the lunchbox and stumbled home in a daze. I never imagined that my mother-in-law, with her strong traditional values, would actually have an affair! This was Daniel’s mother after all. It wasn’t my place to deal with this. But Daniel’s greatest wish was for family harmony. If I told him about this, who knows what kind of storm it would stir up in the family. I don’t know how long I sat lost in thought. The sky outside had already grown dark when my phone suddenly rang. It was a video call from Daniel. I answered the call and saw his handsome but clearly exhausted face on the screen. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. “Honey, I got the clothes you sent me this morning. I hadn’t even noticed the weather changing. You’re always so thoughtful.” I managed a weak smile, but Daniel sensed something was off. “Honey, did something happen at home? Or did Mom say something to you again? You look so troubled.” Once Daniel said that, I felt even more guilty. But I still forced myself to deny it: “No, everything’s fine. Don’t worry about things here, just focus on your work.” I had barely finished speaking when I heard the sound of the front door – my mother-in-law was back. Afraid she might say something unpleasant that would distract Daniel, I quickly hung up the call. My mother-in-law seemed to be in a good mood. She came in humming a little tune. After thinking it over, I decided I should still say something to warn her. “Mother, Father will be retiring and coming home in a few months. Daniel will be transferring back then too. We should all try to live together harmoniously.” I had meant to remind her not to keep messing around with Mr. Johnson. But as soon as I said this, my mother-in-law glared at me with her hands on her hips and started cursing. “Live harmoniously? You dare talk to me about living harmoniously? Our family took in a freeloader like you, and you think we can live harmoniously? Fat chance!” “I saw you acting all sneaky earlier. Don’t tell me you can’t stand the loneliness and you’ve been flirting with some guy online?” My mother-in-law was the one having an affair, yet she had the nerve to accuse me of impropriety? “Daniel has been living at work for so long. If I could get pregnant now, it would most likely be from cheating with another man!” As soon as she heard the word “cheating”, my mother-in-law’s expression changed. She glared at me fiercely before turning and stomping back to her room, slamming the door shut.

I don’t know if it was because my words had struck a nerve, or if she felt guilty knowing I had discovered her affair with Mr. Johnson. But I actually enjoyed a peaceful month after that. My mother-in-law would leave right after breakfast every day. She no longer asked me to bring her lunch. When she came home, she would just lock herself in her room. We barely even crossed paths. On my birthday, Daniel called early in the morning to apologize for not being able to come back due to work. In the afternoon, I received flowers he had sent. The card on the flowers had our favorite poem from college. Reading it brought back all the sweet memories from those days. “You shameless woman! Daniel’s not home, don’t tell me these flowers are from some lover of yours!” My mother-in-law was looking for trouble again, but I wasn’t worried at all this time. “Mom, Daniel had these delivered to me.” Margaret sneered, “Hmph, making my son waste money buying you flowers!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. I picked up the flowers, intending to go back to my room, when she called out again: “You ungrateful girl, you don’t even care that I’ve been made sick from all your nonsense! Hurry up and take me to the hospital!” I immediately became concerned. She had seemed fine earlier – how could she suddenly say she was sick and needed to go to the hospital? “Mom, are you okay? Where are you feeling unwell? I’ll go get the car keys right away!” “What car? Gas is so expensive these days. The hospital’s not far anyway, just push me there in the wheelchair!” My mother-in-law insisted, so I had no choice but to take her in the wheelchair. On the way, she said she had diarrhea and an on-and-off fever. The symptoms sounded like the flu to me, but I didn’t dare take any chances. Elderly people have weaker immune systems after all. If it developed into something more serious, Daniel would be so worried. At the hospital, after hearing about the symptoms, the doctor had an odd expression. He told me to take my mother-in-law for a blood test first. A few hours later, when I saw the test results, I was shocked. It was AIDS.

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The Night I Accidentally Slept with the School Hunk: He Offered Me $30,000 to Do It Again The day before school started, I slept with the school hunk . Morning sunlight spilled across his chiseled abs as he propped himself up, looking at me with an unsatisfied expression. I panicked and stammered, “I’ll give you $20,000, but please don’t tell anyone about this.” He smirked and wrapped his arm around my waist possessively. “How about I give you $200,000 and we do it again?” Chapter 1 You took the initiative last night I threw a party at home and got so drunk that I found myself crying in my best friend’s arms. “You know, my dad secretly picked a fiancé for me,” I wailed. “That means I’m going to marry a man I’ve never even met! What if he’s ugly? Woohoo…” My best friend, equally tipsy, patted my shoulder with sympathy. I felt utterly depressed and kept drinking until two in the morning. After the party, my high school classmates trickled out one by one. As I made my way back to my room, I stumbled and felt someone catch me as I swayed. I looked up to see a handsome, muscular face, his brow slightly furrowed in concern. So… incredibly handsome. At that moment, a sentence popped into my mind: Instead of living an ordinary life with a man you have never even met, it is better to choose a handsome guy, at least he is handsome. So, under the influence of alcohol, I put my arms around his neck and said, ” It’s you , handsome boy, come with me. ” He was stunned for a moment and narrowed his eyes: “Where to?” I hooked my arms around his neck and used all the methods I had seen in my life to seduce men, and tried my best to lead him into the room . I pretended to be casual and said , ” Just come back to my room and chat for a while .” He smiled and followed me obediently. He even supported my waist when we went upstairs. With a bang, the door closed behind me. I shuddered, looked at the chocolate-colored abdominal muscles exposed in front of me , and hesitated. I was drunk just now and my mind was full of thoughts like “I want to rebel against fate.” But now a man and a woman are alone in a room… He took off his clothes completely and put his big hands on my face : ” Why, are you scared?” I have always been a boss lady since I was a child , and I hate it most when people say that I am “scared”. So I stretched my neck to pull his belt: “Who is afraid?” However, my hands slipped, and I accidentally brushed against some parts of his body. He groaned, his eyes darkened, and he grabbed my moving hands: ” Jessica , are you serious?” I was struggling with his belt, sweating and feeling a bit anxious. “What’s the big deal? There’s nothing I can’t handle, including men!” I’m the best at making threats. It’s so easy. Unexpectedly, he suddenly stopped moving and lowered his head dangerously: “You know a lot?” I puffed out my chest: “That’s it.” The next second, the world was spinning. He hugged my waist and threw me on the bed: “Then don’t regret it.” Halfway through , I started to cry out in pain. His whole body was burning, and his voice was hoarse and broken: “I didn’t expect…” I bit his arm. “Shut up!” What are you doing when the sound is so nice? He lowered his head and looked at me lovingly, but his little white teeth were exposed—— I covered my chest and said, “What the hell are you doing?” The man’s eyes were dark as if he wanted to drag me in . A drop of sweat dripped onto my body : ” Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” …The morning sunlight came in, I held my waist and sat up, meeting his deep gaze. His clean, tan skin was in stark contrast to the horrible state of mine. I dressed listlessly. A strong smell of hormones came from behind, but he licked his lips in satisfaction and pretended to wrap his arms around my waist: “Do you need my help?” I jumped away like a frightened bird: “Stay away from me.” He leaned against the bed with his arms around his chest and smiled: “That’s not what you said yesterday.” I blushed at his smile. It was the first time I saw such a handsome man. No wonder I lost control of myself last night due to the alcohol. but– I touched my coat and took out a bank card: “I’ll give you 15,000 dollars. Don’t tell anyone about what happened last night.” The smile on his lips froze for a moment as he squinted his eyes . I stared at him for a moment, and he suddenly sneered, ” Who do you think I am ?” I glanced around and said, “Of course not. This is just hush money.” had paid for it anyway , so I closed my eyes and said: ” It’s not easy for a student to make money. You can get 15,000 dollars just by sleeping. Don’t take advantage of me.” His expression became visibly ugly. Just when I thought he was going to hit me, he suddenly laughed. But this smile looks so gloomy … The boy stood up, approached me, pushed me against the wall, took the bank card from my hand and threw it on the ground. Then he came close to me and said in a very oppressive tone: “I’ll give you two hundred thousand dollars in exchange for sleeping with you again.” Sounds tempting though. But I reluctantly refused: ” You… don’t come over, I’m only doing this to reject the fiancé my dad found for me .” He crossed his arms and glanced at me lazily, emphasizing, ” You were the one who took the initiative last night.” Talking about this brings tears to my eyes. I just wanted to talk a little, but I didn’t expect him to put it into practice. I have already made a big mistake, I can’t make it again. Chapter 2 The freshman representative is him What saved me was a phone call from my dad: ” Jessica , did you forget that school starts today?” I walked to the balcony trembling: “No.” “I’m at the gate of your school,” my dad said, “I want to see you in fifteen minutes.” After saying that, he decisively hung up the phone. When I returned to the room, I found that he was also on the phone. He frowned and looked impatient: “Got it, I’ll be there right away.” After hanging up the phone, he looked at me meaningfully again. I walked over and said, “Um…” The man picked up his coat and said, “Not today, save it for next time.” I:? What is he talking about? “What’s your phone number?” The man walked up to me and fiddled with his phone: “I’ll save it.” I laughed dryly and changed the subject : ” Don’t you have something else to do? I’ll be leaving first. Bye.” “Don’t want to sleep with me?” The man raised his eyebrows and smiled again: “Okay, sooner or later, you will beg me.” … My father’s Rolls-Royce was parked in front of my school, catching the attention of many female college students. I reluctantly opened the car door and got in. My dad glanced at his watch: “Fifteen minutes late.” I answered him expressionlessly, “I had breakfast . You complained that it smelled bad, so I came here after I finished eating.” He frowned and said, “You are late. Your Uncle John and his son just left.” Uncle John is the father of the fiancé my dad found for me . “You don’t want to meet?” I shook my head. My father looked at me and his face began to look unhappy. ” Say that again?! ” He held my credit card in his left hand and a pair of scissors appeared out of nowhere in his right hand… “You don’t want next month’s living expenses?” “Absolutely not!” For a student, living expenses are very important. After a while, I sighed and said in a half-compromising manner , “You decide.” ……. After the busy start of school, there is the freshman party . We were taken to the venue early in the morning . The school leaders spoke passionately on the microphone. I looked at the bright makeup on the girls’ faces and sighed with my roommate, “They are so exquisite.” My roommate lowered his voice and said, “Because this year’s freshman class includes Alan .” I muttered, ” Who is Alan ?” As soon as the voice fell, the host’s voice, raised several degrees, sounded from the radio: “Now, please welcome the freshman representative, Alan, to give a speech.” With thunderous applause, a tall and slender young man walked up to the podium. Even wearing the most ordinary black suit , it is difficult to conceal his masculine temperament and handsome looks, and he stands out from thousands of people. “What the hell?!” I looked at that handsome face and my eyes widened. My roommate said excitedly, “He is Alan , the first handsome guy in the history of our school who was named the school idol because of a photo before he even entered the school. How handsome, isn’t he?” He is handsome. Especially the way he was sweating last night. But now I just want to shout for help. After morning lecture , my best friend came to me from other faculty to have dinner. In the cafeteria, Chloe was stunned when she heard what I said: “You slept with Alan ? He’s the new school idol! ” I quickly covered her mouth and said, “Keep your voice down.” Chloe nodded in understanding and lowered her voice to ask, ” What about the fiancé your dad found for you ?” “What else can I do? He should take care of himself . How can he control me?” “That’s true. I heard you say last night that your fiancé is ugly and weak . It’s not a loss to give your first time to Alan .” I ate my meal in silence. My mind automatically began to recall the scenes of last night. Chloe suddenly poked my arm, ” How was Alan last night ?” I blamed myself for not being naive. I understood what she meant in a second and blushed as I stammered, “Not bad.” “What does ‘not bad’ mean? I heard that tall and broad-shouldered boys are all very capable. Are you kidding me?” I recalled. A face that was almost red: “It’s quite impressive.” “What’s so impressive?” A sexy male voice suddenly came from above my head . In the hot weather, the sound was like a bottle of ice cola . I shivered from the cold . Alan was holding a plate with two boys beside him. The three of them seemed to be passing by. He stared at me with his proud and sexy eyes , with a teasing smile on his lips. I don’t know how much he took Chloe and I into account. I immediately got scared and hid away like a kitten . A boy asked curiously, ” Alan , do you know each other?” I subconsciously retorted: “I don’t know him!” Alan nodded and said, “She said she didn’t know him.” “…” The two of them instantly looked like they understood, then talked and laughed while encouraging Alan to sit down next to me. I lowered my head and ate my meal. ” Are you free this weekend? ” Alan ‘s voice suddenly sounded. I looked up blankly, and the next second, he put two concert tickets in my hands . Chloe covered her heart with her hands, looking as if she had been hurt. Two boys were cheering on the side. My hands holding the chopsticks were unsteady, and I asked Alan , “What are you doing?” Alan said as a matter of course: ” A girl just confessed to me and gave me two concert tickets. I don’t like watching concerts , so you can accompany me .” After that, he narrowed his eyes and asked me, ” You owe me something , so you definitely won’t refuse me, right?” I:…… I think I have to talk to him. Chapter 3 Put on your clothes and let’s talk But before I could invite him, my dad called again. He got straight to the point and said, “The house your uncle John bought for his son near the school hasn’t been renovated yet, so he’ll be staying at your place for a while.” I widened my eyes: “Why?” My dad’s voice was louder than mine: “You two are going to get married anyway , so this is a good opportunity to cultivate your relationship.” He hung up without hesitation after he said that. After a few seconds, my dad pushed the other party’s phone number and social account to me. And the message is: friendly communication. I reluctantly sent the add. The other party passed it in seconds. Without thinking, I sent a message: “Are you there? Look at your face. Send me a photo ? ” After all, I’m a bit of a face-control freak, so if you’re not good-looking, keep your distance. After a few seconds, the other party replied to me: “…” Come on, his reaction clearly shows he must not be good-looking. I didn’t have classes in the evening, so I went back to the apartment early. After heating up the cold pizza from last night and cutting a plate of watermelon, I crossed my legs and comfortably curled up on the sofa to play with my phone . The mobile page is a chat box between me and my fiancée . The message stayed at the address I shared with him. At this time, the doorbell rang.

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The pervert senior who plays very well × the frustrated substitute me In the utility room, he, who was drunk, pressed me on the table. The sports rope I had intended to give him now bound my wrist with an unyielding grip. No matter how much I pleaded, he showed no mercy. With a firm hold, he removed my glasses, waving them mockingly before tossing them out the window. Then he pulled my shoulder hard and said to me in a threatening tone, “I told you, this is more like her.” I cried and watched him leave teeth marks all over the place, feeling heartbroken. He is my senior, Liam Brown. We first met in the Go club, and he and I were assigned to the same group. I knew that he had a fierce style of play, and one would loose repeatedly as soon as he started playing. At that moment, I was wiping the sweat from my brow while stealing glances at his face. My hands shook as I played, anxiety flooding me. I didn’t expect that he would suddenly hold my chess-playing hand, tilt his head and smile, then handsomely help me move the chess piece to the correct position. The chess pieces were cold, but his fingertips were warm. The strange touch shocked my pupils. He is…so charming! As a boy, I fell madly in love with another boy! To pursue Liam Brown, I dedicated myself to my studies and successfully gained admission to his university. The bad news is that the person he likes is a girl. But the good news was that she had rejected him and was planning to go abroad. I knew my chance had finally come, but I never expected it would mark the beginning of my suffering. hat day, I used all my savings to treat my senior to an extravagant dinner. He smiled and said to me, “You’ve made a fortune.” But there was an undeniable loneliness in his eyes. I nervously sat next to the senior and poured him a glass of wine. Let him cry to me about how much he likes that goddess. That was my first time drinking foreign liquor. The blend of bitterness and sweetness coursed through my already fragile stomach, but for the sake of my senior, I downed it anyway, ignoring my stomach’s protests. And he drank a lot. Of course, I had my own intentions. I want to get my senior drunk so that I can get him. After I downed more than ten cups, my senior was completely drunk. I removed my glasses and finally found the courage to speak my heart. A little boy tells all his secret love for another boy without any scruples. I cried and pleaded with Liam Brown not to hate me, desperately asking if he could find it in his heart to accept me. I expected the senior to refuse me. But he opened his eyes wide and grabbed my shoulders. He kept repeating the goddess’ name, Vivian. Then he kissed me without any hesitation, “Don’t go.” That night, we booked a room at the hotel near the school gate. He was drunk and transformed into a different person—tying me up and gripping my throat with anger, demanding to know why I wanted to leave. I really want him to sober up, but I know that he will definitely hate me when he really wakes up. After all, I turned him gay when he was drunk. So, I hugged the unconscious senior and told him that I was Vivian. In that moment, I thought it might be nice to experience some affection from him, even if it was fleeting, so I let him treat me however he pleased. When I woke up the next day, my senior looked at me with disgust. Then he asked another girl out to hang out. Before leaving, she left a message: “If you weren’t a bit like her, I wouldn’t even say a word to you, die.” I held my aching waist and thought it was all over. Who would have known that from then on, whenever the senior drank too much, he would come to me, Same room, same bondage, and ferocity, The difference was that Liam Brown kissed me more often in the following encounters. He proposed to me that we should develop a secret relationship until Vivian came back. “Why me? What about those girls who are chasing you?” I asked. He leaned against the bed, smoked a cigarette, squinted his eyes and said, “With you, no one will suspect anything.” “Of course, I can still have fun with other girls at the same time..” At that moment, I realized that Liam Brown was not the man I imagined. He was not the gentle boy who plays chess in the afternoon, but a scheming, selfish, playboy scumbag. But I still said nothing, just nodded silently and let him continue. I still feel a little guilty, after all, I was the one who got him drunk and forced him to have sex. Deep down, I knew that every time he treated me roughly, it was because he had someone else in his heart. But he said he wouldn’t be so nice to Viviani, so these are specially prepared for me, So overall, he still likes me a little bit. I remained silent, a flash of happiness flashed through my heart. I naively thought that the companionship of the later comers really touched him. Until I saw Vivian, wearing branded clothes, walk up to Liam Brown and say confidently, “I’m back. You said you liked me before, does that still count?” Liam Brown pushed away my hand on his shoulder and said, “Of course it counts.” It was then that I came to my senses and realized that I had always been a substitute. He deleted my contact information without even looking back. I turned to my goddess and told her I was just an annoying classmate, not even a friend. The goddess smiled and said, “Of course, how could you possibly want to be friends with him? He’s obviously a jerk.” “Of course.” Liam Brown glanced at me, without any emotion in his eyes. At that moment, what I heard was not only the sound of a broken heart, but also the sound of a broken dignity. That night, I couldn’t help but vomit into the toilet. It was the first time I felt so miserable. At first, I thought I was just emotionally hurt and didn’t take it seriously. Until later, I started to vomit constantly, couldn’t eat anything, often felt dazed, and lost weight. I went to the hospital, where the doctor delivered the devastating news: I had gastrointestinal cancer and needed to be hospitalized immediately for treatment. The doctor noticed my dazed expression and reassured me, saying, “Don’t worry; it’s not in the late stage yet. If you cooperate with the treatment, you’ll be fine.” I held the medical record in my hand and thought about how I had to force myself to drink with Liam Brown every time. I felt it was not worth it. I also thought about how Liam Brown always gave me whatever I wanted, and I found it ridiculous. I shook my head and laughed at myself, and my heart ached slightly. Look, she insisted on chasing after a scumbag, only to be abandoned without a single glance back and left with a terminal illness. I left the hospital in a daze and squatted at the hospital entrance, but the first person I wanted to contact was Liam Brown. I felt like a jerk, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to say goodbye to him. After all, this is the first boy I liked, and he is the Go boy in my memory. Just as I was about to dial his number, I saw his name flash across my phone screen. Why was he calling me? Was he finally going to apologize? I took a breath and told myself that I should never forgive him, but say goodbye cleanly and start over. But when I picked up the phone, Liam Brown’s drunken voice slurred through the receiver. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Come to the school utility room. I’ll be waiting for you here.” I thought he would have a change of heart, and even brought a farewell gift so that we could part ways amicably. The result was that they were forced to have sex in the utility room…

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The proud and scheming wolfdog-like bottom bunk uke × the sunny and easily tamed puppy-like top bunk uke × the self-imagining seme Taming Diary ‘Wife’ isn’t about gender; it’s a feeling. If the feeling’s right, it could be a guy too. Stellar Song lay on the top bunk across from me, half his body hanging off as he poked his head out to say this. His tone was a mix of cute and just a little coy. What? We were clearly just talking about what types of girls we liked. How did this guy go off on a tangent? I quickly glanced over at Flynn Song on the lower bunk across from me, raising my eyebrows with a knowing look that said, “Did you hear what your brother just said? This guy’s trouble. You think he might actually be turning gay?” Flynn Song was looking right back at me, but instead of reacting to Stellar, he said something that caught me even more off guard: “I agree, but let’s keep things straight between brothers.” As soon as he said that, I felt the air around me turn three degrees colder, and a strange feeling creep up my heart. Dude, you two brothers don’t want to share one, do you? Also, why are you suddenly getting out of bed? That’s right. The unlucky guy who was being stared at so intently by these two men at this moment was me. Being liked by a man was already strange enough, but what was even stranger was that it wasn’t just one man. The real kicker was that they were brothers—twins, no less. “Hold on a second, you two. I’m not the one you’re planning to ‘share,’ am I?” Stellar Song flashed a mischievous grin, showing off his cute canine teeth as he nodded slowly. “Why not?” “It’s not me, for crying out loud. I’m a guy.” But Flynn just smirked. “Didn’t my brother say that if the feeling’s right, it could be a guy too?” The two brothers teamed up and yanked away the blanket I was using to cover myself. Then, my wails filled the whole corridor, “Damn it! I treated you two as brothers. What do you two take me for!… Ah. ..Don’t touch me there…” Here’s how it all started. My name’s Wayne, and I’m the head of this dorm. When I first entered this dorm, I thought my days here were going to be tough, because the rejection and coldness in the eyes of these two brothers clearly showed that they regarded me as an outsider. And things were tough… just not in the way I’d expected. Turns out, it was my lower body that took the hit. “Hi, I’m Wayne , your senior…” Although it was a bit awkward, I still calmly introduced myself. Thankfully, there were four of us in the dorm, and the other freshman gave me a friendly nod, saying apologetically, “Hello, senior. Sorry about that. They’re just a bit slow to warm up. They’ll be fine once they get to know you.” “It’s all good. They’re freshmen; everyone’s got their own quirks.” I walked straight to my bed and smiled at these two brothers. Back then, I thought I’d just get through the year and graduate, but little did I know I’d walked straight into a den of wolves. I’d had the bad luck of breaking my leg last semester, which meant a year off to recover at home. By the time I was back, my original classmates had already graduated, so I had no choice but to transfer to this dorm. I thought since I was the oldest, I should take care of these freshmen brothers a bit more. So, I usually helped them fetch water, bring food, and reserve seats for them when I had nothing to do. I thought I was just doing good deeds . Who would have thought that I did do good deeds, but ended up sacrificing my own parts. Now that I think about it, there were signs of this. For example, recently, Stellar Song would suddenly hug me from behind after taking the food I brought him, and then give me a smile that would make girls go crazy and say to me , “Thank you, Brother Wayne.” And then there was Flynn Song, who suddenly started wearing perfume. He’d come over, letting me smell it and asking if I liked it. The way he stretched his neck was so flirty. He clearly looked like a bottom, but at that time, all I could think was, “Well, he knows I’m a nice guy and is coming to play with me. Little brat.” Now I really regret it. I even took the initiative to invite them to the bathhouse for a soak together. Take a bath! Get naked with two bottoms! Take a bath! Wasn’t I just throwing myself at them? I still remember the looks they gave me at that time. Stellar Song’s eyes were bright. “Are you sure you want to take a bath with us~?” Flynn Song, on the other hand, stared at me strangely and said, “I don’t want to be in the bathroom.” At that time, I scratched my head, not understanding their intentions, and said stupidly, “What’s the matter? We’re all buddies. Hurry up, don’t be so slow. ” In the bathroom, steam was swirling around. The two brothers had squeezed in close, sandwiching me in the middle as we took a bath. “Brother Wayne, I didn’t expect you to have such a good body.” Stellar Song praised me with a smile. “Of course. I’ve been working out for a long time.” Flynn Song, keeping his usual confident demeanor, chimed in, “What’s the point of looking good? Being healthy is what really matters.” “I’m as fit as a fiddle, guys,” I said, naively starting to brag about my glorious achievements with my ex-girlfriend, completely oblivious to the increasingly mischievous glints in their eyes. After we got back from the bathhouse to the dorm, I decided to continue our earlier topic and asked them what kinds of girls they liked. That’s when the same scene unfolded again, with Stellar Song saying how “wife” is a feeling and it can be a guy too. And then these two bottoms surrounded me. Now I’m extremely regretful. I’m such an idiot. Not having a gaydar has really screwed me over. If God were to give me another chance now, I would never take a bath with these two brothers again. No, I would never share a dorm with them again. “Brother Wayne, your body is so good. I was drooling over you when we were taking a bath just now.” Stellar Song reached out to a place he shouldn’t have and pinched me sneakily. I have to admit, this guy has really nice skin, and his eyes are huge. With those Korean-style bangs, he actually looks a bit like a cute girl. “Let’s call this love at first sight, shall we?” Suddenly, he climbed onto me, looking at me with burning eyes and even licking his lips? In that moment, even though I was fully dressed, it felt like I was completely naked. I got angry.“Stellar Song, get off me right now. Don’t make me hit you!” “Humph, then hit me.” Who would’ve thought this guy wouldn’t listen? He took the chance to fall into my arms and said coyly, “Just right. I like being tamed by Brother Wayne.” What the hell! I rolled over to get up, ready to throw a few punches at him. But as I landed a few hits, I suddenly felt something strange. This guy was actually moaning and wriggling around? Damn it, it made me hard. “Stop moving!” I roared at Stellar Song. “Okay, don’t be so mean. I’m just in pain because you hit me.” Stellar Song looked at me pitifully and stopped. But Flynn Song was all fired up. “What are you afraid of? There are two of us. Can’t we overpower him?” Flynn Song is different from his brother. He’s smart, decisive, and he has to succeed in whatever he wants to do. He never accepts threats. Just like today, he managed to send the fourth roommate to the cybercafe without anyone noticing. That guy even promised that he wouldn’t come back today before leaving. On top of that, Flynn works out regularly, so when it comes to physical strength, I might not stand a chance against him. It turned out that Flynn Song had been quietly watching Stellar Song and me mess around for a while, just biding his time to wear me out before striking at the perfect moment. “Okay, the appetizer is over. It’s time for the main course.” “What are you doing? Don’t come over here. Don’t… Don’t touch me!” Flynn Song pressed down on me and said ambiguously in my ear, “Don’t pretend. You were already hard just now.” I was stunned. So, he had seen everything I’d tried to hide. “Don’t worry. It’s obvious that you’re a top. You won’t be on the bottom.”

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“Tell me! How can I break the bond with this pen??” My arch-enemy, the teacher, now pushed me over the table and forced me to tell him the answer. Bro, I don’t know either!! “If you don’t tell me, I will be really rude.” He roughly unbuckled my belt, slid his hand down, and then pushed hard. He swears to repay me in the way I have been treated, and let me taste the pain I have inflicted on him. The recent math classes have been quite challenging, and I’m struggling to keep up. As a poor math student, I often roll my pen to relieve the pressure. I didn’t expect my strict math teacher to get so flustered, his face turning red as he glared at me. “Jimmy, put down the pen in your hand! Stop turning it! Listen carefully!” This teacher must be sick today. I wasn’t distracted. Two days later, it was the same teacher who was my archenemy. Still this unruly me, Two 1.80-meter-tall boys were staring at each other in the hotel, and the atmosphere was very ambiguous.

Bran is our new math teacher in the postgraduate entrance examination class. He was so tall and handsome, an absolute male god. As soon as he stepped onto the podium, even the female students who usually loathed math began to pay close attention. While listening, he continued, “Teacher, please say more.” “Teacher, what else?” That’s not all. After class, they would surround him and ask him questions. Even my goddess, who looks like a fairy, is an absolute academic master They would come to our class just to seek Bran’s help, all for a chance to talk to him. I felt a surge of jealousy!! Very jealous! Very jealous! Bran is simply the public enemy of all boys! But I can’t deny my envy. Those long legs, that handsome face, and his clear, humorous teaching style—it’s no wonder even I find myself wanting to listen to his lectures, let alone my goddess. Though I may not excel in my studies, I know my own limitations. There is no way I can compare to this kind of male god teacher. It’s better to get along well with him and take the opportunity to get close to the goddess. Who knew that when I took the test paper to ask questions, he actually called me stupid in front of the goddess, which made me very angry. I vowed to get my revenge on him if I ever got the chance. And now, that opportunity has arrived…

“If you say you don’t want to transfer, then don’t transfer. You are meddling too much.” I grumbled unhappily, slipping the pen under the table and continuing to spin it secretly. “I’ll just spin, and I’ll keep spinning.” A hundred pounds of rebelliousness made me keep repeating the movements on the tip. I imagined that the pen in my hand was Bran’s ** “Hmph, I’ll get back at you for embarrassing me in front of the goddess.” Unexpectedly, Bran suddenly turned his back to us on the podium and held onto the blackboard. An unusual blush crept across his face. Bang! The pen in my hand slipped and fell to the ground. Sorry, my pen-spinning skills aren’t very good. “Hey, let me pick it up,” I said. Unexpectedly, my deskmate accidentally stepped on the pen. “Ah!~~” Bran suddenly screamed, leaned on the desk in pain, and beads of sweat appeared on his face. “Teacher, are you okay?” the female student in the front row asked with concern. “No…it’s okay, this is the question, everyone can study on your own from now on.” I stood up and saw Bran sitting down with a strange expression on his face, hunched over. Tsk, it’s not like you’re a girl and you don’t have your period, why are you being so sissy? I started to do the questions unhappily, holding the pen tightly in my hand. I didn’t know the answer to this question, and I didn’t know the answer to this one either. I started staring blankly forward, biting the pen cap. Little did I know, Bran was up at the podium, growing increasingly impatient and practically hating me. “Strange, why is the ink leaking when I just changed the refill?” I quickly found a napkin to wipe it, and the teacher’s expression on the podium seemed to slowly relax.

After class, The female classmates were gossiping about what happened to the teacher today and whether he was feeling unwell. I was the only one who shivered when Bran yelled at me. “Jimmy, get out here.” Damn, did this teacher take medicine today? The boys all looked at me with sympathy, and the girls all stared at me strangely as if I had really done something outrageous. “Jimmy, you don’t pay attention in class, why are you spinning your pen? Are you still studying?” I was just about to retort, but when I looked up and met Bran’s eyes, I was stunned. The teacher’s face was obviously flushed, and her angry look revealed a hint of shyness. What’s going on? I thought to myself, why is this expression exactly the same as the heroines in some movies I watched during my adolescence? If the girls in our class saw this, they would be so fascinated. “I’m talking to you! What are you daydreaming about? Where’s your pen? Take it out now! I’m confiscating it!” “It’s… in the drawer.” At this time, the teacher of the next class came to my rescue, “Mr. Zhong’s class is over.” “Ah, it’s over. The next class is yours, right?” Bran smiled and said, but then his expression changed immediately. He held my shoulder and said to me sinisterly, “You are not allowed to play with pens in this class. Bring your pens to me after class, or we will never be together again.” It’s funny, you really think I’m still a primary school student, Just spinning a pen is enough to get it confiscated? No one would care about that. Once class was over, I headed straight for the basketball court, giving it my all. And I brought this pen with me.

no sooner said than done. On the court, I took a step to the left and turned to the right. Let the pen fully rub against the fabric of the pants. If friction generates heat, then as it gets hot, Teacher Bran on the other side must be feeling very uncomfortable. If you shoot one more basketball and jump a little more, you can increase the momentum on the y-axis. It’s hard to say whether you can bear it or not. “Nice shot!” My long-range three-point shot earned me the admiration of many. Just when I was feeling proud of myself, someone suddenly pointed at my pants and said there was something black. When I looked down, I saw that the damn pen had leaked ink again. This time, it had completely stained my pants. “You guys go ahead and fight, I’m going to the bathroom.” After nodding goodbye to the guys, I headed to the single restroom behind the stadium with my ink-stained pants It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s a private restroom, and usually, no one goes in or out, making it easy for me to take off my pants and try to clean them up. But as soon as I stepped inside, I saw a familiar figure. I was wiping up the mess with some paper, not really paying attention, when I realized—Bran?! He didn’t look like the suave teacher he usually was. It was hilarious and a bit embarrassing to see him like this. Turns out, even though Bran’s the heartthrob teacher, he’s no different from us regular guys in moments like these. But before I could even laugh, he spotted me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me in, pinning me against the wall. “Having fun, aren’t you?” “Uh, what do you mean, Teacher?” “Don’t play dumb with me. You’re the reason I’ve been so uncomfortable.” I looked at him—handsome, sophisticated, way out of my league—and swallowed hard. He really was something. “What…?” “Still not admitting it, huh?” Bran grabbed my chin and pressed a rough kiss onto my mouth. Instantly, my mind went blank and my hands and feet went weak. That was…that was my first kiss! I’d been waiting four years in college for this, saving my first kiss until I got into grad school so I could finally give it to my dream girl! “Jimmy, if you keep doing this, I will use you to relieve my sexual desire tomorrow instead of my mouth.”

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In a daze, I overheard my childhood friend and the muscled guy debating who would get to keep me tonight. The more I listened, the stranger it sounded. Wait—what?! Turns out, they actually want to do that with me together—and here they are, passionately debating who’s on top and who’s on bottom?! Hold up, I haven’t agreed to any of this! How did these two already settle all the roles?! The moment I opened my eyes, I found myself stretched out in an embarrassing position in the empty school clinic, the pain bringing tears to my eyes. “Arnold Strong, you jerk! Get your foot off my hips!” But he had no intention of letting me go, pressing my knees down harder against the bed with his foot. On the other side, a pair of narrow, alluring eyes gazed at me, filled with danger as he murmured seductive words. “The wider the hips, the better. Let’s do it again.” A chill ran down my spine. They weren’t seriously trying to turn me into an Oreo sandwich, were they?! “Stop scaring him,” Arnold Strong shot an irritated look at James Whitaker but still spoke gently to me. “You just pulled a muscle running the 3,000 meters for the physical test. I was helping you.” “So… you mean running?” I let out a sigh of relief. James Whitaker smirked devilishly. “Not exactly.” He stepped closer, his hand trailing slowly down to my backside. “I don’t mean running,” he murmured. “I’m talking about doing things… not exactly suitable for kids—with Charles.” Smack. Arnold Strong angrily swatted James Whitaker’s hand away. “Are you nuts? Charles isn’t yours alone.” “I’ve known him since he was little, so of course he’s mine alone,” James shot back, pulling me closer. “And what about me, his brother? I’m still his class monitor, and I’m taking him back to class. What’s it to you?” Arnold snapped, grabbing my hand and trying to tug me off the bed. My hands were soon covered in red marks from all the tugging and pulling, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore, jumping up from the bed. James’s eyes flickered with a mix of disappointment and malice as he grabbed the fruit knife from the table, pointing it directly at me. “Tell me, Charles—are you coming with me, or with him?” Bro, you’re jealous of him! Why are you pointing the knife at me?!

Flashback to a month ago. While I was dating the school beauty, I happened to find a campus novel in her bag—a romance with two male leads. Next thing I knew, I was pulled into the story and became Charles, the beloved pawn caught between them. After all, Charles is the “goddess” my girlfriend has raved about for so long, and I’d even picked up on some of the book’s plot details from her. The two male leads? One is Arnold Strong, the bright and athletic class leader with both brains and brawn. The other is James Whitaker, my beautiful but frail neighbor. Through Charles, they meet, and—both fall in love with him. Although I don’t read many online novels, I know this basic trope well. Usually, as long as the protagonist’s ending matches what’s in the book, they can return to the real world. So I rolled up my sleeves, ready to dive in and wrap up the story early! “Hey, James, with the midterm exam coming up, can you help me review this weekend?” I knocked on the door next door, flashing a charming smile at James Whitaker. “No,” he replied, slamming the door shut with a cold expression. Great. Just great. I banged on the door again. “If you don’t help me, I’ll keep knocking all night!” “You’re so annoying,” James finally relented, swinging the door open. He leaned against the frame, his head propped up by his hand, looking both lazy and regal. I put on the cutest begging face I could muster and offered James Whitaker his favorite anime figurine with both hands. “Please!” James smiled, and though I sensed something else behind his gaze, he eventually agreed. Yes! I was secretly thrilled, so I shot a text to class leader Arnold Strong, asking him to come over on the weekend to help me study for the quiz. But when the weekend actually arrived, I was left utterly dumbfounded.

When these two met, it was like watching two mortal enemies clash—totally incompatible with each other. One mocked the other for being a sissy for collecting dolls, while the other laughed at him for being so clueless he couldn’t even solve the last question. “Can you guys keep it down for a minute?” I said, digging into my pocket in frustration. “Hey, where are my cigarettes?” Oh no! I forgot I’m Charles now—I’m still a student and can’t smoke! “Just kidding! I mean… where’s my pen?” “Really?” James Whitetaker stared at me with unfathomable eyes. I scratched my head and left this troubled place quickly, “Well… I’ll go out and look for it.” Arnord Strong followed me out, “Have you been under a lot of pressure from studying recently?” “Not… not so bad.” He took out a pen from his pocket and smiled shyly, “This is for you, don’t smoke.” Arnord Strong’s smile was warm and dazzling in the sunlight, When he took the pen, our fingertips touched each other, and a strange tingling feeling came up. “Then I’ll leave first, I really can’t stand your neighbor brother.” Arnold gave my shoulder a gentle pat, his hand almost brushing against my ear. Wow, up close, he’s… pretty handsome. Wait, what? Gross! I’m straight! Why am I reacting like this? I shook off the distracting thoughts and headed back to the room, ready to tackle another difficult challenge. But as soon as I stepped through the door, I found myself pinned against the wall. “What did he give you?” James Whitaker’s eyes narrowed, a threatening glint in them. I handed him the pen. “Here, it’s all yours.” Could it be that the two of them were just pretending to be at odds, while secretly being a happy-go-lucky duo? “I will definitely not snatch it from you, Brother James.” “That’s good to know.” James Whitaker scrutinized me from head to toe with a wicked grin, as if he were assessing something. Then, without warning, he pulled me into an embrace, pinched my chin, and kissed me.

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