Hot! Why is it so hot? I vaguely remember that before I lost consciousness, the temperature on Earth had plummeted to minus 80 degrees Fahrenheit. There’s a saying that right before someone freezes to death, they feel a strange warmth. Was I already dead? No! I can’t die just like this! Those three despicable people are still alive, so how could I die before them? Suddenly, I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was my husband, Lucas Johnson, standing beside the couch. He was wearing a thin t-shirt, his face glowing with warmth, clearly enjoying life without a care. He looked down at me and said casually, “Since you’re awake, go ahead and make dinner. My parents will be home soon.” The scene was so familiar, almost identical to the moment a month ago when I had slipped while mopping the floor, hit my head on the corner of the table, and passed out. And Lucas’s expression right now—it was the exact same as it had been back then! “Hey!” Lucas, seeing that I hadn’t moved, yanked me up forcefully, pulling me off the couch. “Faye, it’s already 5:15! Mom and Dad will be here by 5:30. What are you standing around for?” With that, he turned and walked back into his room to play his game, leaving me standing there with my heart racing. Lucas’s well-toned arm had gripped me so tightly that the pain in my arm was real. My heart pounded as I quickly grabbed my phone. The screen showed the date—it really was a month before that fateful day! Just then, a news alert popped up on my phone, reporting a conflict in some region. It was eerily similar to the chaos that had erupted just before the apocalypse in my previous life. Those painful memories came rushing back. In my past life, Lucas had been laid off. After that, he struggled to find a job, meeting failure after failure. As the only son of a rural family, his parents had moved in with us when they heard he’d lost his job. They were furious that as his wife, I wasn’t catering to his every need—especially that I wasn’t cooking for him every day. So, they decided to move in under the pretense of helping us. But instead of helping, they turned Lucas into a lazy, good-for-nothing man. Back then, I was trapped by “years of love” and couldn’t bring myself to leave him. I didn’t divorce him when I should have. But now—I’ve come back to the past! God finally heard my cry of frustration and gave me another chance! With gratitude filling my heart, I glanced around the room. The family heirloom furniture my parents left behind was still intact, and the sunlight was pouring in through the windows. I checked the weather forecast: it was 116°F (47°C)—even for a scorching summer, this was unusual heat. This extreme heat is why, when the Great Freeze hit half a month later, people didn’t see it coming. They felt too comfortable to notice. The temperature would drop rapidly—first by 9 or 18 degrees each day—until one day people would wake up to find it snowing in the middle of summer, with the temperature plunging to -30°F. That’s when the panic would finally set in. At first, you could still buy food if you had money, but before long, people would realize the danger, and everyone would have to fend for themselves. I remember suggesting to Lucas that we should stock up while we could still go to Costco Warehouse Store. But my in-laws overheard this from outside the room. They stormed in, hands around my throat, accusing me of trying to kill their son. “Don’t you know how deadly it is to go out in this cold?! You go if you want to die!” They yanked me roughly out of bed. “Let’s see how you like freezing to death, you wicked woman!” I was devastated, but Lucas remained silent. His mother’s grip on my throat tightened. I scratched at her hands in desperation, but Lucas stopped me cold. “That’s my mom! How could you lay a hand on her?” At that moment, I was shocked, but I finally understood. He had changed long ago. The moment I agreed to let his country-bumpkin parents move in with us, I had made a mistake. Maybe even marrying him had been the wrong decision from the start. In the days that followed, they dropped the masks they wore and became like demons. They hoarded all the warm clothes, forcing me to go out in -40°F weather to scavenge for food while they burned my family’s heirloom furniture for warmth. My hands were covered in frostbite, my exposed skin cracked from the cold. If I didn’t bring back enough food, I was met with scorn or beaten. If I tried to explain myself, they would strip off my down jacket and lock me outside until I begged for forgiveness. When there was no more food to find, they made a deal with the local gang to trade me for supplies. I fought back with all my strength, but I was left locked out on the freezing balcony. That’s how I froze to death. The humiliation and agony of those final moments felt as vivid as if it had happened yesterday, and tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. Just then, the sound of keys turning in the lock reached my ears—Lucas’s parents had come home.

As soon as they stepped inside, their eyes immediately went to the dining table. Seeing nothing, their faces darkened. I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears, and put on a cheerful smile to greet them. It wasn’t time to reveal my hand yet. I had to bide my time. I flashed my phone at them as I spoke. “Dad, Mom, something urgent came up at the factory, and I completely lost track of time. Why don’t I give you some money, and you can take Lucas out to eat something nice? I still need to go back to the factory to handle some things.” Right then, Mr. Johnson’s phone chimed with a notification. He unlocked it, and the amount he saw made him smile. “I’ll be back late tonight. Enjoy your dinner.” Ever since my parents passed away in that tragic accident, I had been running the furniture factory they left me, fresh out of college. It took countless sleepless nights, but eventually, I managed to bring that dormant production line back to life. Good thing I had been smart enough to never transfer ownership of the factory to Lucas. Now, the factory’s profits were my strongest leverage. Sure, it hurt a little to hand over $10,000 just like that, but to catch a big fish, you have to be willing to sacrifice some bait. I calculated the liquid cash I had left—just over a million dollars. Before Lucas lost his job, we had been pretty comfortable. But this past year, we had nearly eaten through all our savings. Still, between the property, the car, the stocks, and the debts the factory was owed, I could piece together enough to stay afloat for now. With that sorted, I rushed out the door, ready to get down to business. The elevator doors slid open, and standing inside was a young man. He had short hair, wore a black t-shirt, and his skin was a deep bronze. He stood quietly in the corner. If you didn’t know him, his presence might feel intimidating, unsettling even. But I knew he was a kind man. In my past life, when I was locked out on the balcony, it was him who dropped a heat pack down to me from above. But my mother-in-law had seen it, snatched it up, and gave it to Lucas instead. The three of them then conspired to frame me, accusing me of having an affair with him. That one small act of kindness had meant more to me than all the years of what I thought was an unbreakable marriage. I gave him a small smile and pressed the button for the basement. As the elevator descended, I casually remarked, “Seems like the weather’s been pretty weird this year, huh?” He glanced at me in surprise before nodding. “It sure has.” I feigned nonchalance. “I read an article recently about how this heat is just a backlash from rising global temperatures. Environmental damage is causing strange fluctuations in the weather, and they think it might lead to a sudden and drastic drop in temperatures.” He shot me a puzzled look and responded with a simple, “Oh.” I gave him one last glance before stepping out of the elevator. Ignoring the curious stares from others, I headed straight for a rental service and picked up a spacious old van. After that, I drove to Hillcrest Realty to rent a secluded private estate that I could move into right away. I wanted somewhere remote, with strong security. The agent looked out the window at the beat-up van I had rented, clear skepticism in his eyes. How could someone who was about to rent a luxury estate be driving such a rundown vehicle? I handed him an envelope stuffed with cash. “Relax, it’s all above board. You get your cut , I handle my business.” The agent’s expression shifted to one of sharp understanding. “Actually, I do have a place. It’s nearby.” I nodded, signaling him to lead the way. Sure enough, the agent brought me to an upscale neighborhood. I knew this area well—it wasn’t far from my home, but due to some silly superstitions about bad feng shui, hardly anyone had moved in. Rich people were obsessed with such nonsense, and it had turned this into a notorious money-losing project. And because of that, during the apocalypse, it had become an untouched safe haven. Though I was on a budget, I was still determined to haggle. “This place has quite the reputation as a ‘ghost town,’ so the price better reflect that.” The agent gave me a sideways look before forcing a smile. “You know your stuff. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of overcharging you.” When we arrived, he pulled out the keys and opened the door, stepping aside to let me in. “The owner moved overseas, barely lived here. Fully furnished, with a private yard. The neighbors are far apart—very quiet.” Before stepping inside, I took a moment to survey the yard. The soil was rich and fertile—ideal for building a greenhouse to grow my own food. Inside, I inspected every corner, knocking and testing for durability. The solid wood furniture was well-built, and the windows were top-quality. But what delighted me the most was the enormous fireplace. The previous owner clearly had excellent taste. As the sun began to set, I stood on the terrace, looking out at the darkened windows of my current house in the distance, squinting my eyes thoughtfully. Turning to the agent, I said, “Let’s sign the lease for five years.” His eyes lit up with excitement. After paying the deposit and seeing him off, I took my time examining every inch of this soon-to-be apocalypse refuge. I mapped out where I would install security grilles and where to fortify weak points, planning everything meticulously. Just as I was about to explore the space under the stairs, an inconspicuous door caught my attention. My mind began to race with ideas… I pushed the door open. As the hinges turned, lights along the walls flickered to life, illuminating a path downward. To my amazement, this mansion had a hidden basement! It was clear that the previous owner had some foresight, creating this secret space during construction as a bunker of sorts. The agent hadn’t even known about it, which meant I now had a secret base—a valuable asset, especially with the apocalypse looming. The basement was roughly 1,300 square feet, fully furnished, and equipped with a state-of-the-art ventilation system. The air circulated freely, without any oppressive feeling. All it needed was enhanced insulation, and it would be the perfect shelter. Now, it was time to start stockpiling supplies. Carefully locking the basement door, I moved an old metal cabinet in front of it to keep it hidden. Then I pulled the curtains tightly shut and drove off to the nearest Costco Warehouse Store.

As soon as I entered the store, memories of hunger and freezing from my previous life flooded back, making my eyes gleam with a ravenous desire as I stared at the shelves of food. The key to preparing for the apocalypse was choosing items with a long shelf life that were easy to eat. So, instant meals like mac and cheese, turkey-flavored ramen, and various heat-and-eat meals were my top picks. I headed straight for the bulk section and, posing as a small-scale retailer, I ordered large quantities—ten cases of mac and cheese, ten cases of turkey-flavored ramen, and ten cases of heat-and-eat meals. Of course, a balanced diet was important, too. Fresh fruits and vegetables were a luxury I couldn’t afford or easily store. Growing them myself would be tricky. So, I focused on vacuum-packed, high-protein options and added twenty cases of preserved goods—chicken wings, chicken legs, jerky, duck products, and hard-boiled eggs. Next, I had to stock up on water. In my previous life, after Lucas and his family had betrayed me and left me trapped in the snow, the thirst I felt was indescribable. This time, I was ready. I reached out to Samantha Foster, my factory’s secretary, and had her connect me with a German company that made custom water barrels, designed to store as much water as possible in a compact space. The barrels would line the walls of the basement, and with the addition of a greenhouse and a water collection system I planned to install in the yard, I could survive for at least a year on my own. If worst came to worst, I could always melt and purify snow. Beyond food and water, medical supplies were critical. I drove around the city, visiting every 24-hour pharmacy. Every time I tried to buy ten boxes of medicine, I had to endure the suspicious or even alarmed looks from the clerks. One time, someone almost called the cops, thinking I was a drug dealer. I had to come up with an excuse, telling them I was part of a nonprofit organization collecting emergency supplies for a small town hit by a car accident. After much explaining, they reluctantly sold me what I needed. I left each store with a mountain of antibiotics, wound powder, vitamins, disinfectants, bandages, and antidotes. As I stared at the pile of medical supplies, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. In my previous life, Lucas and I had met during a volunteer relief mission. Back then, he wasn’t the selfish and cold person he later became. But people change. Fear of the apocalypse and his parents’ toxic influence had twisted him, turning his once kind heart into something ugly and greedy. This time around, I could have faced the apocalypse with him by my side, but… The me that had once cared for him was long gone. He had killed that part of me with his own hands. After gathering all the medical supplies, I picked up a few fire extinguishers and some emergency escape gear, preparing for any situation that might arise. Before long, my old van was packed to the brim. Since the estate’s storage space was limited, I decided to stop my first round of shopping here. Feeling worn out, I grabbed a few bags of long-lasting pastries and bread to fill the remaining space in the van. Then, I stopped at a late-night diner for a hearty meal before heading back home. The van was full, not just of supplies but also of a cautious optimism for the future. Even though tonight seemed normal, and the apocalypse was on its way, as long as I lived for today, I could find hope. Humming a little tune, I drove through the quiet streets, cherishing this seemingly ordinary, yet precious, night. Driving back to the Private Estate in Rural Georgia, I hauled load after load of supplies down to the basement. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the floor, gazing at my “spoils of victory” with a long sigh of relief. The apocalypse would last a long time, and I urgently needed to gather more resources. But with only myself, my energy was limited, and time was slipping away. This house still needed further modifications. After paying the rent and buying food and medicine, my bank account had dwindled to just over $800,000. To avoid running out of funds for the renovations later, I decided to rely on my family’s factory for production. The first priority was to get some high-quality bows and arrows as weapons. Decent ones only cost a few thousand dollars. As for the arrows, that was simple—my factory specialized in woodworking, and it wouldn’t be hard to whip up a batch of shafts in a pinch. Last month, the factory had bought some bamboo for making chopsticks. I could easily repurpose some of it and combine it with ball bearings to create a makeshift slingshot launcher. For firepower, the garage, which was sealed and secure, could store some fireworks to be used as emergency explosives. In an apocalypse, after all, human nature was often more dangerous than the environment. As for the house modifications: installing steel plates, adding solar panels, and creating indoor insulation—$800,000 would barely cover it all. While pondering this, I drifted off to sleep without realizing it. When I woke, I was drenched in sweat, having forgotten to turn on the basement’s ventilation system. My clothes were soaked through. I glanced at the time—it was already past 2 a.m. Quietly, I slipped out of the basement and peeked out through a small gap in the curtain, seeing that the lights in the house were still on. After freshening up a bit, I drove back home. I could already predict how Lucas and his parents would react. A “submissive housewife” disappearing for half a day with her phone turned off was bound to trigger a round of questioning. But what they didn’t know was that I was no longer the same Faye Johnson they were used to. When I got home, Lucas was glued to his video game, the room filled with the sounds of gunfire and explosions. I ignored him, took off my coat, and changed my shoes. Interrupted by the noise, Lucas paused the game and angrily threw down the controller. “Where the hell have you been? Coming home this late and not answering your phone?” “Do you even care that Mom and Dad didn’t get dinner tonight?” Without looking at him, I walked straight to the bedroom and tossed out, “I was working late at the factory. There was an emergency.” My father-in-law shuffled out of the adjacent room, letting out a cold snort. “What kind of ‘emergency’ makes you work so late? What, that little wood factory of yours has some earth-shattering business that can’t wait until Monday?” Funny, he didn’t have this attitude when I handed him that money earlier. I rolled my eyes inwardly but didn’t say anything. Lucas suddenly threw his phone onto the table. “You say you were working late, but I called the office so many times—nobody picked up! What kind of work are you doing?” His mother chimed in, raising her voice. “I told you, son, this kind of woman who’s always out and about is no good. Always talking about ‘working late.’ Who knows what kind of people she’s really meeting—men or women.” With her words, Lucas’s expression darkened further. No wonder, in the past, whenever I worked late, he’d ask about it over the phone but never came to pick me up. It was all just surveillance. Looking at the three of them sitting in a row on the couch, their faces made me sick. I chuckled, “It’s business, right? I deal with both men and women. What, Lucas, would you like to go in my place next time?” “And Mom, didn’t you say you were here to take care of the both of us?” “Well, I’ll leave that to you. From now on, when I’m not home, you can cook for your son.” “After all, those hands of his are only good for video games, right?” Since we got married, I had always believed in keeping the peace in the family, treating my in-laws with respect. But now, I was done. If it weren’t for the fact that I needed time to stockpile supplies, I wouldn’t bother dealing with them at all. My mother-in-law, caught off guard by my defiance, shot up from the couch, her finger nearly poking my nose. “So, you think you’ve found some rich sugar daddy, huh? Daring to talk to me like this! You’re finally admitting you’re no good, right? If it wasn’t for my son, who would even care about an orphan like you—Ah!” Her nasty rant was cut short when I threw my bag at her face. My expression was cold and my voice even colder: “Look at yourself before you point fingers at me. Without my parents, your son wouldn’t be living so comfortably.” “Mom!” Lucas rushed over, catching his mother as she collapsed into his arms, trembling. My father-in-law, also shaking, got up and started shouting at me. I ignored their outburst and calmly went to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. There were only 29 days left until the apocalypse. Don’t expect me to tolerate any of you ever again! Lucas’s family raged and cried well into the night, but I put on earplugs and slept soundly.

Monday morning dawned, and with it, a new day. I got myself ready and prepared to head out. Lucas was still snoring on the couch, and his parents, having stayed up late after last night’s argument, were also still asleep. Quietly, I slipped out the front door. Another day closer to the end, the tension inside me tightening with each passing hour. First on the agenda was heading to the factory to handle some things—collecting outstanding payments and contacting construction teams. As soon as I walked into the office, I headed straight to my computer. I reviewed yesterday’s shopping list, then carefully categorized everything, making sure to cover every aspect of daily life and ensure I didn’t miss anything. The house renovations would take time, and I needed to lock down the construction teams today. Fortunately, during the factory’s recent renovations, I had kept contact information for a few reliable crews. For security reasons, I decided to hire several different teams to work on separate parts of the project. That way, no one would be able to connect the dots about my “apocalypse shelter.” As long as no one linked the information, my secret would be safe. With that in mind, I made a few calls, explaining that I was helping a friend remodel a workshop, and quickly wired $50,000 in deposits, making sure they started work that very afternoon. For the heavy machinery and specialized materials, I needed a lot of cash, so I sold all my stocks in one go, disregarding the fluctuations in the market. Next, I contacted an agent to sell the factory’s company vehicles and an out-of-town property I had in my name, keeping only an SUV, which I planned to send to the shop for upgrades and modifications. After that, I sent out instructions to the department heads, ordering them to recover all outstanding debts within a week, with a promise to reward 40% of any amounts collected as a bonus. The sales team exploded with excitement. Within minutes, action-oriented staff were already heading out the door. With this careful planning, I expected to recover close to a million dollars—enough to cover the renovation costs. That afternoon, I brought the first construction crew to the estate and discussed the details of the modifications. The top priority was reinforcing the perimeter fence, which would take two days. I explained that the “owner” was planning to raise large dogs, so the wire mesh needed to be extra dense. For the second team, I instructed them to install bulletproof glass, giving them a five-day deadline. The supervisor broke into a sweat. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Bulletproof glass installed in five days? That’s impossible!” “And what’s this friend of yours up to, installing bulletproof glass in their house?” I pulled him aside and spun a story about how my “friend” was a war correspondent with some PTSD from working in conflict zones. He bought it, though it meant double the cost. But if money could solve the problem, then it wasn’t really a problem. I transferred the funds without a second thought. The third and fourth teams were in charge of adding insulation, fireproofing, reinforcing the walls, and upgrading the garage. Even with the minimalist design I wanted, by the time the renovations were finished, my budget would be almost depleted. I rented a warehouse near the estate to serve as a storage hub for supplies and headed straight for the mall with a massive shopping list. Within three days, I needed to have all the goods delivered to the warehouse: high-end winter clothing, heat packs, portable heaters, and more. I had six solar panels installed on the roof in one go. Even if it got unbearably hot, freezing was not an option. By the time I finished, it was 5 p.m., right in the middle of rush hour. I collapsed into the driver’s seat, breathing heavily. Reviewing the checklist, I still felt like something was missing. I had to make sure there were no gaps in my plans. In the rearview mirror, I saw my flushed face, realizing that my health had deteriorated over the years from overworking. That’s it! Fitness equipment! Staying physically strong would be essential to survive the unknown challenges ahead. I headed to a sporting goods store and ordered dumbbells, an elliptical machine, and a multi-functional training rack, requesting delivery to my home. The store even threw in a complimentary guidebook called “Complete Fitness Guide for Women”, which covered exercises for all muscle groups—a very practical gift. This also reminded me that in a future of freezing temperatures and no internet, reading might be my best form of entertainment. So, I went to a bookstore and bought hundreds of books across various genres, having the staff load them all into my trunk. As night fell, I stopped for dinner before finally heading back home. Opening the door, I found Lucas and his parents happily seated at the dining table, enjoying a meal of lobster. His mother peeled a lobster and placed it in Lucas’s bowl. But when they saw me, all three of their smiles froze. “Faye, listen to me…” “Wait. Let me finish first.” I pulled out the divorce papers from my bag and placed them lightly on the dining table. “I’ve done everything I could for you over the years. Let’s get a divorce. You can keep the house, and I’ll just take my parents’ old furniture.” “No way!” Lucas suddenly exploded in anger, snatching up the papers and tearing them into pieces. “Son!” Mrs. Johnson hurriedly stopped Lucas, who was almost out of control. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear. “Mom!” Lucas started to speak but stopped when Mrs. Johnson shot him a commanding look, like a general in charge of a battlefield. “Fine, you can get a divorce,” she said with a calm, calculating smile. “But besides the house, we’ll need an extra million dollars in compensation.” Compensation? I let out a cold laugh. I hadn’t even begun to charge them for the emotional damage they had caused me over the years. “You can have the car too, along with the house. That’s it. I’m going away on business, Lucas. You have three days to think it over. Let me know your decision.” Before they could react, I went to the bedroom, packed some clothes and personal items, and left with my suitcase. As I drove out of Greenwood Apartments, I noticed a shadowy figure lurking nearby. Thank goodness I had planned to stop by the grocery store first instead of driving straight to the Private Estate. Otherwise, I might’ve been caught. If they want to play games, I’ll play along. I pulled over and quickly sent out a few texts. The replies came swiftly, with a confirmation emoji. Good thing I’d kept contact information handy for just such an occasion. Watching the figure getting closer through the rearview mirror, I pretended to take a phone call and raised my voice. “Yes… Room 1705 at the Hilton Nashville Downtown? Sure, I’ll be there in half an hour. You go ahead and wait for me.” I hung up the phone, cranked up the music, and sped off, feeling lighthearted. I drove straight to the hotel. After parking, I hurried inside, slipping into a quiet corner of the lobby where I could watch the elevators. Sure enough, Lucas stormed in a few minutes later, his face dark with anger. Hooked! I immediately dialed 911. “Hi, I’d like to report suspicious activity in Room 1705 of the Hilton Nashville Downtown. There might be something illegal going on. Please send someone to check it out. Thank you.” Since the hotel was located in a busy part of the city, and with the local authorities eager to maintain public safety, the police responded quickly. Within the time it took to drink a coffee, Lucas and a woman dressed provocatively were escorted out of the hotel by the police. “Let go of me! I’m here to see my wife!” Lucas protested, struggling against the officers. A young officer sternly questioned him, “Where’s your wife? Is she really your wife? Can you even tell me her name?” Lucas was at a loss for words. An older officer sighed, “Son, just admit your mistake and move on. It’s not that big of a deal.” Then, they were all loaded into the police car and taken away. Problem temporarily solved, I headed to the grocery store, buying whatever I felt like. By the time I checked out, I had two carts full. As I was loading the items into my car, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Lucas Johnson’s family? This is the police department. Your husband has been detained for illegal behavior. Please come down to the station to arrange bail.” “What? Lucas would never do something like that!” I feigned shock. “I’ll be there right away.” Who was I kidding? I quickly hung up and called Mrs. Johnson. “Hi, Mrs. Johnson. The police just called. Your son has been arrested for some misconduct. If you don’t want him to suffer, you’d better bring money to the station!” I hung up before she could respond. As the night settled in, I parked the car in the private garage of the estate and quietly returned to the apartment building. I watched from the shadows as Lucas’s parents hurried out of the building, shouting and cursing the whole way. Once I was sure they were far enough away, I took the elevator back up to the apartment and quickly set up a few hidden cameras in some discreet spots. I wanted to make sure I could catch every humiliating moment of their downfall. My heart pounded. It was my first time doing something like this, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous. Time was ticking. I had to hurry. I took a deep breath to calm myself and connected the cameras to my phone. Even if the internet cut out, I could still monitor them in real-time through the device. Before leaving, I double-checked that the cameras were well hidden. Satisfied, I quietly left the apartment. By the time I returned to the Private Estate, it was late. To avoid disturbing the neighbors, the construction crews had stopped work promptly at 8 p.m., as per regulations. I inspected the progress and was pleased with the results. At this pace, the place would be ready in just ten days. Money, after all, was the ultimate motivator. I had converted most of my remaining cash into gold. As any basic economics course would teach, gold and silver were always the safest currencies. I hid the shiny treasures in the most secret corner of the basement. Unless someone drained the entire three-month water supply, no one would ever find them. After a long bath, I curled up on the couch, snacking and watching TV, savoring the peaceful moment. Looking at myself in the mirror post-shower, I couldn’t help but notice how different I looked. I had money, I had looks—why had I ever settled for a man like Lucas for three whole years? Love really did blind women. We could turn trash into something shiny and clean, fooling ourselves completely. Checking the time, I pulled out my phone and opened my messaging app. The three-person “loving family” had returned home and were sitting in the living room, recounting the events of the evening. Mrs. Johnson flicked Lucas on the forehead. “I told you to keep an eye on her, and instead, you got yourself arrested?” Lucas scratched his head, frustrated. “I really did hear her say she was going to the hotel! Otherwise, why would I have gone there… Mom, I told you this kind of thing isn’t for me. You made me do it!” Mrs. Johnson sighed heavily, clearly disappointed. “I wanted you to catch her cheating so we could get more in the divorce. Do you even know how much money she has? If you let her walk away without giving you anything, all you’ll have left is this old house and that beat-up car. Don’t be stupid, son!” “I’m not getting a divorce!” Lucas shouted. “Yeah, I admit I went after her because of the money at first, but after all this time, I do have feelings for her!” So, it had all been a scheme from the start. I almost felt sorry for my past self. Almost. Mr. Johnson put his hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Feelings? What good are feelings? You think she loves you? The house, the car, the money—it’s all in her name. You care about her, but does she care about you? Divorce would be better. At least you’d walk away with something.” “Exactly!” Mrs. Johnson clapped her hands, already imagining their future. “That house is in a prime location. It’s only going to go up in value. And that car is worth tens of thousands. Talk to her, ask for more compensation, and find yourself a better girl.” Mrs. Johnson was practically giddy with excitement. “Besides, do you even know what she’s doing when she’s out? She could’ve been with someone else this whole time. You trust her too much! A woman running her own business? You think that’s easy? Without paying some kind of price, where’d all that money come from?” “Son, the only people who truly care about you are your parents!” “Would we ever steer you wrong?” Watching Lucas waver under their barrage of manipulation, I quietly turned off my phone. A man with no backbone would always be controlled by others. The next day, I went to work with dark circles under my eyes. As I tried to sleep that night, memories of Lucas’s tenderness and the cold reality of his family’s true nature swirled in my mind. Perhaps I hadn’t grown enough, because their words still stung. By the middle of the night, I gave up on sleeping and got out of bed to bury myself in work. The factory workers were my partners, people who had stood by me through thick and thin. With the apocalypse looming, I couldn’t let them down. Carrying a rough draft of my plans, I walked into the office. My assistant, Samantha Foster, immediately brought me a cup of water. “Faye, did you not sleep again? Your dark circles are so bad,” she said with concern. I smiled and asked her to tally up yesterday’s collections and calculate the performance bonuses for each employee as we discussed. By the afternoon, my phone was ringing off the hook—calls from various wholesalers I’d ordered supplies from. I wolfed down my lunch and texted Samantha, letting her know I’d be heading out of town on a business trip to Miami, Florida, and would return in three days. That would be enough time to handle everything. At the warehouse, the delivery trucks were already lined up. I quickly unlocked the doors and directed the workers to unload the goods. One of the truck drivers, eyeing the piles of clothes, food, and electronics, asked curiously, “What’s all this for? Planning something big?” I smiled. “We’re doing a company retreat and taking some supplies to a community in need.” The driver’s expression turned serious, and I felt a bit guilty for lying. Lately, I’d been spinning a lot of these half-truths. Maybe it was time I did something good for a change, to balance things out. Once everything was unloaded, I noticed a few missed calls from Lucas and Samantha. I quickly called Samantha back. “What’s up?” I asked. “Faye, Lucas showed up at the office looking for you. I told him you were on a trip to Miami, but he didn’t believe me. He made quite a scene before finally leaving.” Ugh, what a headache. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” I assured her. “Are you two okay?” Samantha asked. “Oh, just the usual marital spat. Nothing serious,” I lied casually. After hanging up, I noticed the trucks were long gone, leaving me alone in the now-empty warehouse. Staring at all the supplies, I realized I couldn’t just leave them scattered everywhere. So, I started organizing, loading up my car with boxes and driving straight to the Private Estate. On the way, I stopped at the hardware store and ordered sturdy shelving units that would fit perfectly in the basement. I paid an extra $10,000 to have them delivered and installed the next afternoon. On the way back, I also stopped at a rental company and secured a small truck, agreeing to park it near the estate at 8 p.m. Once everything was arranged, I drove home, feeling the summer evening’s breeze brush against my face, the future now seeming just a bit brighter.

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Every time I see her flirting with those men, I feel so embarrassed! What’s most confusing to me is that she’s in her mid-forties, yet she still yearns for love. I always mock her for it. “With the way you act, Mom, I’m probably the only one in this world who’ll still love you,” I’d say. She’d just smile at me, tugging at my cheek while laughing. “Plenty of men are chasing me, kiddo!” And honestly, that was true. There were a lot of men interested in her. But she didn’t care about any of them, except one—a man who was sixteen years younger than her. And she was the one who made the first move. That man was named Axel Whitlock. He had this whole “refined bad boy” thing going on, with gold-rimmed glasses that somehow made him look even more dangerous. He was good-looking, with sharp brows, striking eyes, a straight nose, and lips that always looked like they came straight out of a fashion ad. He was tall, around six feet, and his pale skin made the tattoos on his arms stand out even more. The first time I saw him, I was frozen for a moment. For a while, Axel Whitlock was a regular at Hawthorne’s Smokehouse, my mom’s barbecue joint. Every time, he’d call me over to take his order, get him a drink, or bring him some more food. He always stared at me, openly complimenting how pretty I was. Honestly, I felt shy and a little annoyed by it. I didn’t want to run errands for him, but when he handed me a twenty-dollar tip, suddenly, I didn’t mind so much. Axel always ordered a huge amount of barbecue, claiming he couldn’t finish it all, and then smiling as he passed me some of the food. I had barbecue to eat every night, and I could eat as much as I wanted without my mom getting on my case. So, my impression of Axel wasn’t all that bad. Until that one night. My mom brought Axel into the back room, where she and I slept. They were in there for a long time. I stood by the door, listening. I heard my mom giggling, sounding more flirtatious than usual. Then there were sounds of chairs scraping across the floor. After a moment, I heard Axel laugh, too. When my mom finally came out, I angrily confronted her. “What were you two doing in there?” “Just talking,” she said, laughing as she ran her fingers through her hair. But her eyes were scanning me, up and down. That only made me angrier. Her look seemed to say, “You’re just a kid; you wouldn’t understand.” “Just talking? You were alone with a guy in a room for an hour, and you expect me to believe you were just talking?” My mom suddenly laughed, reached out, and pinched my cheek affectionately. “Relax, honey. Axel’s going to take care of me for the rest of my life.” I was stunned. First, I couldn’t believe how fast she’d found someone. And second, was Axel seriously into my mom? Was he blind? I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I knew there was no way I could stop my mom from being with another man. After all, when I was just five, she divorced my dad and raised me alone, too afraid to remarry in case a stepdad might treat me poorly. Now that I was grown, I had no right to stand in the way of her happiness. Besides, she’d found a guy she liked. And he wasn’t just good-looking—he was wealthy, and he’d promised to take care of her for life. But that night, I still buried my head in my pillow and cried hard. I couldn’t help but feel that soon, I’d become the forgotten child. My mom would be like my dad—she’d build a new family and forget all about me. The day after my mom told me Axel would take care of her for life, we moved. Axel bought the house. It was a three-bedroom apartment in Aspen Ridge Apartments, just a thirty-minute drive from Maple Creek High School, where I went to school. It was my first time living in such a nice place. It wasn’t just clean and spacious—it was peaceful. And when you turned on the lights, it was like something out of an influencer’s Instagram post.

At first, I resisted the move, but after seeing my new bedroom with a giant bed all to myself, I quickly changed my mind. That change of heart took about thirty seconds. As I lay on that soft, comfortable bed, I started thinking, maybe Axel wasn’t so bad for my mom after all. Still, one thing had me nervous. I was going to be living under the same roof as Axel. A week later, he finally moved in. And when he did, he brought along a little girl who couldn’t have been more than five years old. “Say hi to everyone, Ivy,” Axel said, looking down at her with a warm smile. “Hi, Auntie! Hi, big sister!” She was adorable, round-faced and pale, looking just like a little doll. I smiled warmly at her. It didn’t take more than a day for us to get along. I found out she was Axel’s daughter from his ex-wife. “Look, this is my mommy,” Ivy said, pulling a picture out of her backpack. It was a family photo, and her mom had this graceful, almost aristocratic look to her. I couldn’t help comparing her to my mom, and, honestly, they were worlds apart. One was a high-society lady, the other, well, just a regular woman. I had to wonder—did Axel have a problem with his vision, or was there something else going on? “Mom loves my brother more than me. She doesn’t love me, so she left me with Daddy. I don’t like her anymore,” Ivy said, her little lips pouting and her eyes welling up with tears. Seeing that she was about to cry, I quickly handed her a doll and said, “Hey, how about we play house?” “Okay!” Ivy cheered up instantly. I looked up and saw Axel standing in the doorway, watching us with a smile on his face. The whole situation felt weird. I quickly got up and left the room. But I could still feel his gaze following me until I shut the door. After that, things only got stranger. My mom was with Axel, but at the same time, it didn’t feel like they were really together. I understood why they weren’t having a wedding, since it was a second marriage for both. But why weren’t they even getting a marriage license? Plus, they didn’t sleep in the same room. Actually, Axel never stayed in the apartment at night. As soon as it got dark, he’d grab his car keys and leave. My mom always laughed it off, saying he was some sort of night owl, always busy after dark. But something about the whole situation seemed off. After thinking about it all night, I came to a conclusion. It must’ve been because I was around, so they couldn’t have their alone time. After giving it some thought, I decided to move into the school dorms. But when I brought it up, my mom got furious. “Living at school is out of the question! Don’t bring it up again!” she snapped. I was confused. They were newlyweds, right? Wouldn’t they want me out of the way? At the same time, though, a part of me felt happy. My mom still cared about me more. “If she wants to live at school, let her,” Axel said as he came in from outside. My mom looked surprised but quickly regained her composure. She turned to me with a softer expression. “Well, if Axel says it’s okay, then fine, you can go.” Even though she’d been calling him “Axel” this whole time, hearing it again made me pause for a second. I thanked him, addressing him as “Uncle Axel” out of habit, and started to head back to my room. Normally, I tried to avoid being around Axel whenever he was at home, just to give them some space. But this time, as I stood up to leave, I noticed Axel frowning. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the couch. He stared at me seriously for a while before finally saying, “I’m only ten years older than you. Calling me ‘Uncle’ feels weird. How about just calling me by my name?” “I’m pretty laid-back. I don’t care about formalities.” A wave of unease washed over me, and I glanced over at my mom. “Young people are easygoing like that. It’s fine. I’m easygoing too,” she said with a smile, raising her hands behind her head as she leaned back on the couch. But the way she looked at Axel didn’t seem like she was looking at a husband. I shook my head and hurried back to my room. Then I heard my mom calling after me from the living room. “Looks like my girl’s all grown up—she’s even getting shy!” And then Axel’s deep, carefree laughter followed. My heart felt more tangled than ever. Something was off—I just couldn’t put my finger on it. When I finally moved into the school dorms, I learned something shocking about Axel Whitlock. Something I never would’ve guessed.

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“Daisy, mommy’s going to the restroom. You stay right here and wait for me, okay?” I looked at the young Janine Brooks, barely in her twenties, and felt a moment of confusion. Seeing me remain silent, she let out an awkward laugh. “My little Daisy isn’t much of a talker,” she explained to the people around us before disappearing into the crowd. It all came rushing back to me. She didn’t dare sell me outright, so she found an excuse to leave me here. In reality, she was calling the traffickers. In my previous life, I didn’t know this. I believed she had really gone to the restroom and waited obediently like a fool. Soon after, a woman dressed similarly to her came and took me away. I was terrified and cried desperately, but the woman insisted that I was just throwing a tantrum after waiting too long. No one around us thought anything was strange. That’s how I ended up shoved into a car, taken to the traffickers’ hideout. They blinded me and threw me onto the streets to beg. At the time, I truly believed it was just bad luck. I kept hoping she would come back to save me. I waited for five years. During the freezing winter, I knelt in the snow with thin clothes, my hands and feet blistered from the cold. The summer was worse. Sweat would trickle into my open wounds, the sharp sting making me cry out in pain. That’s when I realized that crying could make people feel sorry for me. A little blind girl, as skinny as a stick, crying nonstop — it tugged at people’s hearts. I became good at it, and the money I begged for gradually increased. Slowly, I was able to eat, and the beatings went from daily to every three days. But the darkness around me wasn’t just physical. It consumed my entire life. I had nothing left to hope for. My entire being became numb, like the walking dead. I got very sick, a sickness that went deep into my bones. When the traffickers were about to sell me to a gang in rural Mexico, a group of police officers stormed in. That’s when I found out that the little boy who had been following me around, limping, was Ryan Pierce, the youngest son of the Pierce family. For five years, Michael and Linda Pierce never gave up looking for him, and they took down a number of human trafficking rings in the process. This time, they finally found Ryan — and they saved me too. Ryan told them that without me, he wouldn’t have survived. To thank me, Michael Pierce gave me the name Ellie Pierce and adopted me. Ellie, like the first light of dawn. Linda Pierce felt sorry for me and hired the world’s best doctors to perform surgery, restoring my sight. But Ryan’s leg could never be fixed. I snapped back to reality and glanced at the clock hanging in the mall, breaking out in a cold sweat. Five minutes had passed. The traffickers Janine Brooks contacted would be here any moment! I turned and ran. This time, I would never fall into their hands again! “Hey? Where are you going? Didn’t your mom tell you to wait for her?” People around me tried to stop me. But I knew if I didn’t run, I’d be doomed to the same tragic fate as before. I had forgotten, though — I was only four years old! My legs were short, and my stamina was weak. A man easily grabbed me. “Daisy, where do you think you’re going?” My scalp tingled with fear. That voice — it was the same man who had blinded me! I wanted to scream for help, but my throat felt like it was blocked. Years of terror made me instinctively start trembling. Tears rolled down my cheeks in big, silent drops. The man smiled and pulled me into his arms. “Daddy’s here, Daisy. Be good, don’t cry.” He sounded like a kind, loving father. No one around us doubted his words. Because I had run, the woman from my previous life didn’t show up. Instead, they sent a man, stronger and more determined. They were sure they would get me this time. Was I really out of options? Would I have to live through that nightmare again? Despair engulfed me, making me cry even harder. Suddenly, I spotted the newly opened KFC in the mall. I forced myself to stop crying and yelled out, “Daddy! I want French fries!” The man hesitated for a moment, clearly not expecting me to call him ‘daddy.’ His brow furrowed, and he started walking faster. When he ignored me, I screamed even louder. “I want French fries! Bad daddy! You bought some for my brother, but not for me!” “I have my own money! Let me go, I’ll buy them myself!” I started thrashing, reaching out to pull a nearby woman’s hair. “Auntie! Buy me some fries! I’ve got money! My dad is being unfair!” The woman yelped in pain. “Let go of me!” She glared at the man. “What kind of father are you? It’s just fries. How could you deny your own daughter something so small?” She tried to pry my hands out of her hair. The man got angry. “Mind your own business!” He yanked me up, squeezing my waist hard. His other hand reached for my flailing arm. I screamed, let go of the woman, and clung to the man’s head, blocking his face with my body as I thrashed around. “If you don’t give me fries, we’ll die together!” The fries were just an excuse. What I really wanted was to end it all with him. I’d rather die than live through that endless darkness again! Fueled by sheer willpower, I found strength beyond my small body. I yanked his hair, pinched his ears, and covered his nose. “Why can my brother have KFC, but not me? I haven’t eaten in two days!” The man stumbled, struggling to keep his balance. “You little brat, let go of me!” I cried even harder, grabbing his head with both hands. “Daddy doesn’t love me!” A crowd had gathered, all pointing at the man. “How can people still act like this in this day and age?” “This isn’t just favoring boys over girls, this is abuse!” The man was enraged and in pain. As he finally began to fall, he reached out to grab me. “You little—” I screamed and thrashed, “Daddy, don’t kill me!” I kicked him hard in the eyes. “My eyes!” he yelled. I almost laughed. How much damage could a four-year-old really do? Unfortunately, I couldn’t blind him for real. But I kept up my terrified act, scrambling away. Finally, some bystanders intervened, holding back the furious man. “It’s just a kid, and all she did was kick you! No need to go overboard!” “Yeah, don’t take your anger out on a child. Your eyes aren’t even injured.” “Relax, this mall is super safe. No one’s getting kidnapped here.” I zigzagged through the crowd and hid in a small storage room. The painful memories of my previous life flooded back. No. I wouldn’t go through that again. I still had to save Ryan, and my adoptive parents. Back then, when I was thrown into that van, there were already several other children inside. One of them was Ryan, and his legs were still intact. By the time we were brought back to the hideout that night, there were over ten of us, and none left unharmed.

At the time, I fought desperately, but it was useless. A sharp pain hit me, and my eyes closed. I passed out. When I woke up, a small child was leaning against my back. When I moved, he woke up and started crying softly. I was used to soothing my baby brother, so I instinctively patted his back and asked, “Baby, are you hungry?” The baby was Lucas Brooks, my little brother. He was the family’s treasure, while I was the extra baggage. Whenever he cried, I got scared. If I didn’t calm him down quickly, I would get beaten for no reason. But this child was easier to soothe than my brother. He immediately stopped crying and touched my eyelids. “Does it hurt?” Did it hurt? No one had ever asked me that before. Tears started pouring down my face. “Yes.” I hadn’t realized it before, but being cared for made me feel weak. I didn’t even know you could cry without having eyes. Panicking, the boy wiped away my tears with his small hands. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. Your wounds will get infected.” “Don’t worry, I can still see.” “Are you hungry?” He spoke softly, and then he put something in my mouth. It was sweet and delicious, something I had never tasted before. “What is this?” I asked. “Chocolate. I have lots at home. When we get out of here, I’ll give it all to you.” I smiled through my sniffles. “You should keep it.” I had a feeling we might never make it out, and worse, we might not survive at all. That night, two children didn’t make it. I overheard them talking about selling our organs. Hearts, lungs… everything had a price. I trembled in fear. People were just like pigs to them, sold off in pieces. “Check if there are any more who won’t make it. We’ll send them all off together.” Someone began checking each of us. The boy next to me was burning up. I knew he had a fever. I kept putting my hands on the cold floor and then pressing them to his forehead. Soon, the men reached us. “This girl is well-behaved and pretty. She could be useful in a few years.” “Heh, even the little ones now?” They grabbed my chin, discussing me with disgusting smiles. When they’d had enough of their jokes, they pushed me aside. I held onto his hand tightly. I was afraid that if I let go, I wouldn’t be able to find him again. Sure enough, one of the men said, “This boy’s got a fever.” “Of course he does, you broke his leg!” “It’s not too bad. Let’s keep him a couple more days.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief and loosened the boy’s shirt. “Are you okay? Loosen your clothes a bit, and the fever will go down.” He seemed to still be conscious, turning over to cooperate. “You know how to cool someone down?” he asked weakly. “I’ve done it for my brother.” I looked after him for three days. We were ‘lucky’ enough to survive. We watched out for each other and made it through five years. I searched my memory. We had been taken away in a white van. If I could find that van, I could save Ryan! But with my small body, I’d be caught the moment they saw me. Not to mention Janine Brooks was still out there. If I escaped, would the traffickers send her to get me? She was my legal guardian. No one would question her if she took me. But what if I wasn’t me anymore? An idea flashed through my mind, and I started searching the storage room. I found a pair of clippers. I shaved off all my hair and turned my clothes inside out. I looked like a scrappy little boy now. I stuffed a sharp tool into my pocket and quietly slipped out, heading for the mall’s back entrance. The traffickers wouldn’t park at the main entrance. If I was lucky, I’d find the van soon, memorize the license plate, and call the police. Not just Ryan — all the kids could be saved! But luck wasn’t on my side. I’d barely taken a few steps when Janine Brooks spotted me. She grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up. “You little brat, think you can run away?” In the air, I grabbed onto the leg of the woman I’d pulled hair from earlier. “Help me! I don’t know her!” I looked up and realized it was the same woman. She blinked at me in surprise. Then she pulled me into her arms. “You’re not her mother! She came here with her dad!” I clung to her like she was my lifeline. “Sister, help me! My mom is the wife of Michael Pierce! Can I borrow your phone?” “She’s a trafficker! She wants to sell me!” Janine Brooks’ face turned pale. “What nonsense are you spouting? I’m your mother!” I quickly spoke up. “Sister, she shaved my head to make me look like a boy! Help me, my mom is rich. She’ll thank you!” The woman took pity on me. “I’ll call your mom right away.” She believed me and pulled out her phone. “Do you know her number?” I nodded vigorously. In my past life, after Ryan disappeared, my parents never changed their numbers, hoping for any call with news. Janine Brooks stared at me in disbelief and called my name again, “Daisy?” I ignored her and clung to my savior, crying. “Sister, the traffickers parked a white van by the back door! There are lots of kids inside. Please help them!” I was so specific that everyone thought I’d just escaped from there. In a flash, they all rushed to the back door, and sure enough, there was a white van. Even the security guards gathered, and after hearing what was going on, they pried the van open. But it was empty. Everyone looked at each other in confusion, and I froze. Did they leave early because I escaped? Panic washed over me, my palms clammy with cold sweat. Janine Brooks, who had been terrified just moments ago, regained her composure. She rushed forward, trying to grab me again. “I told you she was making it all up! You’ve all been tricked by a little kid! There were never any traffickers!”

The woman holding me took a few steps back, avoiding any confrontation. “Don’t lay a hand on me. Even if the van is empty, this still isn’t your kid!” Having seen me with my ‘dad’ and hearing my phone call, she had no doubts about the identity I had created. I clung to her, full of gratitude. “Thank you so much! My mom is on her way!” Involving Ryan meant I knew Linda Pierce was already en route. Janine Brooks rolled her eyes at me. “You little brat, I just went to the restroom, and now you’re running around calling random people ‘Mom’? You’ve really lost it!” She flashed a photo from her phone. It was one she had accidentally taken of me while trying to capture a picture of her precious son. “Look at this! I took this at home!” she said, showing the picture. In the photo, four-year-old me was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing it clean, while a little boy lounged on the couch, stuffing strawberries into his mouth with one hand and tossing the strawberry tops at me with the other. A few people around us couldn’t help but look uncomfortable at the sight. “Even if she’s your kid, isn’t it a bit much to have someone this young doing that kind of work?” “Yeah, that looks like child abuse.” Someone pieced things together from the earlier incident with the man. “So you are her mom, and you’re just like her dad!” Janine didn’t bother defending herself anymore. She lunged toward me, trying to grab me back. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re trying to steal my kid?” Seeing the woman holding me hesitate, I decided to shout, “You took money from the traffickers! You want to sell me! This is child trafficking, and you’re going to jail for it!” “Shut your mouth!” Janine’s face turned red as her scheme was exposed. “You tricked me into going to the restroom, but you were actually calling the traffickers! Deleting the call logs won’t help — the cops will find out!” As everyone gasped, I threw in another bombshell. This was something Janine had once boasted about to me in my past life, just before drugging me. By then, the Pierce Corporation had been divided, and everything had fallen under the control of Michael Pierce’s brother. Janine had revealed all her deceit to me while I was slipping into unconsciousness. It was then I realized how foolish I’d been to wait five whole years, expecting the person who had orchestrated it all to come and save me. But now, before Linda arrived, news came that the entire mall had been locked down. Not just this one — the entire shopping district was sealed off temporarily. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in my chest. The Pierce family had already made their move! With no one able to leave, the crowd settled in to watch the drama unfold. It didn’t take long for the security guards to detain Janine. “Until Mrs. Pierce arrives, you’re not going anywhere,” one of them said. Janine didn’t believe I actually knew anyone important, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Why are you restricting my freedom?” Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires pierced through the noise. A deep purple Rolls-Royce Cullinan roared into view, stopping with a dramatic spin right in front of everyone. The door flew open, and Linda Pierce jumped out of the driver’s seat. “Who made the call?” she demanded. She was as bold as ever, but her flawless makeup had started to smudge, revealing a hint of exhaustion beneath her strong demeanor. In my previous life, she hadn’t crumbled when Ryan went missing. Instead, she encouraged her husband to continue the search, and together, they combed the entire country. It was her perseverance that eventually saved us. Could someone like her really have suffered from depression and taken her own life? Doubts began creeping into my mind, but I shoved them aside for now. I scrambled over to her. “Mom! I know where Ryan is! He was taken in a white van, and if we don’t hurry, they’ll break his leg!” A flash of panic crossed Linda’s face, and she quickly pulled out her phone. “Contact Chief Thompson immediately! Block every white van that left Midtown Shopping Center in the past hour.” After giving the orders, she turned to the crowd. “Thank you all for helping us find a lead. Each of you will receive a $10,000 reward. Please wait a moment while I speak with…” She looked at me. I straightened up and replied, “My name is Ellie!” I much preferred Ellie over the name Daisy. She nodded, picking me up and placing me in the car. “I need to have a word with Ellie.” The promise of money sent the crowd into a cheer, and some even nudged Janine toward the security guards. I quickly added, “Mom, she’s working with the traffickers! She just called them!” Linda didn’t even have to respond. The security guards jumped in eagerly, taking Janine into custody. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pierce. We’ve got her.” Linda nodded, then closed the car door and turned to me, her face full of concern. “You’ve seen Ryan? He gave you my number? Did you escape from the van? Why didn’t he come with you?” The questions came fast and hard. But seeing my mom alive and well for the first time again made me choke up. I threw myself into her arms, tears flowing uncontrollably. After a long moment, I finally managed to speak through my sobs. “Mom… I missed you so much!” Linda froze for a moment as she held me. “What did you just call me?” she asked, her voice soft but surprised. “N-Nothing.” I quickly pulled away from her embrace, stumbling over my words. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pierce. I just really like you.” Linda chuckled softly. “Well, even though it’s our first time meeting, I like you too.” She handed me a bottle of water and said kindly, “Take a drink. When you’re feeling better, tell me everything that happened, okay?” “Okay!” Her warmth soothed my nerves, and I slowly recounted how Janine had tricked me and how I had escaped from the man. I also told her about Ryan, pretending that I had overheard everything while being held by the man. “How did you know my phone number?” she asked. I smiled. “I saw it on TV.” As the vice president of Pierce Corporation, she naturally had a public contact number. Linda pulled me into another hug. “Ellie, you’re amazing!” Her praise was genuine. After all, who would expect a four-year-old to remember a phone number from a brief TV appearance? Once she had reassured me, Linda made a few more phone calls. It didn’t take long before the police arrived and joined the security guards in the mall’s surveillance room. Within minutes, Janine Brooks was handcuffed. She hurled insults at me as they dragged her away. “You ungrateful brat! I raised you, and this is how you repay me?” “You should’ve gone with them willingly — at least you’d be of some use!” “She’s my daughter! If I want to sell her, I can! What right do you have to arrest me?” Every word stabbed deep, revealing her cruelty and stupidity. And every word was evidence. Linda covered my ears. “Don’t worry, Ellie. Your mom’s here now.” I hugged her back, my heart aching and filled with gratitude. Mom, this time, I won’t let you suffer from depression! As much as Janine hated it, the police took her away. The crowd cheered and looked at me with sympathetic eyes. Linda carried me to the car, ready to offer me some words of comfort, but then her phone rang. The good news was that there had been only one white van leaving Midtown Shopping Center in that time frame. The bad news was that the van had already left the city limits, and they’d lost it on surveillance.

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Orion Hartley. Born into a powerful military family, he was already leading troops by the time he turned sixteen. His only flaw? Too many wives and mistresses. When I was brought into his home, I became his fifth wife. The First Wife, Vivienne Davenport, came from an old-money family and had been promised to Orion since they were children. The Second Wife, Seraphine Wilder, was once the star of the jazz scene at the famous Redwood Lounge. She could sing and dance like no other. The Third Wife, Moira Callahan, was Orion’s first love, a wealthy heiress who had just returned from studying abroad. The Fourth Wife, Delilah Rayne, came to Willowcreek as a refugee during the chaotic times. She was a doctor and once saved Orion’s life by accident. Talk about a line-up. A childhood sweetheart, A temptress, The first stirrings of love, And the untouchable woman of his dreams. And then, there’s me—awkwardly thrown into the mix by my father. I blame him for my situation, but I can’t be picky now. Marriage is marriage, after all, and it’s not like I had a choice. Now that I’m here, I’ve already crossed the threshold. But honestly, how could I possibly compete with them? Especially with Seraphine, the Second Wife, who had quite the temper. One wrong move, and I’d be forced to kneel in submission. I’d often tell myself, “It doesn’t matter. I’m already married. If I die, then so be it.” After spending some time with them, I noticed they all had distinct personalities. Vivienne, the First Wife, spent her time gardening, doing embroidery, or copying religious texts. She held onto old-fashioned values and rarely involved herself in our affairs, but when she did, she could silence us all. Seraphine, on the other hand, spent her free time playing poker or practicing her singing and dancing. You could hear her muttering about winning hands even in her sleep. “Bingo! Pay up!” She had a certain charm about her—loved money, but wasn’t exactly greedy. Her beauty was famous, rivaling the most glamorous women in the city. Moira, the Third Wife, was outspoken and straightforward. Though she acted tough, she had a soft heart. Despite her brashness, she loved gossip—there wasn’t a secret in Willowcreek that she didn’t know. Delilah, the Fourth Wife, was the one I got along with best. She was calm, non-competitive, and had a gentle demeanor. I’d heard she traveled with a medical mentor before arriving here. Her skills were rumored to be exceptional. In the Hartley Estate, the most intense rivalry was between Seraphine and Moira. Moira’s straightforwardness clashed with Seraphine’s theatrical flair. Whenever those two were in the same room, an argument was bound to happen. With war on the rise in the city, many wealthy families were fleeing. The servants at the estate had either left or disappeared, and with Orion away at the military camp, we wives were left to fend for ourselves. Seraphine, desperate to find poker buddies, dragged Moira, Delilah, and me into a game. When Moira beat Seraphine with a winning hand, another argument broke out, and we left the table in chaos. Delilah and I were utterly confused, watching them storm off.

I don’t remember what day it was, but another round of gunfire echoed from somewhere in the distance. Seraphine, though she’d never admit it, was scared and clung to me, refusing to leave my room. Meanwhile, Delilah came by to treat my back injury. How did I hurt my back, you ask? Well, Seraphine had complained that Moira didn’t put enough salt in the soup. The two argued so fiercely in the kitchen that I feared they’d start a brawl. In trying to stop them, I twisted my back. Bang! Bang bang! More shots rang out from afar, and the quiet night suddenly became terrifying. When Moira came in and saw Seraphine wrapped tightly in my blanket, she couldn’t help but laugh. A moment later, Vivienne arrived, having heard the commotion. By then, the entire city had lost power—an area-wide blackout, possibly caused by the military searching for a spy’s transmitter. The five of us huddled together in my small bedroom, the atmosphere strangely… comforting. “So, how about lighting a candle and playing some cards?” Moira teased Seraphine. Moonlight streamed through the window, revealing Seraphine’s head poking out from beneath the blanket. She was, without a doubt, the queen of gambling. But of course, none of us had the heart to play. Vivienne had been trying to contact Orion all night, but with no luck. We all feared the worst. Out of the five of us, I was the only one whose parents were still alive. But my father? He’d run off with the money long ago. No help there. We had no choice but to stick together. It was a long night. By the time the sun rose, we finally dared to return to our rooms to get some rest. But just as I lay down, enemy planes roared overhead, dropping bombs. Willowcreek had fallen.

To avoid the worst of the disaster, we were escorted to an air raid shelter by military officers. From last night to now, I had only slept a couple of hours. Everyone was groggy as we were herded into the shelter. We didn’t bring much food, but fortunately, the officers knew we were Orion Hartley’s wives and treated us with extra care. For the first time, I felt what it was like to truly share hardship with others. Inside the shelter, some civilians starved to death, unable to find food. Others risked their lives to search outside but never returned. There were even pregnant women who died from complications because there wasn’t proper medical care. A few days later, a group of officers in yellow uniforms arrived, speaking in a language we didn’t understand. They pointed their guns at us and ordered everyone to kneel with their hands on their heads. Delilah quickly sensed the danger and smeared dirt on our faces. They began speaking in broken English, asking who was Orion’s wife. None of us dared stand up. The lead officer spoke again, saying if we didn’t reveal ourselves, they’d kill every one of us, starting from the top and working their way down. Three, two, one… “I’m Orion Hartley’s wife!” I wanted to say it for Vivienne, the First Wife. I had already prepared myself mentally to do so. But in the end, it was she who bravely stood up and faced them. They tied her up and were about to take her away when one of the soldiers spotted Seraphine, the Second Wife, crouched in the corner. Their faces twisted with lecherous grins as Seraphine quickly lowered her head. “You… what’s your name?” Again, the broken English and sleazy tone made my stomach churn. Seraphine stayed silent, frozen with fear, unable to utter a word. “You, not talk? Good.” They dragged her out, her beauty still visible even beneath the layer of dirt smeared on her face. She was the type of woman who could catch anyone’s eye, even in a crowd. And just like that, without warning, they took both Seraphine and Vivienne. Moira, the Third Wife, clutched my sleeve so tightly her whole body trembled. It wasn’t until the soldiers were far off that she finally let go, shaking from head to toe. Now it was just the three of us. The room still echoed with the horror of what had just happened. “I should’ve saved them… we should’ve done something,” I muttered, my voice trembling as I fought back tears. Delilah, the Fourth Wife, stood there, pale as a ghost, frozen in place. “What do we do now? What are we supposed to do?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. I can’t die yet. I can’t die. We were herded into trucks—three of them. One filled with women, one with children, and one with men. Each truck drove off in a different direction. Moira turned to me, her voice shaking. “It’s the Japanese.” The Japanese. I grew up in the sheltered gardens of my childhood home, never thinking much of the world beyond. I used to believe that everyone spoke the same language as us. I didn’t understand what going abroad meant. I didn’t know how to use a phone, let alone worry about the affairs of the world. How naïve I had been. Every day, I rode in a rickety cab to eat at the same little diner in the alley. That had been my life. And now, we had been taken by the Japanese. They invaded our country. They had no sense of decency. Where was Orion? Was he dead? Where were they taking us? Would we ever come back to this land again? Sitting in the back of the truck, my thoughts spiraled. I wondered what I would look like in death. All I remember next is that someone came to save us. The deafening sound of gunfire filled the streets as chaos erupted. We were scattered, running through the once-bustling streets of Willowcreek. People were everywhere, pushing, shoving—I lost track of the others. I felt a sharp blow to the head. It was so loud, so chaotic. I thought I was going to die. But it wasn’t just a blow. I think I was shot. Oddly, though, there was no pain. Just a steady flow of blood pouring from my body. Fine, I thought, let it be. Death is death. It’s not like anyone cared about me. My father had abandoned me. My mother, too. Orion Hartley never loved me. I had no children, no family to mourn me. My life had been so small. There would be no one to shed a tear for me when I was gone. So, I let go. My eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted into a deep sleep. I dreamt of snow falling on Willowcreek. It was heavy, thick, covering the streets in white. But soon, the soldiers came—ruthless, unyielding, killing without mercy. Blood stained the streets as the people screamed and cried for help. I was powerless to stop it. The city was in chaos. Willowcreek was in chaos. Even the police who once protected us had become traitors, working hand in hand with the enemy. Even the soldiers who were supposed to stand for our nation had betrayed us. It had been so long since I’d seen snow.

Today marks one month since Zephyr Callahan saved me. My gunshot wound has almost fully healed, and I can move around freely again. Zephyr says I’m lucky to be alive, and honestly, I agree. Zephyr Callahan. A professor at Westgate Academy and a member of the Revolutionaries. He’s rescued countless people from the hands of the Japanese. To me, he’s a hero. One day, I asked Zephyr to find out what happened to Vivienne and the other wives. Seraphine… she was taken to Japan. No one knows where she is now. When Orion Hartley tried to rescue them, only Vivienne remained, imprisoned in an interrogation room. It had been so long, and finding Moira and Delilah was nearly impossible—there were no photographs of them, and time had made the search even harder. Honestly, the Japanese are nothing short of monsters. They’ve torn countless families apart. I told Zephyr that I wanted to join the revolution. He froze, clearly not expecting such words from someone like me—a once-spoiled, fragile heiress. At night, we’d sit in the garden and listen to the distant gunfire. Ever since the Japanese arrived, no one had been able to find peace. They’d barge into homes, searching for people, disrupting lives. It was all so reckless, so rude. I learned a new word from Zephyr. A name for the invaders: Japs. The little Japs. Zephyr sent me to the Revolutionaries’ base in Denver. It was where the movement had begun, and he agreed to let me join the fight. He was cautious at first, but over time, as I proved myself, he allowed me to accompany him on missions. We even infiltrated the Japanese officers’ quarters and stole important intel. It was crucial for our comrades. This was no game. I knew that. I packed my bags and left at the end of December. That trip lasted two years. In Denver, I met many revolutionaries—people I deeply admired. Every day, I trained hard in marksmanship and learned to speak Japanese fluently. I swore I’d become a patriot, just like them. They gave me a codename: Scholar. My superior was none other than Zephyr, the man who had saved me. His codename was Shadow. Two years later, I returned to Willowcreek, this time posing as a music teacher at Westgate Academy. My mission? Assist Zephyr in assassinating a high-ranking Japanese officer, Sato Masahiro. The Willowcreek I knew had changed. It was still bustling, but now there were Japanese-style buildings everywhere, and Japanese soldiers patrolled the streets. I wondered how Vivienne and the others were faring. Were they still alive? Zephyr introduced me as his cousin, and I even changed my name to Kendra Rayne for my cover. Through some connections, Zephyr got me into the officer’s mansion to teach Sato’s sister, Yuko, how to play piano. Yuko was also a student at Westgate. She seemed particularly interested in Zephyr, constantly asking me about him. As I grew closer to Yuko, she invited me to their family estate, the same place where we used to live. She showed me around the house, proudly describing every detail. But I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. This was once our home, filled with laughter and joy. Now, the invaders walked its halls as if they owned it. The memories brought tears to my eyes, but I quickly held them back, not wanting Yuko to see. During dinner, Yuko cooked Japanese food—sushi and sashimi. She proudly explained each dish to me. After dinner, I offered to help clean up but accidentally cut my hand on a knife. Blood dripped onto the floor. Yuko panicked and called for the family’s private doctor to bandage me up. To my surprise, the doctor was none other than Delilah Rayne, the Fourth Wife. Delilah and I locked eyes, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to run to her and embrace her tightly. It had been two years since we last saw each other, and she had cut her once long, beautiful hair into a short bob. She stood frozen in shock, but I quickly regained my composure. “Doctor, will my hand be okay? Should I avoid water for a while?” Delilah, catching the signal, nodded and began to treat my wound. “The cut is deep, but as long as you keep it dry for three days, it should heal.” I nodded back. Yuko, still worried, apologized profusely. “Ms. Rayne, I’m so sorry.” Hearing her call me “Ms. Rayne,” Delilah glanced at me again. “It’s my fault for insisting on helping,” I replied, trying to deflect attention. Just as Delilah finished bandaging me up, Sato Masahiro walked in. I remembered him instantly—he was the same officer from the air raid shelter. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Brother, you’re back! I invited Ms. Rayne to join us for dinner,” Yuko announced cheerfully. Sato looked me up and down, but after a moment, he seemed to deem me harmless. He gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t let your teacher stay too late. The streets aren’t safe with the Revolutionaries on the move.” He and Yuko began speaking in Japanese, and thankfully, I understood every word. I cursed him silently, my mind racing with insults. But I maintained my composure and replied in Japanese, “I trust the officers of the Empire won’t harm innocent civilians.” Sato seemed pleased with my response. His fake smile softened into something more genuine. “Ms. Rayne, the Empire seeks only justice. We just don’t want you to fall into the hands of the Revolutionaries.” He made a chilling gesture across his throat, as if mimicking an execution. A cold shiver ran down my spine. His cruelty was horrifying. Then, he turned to Yuko and said, “Your sister, Sachiko, will be joining us here in Willowcreek after autumn.” Yuko squealed with excitement. “Really? Are you and Sachiko going to get engaged?” Sachiko. I had heard about her from Zephyr. She was Sato’s lover, and their engagement was imminent. “Ms. Rayne, you’ll be invited to the engagement party as well,” Sato added, turning to Delilah. “Even Dr. Rayne has agreed to attend.” I forced a smile. “Thank you, Sato. I look forward to it. But for now, I’ll take my leave. It’s getting late.” Sato offered to have me escorted home, but I declined. I didn’t need any help from the enemy. If I could kill him at his engagement party, that might be my best chance. As I left the estate, Delilah caught up with me. “Let’s walk back together,” she said. “I’m heading to St. Mary’s Hospital for my shift.” I nodded. She was now a doctor, wearing the white coat she had always dreamed of.

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I secretly did a paternity test, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it. I couldn’t accept it… The daughter I’ve raised for seven years isn’t mine? It was a devastating blow to me. I smoked cigarette after cigarette, filling the entire office with a thick, suffocating cloud. It wasn’t until my assistant, Megan Carter, came in that I realized I needed to put it out. She asked, “Mr. Miller, are you okay today?” I forced a grim smile and shook my head, asking her what was on her mind. She placed a stack of files on my desk. “The project you’ve been working on has come through. It just needs your signature.” “Alright, leave it there.” I nodded. She hesitated, seeing how distracted I was, but then she turned and left without saying anything. I lit another cigarette, watching the smoke swirl around as it blurred my vision. It eventually settled on the paternity test that had been lying on my desk for days. I stared at it, lost in thought, for what felt like forever. I only snapped out of it when the cigarette burned down and singed my hand. With a deep breath, I slowly opened the envelope. It was something I had to face sooner or later. What was there to be afraid of? The result was clear: the daughter I had adored for seven years had no biological connection to me. “…” Strangely, when I saw the result, it felt like a huge weight had finally been lifted off my chest. I wasn’t upset or anxious anymore, but… oddly calm. In hindsight, I should’ve suspected something was off long ago. Seven years ago, I was still pursuing Samantha Bennett, but she didn’t show much interest in me. In fact, she seemed to dislike me. Then, out of the blue, she asked me out for dinner one night, got me drunk, and things naturally progressed from there. I didn’t use protection that night. She said it was fine, that she was in her safe period. The next few times we met, she didn’t ask me to use protection either. After that, her attitude toward me became softer. At least, she acknowledged I was her boyfriend. Not long after, she dropped a bombshell: she was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby. When she gave birth, it was a rough delivery. She nearly bled out. If it weren’t for the doctors’ quick thinking, both she and the baby might not have survived. I didn’t want her to ever go through that kind of pain again, so I got a vasectomy. Having one daughter was enough for me. Looking back now, I can’t believe how naive I was. I never questioned her for a second! Samantha knew who the baby’s father was from the start, which is why she had no problem with me not using protection. I had been played for a fool—just a convenient option to raise someone else’s kid. The child I’ve loved for seven years wasn’t mine at all. She was Jonathan Reed’s. What a joke! If I hadn’t come home early from that business trip, I might have never found out that I was raising another man’s child. Thank God for my daughter’s innocent honesty. If she hadn’t blurted it out, Samantha would’ve kept it hidden forever. Honestly, I wish I hadn’t found out. I wish she had kept this from me for life because now… everything has changed. Our marriage, which had seemed like a free-spirited romance, wasn’t simple at all. There were deeper, more complicated motives behind it.

Samantha’s and my family backgrounds weren’t all that different. Both of our families ran businesses. When I first pursued her, it wasn’t for her family’s money; my family wasn’t any worse off than hers. But over time, our families became business rivals. My father thought that marrying Samantha could help form an alliance between our companies. It was convenient because I’d already been pursuing her for quite a while. At the time, I didn’t know that our relationship would become so transactional. It wasn’t until she was pregnant, and I visited her family, that I realized there was more going on behind the scenes. Both of our parents laughed it off, saying, “What a coincidence! Business rivals on the surface, but in private, we’re becoming family!” Looking back, it’s ridiculous. Samantha and her family were using me. In fact, I’m certain this wasn’t a coincidence at all. It was a calculated move from the start. I had known for a long time that Samantha didn’t really like me. After we got married, she was cold and distant. But I convinced myself that the child was mine. I thought I had to take responsibility and make sure I didn’t let her down. I believed that if I was sincere enough, eventually, I would win her heart. I thought that over time, she’d feel the same love she had shown me in the beginning, when she seduced me so easily. But now, all my sincerity and good intentions feel like a joke. I’m the clown in this story. Lily, my daughter, seemed to know the truth all along. She knew she had another father… Could it be that whenever I left on business trips, the father she thought about wasn’t me? Samantha has been watching from the sidelines all these years, letting me run in circles, fooled by their lies. I must look ridiculous in her eyes—a perfect, unsuspecting fool. Haha. I don’t even know how to describe my feelings right now. I just know I’m strangely calm. Ding. A text message came through. It was from Samantha, which was rare. She hardly ever reached out to me first. “I heard you’ve been back from your trip for a few days? Why haven’t you come home? Lily’s been crying for you, saying she misses her daddy!” I let out a bitter chuckle, shaking my head. Crying for me? Or is she crying for the other dad? How can you, as her mother, not know which one she means? I’ve been home for a week now, but they didn’t seem to notice. The first message I get is today. I had planned to surprise them with my return, but instead, they’re the ones who surprised me—no, shocked me. I needed some time alone to cool off. Otherwise, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about all of this. No man could stay calm after discovering something like this, pretending nothing had happened. I didn’t want to blow up in front of Lily. No matter what… she’s still an innocent child. So, I didn’t go home. I didn’t tell anyone. I stayed at the office, with Megan bringing me meals. I scrolled back through my messages, seeing the one I sent her that night after I found out the truth. I’d told her I’d landed a big project and would be busy for a while… and she hadn’t responded. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed it. Or maybe, like always, she just didn’t care what I had to say. I put down my phone and lit another cigarette. The ashtray on my desk was already filled to the brim with stubs. “Whoosh—” I exhaled a cloud of smoke, leaning back in my chair as I stared at the fading swirls. Exhaustion washed over me. What did I do wrong? Why would she do this to me? Was I trying to warm up a heart that couldn’t be warmed? Or… was I the one who was wrong from the start? Maybe it would’ve been better to remain in the dark.

I didn’t reply to Samantha’s text. She never had much patience with me, so it didn’t take long for her to call. Her voice was sharp and demanding right from the start. “Micah! What are you doing? Why aren’t you answering my texts?” “Oh, sorry. I’ve been busy at work…” I didn’t even finish before she cut me off, her voice dripping with impatience. “Work, work, work! Is that all you care about? Don’t you know you have a family? Don’t you realize your daughter needs you?” “…” I stayed silent, my mind buzzing. I wanted to ask her so badly: And you, Samantha? Don’t you know you have a husband? Does he know that his daughter isn’t even his? Does he know you’ve been lying to him all these years? The words stuck in my throat, and my eyes fell on the family photo on my desk—Lily’s bright, innocent smile staring back at me. I swallowed my anger. “She’s sick. Pick up some of her favorite snacks and bring them to the hospital,” she said coldly before hanging up. I stood there, listening to the dial tone with a bitter smile. Funny. Why didn’t she call the other dad for this? I could easily guess what had happened. Lily probably wore herself out playing too much, and now it was up to me to clean up the mess. I saw the location Samantha sent me, and as much as it filled me with humiliation and anger, I couldn’t bear to think of Lily looking so small and sick. Seven years. Seven years of loving this child. How could I not care about her? So I sighed, put on my coat, and went to buy her favorite snacks before heading to the hospital. When I got to the hospital room, I heard Lily’s voice through the door, clear as day: “Daddy Jonathan, look! I was so brave! I didn’t even cry when they gave me the shot. Wasn’t I the best?” Through the small glass window on the door, I saw him—Jonathan Reed, wearing a doctor’s coat, smiling at Lily. “Yes, you were so brave! Just like my little girl should be,” he said, ruffling her hair as she giggled. Beside them, Samantha’s face was soft, warm, and full of affection. In the seven years we’ve been married, I’ve never seen her look at me like that. My heart clenched. That man in the doctor’s coat—Jonathan Reed—was her first love. And now, as if life was mocking me, he was Lily’s real father. Watching their happy little family from the hallway, I felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of isolation. It was as if they were a family of three, and I… was just the outsider. No, scratch that. They are a family. Lily is their daughter. And I? I’m just the outsider. The joke. It felt like a weight was crushing my chest. I could barely breathe. Why did this hurt so much? I rushed here, bought her favorite snacks, thinking she needed me, only to find out the real reason they wanted me here was because Jonathan was the doctor on call. Lily got to see her biological dad, and Samantha got to be with the man she truly loved. And me? I’m nothing more than a joke. The biggest fool in the world.

It felt like a green light was flashing over me, head to toe, branding me as the fool. I stood frozen in place. I couldn’t move. It wasn’t until Jonathan noticed me standing outside that he adjusted his glasses and said, “Micah?” The moment my name left his lips, Samantha’s warm smile disappeared, replaced by her usual coldness. She didn’t even try to hide her contempt for me. “You’re finally here! Took you long enough! Lily hasn’t eaten a thing since she got sick. Are you trying to starve her?” Of course. The familiar tone. That suffocating pressure she always brings. It made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry, Lily. Daddy’s late, but I brought you your favorite…” I forced a smile as I spoke to my daughter. Before I could even finish, Samantha cut me off again, her voice sharp. “What’s the point of showing up now? Dr. Reed already brought her food. You’re always too busy to be there for your own daughter, and it’s always left to someone else to take care of her!” Lily, always so “understanding,” added, “Thanks, Daddy! But Dr. Reed says I can’t have dessert after meals, haha.” I stared at her, the same little girl I’d loved for seven years, and felt a strange, bitter taste in my mouth. She probably thought she was being so considerate. But I couldn’t help it… For the first time, I felt a sense of unfamiliarity and… disgust toward the child I’d raised. It was as if she wasn’t mine anymore. And that “Dr. Reed”—just minutes ago, wasn’t she calling him “Daddy Jonathan”? She had grown up. She knew not to call him “Daddy” in front of me anymore, playing along with the lies Samantha had spun all these years. What a good daughter, huh? “So, Daddy waited in line for a long time to buy your favorite snacks. You don’t want them?” I held out the bag, but my expression was slipping. Lily hesitated. After all, they were her favorite treats. “Leave them. Lily didn’t eat much. She can have them as a snack later,” Jonathan said, always the rational doctor. Lily’s eyes lit up as she clapped her hands. “Yay! I get to have them later!” “No!” Samantha scolded from the side, her voice sharp. “You’ve already had dinner! No more snacks, especially after you’ve brushed your teeth. You don’t want to get cavities, do you? Be good and listen to Mommy.” She called me to buy the snacks, but now she’s the one making the rules. I was holding back my frustration, not wanting to lose my temper in front of Lily. “It’s fine. She’s still sick. She needs the sugar for energy. Besides, she’s growing. She could use the extra calories,” Jonathan chimed in, making it all seem so reasonable. Lily looked up at Samantha with those puppy eyes, silently pleading. “See, Mommy? Dr. Reed said it’s okay!” “Alright, just this once,” Samantha finally relented, and Lily cheered happily. “You spoil her too much,” she said to Jonathan, her tone warm and affectionate. “…” I stood there, feeling out of place, as if they had forgotten I existed. The room wasn’t that big. Four people could fit in it, but in their eyes, there were only three of them. I was nothing more than a ghost.

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Discovering that my fiancée was cheating was an accident. That day, I was bored, scrolling through social media, when I stumbled across a love story. It was tragic, and the ending wasn’t a happy one. A blogger called Winter Snow shared her story about how she and her first love saved each other but had to part ways due to life’s circumstances. Now, she was getting ready to marry someone else. Their story sounded like something from a soap opera, a perfect tale of childhood sweethearts. He was the charming, wealthy, and brilliant guy next door. She was equally beautiful and bright, but after her family went bankrupt, her mother became abusive. She endured a rough upbringing, leaving her withdrawn and lonely. But that didn’t stop them from falling in love. She fought for him, skipped school for him, did everything she thought was romantic. Once, she even snuck into a bakery at night to steal cake molds just to make his favorite dessert. He changed his college application for her, set off fireworks despite the campus rules on her birthday, and did anything to make her happy. He was her light in a dark world, her salvation. They clung to each other, making each other their entire world, but ultimately, reality and family pressure drove them apart. She said after they broke up, she had planned to stay single forever. She’d been treated like a precious gem, having seen the brightest side of love, and didn’t want to settle for less. But as her roommates moved on with their lives, she too longed for love. And as her mother aged and grew weaker, she realized there was nothing left to hold on to in this world. So, when her college senior proposed, she accepted, though she realized she could never love him—or anyone—again. She drowned herself in alcohol, stayed out late, and became adept at playing the game of life, floating between different men. She enjoyed that lifestyle. When people chased after her, she felt invincible. Those so-called “guy friends” of hers—they were really her prey. Or rather, they used each other for fleeting comfort. Marriage wasn’t something she wanted. But her mother—who had blamed her for everything and abused her endlessly—was dying of cancer. Her mother’s dying wish was to see her married and settled. She hated her parents, but she couldn’t sever the bond of family or deny her mother’s wish. So, she asked her boyfriend to marry her. He loved her deeply and agreed, moved by her request. But she still wanted one last wild fling before the wedding. And so, in the three months leading up to the wedding, she slept with all her “friends,” in hotels or in the very house her fiancé had prepared for their new life together. On the bed, the vanity, the bathroom, the living room—everywhere. And most importantly, the one she truly loved was also in that house. “I know what I’m doing will hurt my future husband, but I can’t stop myself. I just want to say goodbye to my youth and love.” “I may have had countless past relationships and thirteen guy friends, but I take each one seriously.” Look at that—how eloquently she dressed up her cheating as something noble and meaningful. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered to me if the unlucky fiancé wasn’t… me.

How did I discover that Winter Snow was actually my fiancée, Olivia Blake? It wasn’t her IP address. It was the details in her post. She mentioned that they got into the same university and that she played Butterfly Lovers on the piano for him at the freshman welcome event. Coincidentally, that’s where I met Olivia—she played Butterfly Lovers at our own freshman event too. At the end of the song, she was crying her eyes out. I thought she was moved by the music. I was intrigued by her, not knowing she was playing it for someone else—her first love. She also wrote about how she bought his favorite breakfast early one winter morning and waited outside his dorm for half an hour, only to have him refuse to meet her because of his parents’ disapproval. She gave the breakfast to a random good-looking guy who happened to be coming down the stairs. That guy was me. I remember the breakfast—it had already lost its warmth, tucked inside her coat. She wrote that when she found out he was leaving the country, she skipped class and rushed to the airport to see him one last time, but he had already left. She cried uncontrollably at the airport, and someone gave her a hug. Unluckily for me, I was that “someone.” Fresh from a vacation, I had stumbled across her tears at the airport. I already knew about her family situation and had hesitated about pursuing her. I was just from a middle-class background, while she came from a once-wealthy family that had fallen on hard times. I wondered if I could handle her past, her expectations, or the life she wanted. But after getting to know her, I realized I was wrong. Olivia seemed like a bright, optimistic girl. She never gave up despite her family’s downfall. She was smart, confident, and even though she occasionally skipped class, her grades were stellar. She was the kind of person who could bloom even in the harshest conditions. Looks didn’t matter after you got to know her. So, after weighing everything, I decided to pursue her. I did everything I thought was romantic. But for six months, she kept me at a distance, neither fully accepting me nor pushing me away—until her birthday. It was then that I knew Winter Snow was her. The blog post mentioned fireworks, and that night I had prepared fireworks to confess my love. She seemed distant that evening, but in my excitement, I didn’t notice her mood. When the fireworks lit up the sky, she smiled—then started crying. Before I could say anything, she agreed to be my girlfriend. Later, my friend told me that the fireworks I had prepared were set off later than planned, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Now I realize the fireworks that moved her weren’t mine—they were for her first love, marking the end of their story. I’ve been with Olivia for seven years since then. We’ve had our ups and downs, even considered breaking up at times, but we always found a way to make things work. She treated me with respect. Half a year ago, after we were finally done with long-distance, it was her 27th birthday. That night, she got drunk, clung to me tightly, and told me seriously that she wanted to marry me and have a child. She said, “Evan, you’re 28 now, and both of us have stable careers. We’re more than capable of being each other’s support and becoming good parents.” “Evan, I admit I had a deep, unforgettable love in my youth, but that’s all in the past.” “Believe me. I’ll be a good wife to you, a good mother to our child. I’ll give our child the love and family I never had.” “I want us to be that couple everyone envies. I want our child to grow up with love, free and wild, not bound by anything.” “Evan, that’s my birthday wish. Will you grant it?” As she said this, she held me so tightly, her eyes full of hope and tenderness. Her words wrapped around my heart, and before I knew it, I nodded and started planning the wedding. We were going to get married soon.

I was touched by what she said because my relationship with my dad was always distant. I longed for a loving home, a place where I could feel safe. Besides, I wasn’t getting any younger. So I began to plan everything. I designed her wedding dress by hand, stayed up late looking through wedding ideas, thinking of ways to surprise her. I wanted to give her a perfect wedding, one she would remember forever. I wanted to give her everything. And I truly believed she was ready for a new life, for starting a family. But when I shared the wedding news in our college friends’ group chat, all I got was silence. None of them congratulated me. Instead, they asked the same question: “Are you sure you want to marry Olivia Blake?” I asked them why. No one answered. It was like the group chat had gone dormant. I didn’t understand. They had all supported me when I was chasing her, so why the sudden change? Even though I didn’t get any answers, I sensed something was off. Especially when Olivia told me she had to go on a business trip and left me to handle all the wedding preparations. She said if I couldn’t manage, she could cancel the trip. I declined. I had my doubts, but I didn’t think anyone should abandon their career for a relationship. Especially women. Women already face enough challenges in the workplace, and she had worked so hard to reach her position. If she succeeded in her project, she would take another step forward in her career. The wedding could be simple, but her career? That was her choice, and I wouldn’t let it be affected. What I didn’t realize was that her “business trip” was just an excuse to spend time with her first love and thirteen guy friends! When I called her to ask if she needed me to bring anything to her trip, she hesitated before saying no. “I don’t need anything. It’s a long trip, and I have most of what I need in my office. If there’s anything else, I can always buy it. Just focus on the wedding, love.” Her voice grew quieter toward the end of the call, and she quickly hung up. But just before the call ended, I heard a man’s voice in the background. A voice that couldn’t be explained away. I felt cold, a deep chill running through me. And then, I got a message from one of my college roommates. “Evan, it’s not that I don’t want to congratulate you, but you don’t really know Olivia.” Didn’t know her? We had been together for seven years. How could I not know her? But when I opened the screenshot my friend had sent, I froze. It was a chat between Olivia and one of her college friends, sent after she and I had already started dating. Each sentence, every punctuation mark—it was like a blade cutting through my heart. She was saying things she had never said to me, flirtatious, intimate things that didn’t match the composed, thoughtful Olivia I knew. The Olivia in those messages was playful, seductive, and even shared private photos—things I had never seen before. Tears blurred my vision, and the mix of anger and betrayal threatened to tear me apart. Every message felt like a needle stabbing at my heart. My hands were shaking as I scrolled through her old texts, and each one was a blow to the love I had felt. All that love now had turned into a fire, burning me from the inside out. I clicked on the last message my friend had sent—a link to an Instagram account. This account held all the proof of Olivia’s double life since college. Videos, voice messages, everything. There were clips of her hanging out with other guys, going on weekend trips, playing at theme parks, going skydiving—all the moments she’d spent with them, the secret life she had hidden from me. And me? The man who had given her everything, her boyfriend, her fiancé—who she never even mentioned. It was as if I didn’t exist in her world. I was just a shadow, an afterthought, something to be forgotten. I knew, in that moment, that we were done. But how could I let it end like that?

I forced myself to hold back the nausea that rose from deep within me, as well as the fury boiling over in my heart. I saved every piece of evidence from that Instagram account and started private messaging my college friends. Slowly, they began to tell me about the side of Olivia I had never known. Unlike the Olivia I thought I knew, in high school she had been a rebellious teenager. She had cut class, gotten into fights, and even teamed up with some street thugs to collect “protection money” from other students. There was one girl she had bullied so badly that the girl developed severe depression and had to leave school. Olivia herself had even ended up in juvenile detention for a while. In senior year, when her father died in a car accident, Olivia and her mom received a large settlement and left their old town, starting a new life. The cheerful, optimistic girl I knew—that had all been a facade. In reality, she was arrogant, never caring about anyone else’s feelings. But she covered her tracks well, always keeping things just above suspicion so no one could directly accuse her of wrongdoing. When I started dating her, she had already been involved with several guys at our university. Most of those guys were decent people, thinking they had been in a genuine relationship with her. They had all broken up amicably, which is why none of them ever spoke about it. Olivia’s secrets were well hidden, even from me. She had continued messaging my college roommates, flirting with them, even after we were officially together. Whether or not any of them acted on those messages, I didn’t want to know. At this point, it didn’t matter. I’ve never been the kind of person to hold grudges, but someone like Olivia didn’t deserve to continue living such a glamorous life while I was left in the shadows. What I needed now was to gather all the evidence. I wanted to make sure she would pay back everything she had taken from me. That’s when I stumbled upon that blog post. I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Instead, I headed to the security office of our apartment complex. With a pack of cigarettes and a couple of bottles of water, I earned the sympathy of the security guards, who allowed me to check the surveillance footage. I sent Olivia a text, but it went unanswered, as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth. I stared at the monitor for hours, watching as the day slowly turned to night, and my heart grew colder with each passing moment. Finally, I saw it—the door to our apartment opened, and Olivia stepped out, hand-in-hand with a man. They kissed passionately before the elevator doors closed. Even as the doors shut, she lingered in the hallway, gazing tearfully after him. The 4K high-definition footage captured their “epic love story” in crystal clarity, a love that seemed to transcend the ordinary, as if fate itself had brought them together. Afterward, Olivia dashed down the stairs, rushing into the evening’s twilight to meet him again. They held each other tightly in the dim light, pulling at each other like two people destined to be together. Their kiss was long, deep, and filled with the kind of passion that could only come from defying the world. To anyone watching, their reunion would have seemed like a triumphant moment, as though they had finally overcome all obstacles and could be together at last. But what about me? I was her fiancé, the man who had cherished her, the man who had fought for her love. What had I done wrong? If she had just told me from the beginning that she loved someone else, I would have let her go. It wouldn’t have hurt as much as it did now. But she had lied to me, deceived me, and used me as her backup plan, her safety net. She shattered my dreams of love and marriage. She ruined the future I thought we would share. She had to pay for what she’d done. I copied all the surveillance footage, every second of it. Over the next few days, I took time off from work, pretending to be busy with wedding preparations. I told Olivia that I needed to go on a business trip of my own. Then I packed a few things and moved into a hotel. I set up surveillance at home, installing cameras everywhere, and even managed to install tracking software on her phone. I knew exactly where she was, what she was doing, and who she was with. It didn’t take long before I found out she had planned a big party the night before the wedding. A “wild” bachelorette party with a lot of guests. She even wrote about it in that blog post, signing off with her final update. I was filled with rage, but I forced myself to stay calm. I kept moving forward with my plan. A few days before the wedding, I returned home. The air still carried that sickening scent, but Olivia was oblivious to everything. She eagerly looked forward to the ceremony. On the day of the wedding, I invited everyone. Her friends, her family, and even her dying mother. The ceremony was lively and beautiful, with Olivia smiling radiantly. But then, in an instant, her smile froze on her face…

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“Trish, that streamer is a friend of mine from school. I was just supporting her career, and it was only a hundred thousand dollars! Plus, it wasn’t even your money, it was Mom’s. Are you seriously so mad that you’re going to cut off my card and send me to some strict school where they’ll even take my phone? Are you still my sister?” “Yeah, Trish, it’s just a hundred thousand. Mom isn’t upset, so why are you? Besides, I couldn’t bear to see Ryan go through hardship. If he went to that school, I’d only get to see him once a month. For my sake, please, drop this idea…” I opened my eyes, feeling disoriented as I looked at the two familiar faces in front of me. Anger and sadness nearly overwhelmed me as I fought the urge to strangle them right then and there. Because just a moment ago, in my mind, these two—along with my sister and her husband—had conspired to burn me alive in this very house. After my gruesome death, I had watched helplessly as they took all of the billions my biological parents left me and moved abroad to live carefree lives. That’s right, I wasn’t their biological daughter. I was the one they found on the side of the road. After they picked me up, my adoptive parents, who had struggled for years to have children, suddenly had a son, Ryan Harris, and a daughter, Lily Harris. They didn’t treat me terribly, because in a small Midwestern farm town, all they had to do was give me food to eat. They drilled into my head that as the older sister, I had the responsibility to take care of my younger siblings. At five, I was already changing diapers and feeding them formula. By the time I graduated middle school, I gave up further education and started working at an assembly plant. Each month, I earned nearly ten thousand dollars in overtime, but I only kept about a thousand for myself. The rest went home to support my brother and sister’s education. When I turned twenty, a representative from my biological parents found me. It was then I learned the truth: I wasn’t their biological daughter. My real parents were two professors at Georgetown University. Years ago, they were hunted down for protecting their research. They left me in a safe place temporarily, but by the time they came back, I had already been taken in by my adoptive family. My adoptive parents had returned to rural South Carolina. There weren’t many security cameras around back then, and by the time my biological parents found me, years had passed. My mother had grown sick with guilt and depression and ended her life, while my father, devastated, continued searching for me for over a decade until he passed away last year… Life can be cruel. I was only found by my biological parents’ representative a year after they had both died. I had gone from a factory worker to the heir of a billion-dollar fortune practically overnight! But with my biological parents gone, and being a twenty-year-old girl desperate for familial affection and weighed down by a strong sense of responsibility for my siblings, I made the foolish decision to bring my entire adoptive family to Washington D.C. with me. I thought, they raised me, so I should make sure they live well now that I had the means to. I moved my adoptive parents into a mansion on the outskirts of D.C., spared no expense, and enrolled my reckless brother in a high-end boarding school. He had gone off the rails after we came into money, partying, drinking, drag racing, even stealing my parents’ phone to send donations to his favorite streamers. A semester at this school cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I wanted him to be successful, so I even sent him to an elite overseas university. When he returned, I gave him millions to start his own business… As for me, I regretted not being able to attend college. I was talented, but I never had the chance to learn new skills or wear all the pretty clothes I longed for. So, I hired the best tutors for my sister and bought her all the fashionable clothes and designer handbags she wanted, turning her into a little princess. But my sister wasn’t grateful. She complained that I put too much pressure on her, that she never wanted to learn those things. She spent my money at school pretending to be a wealthy heiress, dated a rich kid, and ended up pregnant. She refused to have an abortion. Because of her stubbornness, I had to drag her to the rich kid’s family and force them to marry her. My biological parents had a good relationship with Keith Morgan, CEO of the Morgan Corporation. It was through Keith that I was found in the first place. The rich kid’s family didn’t like my sister, but they couldn’t say no because of Keith Morgan. So, despite their disdain, they let her marry into the family. Even though my sister was finally married to a wealthy man, her husband would beat her, but she refused to leave, and I had to clean up the mess every time. My adoptive father was a gambler and a drunk. When he got drunk, he would beat my adoptive mother. If I hadn’t stepped in to pay off his debts and get him into rehab, he would’ve been killed by debt collectors. I thought I had done everything for this family, treated them like my real family, even though we weren’t related by blood. And yet, they conspired to burn me alive to take my fortune! Trish Harris, you should’ve died long ago! You inherited all that wealth, and as our daughter, you should’ve given it all to us. You never really treated us like your real parents! All we did was ask for a little more money, and you couldn’t even give us a few million dollars when you’re worth billions! Some sister you are! No wonder we’re not related by blood. My husband asked you for two million to invest, and you refused, so now I have to suffer his abuse. You never treated me like your real sister! In my final moments, I looked at my adoptive parents, hoping for some sympathy, but they turned away, cold and indifferent, watching as the flames consumed me. Pulled out of my memories, I stared at the two familiar faces in front of me, my hands trembling with overwhelming hatred. Heaven has eyes, and I’ve been given a second chance. This time, I won’t make the same mistakes as before! Though I wasn’t reborn to the moment when I was first found by my biological parents and had the chance to leave my adoptive family behind, this moment is still good enough. At this point in time, my adoptive family is already used to living a wealthy lifestyle because of me. They’ve gotten comfortable not working, knowing they can rely on me, their “cheap” daughter and sister, to give them tens of thousands of dollars in allowance at the drop of a hat… It’s hard to go back once you’ve lived in luxury. I’m curious to see how they’ll maintain this lifestyle once I’m gone! Suppressing my anger, I nodded. “You’re right. It was your money he used, so I have no right to be upset.” My adoptive mother looked a bit surprised. After all, her money came from me, so I had every right to be angry. But seeing that I had softened my stance, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ryan, too, was ecstatic. “So, you’re not sending me to boarding school?” “No, I’m not.” My adoptive mother, noticing my expression, gave Ryan a subtle nod, and he hurriedly left the room. She then tried to comfort me. “Trish, it’s not that I’m siding with your brother, but he’s still young. He needs to be guided carefully. If we send him to boarding school now, it might make him even more rebellious. I know you mean well, but we need to take it slow.” I lowered my eyes. “He’s already spent a hundred thousand this month. I won’t be giving him any more allowance.” “That’s fine. He should learn that money doesn’t come easily…” Before she could say more, I cut her off. “I’m tired.” Upstairs, I reflected on my past life. Back then, I had insisted on sending Ryan to boarding school. To calm him down, my adoptive parents took him on a trip to Miami. I had even transferred money to my adoptive mother with a message: Ryan must be upset. Why don’t you and Dad take him and Lily on a trip to Miami?

When my adoptive mother received the money, she excitedly agreed to the vacation. “See, Ryan? You can relax. Your sister is still family. She’s just worried about you, but she won’t abandon us. Look, she just sent another $200,000 for us to take a trip!” Ryan let out a sigh of relief, sneering. “Trish Harris, don’t think this means I ’ll forgive you!” Lily, on the other hand, was less pleased. “What about me, sis?” “Didn’t I just send you money the other day? Or are you spending it all on Bradley again, buying him gifts?” My words hit a nerve. Lily knew full well that I disapproved of her spending money to chase after Bradley. Suddenly, she didn’t dare ask for more. But when she heard that we were going to Miami, usually the first to pack her bags for a trip, she unexpectedly declined this time. “Mom, Dad, I can’t go. Trish got me an internship at Morgan Corporation. It’s a big opportunity. I need to stay.” Morgan Corporation was one of the top companies in the country, and landing an internship there was highly competitive. In my past life, I had gone to great lengths to get Lily that opportunity. I had even reached out to Keith Morgan, a man I hadn’t spoken to since he helped find me, and used my biological parents’ connections to secure it for her. With my lack of education, I had hoped my sister could build a solid foundation and one day work for a top company like Morgan Corporation. But instead, she had secretly turned down the internship to run off abroad with Bradley Adams and ended up pregnant. When she returned, she boasted that she had planned the whole thing, claiming that getting pregnant was her way of ensuring she would marry into Bradley’s wealthy family. Lily had been so short-sighted, and though I had been heartbroken, I still fought for her. I dragged her to Bradley’s family and forced them to marry her, even though he hadn’t taken her seriously at all. That action had used up all of the goodwill Keith Morgan and my biological parents had for me. After that, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to Keith again. But this time… After sending my adoptive parents and Ryan off, I watched as Lily tried her old tricks again. “Sis, Morgan Corporation is pretty far from here. I heard from my mentor that when she interned there, she was working late every night. I was thinking, maybe I could rent a place nearby and stay there until the internship is over.” I smiled and transferred some money to her. “Sure. Good luck with your internship.” Lily, delighted, packed her bags and left. Soon after, the private investigator I had hired informed me that Lily had gone straight to the airport and followed Bradley overseas… I immediately contacted a realtor and put the mansion up for sale at a reduced price. Then, I went to the study and storage room. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked around. The storage room was filled with my biological parents’ belongings. When we had moved here, my adoptive parents had wanted to throw them away, calling them unlucky since they were from dead people. I had fought to keep them, so they were stashed away in the storage room. I opened the cabinet in the study and felt a surge of anger when I saw the paintings inside. In my previous life, I hadn’t known that my biological parents’ legacy included more than just this mansion and the money in the bank. There were also their valuable art collections. Any one of these paintings could fetch hundreds of thousands at auction. But I hadn’t realized that in my previous life. My adoptive father had secretly sold them off to fuel his gambling addiction. Dozens of priceless paintings, along with my parents’ research and manuscripts, had all been sold by my adoptive father. And I, their biological daughter, had been none the wiser! If I hadn’t seen him rushing to grab the last few paintings before my death, I might never have known… Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the photos of my real parents, their loving smiles forever frozen in time. I called a moving company and had all my biological parents’ belongings sent to their old house near Georgetown University. As for me, I stayed. There’s no way I’d leave before seeing how this family falls apart. While they were on vacation, I made several preparations. I installed hidden cameras in every corner of the house. The mansion had already been sold, and since I had offered it for a lower price than the market value, the buyer agreed to let me stay for another month. It wasn’t long before my adoptive parents returned with Ryan. Ryan, acting as if nothing had happened, immediately asked me for more spending money. I didn’t even look at him. “No. You used this month’s allowance on that streamer.” Ryan was furious. “That was Mom’s money! Trish, you’re so stingy, no wonder you don’t have any friends!” My adoptive mother hesitated, but before she could say anything, I cut her off. “Mom, didn’t you say Ryan needed to learn how hard it is to make money?” Seeing that I was serious about teaching Ryan a lesson, she didn’t push back. Instead, she secretly slipped him some cash. She figured that if she ran out of money, she could just ask me for more. But I was one step ahead. “Mom, I’ve already given you the household allowance for the month. You wouldn’t have secretly given it to Ryan, would you?” She immediately looked guilty and denied it. She had given all her money to Ryan, leaving nothing for my adoptive father. He rarely asked me for money directly, so it was usually my adoptive mother who asked on his behalf. But this time, since she didn’t have enough to give him, my adoptive father, drunk and furious, beat her half to death. Screaming, my adoptive mother begged me for help. “Trish! Trish, stop your father! He’s going to kill me!” I remained calm. “Mom, Dad’s just drunk. When he sobers up, he’ll apologize, right? Isn’t that what you always told me?” My adoptive mother looked at me in disbelief. After all, every time this happened before, I had jumped in to stop him, getting beaten black and blue in her place. And every time, I would urge her to leave him. But she always cried and said, “Trish, he’s your father. We’ve got three kids together. How can you tell me to leave him? He only gets like this when he’s drunk. He’ll be sorry and apologize when he sobers up…” Since she was so forgiving, all I could do was respect her decision. So this time, I stood back and watched as my adoptive father nearly beat her to death. He took her hidden stash of money and ran off to gamble again. My adoptive mother was confused by my sudden change in behavior but couldn’t afford to anger me, as she still depended on my money. A month later, Lily, who had been anxiously taking pregnancy tests every day, showed up at my door, tearfully holding a positive result… I couldn’t help but smirk.

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I had an extremely clean-freak boyfriend. His room was always spotless, without a speck of dust. What pained me the most was that he treated me the same way. Fine, fine, fine, if I can’t handle it, I’ll just leave. Goodbye, Your Highness. Today, after being scolded by my boss, I dragged my tired body back to the home I shared with James, working overtime until very late. As soon as I opened the door, James, sitting at his desk, said without changing his expression, “Change your slippers and take a shower.” I took a deep breath. Having just been criticized by my boss, I don’t know if I was upset or what, but tears of frustration fell. Not only did I not change my slippers, but I also carelessly threw my bag down and lay directly on the couch. “James, let’s break up.” James didn’t even look up, directly ignoring my words, “Looks like the couch cover will have to be thrown away tomorrow, and the floor will need to be mopped.” I gritted my teeth and repeated clearly, word by word, “James, let’s break up!” This was the sixth time I had proposed breaking up in half a year. I admit I liked James and was reluctant to leave him, but I really couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t just because he was a germaphobe, but because he treated me like I was dirty too. In the year we’d been together, hand-holding could barely be counted, only once. Kissing, hugging, all these things couples should do had never happened, just because James was an extremely clean person who would wash his hands three times after shaking hands with a friend. What’s more annoying was that in the two months we’d lived together, we slept in separate rooms. I couldn’t enter his room, and the first thing to do when coming home was to change slippers and take a shower. Even going to the toilet required thoroughly cleaning it with toilet cleaner first, and repeating the process afterward. Once, I was lazy and only rinsed with water. As a result, James directly replaced the toilet the next day. What a miserable life, what a miserable me! I knew clearly that James didn’t love me. I wasn’t that special person, and I would never be that special person in the future. James finally looked up at me, his almond eyes glancing at me slightly. I couldn’t see the emotion in his eyes, only feeling extraordinarily calm. He said, “Have you thought it through?” My heart suddenly caught. The last time I broke up, James asked the same question. At that time, I ended up softening without any backbone. How could you let go of someone you like so easily? But this time, I didn’t plan to compromise. If he didn’t love me, why did he accept my confession in the first place? If he didn’t want to touch me at all, why did he agree to live together? I didn’t want to continue living like this for another second. Being with James, I lived like a stranger, walking on eggshells for a year. I also wanted to be able to do nothing when I got home, lie on the couch and scroll through my phone, instead of changing slippers, taking a shower, and constantly worrying about dirtying his territory. I wiped away a tear and sat up, “I’ve thought it through.” “I’ll pack my things and move out later.” James frowned, looking at me deeply, and finally didn’t open his mouth to persuade me, “Okay, do you want me to call you a car?” I clutched my chest, took a deep breath, and quietly chanted to myself, “Don’t get angry, don’t get angry, don’t argue with an idiot…” I got up and angrily packed my luggage to leave, obviously in the manner of running away from home. But when I reached the door, the more I thought about it, the more unwilling I felt. Why should I be the only one suffering while James could remain unmoved? No, I had to make him suffer too. I couldn’t bear this pain alone. So I dropped my luggage and walked aggressively towards James at his desk. James rarely showed a hint of confusion, “Lily, what are you trying to do?” But I wouldn’t explain. I directly forced myself on him, grabbing James’s collar and then kissed him. Then I vindictively bit his lip, and not only that, I ran my hands all over his chest. Without giving James a chance to react, I grabbed my luggage and ran off. I could hear James shouting behind me, “Lily Sanders! Have you gone crazy?” That was our first kiss, and also our last kiss. The news of my breakup with James spread quickly, and after moving out of his house, I met with the manager who had wanted to poach me to their company last time. Their company had been cooperating with foreign enterprises for a long time. After discussing the salary and benefits, I bought a plane ticket without hesitation and flew out of this heartbreaking city. In the first week of joining the new company, I secured an opportunity for overseas training and further studies with my previous excellent performance. I admit I wanted to escape. I didn’t want to see James again because I was afraid I would soften again. Sitting on the plane heading abroad, I looked at the few and not-so-intimate photos of James and me in my phone album. Tears fell again, and then I reached out and deleted them all. James, I’ll make you regret not cherishing me properly! Crying and crying, I was afraid of ruining my expensive makeup, so I took out the mirror I carried with me and wiped away my tears… After six months of further studies, I returned to the new company and worked hard for the boss. Gradually… the thoughts of James in my heart lessened. Perhaps this is the power of time. I lazily made a cup of coffee. Footsteps came from behind, but I didn’t turn around. However, the man behind me called out, “Lily, still working overtime?” I turned to look at the newcomer. It was Ryan, a new colleague in our department, also very hardworking. Compared to me back then, he was even more so. When he first came, I teased him, “Did you also just break up?” At that time, he answered me, “Yes.” Perhaps because we were in the same boat, we quickly became close, sometimes going on business trips together, closer than iron brothers. I took a sip of coffee, “Isn’t it obvious?” Ryan laughed, “Be careful, or you might end up with a receding hairline.” I rolled my eyes at him, annoyed, “If you can’t say anything nice, just keep quiet.” After a while, Ryan said again, “There’s a gathering tomorrow night, help me out, will you?” I said straightforwardly, “No.” Ding ding, phone notification: Ryan Young has transferred 5000 to you. I gladly accepted and then looked up at him, “I take back what I just said. Tell me, what help do you need? As long as I can do it, I’ll definitely get it done for you.” Ryan had a slightly mischievous expression, “Pretend to be my girlfriend.” I shamelessly said, “Add another thousand.” Ryan tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Deal.” The next evening, I wore a sexy, figure-hugging red long dress and walked into the gathering place with Ryan. Although my figure wasn’t particularly good, it was above average, and my face wasn’t bad either. Ryan would definitely look good. Ryan enthusiastically greeted his friends and then introduced me. Living up to my professional ethics, I held Ryan’s arm, appearing intimately close. When the crowd dispersed a bit, my peripheral vision paused, and then the smile froze on my face. Not for any other reason, but because I saw a very familiar figure, a figure I had been avoiding for two years but hadn’t forgotten. My gaze followed that man step by step as he walked over. James, a person I would recognize even if he turned to ashes. When Ryan saw James coming, he immediately perked up, “Dr. Quinn, you’re finally here. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” “This is my girlfriend, Lily Sanders.” I awkwardly tugged at the corner of my mouth. James’s eyes kept falling on me, and then I heard his deep voice, “Lily Sanders? Your girlfriend?” As soon as these words were spoken, I suddenly felt the air turn cold. It must be an illusion. I swallowed and thought to myself, Lily! What are you afraid of? You’ve already broken up, there’s no relationship anymore! After a round of self-encouragement, I adjusted my state, then put on a smile and reached out my hand, saying, “Hello, Dr. Quinn.” James held his wine glass, hesitating to reach out. I knew he definitely wouldn’t. This severe germaphobe, who would wash his hands three times after shaking hands with others, how could he shake hands with me, especially me, his detestable ex-girlfriend? I vividly remembered that after I forced myself on him, James looked shocked, his neatly ironed white shirt all messed up, with a blood drop from my bite on his lip. It was like a chaste male god had been violated. Thinking about it now, I still felt a little excited? Seeing that James kept looking at me but didn’t reach out, Ryan, to ease the awkwardness, tried to pull my hand back. But the next second, James reached out and shook my hand, “Hello, Lily Sanders.” I was almost afraid James would say, long time no see, my detestable ex-girlfriend. What shocked me more was that James actually shook hands with me! Has this man reformed after two years? I smiled awkwardly, confused, and quickly withdrew my hand, linking arms with Ryan again. Ryan laughed, “I didn’t expect the usually germaphobic Dr. Quinn to actually shake hands voluntarily. You’ve changed quite a bit in a year, at least you seem like a normal person now…” Seemingly realizing his words were a bit inappropriate, Ryan quickly added, embarrassed, “No, no, that’s not what I meant, haha.” James didn’t mind, he didn’t even look at him, but glanced at me and said, “It’s okay, what you said is indeed very accurate.” Me, “Hehe, hehe…” How come I don’t believe it at all. James didn’t chat for long before turning to leave. I was itching with curiosity, and when no one was around, I pulled Ryan close and whispered, “How do you know this Dr. Quinn? I’ve never heard you mention him as a friend before?” Ryan said, “Ah, a year ago I had a car accident and ended up in his emergency room. At that time, he was disgusted with me because my accident wounds had motor oil, my clothes were all sandy, and my sweat smelled bad. I tell you, I had fainted but his attitude woke me up.” “Later I found out he was a severe germaphobe, thought it was quite interesting, and put in a lot of effort to befriend him.” I almost couldn’t hold back my laughter. I asked again, “Then why did he come all the way here to attend your gathering today? Isn’t he very busy?” Ryan looked at me intently, “How do you know he’s very busy?” I was momentarily at a loss for words, then quickly said, “Aren’t all doctors like that? You never know when there might be an emergency patient.” Saying this, I recalled my bitter history. After getting together with James, he was busy every day, so busy that we might not even exchange a few words in a day. Most of the time, I just curled up on the couch watching TV alone. My boyfriend was like a decoration, and yet I still stuck with James for a year. I admire myself for that. Ryan no longer seemed suspicious and said, “Indeed. But recently, he came here on a business trip, apparently for a job transfer. The hospital here has invited him several times, but I guess James probably won’t come to develop his career here.” My heart skipped a beat. Job transfer? Coming here to develop his career? Isn’t this going to be the death of me? Back then, I went to great lengths just to escape from that heartbreaking place where he was, and now James might have the opportunity to develop here? But since they’ve invited him several times and he hasn’t come, it’s probably unlikely. Thinking of this, my heart settled back down. Ryan leaned in mysteriously, “What? You’ve taken a liking to him?” I rolled my eyes at him, “Would you fall for someone who’s not normal?” Ryan thought for a moment and felt it made perfect sense, “Well, I guess anyone who could fall for James would probably have to be a bit of a germaphobe like him.” Me, “?” I feel like I’ve just been insulted. Ryan was called away by other friends to drink and chat, and I didn’t fit into that scene. Just then, having had a bit too much to drink, I wanted to use the restroom. But as soon as I walked out of the banquet hall, I saw a figure leaning on the railing. Dressed in a suit, I suddenly imagined him in a white coat saving lives, while using those beautiful, slender hands to perform surgery and at the same time complaining about how dirty the patient was here and there. I suddenly couldn’t hold back my laughter, then lightened my footsteps, planning to sneak away. I really didn’t know how to face James. But after just two steps, I was stopped by a familiar voice, “Lily Sanders, where are you planning to run off to this time?” I took a deep breath, then calmly turned around, “Oh, if it isn’t Dr. Quinn. I don’t think we’re that familiar, what business is it of yours where I go?” James narrowed his eyes and walked towards me, his aura intimidating. I felt the pressure, “Not familiar? Can’t I care about my ex-girlfriend?” Care, this word actually came out of James’s mouth. I thought he would never care about anyone. I awkwardly forced a smile, “Dr. Quinn, you seem to have forgotten, we’ve already broken up.” James was very tall, a full head and a half taller than me. My eyes at level could only see his chest. Looking at his chest, I was reminded of the scene two years ago when I forced myself on him. Today he was dressed the same, wearing a suit with a white shirt underneath, and a neatly tied bow tie, exuding an aura of restraint. My inner self screamed, Lily Sanders! I knew you couldn’t possibly be that kind of abnormal person, you must have pursued him because you coveted James’s good looks. “Are you Ryan’s girlfriend?” I was stunned, not expecting James to ask such a foolish question. Hadn’t we just introduced this earlier? “Yes.” “Break up with him, and don’t see him again.” I looked up at him in surprise. It was still those almond eyes, but this time, they were no longer calm and unruffled, but filled with anger, even a hint of fury. I got angry, “Are you sick? If you’re sick, go get treatment.” With that, I didn’t want to tangle with him anymore and turned to leave. But the next second, my wrist was gripped by James, and with great force, I was pulled into his arms. James’s deep voice sounded in my ear, “Lily Sanders, you’ve really learned some new tricks in these two years.” Then, after he finished speaking, he actually took the initiative to kiss my earlobe, and then gently bit it. My brain instantly exploded. James must be having some issues today, not only hugging me on his own initiative but also kissing me. “James! Let go of me, what do you mean by this? Do you want me to report you for harassment?” I felt my forehead throbbing, then coughed twice, “I’ve already told you I have a boyfriend.” James suddenly laughed, “Boyfriend? Ryan has already confessed honestly, said you scammed him out of six thousand dollars.” Me, “…” At this moment, another familiar voice called out to me, “Lily…” Ryan walked out from inside, closing the door behind him, “You two know each other, don’t you?” This matter definitely couldn’t be covered up anymore, I had to admit it even if I didn’t want to, “Mm, he’s my… not-so-normal ex-boyfriend.” I originally thought Ryan would be very gossipy and ask about our relationship, but he only looked at James with some hostility, then said, “Was he harassing you just now?” I nodded vigorously, James’s almond eyes narrowed, looking very angry. Ryan pulled me over and said to James, “Although I consider you a friend, James, if you didn’t try to keep Lily two years ago, why are you coming to harass her now?” What he said made a lot of sense, but when I looked up and saw the flash of loss in James’s eyes, my heart involuntarily tightened again. Then, Ryan pulled me away in front of James, not returning to the gathering, but directly taking me to his car. I was lost in thought the whole way, until Ryan called out to me, and I came back to my senses, “Lily, do you still like James?” For some reason, I heard a hint of caution in Ryan’s tone. I paused, not saying anything. I couldn’t answer. The car was very quiet. Finally, I heard Ryan give a bitter laugh, trying to sound relaxed as he said, “I get it. By the way, thanks for pretending to be my girlfriend today. In the future, you won’t be able to scam money out of me anymore. Let me take you home.” I’m not a young girl experiencing her first love. Of course, I knew Ryan’s subtle feelings. So I opened my mouth and said, “I’m sorry.” “No need to trouble you, I’ll take a taxi back myself.” My tone was polite and distant. Ryan watched me get out of the passenger seat but didn’t stop me. The car stayed in front of me for about a minute, and finally drove away. I took a taxi all the way home, sat on the couch and stared blankly for a long time. After two years, I thought I had long since let go, but when I saw James, the high walls I had painstakingly built in my heart crumbled without a fight. Fragile beyond imagination. The more I thought, the more heartbroken I felt. Finally, I channeled my grief into appetite, tearfully ordered fried chicken. At the banquet earlier, I had only drunk alcohol, now I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hungry. As a result, I ate myself into the hospital in the middle of the night, diagnosed with gastritis. I just remembered that in these two years of living alone, I was really comfortable. I could come home and do nothing, lie on the couch and play with my phone, order takeout when hungry, drink beverages when thirsty. It had more or less affected my stomach. In my foggy state, I suddenly heard, during the year I was with James, although he demanded perfection in my personal matters, he would also knock on my door every day to call me for meals. The meals he cooked himself. Only, every time we ate, I would be scolded by him, like, you dropped a grain of rice, can’t you drink soup without spilling it, and so on. It seems his germaphobia was always the most prominent, so prominent that it could make people forget all his other qualities. I had the misfortune of ending up in the hospital, and even worse luck to see James’s familiar face. It was the first time I saw him looking panicked, with a group of doctors in white coats behind him. Then I was pushed away by him, becoming a patient under his care. Enduring the severe pain in my stomach, I asked, “Aren’t you not a doctor here? How come you’re in charge now?” James replied without changing his expression, “I will be in the future.” My heart sank, no longer speaking. At this time, James raised his hand and used his gloved finger to wipe the corner of my mouth. I had a bad feeling, sure enough, James raised an eyebrow, “Fried chicken? Or barbecue?” “Shut up.” A nurse beside me comforted me while saying, “Don’t worry, you might need to have a gastroscopy. Do you want to do it with direct intubation or under general anesthesia? General anesthesia requires a family member’s signature.” I was shocked. I’m the kind of person who fears nothing except injections and surgeries. Just thinking about how I saw others do gastroscopy before, with such a thick tube directly inserted into the throat, I was terrified, “General anesthesia, I want general anesthesia.” The nurse nodded, “Okay, then where’s your family member?” I suddenly remembered that I’m actually an orphan without parents. When I was in high school, my parents died in a car accident. I went to college relying on that little bit of compensation money and scholarships. Where would I have any family members in this world? James looked at me, then said to the nurse, “Go get the consent form, I’m her family member, I’ll sign it.” I looked at James strangely, but the severe abdominal pain prevented me from speaking. With one shot of anesthesia, I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was already lying in a ward, with a nurse checking my IV drip. I swallowed my dry throat and asked, “Nurse, where’s Dr. Quinn?” That nurse was the one who gave me the anesthesia. She looked down at me, “Dr. Quinn has gone back to the hospital over there, he won’t be taking up his position here for a couple of days.” My eyes were dizzy, “He agreed to the transfer?” The nurse nodded with a suppressed smile, “Yes, after all, his family is here, how could he not transfer?” I tugged at the corner of my mouth, denying, “I’m not his family member.” The nurse looked unconvinced, “Then last night…” Me, “Can you expect a not-so-normal person to say normal things?” Nurse, “…” Lying in bed waiting for the anesthesia to wear off, I suddenly remembered that I still had to go to work today. I hurriedly opened my phone, looking at the time displayed on it. 10:30 AM. I dejectedly lay back down, unlocked my phone, about to explain to the manager. But as soon as I opened it, ding ding ding came several messages. It was the manager’s message box, with three messages sent at nine in the morning, “When did you get married?” “You’ve been hiding it deep.”

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I’m an ordinary working-class woman, living in a small town and raising a family. When my daughter turned thirteen, I found out that she was actually the only daughter of the Johnson Corporation’s CEO. Years ago, there had been a mix-up at the hospital, and my biological daughter had been raised by the Johnson family. I didn’t hesitate. I immediately brought my real daughter home. I didn’t want the confusion over their identities to torment them for the rest of their lives, nor did I want them to be caught in lifelong resentment and hatred. Both girls are my daughters, and I love them equally. Madison, the girl raised by mistake, had lived with me for thirteen years. We were incredibly close—mother and daughter, friends, even best friends. She never hid anything from me. We watched TV shows together, read novels, played video games, and attended comic conventions side by side. Once, while sitting on the couch watching a soap opera about a mix-up between an heiress and an imposter, Madison asked me, “Why can’t they just get along? Why do they have to fight to the bitter end? The lady treats both of them so well.” “Probably because the script demands it,” I shrugged. “The more dramatic it is, the higher the ratings.” We never imagined that this storyline would become Madison’s reality. Mr. Johnson called me to tell me that Madison was his biological daughter and that he wanted to take her back to the Johnson family. I was stunned, and so was Madison. She said it had to be a scam and refused to go. But after looking at the DNA test results sent by the Johnson family, I knew they wouldn’t joke about something like this. Eventually, the Johnson family came to take Madison. A Rolls-Royce pulled up outside our old apartment building, drawing the attention of everyone in the neighborhood. Madison was nervous and uneasy; she was about to meet the parents she had never known. My husband and I stood downstairs with her as they arrived. I asked the person picking her up, “Can I go with Madison to the Johnson home?” The person hesitated and called Mrs. Johnson. “You may,” Mrs. Johnson replied. Madison visibly relaxed, clearly happy that I was coming along. We took the Rolls-Royce to the airport. The Johnson family didn’t live in this small town; they were based in San Francisco. On the private plane they’d arranged, Madison was ecstatic. It was her first time flying, and she spent the entire flight gazing out the window at the clouds, exclaiming, “Mom, it’s so beautiful!” Watching her excitement stirred complicated feelings within me. I didn’t know whether this swap of identities would be a blessing or a curse for both Madison and my biological daughter, Savannah. Yes, my real daughter was Savannah Johnson. I had come to the Johnson family partly to support Madison but also to bring my biological daughter, Savannah, back home. When we arrived in San Francisco, I was flooded with emotions. Years ago, when my husband and I visited San Francisco, I’d gone into early labor at a hospital here. That’s when Madison and Savannah were mistakenly switched, sending them down different paths for the first thirteen years of their lives. The Johnson mansion was opulent, with a pool, gardens, and a gym. Everything Madison had never known was now hers. Everything Savannah had grown used to was no longer hers. I wondered how these two girls would handle the stark contrast between their lives. Mrs. Johnson stood before me, stunning and impeccably groomed, with an air of grace and elegance. “Thank you for taking such good care of Madison for the past thirteen years,” she said, hugging Madison close, unable to look away from her. Standing next to her was a young girl, whom I guessed was Savannah—my biological daughter. She resembled me, but her expression was troubled, her eyes unreadable. I stepped forward and embraced her. She resisted at first, but in the end, didn’t pull away. I gently stroked her cheek and said to Mrs. Johnson, “Thank you for taking care of my daughter for these past thirteen years. She’s beautiful, and she looks a lot like me.” “I’m planning to catch the evening flight back to Cedarville with Savannah,” I added. “We’re on a tight schedule, so we’ll head out.” For a moment, no one spoke. Mrs. Johnson, Savannah, and Madison all remained silent. After a while, Mrs. Johnson finally said, “I love Savannah. She’s my daughter too. She can stay here with Madison if she wants.” Savannah visibly stiffened and swayed slightly. “Mom,” Madison and Savannah both called out, though Madison was speaking to me and Savannah to Mrs. Johnson. Savannah was the first to speak up. “Mom, I’m going back with my mom.” “Don’t overthink it, Savannah. You’ll always be my daughter. You can stay,” Mrs. Johnson urged, her affection for Savannah evident. I smiled. “Savannah is my daughter too. I haven’t seen her for thirteen years, and I’ve missed her dearly.” The Johnsons were a wealthy family, offering a world of resources and status that I could never give to either Savannah or Madison. Mrs. Johnson was kind and loved both girls deeply. But I knew that Madison returning to the Johnson family and Savannah coming home with me was the best decision for both of them. I couldn’t irresponsibly leave my biological daughter behind, nor could I selfishly keep Madison, ruining her future. “As mothers, we both love our children. I hope you understand,” I said. Mrs. Johnson didn’t argue further and agreed. Before we left, I told Madison she was welcome to visit us anytime she missed me or my husband. Mrs. Johnson also assured Savannah that she would always love her and that the Johnson home would always be open to her. That night, Savannah and I boarded the plane back to Cedarville.

On the flight, Savannah remained silent, and so did I. I could tell she was struggling. Her first thirteen years had been secure, comfortable, and privileged. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had treated her like the apple of their eye. Now, she had been told that everything she knew was a lie, and that I was her real mother. Anyone would have a hard time accepting that. As I stared out at the dark clouds, I wondered how I could help her come to terms with everything and build a relationship with her. By the time we landed in Cedarville, it was late at night. Both of us were hungry, so I suggested we grab a bite to eat before heading home. She nodded in agreement. I knew of a little diner at the intersection of two streets downtown that served great food. The alleyways in Cedarville were narrow and tricky to navigate—only locals really knew how to find this place. Even though Cedarville wasn’t as bustling as San Francisco, it had its own charm, with bright lights filling the night sky. Savannah had never been to a place like this. Though she didn’t say much, I could see her excitement in her wide-eyed curiosity. Her eyes gleamed as they reflected the lively scene around us—the food carts passing by, the small, low stools and chairs, and the simple disposable utensils wrapped in cheap napkins. I pulled her toward a little diner that sold burgers and hotdogs, the one I frequented. “Do you like spicy food?” I asked Savannah. She shook her head. “Hey, Mike,” I called to the owner. “Two large mac and cheese, one with spice and one without.” “Got it,” Mike replied. “And two bottles of Coke, right?” I added. Savannah gave me a surprised look. It was late in the fall, and she hadn’t expected me to order iced drinks. Not long after, two steaming plates of mac and cheese arrived, along with two cold bottles of Coca-Cola. I grabbed a bottle opener and expertly popped the caps off both sodas. “How did you do that?” Savannah asked, clearly impressed. She hadn’t learned how to open glass bottles yet. I laughed and called out, “Mike, bring two more Cokes!” I picked up the opener again. “Watch closely.” I popped another cap off with a quick flick. “Here, your turn,” I said, handing her the opener. Savannah hesitated before taking it. She tried twice but couldn’t quite get the cap off. “You’ve got to hook the lip of the opener under the cap,” I explained, guiding her hand, “and then use a bit of force.” With a pop, the bottle opened. Savannah looked up at me, pleased, but the joy quickly faded, and she dropped her gaze again. I knew she still harbored resentment toward me, still uneasy about my decision to bring her home. I sighed. “I know you’re struggling to accept me as your mother, and you’re upset that I took you away from the Johnsons.” Savannah gripped her Coke bottle, then relaxed her hold. Her reaction didn’t surprise me; I expected her to feel this way. “When Mrs. Johnson asked if you could stay, why didn’t you agree?” “I didn’t want to make Mom feel awkward,” she whispered softly, still calling Mrs. Johnson “Mom.” I took a sip of my Coke, the cold liquid refreshing. “Savannah, in this situation, staying with the Johnsons would have made things uncomfortable for you.” “No, it wouldn’t,” she said firmly. I didn’t push the issue further. “Eat up. The food won’t taste as good once it gets cold.” I picked up my fork and dug into the mac and cheese. It was delicious—neither too greasy nor too dry, just right. Savannah eyed the simple plates and utensils, hesitating, but then took her first bite. After swallowing, her expression shifted to surprise, and she continued eating. “Tastes better than you thought, huh?” I laughed. “Sometimes, you don’t know what you like until you give it a try,” I said, watching her with a smile. We were both starving from the long day, and soon, we’d finished two large plates of mac and cheese and four bottles of Coke. To be precise, Savannah had one bottle, and I drank the other three out of a sense of not wanting to waste them. Savannah watched me drink the last of the soda and then remarked, “You’re really different from Mrs. Johnson.” I chuckled. “Oh, you’ll see. There are plenty more differences.” After dinner, we walked home. It was dark, with only the faint yellow glow from the streetlights guiding our way. Savannah pulled her suitcase behind her, keeping her distance from me. We trudged along in silence, step by step, until we finally reached our apartment complex. Our building was old, with six floors and no elevator. The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell barely worked. Savannah stared up at the dark, seemingly endless stairwell and shrank back a little. “Let me carry your suitcase for you,” I offered. She handed it over without protest, and I led her up the stairs to our apartment on the sixth floor. “Savannah, welcome home,” I said when we reached the door. She took a moment to glance around, though there wasn’t much to see in the dark. “That mac and cheese was really good,” she said out of nowhere. Then she added, “And the Coke was nice too.” I unlocked the door, one hand on Savannah’s shoulder as I pushed it open. “Welcome home,” I repeated.

Once inside, I found a pair of new slippers for Savannah, not wanting to give her Madison’s old ones. Our apartment was small, just three bedrooms and a living room. One room was mine and James’s, one had been Madison’s, and the other belonged to her younger sister, Emma, who was away at boarding school. Since Emma was rarely home, I decided Savannah could stay in her room for now. Madison’s room still had all of her things in it, and I didn’t want Savannah to feel uncomfortable seeing them. I’d get it ready for her tomorrow. “Savannah, this is your sister Emma’s room. You can sleep here tonight, and I’ll have your own room ready tomorrow,” I told her. “Okay,” she nodded. Savannah walked into the room and turned on the light. The space was small—tiny compared to her room at the Johnson mansion. There was a bed, a desk, a chair, a closet, and a simple bookshelf made from cheap materials. On the shelves were a few scattered children’s books, some school supplies, a worn-out dictionary, and an old English dictionary with frayed edges. Savannah frowned as she sat on the bed. I knew she felt awkward, unsure of how to adjust to her new surroundings. “Here’s a new set of pajamas for you,” I said, handing her a neatly folded pile of clothes. “The sheets are fresh too, so you don’t need to worry,” I added. “It’s not that, I just…I’m not used to it,” Savannah admitted quietly. “I understand,” I said, touching her hand gently. “Let me know if you need anything,” I said as I turned to leave. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” I said as I left the room, leaving the lights on. I kept the light in the living room on as well, in case she got up in the night and needed to find her way to the bathroom. That night, I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. I was worried about how Savannah would handle the transition, and whether Madison was adjusting to life at the Johnson home. My mind raced, and I wasn’t sure when I finally fell asleep. The next morning, I was up by seven. Savannah had probably been exhausted from the previous day, so I didn’t wake her. Instead, I went about tidying up Madison’s old room, swapping out the sheets and packing away her figurines and collectibles. I noticed that Savannah’s suitcase had a Golden Retriever drawn on it, and her phone case also featured a Golden Retriever. Quietly, I made a note to pick up a Golden Retriever pillow for her later. After cleaning up Madison’s room, I prepared breakfast and left a note for Savannah on the table. I headed out to the farmer’s market, buying a fresh fish, some ribs, and a few vegetables. On my way back, I passed a new toy store and picked out a Golden Retriever stuffed animal and a matching pillow. When I returned home, Savannah had just woken up and was getting ready for the day. I set the breakfast on the coffee table: golden-brown donuts, rich and creamy soy milk, freshly sliced pickles, tofu covered in a tangy sauce, and steaming tea eggs. The smell of food filled the house. “Good morning,” Savannah said nervously. “Well, it’s not really morning anymore,” she added sheepishly. “I slept in too late.” “Come eat,” I said, placing a donut on her plate. “I love pairing pickles and tofu with donuts. I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but we can always switch it up if you don’t,” I told her. I stood up and asked, “Want some spicy kimchi or pickled veggies? I’ve also got vinegar and hot sauce in the kitchen.” “No, no, this is fine,” Savannah replied quickly. She sat up straight while eating, carefully holding her chopsticks, chewing silently, and maintaining an elegant posture, just like a princess. After breakfast, I went to wash the dishes, and Savannah hesitated, as if she wanted to help but didn’t know how to ask. “Savannah, could you help me dry the dishes after I wash them?” I asked. “Of course,” she said, rushing over. It was clear she wasn’t used to this kind of work, moving awkwardly as she dried the plates, but I patiently waited as she finished each one before handing her the next. “Savannah, how about grilled fish and barbecue ribs for lunch? I picked up some fresh fish at the market this morning.” “That sounds good,” she said. After we finished cleaning up, I took her hand and led her to her room. “I tidied up Madison’s old room earlier. Take a look and see if you need anything else,” I said. “Oh, and I got these for you,” I added, handing her the Golden Retriever stuffed animal and pillow. “Savannah, how about we put these on the bed?” I suggested. “Okay,” she nodded. I placed the plush toy and pillow on her bed. “There’s a new toy store near the market,” I explained, “I wasn’t sure what to get, so I picked these. Next time, let’s go together and pick out more of what you like.” I watched her nervously, hoping she’d like them. She gently touched the stuffed animal, and then, unexpectedly, tears began streaming down her face, soaking the soft fur of the Golden Retriever. I stood there silently, not knowing what to say, leaning against the wall. Savannah hugged the plush toy tightly. “Savannah?” I whispered softly. She broke down, crying uncontrollably. The sudden shift in her life had been too much for a thirteen-year-old to handle. She had been holding back her emotions for too long, ever since the DNA test results came out. I walked over and embraced her, gently stroking her back. This time, she didn’t resist and sobbed in my arms, her tears soaking my shirt. But they weren’t cold; they were warm, carrying the heat of her small body. “Mom,” Savannah finally cried out. “Mom, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Savannah. I’m just so happy, so happy,” I said, holding her tightly. It felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of us in that moment. “It feels like my first thirteen years were stolen from me,” Savannah choked out. “When I saw the DNA test, I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want it to be real.” “I know, sweetie, I know,” I said, brushing her hair. “This wasn’t your fault. I love you, and Mrs. Johnson loves you too.” She stayed in my arms, crying until she had no more strength left. I held her the entire time. Sometimes, you just need to cry it all out. Finally, Savannah calmed down. I handed her some tissues to wipe away her tears. “Now, do you think your room needs anything else?” I asked. “No, it’s fine,” Savannah said quietly. “Do you like any particular colors? Maybe we can change the bedding,” I offered. “Green,” she said after thinking for a moment. “A deeper green, like the color of tree leaves in the summer.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture. “Got it. I’ll make sure your bedding is that exact shade of green,” I smiled at her. Together, we changed the bedsheets and added a few potted flowers around the room. Savannah looked around, satisfied. “Not bad,” she said with a small smile. That afternoon, around five, Emma came home. Since she stayed at her school most of the time, she didn’t yet know about the mix-up between Savannah and Madison. As soon as she walked in, she called out, “Sis, sis!” “Emma, I need to tell you something,” I said. “What is it, Mom? Hurry, I want to hang out with my sister!” Emma said impatiently. “Madison is actually the only daughter of the Johnson family. Savannah is your real sister. They were switched at birth,” I explained. Emma stared at me, clearly confused. “What are you talking about, Mom? What Johnson family? What Savannah?” she asked, her face scrunching up. I told her the whole story, and from her expression, I could tell she understood. But she refused to accept it. “No, Mom, you’re lying! You’re lying to me! Madison is my real sister. We even have the same last name! She’s been my sister ever since I was born.” Emma shouted and ran to Savannah’s room. “Sis, sis!” she yelled, but when she saw Savannah instead of Madison, she cried out, “Who are you? You’re not my sister! Get out! Give me back my sister! Go back to your Johnson family!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294959”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #惊悚Thriller #励志Inspiring

My name is Mark Foster. I met my girlfriend, Jessica Monroe, back in college. It was a bit of a Cinderella story—though I wasn’t exactly a prince, Jessica really was the Cinderella of this tale. Her parents ran a small breakfast shop in New York, selling donuts, coffee, and breakfast sandwiches. I had a habit of exercising in the mornings, and the campus cafeteria’s food was far from appealing. So, I often grabbed breakfast from her parents’ shop off-campus. That’s where I first met Jessica, helping out in the family business. She was beautiful, especially when her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat, giving her a delicate, almost fragile charm. We soon discovered that we went to the same university, and I quickly pursued her. We dated for three years of our four years in college. Jessica was a local girl with a younger brother, Damian, still in high school. Her parents had once worked in a factory but started selling breakfasts after they lost their jobs, trying to make ends meet. My family, on the other hand, was from out of state, involved in business for generations. But for certain reasons, my parents insisted I never reveal our family’s true background to anyone. Their plan for me was simple: after graduation, return home to take over the family business. As graduation approached, I made yet another attempt to persuade Jessica to come with me. I pictured a life where we’d marry, settle down, and live happily ever after. I’d earn the money; she’d be the beautiful wife at my side. I thought it was a practical and romantic idea. But Jessica disagreed. Her reason was simple: her parents and brother were all here in New York. What was I supposed to do? Should we part ways and go our separate paths? Or should I abandon the road my family laid out for me for the sake of three years of love? Jessica was gentle, beautiful, and filial, a hardworking girl. I couldn’t bear to let her go. In my youthful impulsiveness, I made a bold decision. I would stay with Jessica and walk a new path with her. My parents were furious, but my stubbornness left them no choice but to accept it. Jessica, on the other hand, was thrilled. She said I had proved my love for her with my actions. And I felt lucky to have found such pure love in this world. But love couldn’t feed us. After the emotions faded, we faced the harsh reality. Survival. Fresh out of college, we had no experience. We struggled to find jobs, either scammed by shady recruiters or left waiting endlessly for callbacks from companies. The streets were filled with Master’s and Ph.D. graduates. Our bachelor’s degrees didn’t mean much. Still, we foolishly believed we’d land a good job eventually. That is, until my wallet only had enough left to buy instant mac and cheese from an internet café. Only then did I realize how right my parents had been all along. To achieve dreams and live a happy life, a solid financial foundation was essential. Jessica could always go home to eat when she was hungry, but what about me? I couldn’t just shamelessly freeload at her house. I started to reconsider things. It wasn’t just about landing a good job anymore. After talking it over with Jessica, we decided to go in a different direction—starting our own business. Why work for someone else when we could work for ourselves? I thought Jessica’s family business wasn’t bad at all. The problem was that their customers were mainly college students, so when school was out, business plummeted. After doing some market research, I suggested we open a new shop in a different location. I had the perfect spot in mind—a residential area in the old part of town. This area had several neighborhoods connected, mostly filled with retirees and working-class renters. High foot traffic, cheap rent—perfect for a small diner. Jessica’s parents agreed, but the problem was money. We needed funds for the lease, renovations, and buying tables, chairs, and utensils. Jessica’s parents had saved some money over the years, but they were hesitant to use it for expansion. They feared a new location wouldn’t do well. Plus, Jessica’s brother, Damian, was set to take his SATs next year, and with his grades, a private school was the only option, which meant more money. Considering all that, her parents’ support was limited to helping us physically with the new diner. Left with no choice, I swallowed my pride and asked my family for $20,000 to use as startup capital.

When it came to renting the space, Jessica’s parents had a different idea. They thought we should rent a small kitchen space and set up the tables and chairs outside to save on rent and renovation costs. Their thinking was still stuck in the mindset of their university town business. Most students didn’t care about dining in—they grabbed their food to go, heading back to their dorms or the library. But this residential area was home to over ten thousand people, and there were already several breakfast places. With similar menus and flavors, we needed something to set us apart. So, I insisted we rent four adjacent storefronts, knock down the walls, and combine them. We made the smallest space into the kitchen, while the others served as the dining area. For the interior, I went with warm colors, focusing on cleanliness and simplicity rather than luxury. We also standardized all the utensils. Before opening, I did a lot of promotion, distributing flyers and advertising in community social media groups. The $20,000 I got from my family dwindled down to just a few thousand. Jessica’s parents weren’t thrilled. They thought I was wasting money. But maybe hard work does pay off. On opening day, the place was packed. We sold out of three large containers of coffee in less than an hour. By 8 AM, when the office workers came by for breakfast, the kitchen was already empty. That initial success gave me a lot of confidence. I realized I had inherited my family’s business acumen. I threw myself into learning the trade. People of different ages, genders, and even personalities all had different preferences for breakfast. We expanded the menu, introduced loyalty rewards, and created promotions. Within six months, we had earned back our initial investment. Not only that, but we had also expanded from four to eight storefronts. Before, it was just Jessica’s parents working in the kitchen, with Jessica and me waiting tables. Now, we had six employees, and we still couldn’t keep up with the demand. Back when Jessica’s parents ran their shop near the university, they closed by 10 AM. I introduced an all-day service model. Who said diners had to serve only breakfast? We sold sandwiches and coffee in the morning, soups and quick meals at lunch, and hired a chef to prepare home-style dishes for dinner. Late at night, we served snacks for night shift workers. In just six months, our little breakfast cart had turned into a full-fledged diner. Daily revenue skyrocketed. Jessica’s family no longer needed to rely on their old breakfast business to get by. “Who knew business could be done like this!” Jessica’s father exclaimed more than once. As the business grew, we needed more structure. The business license was in her dad’s name. Her mom was the co-owner, and Jessica naturally became the heir to the business. It seemed like I was the only one not officially part of it, just someone helping out. As for the $20,000 I had borrowed from my family, no one ever mentioned it again. But that didn’t matter. I loved Jessica. How could true love be measured by money?

The more I thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. I shared my plan with Jessica. Jessica didn’t know much about security systems, but when she heard it could make a lot of money, she immediately supported me. She even urged me to get started as soon as possible, worried someone else might beat us to it. No time to waste, I got to work immediately. The first step was market research. For the next ten days, I visited every electronics store in Los Angeles that sold security systems, along with all the small retailers in the streets. Besides learning about prices, brands, and suppliers, I also tried to understand the profit margins of the business. During the day, I was constantly on the move. At night, I barely had time to rest, staying up late to cram as much information about security systems as I could online, like it was SAT prep all over again. By the end of those ten days, I had lost five pounds. But Jessica’s parents weren’t impressed. They thought I was neglecting the diner, running around doing “nothing important.” When I finally completed a detailed business plan, I presented it to Jessica and her parents. However, it was met with strong opposition. Having tasted the success of the diner, Jessica’s parents’ ambitions had grown. They wanted to earn all the money in the world. But their ambition far outweighed their courage. According to my calculations, opening a security equipment store would require at least $50,000 in upfront capital. Rent and renovations were minor costs. The bulk of the money would go toward inventory. The price of a basic security camera ranged from a few hundred to several thousand dollars, but the necessary systems and equipment often started at $10,000. The $50,000 I estimated was the bare minimum based on my research of supplier prices. Jessica’s parents thought spending $50,000 on an unfamiliar industry was too risky. What if the business failed? What if the equipment didn’t sell? We’d be left with a pile of cameras and wires, which couldn’t be eaten or sold for scrap. But no business is risk-free. Even though I told them the profit margins were high—one successful deal could easily bring in double the cost—they were still too scared to take the plunge. Seeing that I couldn’t convince her parents, I turned to Jessica. I asked her if she was willing to stick with the diner for the rest of her life, or if she was ready to take a gamble with me and turn a small business into something bigger. If we succeeded, our lives would change dramatically. Of course, Jessica preferred the bigger dreams over the small ones. So, she took it upon herself to persuade her parents. In the end, after much effort from Jessica, her parents reluctantly agreed to invest $20,000. As for the remaining $30,000, I’d have to figure that out on my own. To be honest, I was pretty upset when I heard this. Back when we started the diner, her parents were also reluctant to invest any money. It was only because I got $20,000 from my family that we were able to open the diner at all. Now that the diner was making money, they hadn’t even mentioned repaying that initial $20,000. And now, when it came to the security business, they were only willing to invest $20,000. Was this paying back the money from the diner, or was it a new investment? “Mark, are you mad?” Jessica asked. “My parents are getting old, and they’re cautious. Please don’t hold it against them, okay?” “I’m the one who supports you, and I’m the one who will be with you for life. I love you!” Jessica said, wrapping her arms around my neck. That “I love you” washed away all my frustration. She was right. Jessica would be my partner for life, and everything I was doing was for our future. I still needed $30,000, so I swallowed my pride and went back to my parents. The reason was simple: I told them the $20,000 they had given me for the diner was lost. They were upset, but they gave me the money.

With the startup funds in place, I immediately got to work. I rented a small, 86-square-foot storefront under an electronics mall in Los Angeles. The renovation didn’t need to be fancy—a fresh coat of paint, a big sign, two shelves, and a counter would do. I left the paperwork and licensing details to Jessica. Then, I boarded a train heading south. According to my earlier research, all the security cameras and related equipment in the city came from a few factories in the southern states. The electronics mall offered wholesale options, but they were still more expensive than buying directly from the source. With limited funds, every penny counted. In the early stages of starting a business, saving money by taking a day-long train ride seemed worth it. Hard work, determination, and the willingness to endure hardship can indeed yield unexpected rewards. When I arrived in Houston, I didn’t waste any time. I visited several factories in a row. I compared prices and quality to get the best deal. But these factories mostly dealt with national orders, shipping out entire truckloads at a time. Someone like me, buying such a small quantity, wasn’t even on their radar. After hitting several dead ends, I started to lose hope. I wondered if I should shift my focus and look for smaller distributors. Then, an unexpected encounter changed everything. As I was arguing with the security guard at the entrance of the largest factory, trying to convince him to let me in, a Maybach pulled up behind me. “Mark?” The window rolled down, and a middle-aged man called out, sounding uncertain. “Do I know you?” I looked closely at his face but didn’t recognize him. “Is your dad James Foster?” he asked. I nodded. It seemed like he knew my father. “I thought so! You look just like him. Get in the car,” he said, pushing the door open for me. I wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the type of place where people got kidnapped or trafficked, so I got in the car without hesitation. After chatting for a while, I found out that this man, Mr. Carter, was the owner of the factory. Back in the day, he had been business partners with my father, and they had a close relationship. Although they no longer worked together, they remained friends and were part of the same business association. When Mr. Carter found out I was there to discuss prices, he immediately called his secretary. Right there, he asked her for the factory’s base prices and then offered me the equipment at 30% off the wholesale rate. It wasn’t free, but it was close. “Mr. Carter, this seems too generous. You have costs too,” I said, feeling a bit guilty. The discount was too steep. Plus, this factory produced some of the top security equipment in the country. “Mark, the amount you need wouldn’t even cover our daily production losses. No need to be polite.” “To be honest, I still make a small profit at that price. It’s just a bit lower than usual.” “I’ve heard from your dad that you’re starting your own business, so consider this my support for you,” Mr. Carter said casually. Since he had put it that way, I accepted the offer. After all, the lower the cost, the higher the profit. I could already see success smiling at me from just around the corner.

The security equipment store finally opened—no grand opening, no band, just a simple firecracker to mark the occasion. The tiny storefront was so small that two people could barely walk side by side, but it held my biggest dreams to date. One thing bothered me though: the name on the business license. Before I left, I told Jessica to put either her name or mine on it, but when I looked, it was her dad’s. “I don’t really understand this stuff, so I asked my dad to handle it. Maybe he wrote the wrong name by accident. If you’re unhappy, we can always change it back,” Jessica explained when I questioned her. I wasn’t thrilled, but there was nothing I could do about it. For one, I didn’t want Jessica to feel bad, and for another, I didn’t want to upset her dad. One day, he’d be my father-in-law, and she’d be my wife. No matter how annoyed I was, I couldn’t show it. In the first few days of the store’s opening, business was slow. Security systems aren’t like food; everyone needs to eat, but not everyone needs surveillance installed. Plus, there were already hundreds of retailers, big and small, in the city selling similar products. For days, we had no customers. After a while, Jessica began to worry. “Mark, is this business even going to work? It’s been three days, and we haven’t sold a single thing,” she said, her eyes fixed on the door, her voice tinged with anxiety for the hundredth time. “Every new business starts like this. Once we build a reputation, you’ll be so busy you won’t know what to do,” I reassured her, though I wasn’t feeling all that confident myself. Then, finally, our first client walked through the door. It was a property management company from a local apartment complex. One of the buildings in their complex needed a complete replacement of its surveillance system. Each unit had three elevators, with a camera in each. The building had 28 floors, and each floor needed cameras in the elevator lobby, the hallways, and the fire exits. In total, for the three-unit building, including the lobby, they needed 264 cameras. Plus, they required an entire surveillance system to go with it. The customer had just come from the electronics mall, where the lowest quote he got was $260 per camera, and the system would cost $12,000. Altogether, replacing the cameras would cost nearly $80,000. The wholesale price for cameras was around $100, but with Mr. Carter backing me, I was able to get them for under $30 each, and the system was priced at $4,000. If I took this job, my total cost would be just under $12,000. “Flat rate, $60,000, and I’ll replace everything. Plus, I’ll guarantee the system for three years,” I told the client after doing some quick math. “No one in the city can beat that price.” The client hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, but I need an invoice for $70,000.” I understood what he meant by the extra $10,000. It was a bit of creative accounting. “Not a problem. I’ll cover the additional tax on that,” I said smoothly. “Great. We’ve got over 40 buildings in our complex, and we’ll be upgrading all the surveillance systems over the next couple of years. Let’s plan for a long-term partnership,” he said with a grin and handed me a deposit. Just like that, we had our first sale, and in less than ten minutes, I had secured a deal with four times the profit over my costs. I checked my inventory and realized we had just enough stock to cover the job. I immediately contacted Mr. Carter to order another shipment and set out to hire installers for the job.

The installers quoted me $500 a day, and it would take six days to complete the three-unit building. I thought that was too long and could hurt future business relationships, so I asked them to hire a second person and finish in three days. One man for six days cost $3,000, and two men for three days would still be $3,000. It seemed like a good deal to me. But the lead installer got defensive, insisting he could do it alone in three days, but it would require overtime—$1,000 a day. I sensed something fishy, but since this was my first big job, I didn’t push back too hard. I just made it clear I only cared about the timeline, not the headcount. Maybe it was the extra $10,000 on the invoice, but the client even had a truck sent from the property management office that night to pick up the equipment. By the next morning, the installation had begun, and I made an excuse to visit the site to “supervise.” I had always thought installing surveillance systems was a highly technical job. But after watching for a while, I realized I had overestimated it. As long as you understood basic wiring, could handle a screwdriver and drill, you could do it. The installer I hired finished the wiring for one unit in just about two hours. Replacing the cameras was even easier. He just removed the old one, connected the wires to the new one, and mounted it back on the bracket. It didn’t even take ten minutes per camera. And that was him working slow because I was there. Otherwise, it would have been even quicker. I took out my phone and snapped a bunch of pictures of the installation process to study later. Since we were just starting out, I was focused on saving as much as possible. If I could learn to install the systems myself, I could save the $3,000 installation fee. The first deal was a huge success. Low prices, great quality—it quickly attracted a customer base that cared about getting value for their money. The business started growing, and fast. There were large contracts, like installing surveillance for entire shopping malls, which required thousands of cameras and multiple systems, earning tens of thousands of dollars per job. Then there were smaller jobs, like putting cameras in homes or small shops—just one or two cameras and a simple recording system, with profits of only a few hundred dollars. But I treated all customers the same, regardless of the size of the order. Over time, the store’s reputation grew, and word-of-mouth brought in even more business. There were times when I was juggling four or five jobs at once. During that period, I was unbelievably busy. Jessica handled the store while I spent my days riding around on an electric bike with a toolbox, installing cameras for clients. Some days, I worked from morning until noon the next day, only stopping for a quick sip of water, a bite of mac and cheese, or a cigarette to keep going. I did all this to save on hiring workers. I kept up this grueling pace for an entire year. Eventually, I couldn’t handle it anymore. There was just too much work, and my body couldn’t keep up. After discussing it with Jessica, we decided to start hiring workers for the installation jobs. At that point, the labor cost was negligible for us. In fact, the discounts we gave to loyal customers were several times higher than the cost of hiring help. In just one year, that tiny 86-square-foot store had netted over $400,000 in profits. That was far more than Jessica’s parents ever made running their diner. Of course, with money comes jealousy. Our little store had caught the attention of many competitors in the business. After all, I had taken a lot of their customers. But there was nothing they could do about it. I had Mr. Carter’s factory giving me rock-bottom prices, and that combination of quality and low cost was unbeatable. Even if they didn’t like it, there wasn’t much they could do. We were all independent distributors, and I had all the proper paperwork. My business was legit. Low prices? That was my choice. High quality? That was my responsibility to my customers. So, all they could do was grumble behind my back. No one dared to smash my shop or throw paint on the windows.

When a business is booming, it means the money’s rolling in. And with that, Jessica’s parents, who hadn’t shown much interest in me for the past year, suddenly warmed up to me. They sold their old house in the lower-income neighborhood and bought a new apartment. Although it was on a mortgage, their diner business made it easy to cover the payments. They threw a dinner party at their new place, with Jessica at my side, just to celebrate and praise me. A few drinks in, her parents couldn’t stop singing my praises, saying how capable I was, how I’d turned a small surveillance equipment shop into a business that earned hundreds of thousands. Once they were done complimenting me, they began lamenting how tough the restaurant business had become. They said the diner wasn’t doing as well as before, and they had to let go of two employees to cut costs. I could guess why their business was declining. In history, there’s a saying about mediocre rulers: “Not enough vision to start a business, and not enough skill to maintain it.” Jessica’s parents lacked both the boldness to expand and the ability to maintain what they had. To be blunt, they were just too stingy. They focused too much on immediate profit, still stuck in their old mentality from when they sold food to college students. Though I hadn’t been to the diner in a year, I learned plenty from my conversations with Jessica. For example, they started using low-quality, cheap ingredients. They scrapped the customer loyalty program. They even outsourced food preparation to another restaurant. Running a diner is about service, and customer satisfaction is key. If you sacrifice quality to save on costs, you lose your customers’ trust and loyalty. As we talked, Jessica’s dad brought up something surprising. He suggested they close the diner and go into business with me. To show his sincerity, he offered to help pay for a larger store and cover the renovation costs. But I didn’t agree. Even if the diner’s business had slowed, it was still profitable—more so than most diners in the area. Closing it down would be a waste. Plus, they didn’t understand anything about security systems. They didn’t know how to sell them or how to install them, so what could they even contribute? As for expanding to a larger store, that was unnecessary. Our current store served as a showroom and sales space. It had nothing to do with size. A bigger storefront didn’t guarantee more sales, and a smaller one didn’t mean fewer customers. Success was about the person running the business. Of course, I could guess their real motive—they wanted in on the profits. “Dad, Mom, you don’t know anything about this industry, and you won’t be much help,” Jessica said, jumping in before I could figure out how to turn them down. “Let Mark focus on growing the business. When we’ve made the big money, you two can just sit back and enjoy life.” She really was the woman I loved. It was like she could read my mind. I held Jessica’s hand, grateful, and silently vowed to make the business bigger and better. “Mr. Monroe, Mrs. Monroe, Jessica and I have been together for several years now. I want to marry her,” I said, taking advantage of the warm moment. “I promise I’ll treat her well, and I’ll care for you both like my own parents.” “If you’re okay with it, I’ll arrange for my parents to meet with you soon so we can discuss the wedding.” “I’ll follow whatever traditions or requests you have.” I figured it was the perfect time to bring up marriage. After all, only through marriage would we truly become one family. “No way!”

Before Jessica’s parents could respond, Jessica stood up abruptly, visibly agitated. “Why?” Jessica, her parents, and I asked in unison. It was clear that Jessica’s parents were pleased with the idea of having me as their son-in-law. I never expected that it would be Jessica who would say no. “Mark, we’re both still young. There’s no need to rush into marriage—we should focus on our careers first. Besides, both your parents and mine are getting older, and neither of our families is doing that well financially. We need to work harder and make more money to support them in their retirement,” she explained, her tone softening. “And when I marry you, I want it to be a grand wedding. I want the whole world to know that I’m the happiest bride alive,” she added with a smile. “Remember that dream I told you about? It hasn’t come true yet, and I’m still waiting for you.” Realizing she had overreacted, Jessica quickly reached for my hand, her voice filled with affection. Whatever shock or frustration I had felt moments before instantly faded. Jessica was a young woman with her own hopes for romance and happiness. And I had told her that my parents were just regular retirees, so her concerns about our finances were understandable. Marriage is a decision between two people. I couldn’t just think about myself—I had to respect her wishes too. Our current security equipment business mainly served residential complexes and commercial buildings. If we wanted to take things to the next level, we needed to expand into other sectors, like government contracts. Municipalities require massive amounts of surveillance equipment every year—for highways, parks, public squares… Any non-profit public space that had visible security cameras? Those installations were funded by the city. If our regular business was like selling vegetables, then landing a government contract would be like serving up prime rib. Securing just one government deal would be worth three years of our regular profits. But government contracts are usually tied up with pre-established suppliers. Why would they give me the job? I remembered something a contractor told me when I was installing security systems in a shopping mall. “Projects don’t come to you—you have to go after them.” So, I started hustling. I visited every relevant office, built connections, and sought out anyone who could help. I took people out to lunch, bought drinks, sang karaoke—whatever it took to build relationships. During that time, Jessica and I would sometimes go four or five days without seeing each other. As her boyfriend, I felt guilty for not spending more time with her. But Jessica was incredibly understanding. She never complained about my busy schedule. Instead, she encouraged me to prioritize my career. She said she admired ambitious men, and my hard work today would lay the foundation for our future together. At that moment, I felt incredibly lucky. Jessica was so considerate. To marry a woman like her? I’d have no regrets for the rest of my life. Because our prices were low and our quality high, plus a few under-the-table deals that couldn’t be openly discussed, I managed to secure several large municipal contracts all at once. It’s no exaggeration to say that the money from these contracts would be enough for Jessica and me to live comfortably for the rest of our lives. But in the face of money, can human nature really resist temptation?

The first ones to get carried away were Jessica’s parents. When they found out I had made millions in just a few months, they couldn’t sit still. Despite my warnings, they sold off the family diner. Then, they started putting ideas in Jessica’s head, telling her that young people shouldn’t hold onto too much money—it could make them lazy and indulgent. They encouraged her to transfer part of our money into their names for “safe-keeping.” Soon after, Jessica developed a taste for luxury goods. Clothes, jewelry, handbags—it didn’t matter whether they suited her or not. If it was from a high-end brand, she had to have it. While I was out running the business, she stopped showing up at the store altogether. She hired a sales assistant to manage it, spending her days shopping and getting beauty treatments with her so-called girlfriends. She collected membership cards for spas, added a bunch of personal trainers and beauty consultants to her Instagram, and spent money like it was going out of style. At this rate, the money I was making couldn’t keep up with her spending. The account was quickly running dry. I realized I couldn’t stay stagnant. I had to keep growing the business, or my earnings wouldn’t be enough to sustain Jessica and her family’s extravagant lifestyle. The next step? Start a company, build an empire, and make it bigger and better. Up until now, we’d been running a small shop selling security equipment to homeowners and municipalities, but our market was limited to the city. If I wanted to expand, I needed to start a company—grow the business to cover the entire state, region, or even the country. But starting a company wasn’t easy. Especially a business that was as specialized as ours. We’d need to nail down the right location, hire skilled staff, and plan out a proper business strategy. And the startup costs would be no small amount. Looking at our bank account, we barely had enough left to rent a small office space. Where was I supposed to get the rest of the money? I regretted not reigning in Jessica’s spending earlier. Asking my family for more money was out of the question. The last two times, I’d convinced my parents to give me money under the guise of funding a startup. They had made it clear: the $500,000 was for me to try my hand at business. If I succeeded, I wouldn’t need to ask for more. If I failed, it would mean I wasn’t cut out for entrepreneurship, and I’d have to go back home to learn the family business. Either way, they weren’t going to give me another cent. Jessica’s parents had taken a significant chunk of our money when they convinced her to transfer it into their names. If I could get that money back, we’d be set. But knowing how stingy her parents were, there was no way they’d hand it over willingly. After wrestling with it for a while, I decided to give it a shot, even though I wasn’t hopeful. As expected, Jessica’s parents flatly refused. They claimed they had invested the money in some financial products that couldn’t be liquidated anytime soon. I didn’t believe a word of it. Jessica’s parents were the stingiest people I’d ever met. They valued their money more than anything. If it weren’t for the fact that the bank was backed by the government and offered interest, they’d probably keep their cash stuffed in their pockets 24/7. The idea that they’d risk their money on an investment? Impossible. Left with no other option, I turned to Jessica. After all, she was the one who had transferred the money to her parents without telling me in the first place. At first, she didn’t want to get involved, knowing full well how difficult her parents could be. But I laid out our current situation for her. If we didn’t expand and push for growth, our little security store would only make enough to sustain her current lifestyle. And with technology advancing at such a rapid pace, there was always the risk that we’d get left behind by the market. The only way to solve these problems was to start a company. I’ll admit, there was some fear-mongering in what I said, but I had no choice. Jessica had changed. She was no longer the humble, hardworking, understanding girl I had met in college. Now, she didn’t care if I was exhausted, or how the store was doing. All that mattered to her was how much more money was going into her account. I’d even questioned whether it was worth staying in this relationship anymore. But after all these years, it wasn’t something I could just throw away over a bit of dissatisfaction. More importantly, I wasn’t ready to give up. I had invested too much in this relationship, and I wasn’t about to walk away without a fight.

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