I was diagnosed with cancer, and my son’s gold-digging girlfriend immediately took all our family’s money. She even declared that it was all her money, and I couldn’t spend a penny of it even if I died on the street. This ultimately caused me to miss the best treatment opportunity, and my condition worsened, leaving me with little time left. Filled with grief and anger, I pulled her down with me as I jumped off a building to our deaths. When I opened my eyes again, I had traveled back in time to when I first met the gold-digging girlfriend. Surprisingly, I could even hear her thoughts. It was then that I discovered the gold-digger wasn’t her at all. “Jack said his mom wouldn’t even look at a bracelet under 5.000, but the one I bought was only 800.Still, it took me an entire semester of part-time work to save up for it. I gave it to her a few days ago, but I haven’t seen his mom wearing it. I guess she really doesn’t like what I got her.” Emma’s voice drifted into my ears, broken and intermittent. I opened my eyes to see the familiar scene of my home, realizing I had traveled back in time. I had returned to the moment when my son Jack first introduced his girlfriend Emma to me. In my previous life, this gold-digging princess had taken control of Jack’s salary before they even got married. She also used the excuse that it was customary in her hometown to give a $200,000 wedding gift, forcing us to sell our house to raise the money for her. As a result, when I was diagnosed with cancer, there was no money left for treatment. I wanted to negotiate with her to return some of the money for my treatment, promising to repay her later. But she flatly refused and even had Jack tell me, “All the money in your family is my money. Your mother’s life isn’t worth saving. Even if she dies on the street, she can’t spend a penny of my money.” Because of her insistence on not giving me any money, I missed the best treatment opportunity, and my early-stage cancer progressed to late-stage. Looking at my limited time left, I was overcome with grief and anger. When she came to visit me, I pulled her down with me as I jumped off the building. But I never expected to travel back in time. In a daze, I heard her speaking. What bracelet? What did she mean? I looked up, staring at the slightly nervous Emma in front of me, and that voice sounded again: “Auntie is looking at me so seriously, is she dissatisfied with me? I shouldn’t have listened to Jack when he said it would be embarrassing to give it to her in person and insisted on giving it in advance. If I had known, I would have asked my parents for some money to buy a bigger one. Now Auntie must think I don’t take her seriously.” Emma didn’t open her mouth, but that voice kept coming. Could it be her thoughts? But when did she ever give me a bracelet? In my previous life, she had been putting me down since a month before we met. She said she wouldn’t eat fruit that cost less than $5 a pound, wouldn’t eat at restaurants below five-star level, and even the slippers for entering the house had to be celebrity-endorsed limited editions. And when she left, I had to give her gifts. As for her? She never spent a penny, and even the gifts she gave me were supermarket freebies. Just as I was puzzled, Emma looked at Jack and suddenly stood up, saying she needed to use the bathroom. After she entered the bathroom, Jack anxiously pulled me aside: “Mom, why are you just sitting there when we first meet? Why haven’t you given her the welcome gift? Emma is already unhappy.” “And these fruits and dishes, they’re not what Emma asked for, right? Aren’t you obviously putting her down?” I was stunned. Jack had said the same thing to me in my previous life, and I immediately felt that Emma was too materialistic and not a good girl. This led to my strong prejudice against her later. But according to Emma’s thoughts just now, she doesn’t seem to have this intention at all?

I looked at Jack suspiciously, also doubting him. In my previous life, it was this soft-hearted boy who only cared about his girlfriend. When I wanted to sue them for the money and was repeatedly stopped by him, he said not to make things too tense, that they still had to live together in the future, and he would solve it if I left it to him. But when I was waiting on my sickbed for my condition to worsen, I never saw his solution. In this life, I can’t trust this white-eyed wolf 100% either. I frowned and said irritably, “What do you mean by putting her down? Am I putting her down by not treating her like a princess? I prepared gifts and money, and she gave me a toothbrush from the supermarket. It looks like she doesn’t think much of our family either.” “Even if you marry her in the future, I won’t acknowledge her.” Jack was startled by my sudden outburst. He quickly pulled me aside and lowered his voice: “Mom, I’ve told you before, Emma’s family isn’t well off, and she’s had a tough life. Now we should let her enjoy life more, so please be more accommodating to her. Don’t say these things again, what if she hears them?” As soon as he finished speaking, Emma came back. She looked at the slightly heavy atmosphere between me and Jack, startled, and that voice sounded again: “Didn’t I give Jack a hint to comfort his mom? How come it seems like the more he comforted, the angrier she got?” Seeing her sit down nervously, my suspicion grew stronger. I cleared my throat and said, “Emma, you’re still a student, and I don’t need you to buy any gifts. I’m just happy if you can come visit often.” Emma looked confused, and her thoughts sounded again: “What does she mean by not buying gifts? Didn’t I give that bracelet to Jack to give to her? Even if she doesn’t like it, she shouldn’t say I didn’t buy anything, right?” I discreetly glanced at Jack, then pulled out a few toothbrushes from under the coffee table and threw them on the table: “Jack said you were always thinking of me and specially got these freebies from the supermarket for me.” Emma was startled and quickly turned to look at Jack: “When did I give Auntie toothbrushes? What about the bracelet? Didn’t you give it to her?”

Jack’s face stiffened for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. He casually took out a bracelet from his bag and smiled: “I forgot to give it. It’s good that you’re giving it to my mom in person now, it’s more formal.” Emma sighed in relief and busied herself putting the bracelet on me, while her thoughts sounded again: “Jack is really careless, how could he forget something like this? Thankfully, Auntie asked, otherwise what kind of person would I have become?” I frowned, Emma doesn’t match up with my previous life either? Could it be that in my previous life, she had also prepared a bracelet, but because Jack forgot and I didn’t feel comfortable asking for a gift when meeting someone for the first time, it led to a misunderstanding? Then why didn’t Jack give me the bracelet later? There must be something else going on here. And later she still held onto our family’s money and wouldn’t let go, leading to my tragic death. I definitely need to investigate this thoroughly. After putting on the bracelet, Emma held my hand and smiled brightly: “Auntie, this really suits you, it goes well with your temperament.” I looked down at the bracelet, feeling a strange emotion well up in my heart. In my previous life, because Emma and I had such a bad impression of each other from our first meeting, we had very little contact afterwards. I didn’t know she could say such nice things. Emma turned and reproached Jack a bit: “When will you ever take my matters seriously? Last time when I bought skincare products, I got a set for Auntie and asked you to deliver it to her. You forgot right away and even used it yourself. Now you can even forget something this important?” I remember the skincare product incident very clearly. A month ago, when Emma was video chatting with Jack, I accidentally appeared on screen while I was applying face cream. Emma saw the brand of face cream in my hand and chatted with me about it for a while. As soon as Jack hung up the phone, he said Emma was angry. Because the brand of face cream I was using was actually more expensive than hers. Jack said: “Emma thinks that at your age, there’s no need to use such a good brand. You should save the money for your future grandson. You should just use some cheap creams.” At that time, I was so angry I felt like my lungs were going to explode, and I immediately told Jack this girlfriend wouldn’t do. Now it seems that many things were not as I understood them back then. Jack looked at me guiltily, then hugged Emma and continued to smile cheekily: “I know I was wrong, baby. Next time I’ll definitely put you and mom’s matters at the top of my heart.” My heart sank deeper and deeper. Those things I thought Emma had done to wrong me, it turns out she knew nothing about them. What about taking all the money from our family? Could it have nothing to do with her either? With a head full of questions, I finished this meal. Jack went to send Emma back to school, and I immediately made an appointment for a full body check-up at the hospital. The doctor pointed at the examination report and told me that a small lesion was found in my stomach. After a pathological examination, it was determined to be gastric cancer. However, fortunately, I had the examination in time. It was still in a very early stage, and the cure rate was very high. All I needed to do was to remove the diseased gastric tissue, and he scheduled a surgery time for me. I breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily I caught it in time this life. On the way home, I couldn’t help but feel lighter in my steps. When I got home, I found Jack had returned and was sitting on the sofa with his head down, looking dejected. As soon as he saw me, he cried out: “Mom, Emma said she wants $200,000, what should we do?”

Jack wiped away a tear: “Emma said that in their hometown, families must give hundreds of thousands as a wedding gift. 200, 000 is already the minimum. If I can’t come up with 200,000, she’ll break up with me directly.” He grabbed my hand and pleaded earnestly: “Mom, I just love her and want to marry her. Please help me think of a way. In the future, when I earn big money, I’ll be filial to you. Forget $200,000, I’ll give you however much money you want!” I silently looked at him: “First explain to me what’s going on with the skincare products Emma mentioned.” Jack’s eyes darted around for a few seconds: “I saw that you hadn’t finished your own skincare products yet, so you probably wouldn’t be able to use Emma’s for a while. And in the past, didn’t you always give me the extras? So this time I took the liberty of using them myself.” “I just forgot to tell you about it.” Jack looked at me displeased: “Why are you so particular with your own son?” “Then why did you tell me she thought I only deserved to use cheap creams?” Jack started to throw a tantrum: “That was just me misunderstanding her meaning. I’ll be more careful in the future. Please let me off this time.” “What’s important now is that Emma wants $200,000. Mom, you only have one son. You have to help me think of a way.” I wasn’t satisfied with Jack’s explanation. He had always been clever since he was young. How could he misunderstand something so simple? Could he be up to something behind my back? Does Emma know? So I went along with what he said: “Invite Emma over for dinner another day. I want to assess her character. If she passes, I’ll raise 300, 000 for you, let alone 200,000.” Jack’s eyes lit up, but he also worriedly reminded me over and over: “When Emma comes, you absolutely must not mention the $200,000. She’s already dissatisfied. I’m afraid she’ll get even angrier and the marriage will fall through.” I gave him a cold look. I’m afraid it’s not that he doesn’t want Emma to worry, but that he’s afraid I’ll question Emma. Jack moved quickly, bringing Emma back the very next day. But her expression didn’t look very good, and she seemed somewhat indifferent to my hospitality. Just as I was puzzled, Emma’s thoughts sounded: “Jack had said before that his mom was snobbish, but I didn’t expect her to open her mouth asking for 200,000 from my family, and even saying that anything less than 200,000 couldn’t enter their door.” “Where am I supposed to get so much money? Is this a marriage or a transaction?” “Every time I met Auntie, I felt she was quite nice. I didn’t expect her to do such despicable things behind my back.” My heart suddenly sank. I had never mentioned anything about $200,000. Obviously, this was Jack’s own idea. Taking 200,000 from me, and another 200,000 from Emma. What exactly is Jack trying to do? Thinking of those mismatched words between Jack and Emma. There was a boom in my mind. Could it be that in my previous life, the one holding onto the $200,000 and not letting go wasn’t Emma at all, but my own son? No wonder he was so afraid of me questioning Emma. But I raised him from childhood to adulthood, what exactly made him do this? Not even willing to save me? I struggled to contain my discomfort, invited Emma to sit down, and then sent Jack away, asking him to go to the kitchen to serve the meal. Seeing him enter the kitchen, I took out my phone and transferred $10,000 to Jack in front of Emma. I also sent him a voice message: “Son, take this money to buy clothes for Emma. Young girls nowadays all love to dress up, especially a beautiful girl like Emma. Tell her not to be stingy.” Emma watched my actions, her eyes flashing with mockery, as if she thought I was just putting on an act. Without time to explain, I quickly left, pretending to go to the bathroom. When I came back, I saw that Emma’s expression had changed. She stared intently at Jack, her thoughts sounding again: “Why did Jack say that Auntie complained about my clothes being shabby and told me to change into better clothes next time we meet? Auntie clearly didn’t mean that at all.” “And Auntie even gave $10,000. Why doesn’t he mention it at all? What exactly does he mean?” I interrupted her thoughts: “Emma, the reason I invited you here today is to talk about money.” Emma suddenly raised her head and looked me in the eye.

I saw shock, doubt, and disbelief in Emma’s eyes. She must have just doubted Jack. But the foundation of a two-year relationship made her unsure if her judgment was correct. We both looked at Jack at the same time, and he immediately became nervous. He hurriedly came over to stop me: “Mom, this is only Emma’s second visit. How inappropriate to talk about this now? Let’s have dinner first. Whatever it is, we can discuss it after eating.” As he spoke, he pulled me towards the kitchen, while gritting his teeth and questioning me in a low voice: “Mom, didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t mention this? How can you go back on your word? Emma is already unhappy. What if you drive her away?” I pretended not to understand, looking confused: “Son, I promised you I wouldn’t mention the 200,000, but now I’ masking about how much her family is giving as agift, which isn’t 200,000, right? Her family is asking for $200,000, so I want to know how much they can give?” Jack was so scared his face turned purple, desperately pushing me into the kitchen: “Oh my god, Mom, please say less. We haven’t discussed that yet. I have my own plans, so please don’t interfere.” I laughed coldly in my heart. Did he think he could shut me up with any random excuse? I may be old, but my mouth hasn’t been sewn shut. I broke free from Jack’s hands, walked out of the kitchen, smiled at Emma and said: “Emma, Jack said you haven’t reached the stage of discussing marriage yet. But Auntie has a few things to say in advance.” “Auntie knows we’re all ordinary families. You said there’s a custom in your hometown of giving a wedding gift before marriage, so let’s follow your hometown’s custom. It doesn’t matter how much, Auntie doesn’t care. After all, it will all be brought to your new home anyway.” Emma frowned, her strange gaze constantly scanning between me and Jack, as if judging who was telling the truth. Jack’s face at this time was uglier than if he had eaten shit. He squeezed out a smile with difficulty: “That’s right, I actually meant the same thing. We’re all family, why bother calculating so much? Oh, let’s not just talk here, let’s eat first.” “Emma, come downstairs with me to buy a drink. Mom, you set the table and serve the dishes first.” Seeing that he couldn’t shut me up, Jack wanted to take Emma away. Emma coldly stepped back, pushing Jack’s hand away: “Why not say it now? Who can eat if we don’t talk about it now?”

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After Naomi Parker, my eldest daughter, became successful, she cut ties with the family. My wife, Rachel, urged me to calculate how much money we spent on her so that she could repay us, including interest. While searching for paper and a pen to make the calculations, I stumbled upon Naomi’s diary. It was filled with her grievances against the family. As I started reading, I found myself blaming her for being unreasonable and immature. But as I continued, I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling up with tears. I have two daughters. Naomi, my eldest, was born to my ex-wife, Evelyn Harper, while Ella, my younger daughter, is the child of my current wife, Rachel. Ella was born premature and has always been frail and sickly. Because of Ella’s delicate health, I often asked Naomi to take care of her younger sister. Most of Naomi’s complaints in her diary are about how I favored Ella. It started with small things, like buying Ella a Barbie Doll but not buying anything for Naomi, or only picking Ella up from school while leaving Naomi to walk home alone. One entry, from when Naomi was twelve, stuck with me. It was her birthday. She understood that our financial situation was tight and knew that toys and dresses, if we ever bought them, would go to her younger sister, Ella, who was sick more often and still a child. Naomi had her eye on a dress that wasn’t expensive, but she knew we wouldn’t buy it for her. So, she spent a whole year collecting bottles to save up enough money to buy that dress as a birthday gift for herself. On her birthday, Naomi was thrilled to wear that beautiful dress, and Ella immediately became envious. “That dress is so pretty, Naomi! Can I wear it too?” Ella asked. Naomi’s reaction was fierce. She hugged the dress protectively and snapped, “No! Dad and Rachel buy you all those toys and dresses, and this is the only one I have! Why do you always have to take what’s mine?” Naomi’s lips trembled as she spoke, tears welling up in her eyes. Seeing this, I felt a pang of sympathy for Ella, so I told Naomi, “Ella is your little sister. What’s wrong with letting her wear the dress for a few days?” But Naomi stood her ground. “She’s never shared her toys or dresses with me. Why should I share mine?” Her defiance made me furious, and my expression darkened. Ella tugged at my sleeve and said, “Dad, it’s okay. Don’t make Naomi upset. It’s my fault.” Ella was always so considerate, and I gently patted her head. “Ella, you’re such a good girl.” But Naomi’s anger only grew. She glared at Ella. “It’s because of you I lost Dad’s love! You take all the toys and pretty dresses! I hate you!” Ella’s eyes welled with tears, and she started trembling, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry, Naomi! I didn’t mean to make you mad.” As she cried, her breathing became more labored, and her face paled until, suddenly, she fainted. Her head hit the corner of the coffee table, and blood gushed from the wound. Rachel immediately called an ambulance. Furious, I kicked Naomi in the chest. “You know your sister is weak and can’t handle stress. It’s just a dress! How could you make her pass out over something so trivial?” Naomi fell to the floor, clutching her chest in pain, her face contorted. Tears welled in her eyes as she sobbed, “Dad, Ella is your daughter, but aren’t I your daughter too?” “Is it so wrong to want to keep my own dress?” I was too angry to hear reason. I raised my hand again, shouting, “After what you did to your sister, you dare talk back to me?” Naomi, terrified, started trembling, biting her lip as her eyes filled with tears. Rachel grabbed my arm. “Don’t! She didn’t mean to, Donovan.” At that moment, Ella regained consciousness and, weakly, tried to explain, “Dad, don’t blame Naomi. It was my fault for fainting.” I rushed to Ella’s side, cradling her gently. “You’re hurt so badly, Ella, and still you defend her? Naomi doesn’t care about you at all.” From the corner of the room, Naomi sat curled up, watching us with tear-filled eyes. After that incident, my relationship with Naomi visibly deteriorated. She never initiated conversations with me again, and her smiles became rare. Whenever she looked at me, her eyes were filled with fear and mistrust. That was the first time I hit her, and afterward, I regretted it. It was just children being children. How could I, as an adult, lose control like that? But as a parent, I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. From that point in her diary onward, Naomi’s entries became more frequent, almost daily. It seemed that every time she saw me, she was reminded of that day, and every little thing would make her sad again.

I continued reading, and the entries soon reached Naomi’s eighteenth year. Ella had started dating a street thug and was considering dropping out of school. When I found out that Naomi had introduced Ella to this boy, I was furious. I stormed into the school and slapped Naomi in front of the teachers and students. “Naomi Parker, what are you thinking? How could you introduce such a scumbag to your sister? She’s your flesh and blood! If you’re angry at us, fine, but why ruin her life?” Naomi held her cheek, looking at me in disbelief. “Dad, who told you I introduced Derek to Ella?” I turned to Rachel, who looked away guiltily. “Ella told me. She said Derek was your friend and that you had vouched for him, so I didn’t worry.” Naomi’s face went cold, and she pulled out her phone to show me their messages. Derek had pursued Naomi first, but she had rejected him several times. He eventually turned his attention to Ella, and Naomi had even warned Ella multiple times, telling her Derek hadn’t gone to college and didn’t have a proper job. She begged Ella not to be fooled by his sweet words. Only then did I realize I had wrongly accused Naomi. But with the teachers and students still watching, I couldn’t swallow my pride. So, I stammered, “Even if that’s true, you’re still her sister! You go to the same school. Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? You should’ve helped her out sooner!” The moment the words left my mouth, I felt my face flush with shame. The judgmental stares from those around us only intensified. Naomi didn’t cry this time. She just clenched her fists in silence. I pulled her aside and quietly apologized. “Naomi, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have blamed you. But please, she’s your sister. Can you help convince her to leave him?” After much persuasion, Naomi finally agreed to talk to Ella. By that time, Ella had already realized who Derek really was and wanted to break up with him, but Derek refused to let her go. In a desperate move, he and his gang kidnapped Ella, and when Naomi tried to intervene, she was taken too. Derek and his gang demanded a ransom of one million dollars for each girl. At the time, I had just started my business, and I only had one million dollars available. I would have to choose between my two daughters. When the time came for the exchange, Naomi and Ella were both tied up. Ella, with tears streaming down her face, pleaded, “Dad, please save me. I don’t want to die.” Naomi, however, remained calm, staring at me without a word. I knew that Naomi had been dragged into this situation and that I was more responsible for what had happened than she was. That million should’ve been used to save her. Derek pushed me to make a decision. “Who’s it going to be?” I looked at Naomi, ready to say her name, but Ella fainted from the stress. Seeing her pale face and fragile body, my heart wavered. I couldn’t bear to lose her. My resolve crumbled, and I painfully uttered the words, “Save Ella.” For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed Naomi’s calm eyes. After a long pause, she spoke in a dry, raspy voice, her laughter hollow and bitter. “So, you never loved me. I’m just a stranger to you.” Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, her voice breaking. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. I turned away and said, “Naomi, I’m sorry. But Ella is weak, and she passed out. I have to save her first. Don’t worry, I’ll find another million to save you.” And with that, I left with Ella.

After getting Ella to the hospital, I had planned to start raising the money to save Naomi. But Ella’s condition was critical, and the doctors said she might need surgery. Then, Rachel fainted from the stress, so I stayed to sign the paperwork. It wasn’t until five days later that I was finally free to focus on getting Naomi back. But by then, Naomi had already returned. She was found unconscious on our doorstep, her clothes torn and her body covered in bruises. The men who were arrested later confessed to beating Naomi with steel rods, burning her with cigarettes, and feeding her scraps of leftover food. They had been planning something far worse, but she managed to escape under the cover of night, walking three days and nights through wilderness. Her feet were bloodied from the journey, and she survived by eating leaves and drinking muddy water. By the time she reached civilization, she resorted to rummaging through trash for food. After those horrific five days, Naomi was never the same. She was plagued by nightmares, waking up in terror. Even the slightest touch made her flinch, and she would drop to her knees, begging us not to hurt her. Then, she fell gravely ill with a fever that lasted for three days and three nights. When she finally recovered, she had lost all her memories of what had happened. From that moment on, she became a different person. She was quiet and obedient. Anytime there was only one of something, Naomi would give it to Ella without hesitation, even before Rachel or I could say a word. The more she did this, the more guilt I felt. The truth was, the person Naomi had become was entirely my fault. Just as I reached this realization, Rachel interrupted my thoughts with a pat on my shoulder. “Donovan, have you finished the calculations?” “She’s rich and successful now, all thanks to us raising her. We should add up every penny and make her pay us back, with interest.” Before I found the diary, I might have agreed with Rachel. But now, having read Naomi’s diary, I couldn’t help but question whether we had ever truly “raised” her in the way a parent should. And after everything, how could we demand that she pay us back? Just then, Lucas Foster, Ella’s husband, walked in and told us that Ella had been diagnosed with kidney failure and urgently needed a transplant. Without hesitation, Rachel and I rushed to the hospital to get tested, but neither of us was a match. Crushed by the news, Rachel slumped in her chair. But suddenly, her face lit up with an idea. “Naomi. Naomi is Ella’s sister. She must be a match.” My heart sank. Naomi had cut ties with us. She wanted nothing to do with our family anymore. Even if her kidney was a match, I doubted she would agree to help. Rachel grabbed my arm, desperation in her voice. “Donovan, we can’t lose Ella. We have to convince Naomi to get tested.” Lying in her hospital bed, Ella looked frail and tearful. “Dad, I don’t want to die. Please, please save me.” “Naomi is kind. If her kidney is a match, I know she’ll save me. Please, go find her.” Both of them were my daughters, and I didn’t want to lose either of them. After much deliberation, I finally decided to go to Naomi. I just prayed she would help, for the sake of sisterly love. As we drove to her apartment, with Lucas at the wheel, I couldn’t help but feel a deep, gnawing guilt. In fact, Lucas was originally the boyfriend of his eldest daughter, Naomi, and was already talking about marriage at that time.

Lucas Foster was a promising young executive at a large company, and Naomi had graduated from a prestigious school, making them a perfect match. I wholeheartedly supported their relationship. Who would have thought that Ella would come between them? To make matters worse, Ella became pregnant with Lucas’s child. Her explanation was that they got drunk at a party and things just happened. Both Ella and my wife, Rachel, knelt in front of me, pleading for me to let Ella be with Lucas. Ella was sobbing, her face streaked with tears. “Dad, I really love Lucas. Even if you won’t think of me, at least think about the baby. Your grandchild can’t grow up without a father.” “Naomi listens to you the most. I’m sure if you talk to her, she’ll agree to let Lucas go.” Rachel chimed in, “I know our Ella did Naomi wrong, but what’s done is done. We can’t ask Ella to get rid of the baby, can we?” “Naomi has always been so mature and understanding. She wouldn’t want to see her sister in this situation. Besides, Naomi is so accomplished—she’ll have no problem finding another man.” Their pitiful expressions made me soften, even though I knew I was betraying my eldest daughter once again. That evening, Rachel prepared all of Naomi’s favorite dishes and invited her over for dinner. After we had eaten, Rachel gave me a subtle nod, signaling it was time. Swallowing my pride, I explained the situation to Naomi. “Naomi, sweetheart, you’ve always been so good to us, never causing any trouble. You’ve worked hard and deserve the best. But your sister… Ella, she’s fragile, and it’s harder for her to find a match.” “Now, because of a misunderstanding, she’s pregnant with Lucas’s child. Could you possibly let Lucas go for her sake?” Even as I spoke, I felt too ashamed to meet Naomi’s eyes. I expected her to explode in anger, to curse us out and storm off. But to my surprise, she remained calm. After a brief pause, she quietly agreed. And just like that, Ella, pregnant with Lucas’s child, became his wife. Out of guilt, I bought Naomi a car to use for her commute to work. But two weeks later, Ella got into a car accident while driving Naomi’s car, and she lost the baby. I immediately assumed Naomi had lent Ella the car, leading to this tragedy. Outside the hospital, I lashed out at Naomi. “You knew Ella was pregnant, yet you still lent her your car. What were you thinking? You caused this accident! This is all your fault!” My anger was uncontrollable as I glared at her. Rachel tried to calm me down, biting her lip as she spoke, “It wasn’t Naomi who lent Ella the car.” “How could that be?” I snapped. “I bought that car for Naomi. If she didn’t lend it to Ella, how did she get her hands on it?” Rachel lowered her gaze, speaking hesitantly. “Ella and Lucas were getting married soon, and they had everything but a car. I mentioned it to Naomi, and she agreed to let them use it.” Shocked, I turned to Naomi. “I gave that car to you. Why would you give it to them?” Naomi looked down, her voice quiet but firm. “Dad, how many things that you’ve given me have I actually been able to keep? They’re always taken away eventually. It’s just a matter of time.” At that moment, I realized how poorly I had treated Naomi as a father. I had always tried to balance things equally, but somehow, the scales always tipped in Ella’s favor. Over time, I got used to expecting Naomi to sacrifice for her sister. But the truth is, both girls were my daughters, and Naomi never had an obligation to give up what was hers for Ella.

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My roommate‘s brother is recruiting for a factory. ＂You can earn 10,000 in a month doing part-time work.＂ I think it’s a scam. At the same time, my family’s small factory is recruiting part-time worker,and I took them to my family. In order to take care of my classmates, my mother gave us four thousand a month, provide food and housing But my roommate heard that the long-term worker can get seven thousand per month, they said that my family are devil. Not only did they report my parents to the to the Labour Bureau, but also went on a live broadcast saying that our products were defective. My family went bankrupt. My parents committed suicide. I was so traumatized that I fell overboard. When I woke up, I was back at the day they discussed going to work part-time. …… ＂My brother said the work is easy and pays well.＂ The fan was whirring in the cramped dormitory. Abby said these words to us from her bed. The other two said, “Wow.” Connie asked, ＂Can we have such good conditions?＂ ＂Sure.＂ Abby patted his chest and said, ＂My brother is the HR in the factory. He told me that as long as you go you can get your salary. The factory is also near the sea, we can also go to the beach on days off.＂ Abby described the part-time life very good, it seems they would like to take the train right now. Suddenly Abby changed the topic to me: “Barbara, do you want to go with us?” Looking at her face, I tried to control my anger. I could never have imagined that such a pure exterior hid a heart like a demon. I smiled gently at her. ＂I can’t go. I have to go back to help my mother.＂ ＂You come with us. Why stay at home when you can make $20,000 in two months over the summer?＂ I got up with my book. ＂Sorry, my mom said no, I have to go to the library to study now.＂ ＂You’re so grown up!＂ They laughed. I left the dorm and went to the library. The cold air made me realize what was real. I wasn’t angry at those three people. I was thankful. I was reborn. In my last life, Abby also suggested a the idea of taking a part-time job in the summer vacation. The factory was in my hometown. I knew that the average factory would only offer 8,000 for the long-term workers. It would be impossible to be so generous to the summer job. I told Abby it was a scam and to look for another job. My family was recruiting, so I told them I wanted to work at home as a summer job. My parents opened a garment factory. They needed help with simple tasks or work in the air-conditioned house. I didn’t worry about recruiting people for this position at home. My mother offers a high salary. And for my classmates, my mother takes care of them like children, so she decided to pay them a monthly salary of 4000, without mandatory workload, and also provides food and accommodation. My housemates agreed when I told them.

We got along well at the start of the first half-month. We’ve been roommates since our first year at college. Abby is the head of the dorm, beautiful and talkative. She’s also a good mediator between us. They work hard. My mother likes them and gives me money to take them to a local restaurant. Abby heard the others who works together talking about how much they were making and got really angry. She asked my mother if she was using them as cheap labour. But the truth was Abby and the other girls had one-third the workload of the others. ＂We are college students, so we cost more than hiring those rural women. You are paying for knowledge.＂Abby said. My mom was confused. She didn’t know what knowledge was needed for packing. But Abby was my classmate, so she asked, ＂How should we settle it?＂ They wanted my mother to pay them half a month’s salary so they could leave. My mom wanted to put the whole thing to rest, so she paid her with what she Abby asked for. I didn’t think this would cause a problem. When Abby left, she told the workers what she had done. How can the salary of temporary workers be better than those of old employees. So they want my mom to give them a raise. Just as the workers’ commotion subsided, Abby began to turn into a demon again. She put this on the Internet, saying that my parents was devil who forced them to work. This news spread widely online and she became very famous. People online proposed ideas, and she followed them. She called the labor department, tax bureau, and fire department every three days. My family was a small business, although it is not illegal, we still cannot tolerate people coming to inspect every day. My mother asked if she could pay her a settlement to stop it.. At this point, the discussion about this matter on the internet was no longer as hot, until she sent a text message online, asking for my mother’s forgiveness. She also revealed my home, saying that the quality of my clothes is very poor. My family was a supplier to big brands. This incident led to high liquidated damages. My parents’ hair turned white overnight. Under the pressure of public opinion and liquidated damages, they took medicine to commit suicide. I lost my family because I brought my roommates home. After my parents died, I had a mental breakdown. I lived a muddled life, unable to distinguish between dream and reality. I saw my parents on the beach and walked towards them. I fell into the sea when the sea water got into my nose. It was too late. I don’t think I learned much in the library. By the time I had thought about it, the library had started to kick people out. Back in the dorm, the girls still wanted to work part-time. I went to shower and didn’t want to be a part of this. If I didn’t care about them, they still wanted to care about me. After I showered and dried my hair, Abby came over. She said her brother needed four people and had already signed me up. She asked me to pay the sign-up fee. She had a kind face and looked like she wanted me to thank her. I looked straight at her and said, ＂Who asked you to sign me up?＂

Abby froze and frowned, ＂What’s your attitude? I’m being kind.＂ I looked at her. ＂I said I’m not going. Why are you reporting this to me?＂ Abby’s face showed panic, but she quickly calmed down. She scolded me, ＂If you’re not going, don’t slander people.＂ The argument attracted Connie and the girls. Connie was naturally on Abby’s side. She rolled her eyes at me, ＂Barbara, you’re too much. Abby said we work part-time together with you is to avoid isolating you. You just don’t know how to appreciate good people.” Zoe also backed Abby, saying, ＂That;s right. Liu Barbara, you’re so unsociable.＂ ＂Good intentions?＂ I sneered, ＂Who knows what she did with my information? Maybe she sold it to a pyramid scheme.＂ People from other dorms came to see what was going on. More and more people gathered at our door. ＂Barbara, you’ve gone too far!＂ Abby ran out after yelling. Zoe chased me out. ＂Are you satisfied?＂ I said loudly, ＂What? She leaked my information. She also did something wrong.＂ My voice echoed through the dormitory. Other students thoght I have no problems with this move. They were wondering if Abby was connected with those pyramid selling organizations. That night, Abby cried all night in the dormitory. The next day, the teacher discovered it. When the teacher brought us over, Abby thought I was outnumbered and that the teacher would say something favorable to her. She was very rude to the teacher, saying that I had wronged her. After listened to my words, the teacher asked Abby to apologize to me. “If you take someone’s ID card without their consent, then you are wrong. If Barbara is serious, you may enter the police station.” The teacher frowned at the seriousness of the matter. Abby apologized to me. I feel happy to see her looking nauseous. The teacher asked me to leave first, leaving the three of them to discuss summer job scams. After this, I have completely broken off relations with Abby and the others. In the dormitory, they isolated me and spoke ill of me loudly. I recorded their words and told the mentor. I wanted to change dormitories. But it was difficult to change dormitories at the end of the semester, but she can pay me to stay in a hotel and change dormitories next semester. I know the mentor was also well intentioned, changing dormitories at the end of the semester is not easy. I agreed. The three of them also had to review for the final exam. We didn’t speak for the last week but didn’t have any big arguments. The final exams were over. I bought a ticket to go home. When I got on the train, I realized Abby and the three of them had bought tickets on the same train. She was sitting opposite me.

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I tried to be considerate of Nora’s postpartum challenges, so I brought her rural parents in to help. But she couldn’t stand them, saying they mistreated her and wanted them gone immediately. After sending them back, Nora went back to work, earning just enough to barely offset a babysitter’s costs. Despite that, she constantly suspected me of fooling around with the babysitter. Finally, I’d had enough and filed for divorce. But it wasn’t until I ended up in her shoes that I realized just how wrong I’d been. A baby’s wail filled my ears, and I felt like I was trapped in a furnace. Groggily, I opened my eyes and instinctively called out, “Nora, what’s going on? Could you come take care of the baby?” The sound of my own voice shocked me. Why did I sound exactly like my wife—no, my ex-wife? Just yesterday, we’d had a massive argument and finalized the divorce. We’d met in college and married not long after graduation. For a while, everything was great. But things changed after Nora gave birth; she grew more and more extreme in her reactions. Wanting to help, I’d brought her parents up from Littleton to lend a hand, but she found fault with them every day. She told me they were abusive, constantly demanding that I send them away. Eventually, I did just that. Then she returned to work, only to earn what was barely enough to pay for the babysitter’s fees. And yet she still constantly accused me of getting involved with the sitter. Thinking about how I’d no longer have to deal with her angry face, I happily reserved a private room at Blue Ridge Grill & Tavern and called my friends over to celebrate the “newly liberated me.” Now, though, as I looked down at my arms, my breath hitched in shock. Smooth, pale skin stared back at me—Nora’s skin. Then I looked over at the tiny baby beside me, smaller than my forearm. A strange thought took hold: somehow, I hadn’t just ended up in Nora’s body—I’d traveled back to when Chloe was just born. And if I’m in her body, could Nora be in mine? With a jolt, I found Nora’s phone, unlocked it, and dialed my own number. In seconds, it picked up. “Nora?” I asked tentatively. “Alex?” came her equally cautious reply. Yep. We’d switched bodies. While I was freaking out, Nora seemed unfazed—even a bit excited. “Who knows how long we’ll be stuck like this? Besides, I’m still on maternity leave, so this is a great time for you to stay home and bond with Chloe. Don’t worry about work; I’ve got you covered. You and Chloe will be in good hands,” she said brightly. The casual “Honey” stopped me cold. She hadn’t called me that, sweetly or otherwise, since Chloe was a year old. Yesterday, she’d left claw marks on my face. “How long’s it been since you worked, anyway? Are you sure you’ll manage?” She scoffed. “Please. It’s been a year. If I hadn’t stepped out to take care of Chloe, I’d probably be your boss by now.” And with that, she hung up with characteristic flair. Good thing she didn’t remember the future; I’d hate to see what kind of revenge she’d come up with. With a resigned sigh, I wiped the sticky sweat off my face, picked up my crying daughter, and headed to the bathroom to bathe her. I found Dad on the couch, munching on watermelon and watching the game, the fan blasting away while he looked as comfortable as could be. “Hey, Dad, could you check the AC in my room? It isn’t coming on.” He glanced at me casually. “Your mom unplugged it; said you keep it running all day, and the electric bill’s sky-high.” Great. My mom may have come from the country, but she wasn’t stingy with family, even if she did pinch pennies with herself. Annoyed, I didn’t press it. Chloe was sweaty and uncomfortable, so I rushed her to the bathroom for a quick rinse. Nora, being the health-conscious type, had stayed slim through her pregnancy. Compared to other women who gained baby weight, she’d barely changed. For a moment, I was happy about that. But as I tried to feed Chloe, who cried endlessly, that joy quickly soured. Was she so focused on her looks that she couldn’t wait until Chloe was weaned to diet? Pulling on my shorts, I stepped out of the bathroom with Chloe in my arms, still fuming. I glanced toward Dad, only to feel a chill as I realized I’d forgotten to dress properly. Embarrassed, I ran back to the bathroom and awkwardly slipped into one of Nora’s nightgowns. I felt completely ridiculous. My own dad had just seen more of Nora than he ever should have. Just as I tried to walk past as casually as possible, he spoke up. “Don’t worry, Nora,” he said with a sly grin. “Didn’t see a thing.” If he’d really meant it, he could’ve just kept quiet. And why was he smiling like that? Was it the sleep deprivation, or was there something unsettling about that grin? I shrugged it off, chalking it up to Nora’s exhaustion and my strained nerves. I fumbled through feeding Chloe, mixing formula, changing diapers, until she finally settled down. Then I let out a breath of relief. Mom would be back soon from shopping, and then I could hand Chloe over and get a break.

“Nora! Are you planning to waltz out here anytime soon, or are you really expecting us to cater to you like some kind of queen?” Mom’s shrill voice jolted me awake. My eyes flew open as relief washed over me. “Mom, just in time! Chloe—” I hadn’t even finished before she let me have it. “Oh, so it’s fine for you to hide out in the AC all morning, huh? Do you think Alex’s paycheck grows on trees, just so you can waste it? It’s about time he divorced you!” I was too stunned to respond. Nora used to tell me that my mom was only polite to her face and criticized her behind closed doors, but I thought she was exaggerating to drive Mom away. Now, hearing it firsthand, my chest tightened. “Mom, how could you say that? Chloe’s a baby; she can’t be sitting in a room that’s so hot!” Mom snapped off the AC and glared at me. “Hot? Please. She’s just a little girl, not some precious gem.” I wiped the spit from my face, feeling shaken. Mom had always played the doting grandmother in front of me, spoiling Chloe, calling her “my little angel.” I had no idea it was all for show. Reluctantly, I followed her to the dining table. Chicken soup steamed from a big bowl. Normally, the aroma would make me hungry, but now it churned my stomach. Trying to keep up my strength for breastfeeding, I held back the nausea and reached for a bowl, only for Mom to smack my hand away. “Show some respect, will you? Alex works himself to the bone, and you’re trying to snatch his meal? You should be grateful he keeps a roof over your head!” Apparently, the big bowl of soup was for “Alex,” while Nora’s dainty portion was in a smaller bowl. It almost made sense, but I still felt the sting. Holding back frustration, I searched for a piece of chicken in the pot, only to find the tail, neck, and head staring back at me. Finally, I couldn’t take it and pushed my bowl away. “Forget it. I’m done.” She couldn’t understand that I was the one she was actually hurting. Angry, I stormed off to my room and ordered a big takeout meal from Frankie’s Pizza as an act of defiance. When it arrived, I texted Nora, half-laughing to myself. “Did you get a taste of my mom’s famous chicken soup?” “Yeah, not bad. You should eat too; can’t have Chloe going hungry.” “It’s too fishy; I couldn’t eat it.” “Doesn’t matter. American formula’s full of who-knows-what, and imported stuff is too expensive. Besides, breast milk’s free and healthier.” I had no words. It sounded just like something I would’ve told her in the past when she’d complain. I thought she was being fussy. After all, don’t all mothers get through this stuff? And Mom treated her like a daughter—at least, that’s what I believed. This role reversal made me realize what Nora had endured. A heavy, suffocating weight settled in my chest. When the pizza arrived, I was eating at the table when suddenly, Mom yanked my hair back, spilling hot soup onto my lap, and slapped me hard across the face. “What’s gotten into you, wasting money on delivery when I’ve made a perfectly good meal? How ungrateful can you get?” My scalp, legs, and cheek were stinging with pain, and my mind was spinning. This was the same “loving” mother who’d always backed me up. Fighting back tears, I choked out, “Mom, it’s me, Alex. Your son.” She scoffed and muttered something about me being delusional as she stormed out, leaving the mess behind.

Hours passed in misery until Nora finally got home. Mom may have refused to help with Chloe, but surely Nora wouldn’t. Eager to pass her over, I held Chloe out to Nora, only for Mom to intercept. “I’ll take the baby. Alex has worked hard all day, while you’ve done nothing. Why don’t you give him a massage instead?” Rubbing my temples, I muttered, “Caring for Chloe’s a lot harder than you think. I’d appreciate a back rub too.” Mom’s face crumpled into a tearful expression. “I cook, I clean, I do it all, and now you’re complaining?” For a second, I wavered. Mom had cried like this in front of me before, and I’d always thought it was Nora being ungrateful. What had I let happen here? Seeing Nora’s look of amusement as she flopped onto the couch, I heard her say, “Nora, what’s with the attitude toward Mom? She came all this way to help. Go apologize.” Her words struck me like a hammer. She’d remembered every time I’d said that to her. I sighed and gave in, massaging Mom’s shoulders obediently. That night, as the family settled in, Nora worked on her laptop in the living room. Trying to be helpful, I leaned over. “Long day? Need help with anything?” Her gaze shifted from the screen to me, her eyes sparkling with newfound determination. “It was tough this morning, but I hit my stride by afternoon. I didn’t take time off for pregnancy, so I’m still on top of my game.” Watching her confidence, I felt a bit ashamed. Nora had always been ambitious; I’d been lucky to marry her. But seeing her work so hard made me wonder—had I been supporting her at all? “I’ll be back to work once I’m fully recovered. Then we can hire someone to help with Chloe.” Nora raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Isn’t your mom her grandmother? She should be happy to care for her.” I chuckled wryly. “I know, honey. I know better now.” If it weren’t for this bizarre experience, I’d still be in denial, convinced Mom was a saint. Chloe woke up crying every couple of hours, and each time, I forced myself awake to feed her. Exhausted, I stumbled into the living room where Nora was sleeping, holding Chloe with dark circles under my eyes. “I’m going nuts, Nora. I can’t handle this. Please take her, and I’ll go to work.” No sooner had I made the request than Mom burst out, grasping Nora’s hand with a tearful expression. “My poor son! Working so hard and all he gets is a thankless wife,” she said, her voice filled with dramatic pity. I used to believe Mom’s words with misty eyes, thinking she was my wise, empathetic mother. Now, I wanted nothing more than to tell her to stop. But she was my mother. I kept my silence. Nora pulled her hand free, gave me a sympathetic look, and, with all the wisdom of her newfound experience, said, “Honey, remember: being a mom makes you strong.” Only now did I fully grasp just how strong she’d been all along.

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The night air bit into my skin as I looked up. “Alice.” Alpha Mike’s tone was clipped, cold, a blade meant to wound. “You’re weak. I cannot have weakness beside me. I, Alpha Mike, reject you.” My heart dropped. “You’re rejecting me? Just… just because I haven’t—” “Because you’re no wolf.” His eyes held no mercy. “You’re a liability.” Around us, whispers bega “Did she really think the Alpha would keep her?” “She’s a disgrace.” My father stood in the crowd, face blank, but I could see it—disappointment, etched like stone. I took a shaky breath, reaching out to her. “Mom… please—” He looked away, lips pressed tight. “Alice,” “you’ve made your bed. Now lie in it.” Tears pricked my eyes. He turned her back, his voice low. “Your new mate will be arranged by morning. Don’t make this harder.” “Moon Goddess, why? Why did you curse me like this?” I’m willing to go back and get married,” I murmured, almost too quietly to hear. “You—” My father began, half-hearted words of persuasion on his lips. “You… agreed?” “Yes, I agreed.” “That’s wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!” “I’ve been saying it all along—you should have agreed sooner! Alpha Nicola is a good match; he doesn’t mind that you haven’t shifted, and he respects you! And not to mention, his pack is only growing stronger…” I closed my eyes halfway, cutting him off with a weary sigh. “Dad, I’m tired.” I wasn’t sure how long I’d been lying there when footsteps sounded outside my door. The birthday girl, Ella, burst in, grinning ear to ear and balancing a slice of cake in her hand. She wore a sparkling gold crown, glinting like something out of a fairytale, giving her the air of a little princess. “Alice, come downstairs and join us!” she said, her voice dripping with cheer. I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m not feeling great. You all go ahead—enjoy yourselves.” Ella’s eyes filling with tears. “Alice… do you… not like me? Is that why… why you never come and celebrate with us?” Here we go again. Playing the innocent, fragile girl who’s somehow always a victim. And of course, all the guys just eat it up. “Drop the act, Ella,” “I’m not coming. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She strolled to the door, but instead of leaving, she turned back with a smug look. “Alice, Alpha Mike ’s going to announce me as his Luna. I guess a weak, wolf-less girl like you should be happy with her place… rotting in the shadows.” She lifted the slice of cake in her hand and hurled it toward me. Instinctively, I raised my arm to block it, but to my shock, she stumbled back, falling with a loud thud. “Ella, what are you trying to pull?” I hissed, my voice low and filled with disbelief. Though I managed to block it in time, the cake still splattered across me, leaving me standing there, humiliated and disheveled. My sister, Ella, lay sprawled on the floor, a faint smile playing on her lips. Then, as if on cue, her eyes welled up with tears, spilling down her cheeks, painting her face with the perfect picture of innocence and betrayal. And just like that, an enraged howl tore through the hallway. “Alice!”

Two men charged up the stairs, their footsteps echoing down the hall. One rushed to Ella’s side, helping her up as she lay on the floor, while the other placed himself between us, his gaze fixed on me with barely contained rage. “Alice, what were you thinking? How could you be so cruel?” Alpha Mike’s voice was low and seething as he pulled Ella into his arms, gently massaging her back. “Are you hurt, Ella? Tell me you’re okay.” Ella looked up at him, her face pale and trembling, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine, Alpha Mike. Don’t be mad at Alice… I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” She sniffled, tears shimmering in her eyes, her voice filled with feigned innocence. I scoffed, a cold smile tugging at my lips. “I didn’t do anything,”Mathew, who had been standing in front of them. “Alice, this is too far.” “I told you, it wasn’t me,” I said sharply, turning to leave. The sticky mess of cake smeared across me was as disgusting as the whole scene itself. But before I could step past them, Mathew blocked my path. “Apologize, Alice. Apologize to Ella,” “Apologize?” I asked, incredulous. “For what? I told you, it wasn’t me!” Ella’s soft voice cut in from behind him. “Please, Alpha Mike… don’t be angry with Alice. I’m sure she didn’t mean to… to push me.” She cast a quick, sidelong glance at me, a hint of triumph flickering behind her teary eyes. “Do you see this, Alice? Look at her—she’s willing to forgive you, even after what you did. She’s still defending you!” “Are you done?” I turned and walked back into my room, shutting the door firmly behind me. Outside, I heard Alpha Mike’s frustrated growl, followed by a hard thud as he punched the wall in anger. “Who does she think she is?” he spat. But when he looked down at Ella, the anger melting into something sickeningly tender. “Ella, don’t let this spoil your night. Let’s get you cleaned up, and I’ll take you somewhere special. It’s your birthday, after all. No tears, okay?” Ella nuzzled into his embrace, wiping her tears on his shirt as she flashed me one last victorious glance through the crack in the door. “I won’t cry anymore, Alpha Mike. Not if you’re with me.” Behind the locked door, I sank against the wall. Once, I was the one they took care of—the one they trusted unconditionally, the one they vowed to protect. Growing up in Flowerland, I was fragile, a child plagued by severe allergies and a weakened immune system. The fields of wildflowers that blanketed my home city were beautiful to most, but to me, they were a storm of allergens that would leave me breathless and feverish if I dared step outside without medicine. When I was six, a severe allergic reaction nearly took my life, and my parents, heartbroken but resolute, sent me to live in the colder, flowerless Rivermoon pack with my grandparents. The change in climate gave me a break from the constant risk, and it was there that I met two boys in the small, tight-knit pack that shared our neighborhood: Alpha Mike and Mathew. The three of us were inseparable. They would swear time and time again to be my protectors, promising to make me their “princess,” saying they’d care for me for the rest of my life. When my grandparents passed away a few years later, Mike and Mathew took turns bringing me meals, memorizing every single allergen that could hurt me. In time, they knew my weaknesses even better than I did. As I grew older, my mother began urging me to return to the main pack, convinced I was strong enough to handle it. But I stayed, lingering in the warmth and care of my two closest. I’d begun to feel the stirrings of something deeper between Mike and me, a pull stronger than any friendship—a mate bond. But when did everything begin to unravel?

Everything changed the moment Ella arrived. I was sixteen when my father’s betrayal was exposed, and I had no choice but to move with him to the Riverland Pack, where he’d begun his new life. My half-sister Ella arrived not long after with her mother, my new stepmother. Ella knew just when to lean in, tilt her head, and soften her voice, using her helplessness like a weapon to draw men toward her. Where I was proud and unyielding, Ella made weakness an art form, the kind that could make every male around her feel like they were her knight in shining armor. When she arrived, Alpha Mike and Mathew, the two people I’d thought would stand by me no matter what, looked out for her at first only out of obligation. She was, after all, my sister. But once Ella had gained a foothold, she turned everything into a game I never realized I was losing until it was too late. One evening, I discovered she’d added both of them on WhatsApp, claiming it was to help her manage my needs more easily. But what had been a thread connecting us quickly became a chain tying them to her. Soon, it was no longer our bond of three—but hers. It wasn’t long before I began noticing the whispers, the glances. My connection with Mike grew strained as Ella found ways to insert herself deeper into his world. She didn’t shift yet, but it didn’t matter—her human form was enough to pull him under her spell, leaving me out in the cold. And Mathew, who had once promised to protect me, was swept up in her orbit, too, laughing at her jokes, defending her. Mike had always been impulsive, drawn to extreme sports like a moth to a flame. I’d warned him countless times, but he’d just chuckle and say, “Oh come on, life is too short! Just let me do what I love!” Yet now, for Ella’s sake, he hadn’t touched any extreme sports in six months, all because of a single word from her. On the other hand, Mathew, usually calm and reserved, had taken a surprising turn as well. He never liked crowds and preferred quiet evenings alone. But now, he was the one who insisted on hosting a big birthday party for Ella at our family villa. Mike’s pov I’ve known since I turned sixteen that Alice is my mate, but it feels wrong. She doesn’t even have a wolf. “How can someone so weak become a Luna?” I thought bitterly. “Alice is beautiful, you know,” Mathew said, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Yeah, beautiful enough to drive me crazy,” I snapped, running a hand through my hair. “All the guys in the pack want her—not as a mate, just for fun.” “It infuriates you, huh?” Mathew chuckled. “But she doesn’t even have a wolf.” “Exactly! When we turn twelve, we hear our wolves, but she’s never heard hers. They say she’s cursed,” I replied, frustration bubbling. “No one wants a cursed mate.” “So why not just go for Ella?” Mathew suggested, raising an eyebrow. “She’s easier to be with.” “Ella? Please. She’s not half as captivating as Alice,” I shot back. “But yeah, I’m with Ella. It’s simpler.” “Right, but you’re still pining after Alice,” Mathew pointed out. “You want her as your mistress, not your Luna.” “I can’t help it!” Alice’s pov My father’s choice for an arranged marriage must have been carefully selected, and honestly, that was fine by me. My phone buzzed. “Alice, why haven’t you liked my latest post?” Ella’s message popped up. She was in a lavish princess dress, flanked by Mathew and Alpha Mike. “Look at me, the perfect princess,” I muttered under my breath. I knew she posted it to annoy me. Normally, I might feel upset, but not today. I quickly tapped the like button. “There, happy now?” As for what the three of them thought? That was no longer my concern.

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“Mom, I’ve thought about it. I’m going abroad with you.” A pause, then joy filled her voice. “Lola, that’s wonderful! I’ll arrange your visa right away. Spend time with your friends while you can. You won’t see them much after you leave.” I nodded, glancing at a photo of two smiling kids in a fiery sunset. “And don’t forget your uncle,” Mom added. “He’s been there for you all these years. Make sure to thank him.” “I will, Mom,” I said softly, still looking at that sunset memory. “I know, Mom. I’ll thank him properly.” After hanging up, I stared at the photo—a sunset with two kids smiling. The older one was my uncle, Henry. When I was six, my dad died in an accident, and my mom disappeared. It was Henry, only fourteen then, who took me in and raised me, despite all objections. He walked me to school every day, balancing his life around me. How could I not fall for someone so caring, so steady? I kept my feelings buried, knowing that voicing them might change everything. Life felt stable—until that day. I had just turned 18, and Henry cleared his schedule to celebrate with me. He was in high spirits, and by the time the guests left, he’d had a bit too much to drink. As I helped him to his room, I glanced at his relaxed face, his cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly. Without thinking, I leaned down and kissed him. Henry’s eyes flew open, and he pushed me back. “Lola! Are you crazy? What are you doing?” I steadied myself, heart pounding. This was it. No more hiding. “Henry,” I said, meeting his shocked gaze. “I like you.” “You’re insane, Lola! I’m your uncle! How could you?” Henry looked at me, disbelief etched across his face. “But we’re not related by blood,” I replied calmly. “Henry,. We aren’t family by blood.” His face darkened. “Lola, I’m eight years older than you. You’re only eighteen. You can’t tell the difference between family affection and love.” “Henry, I know the difference,” I said firmly. “I’ve liked you for a long time. I’m an adult, and I know what I’m feeling.” I’d never defied Henry before, and he looked at me, his face growing serious. “Lola, your feelings aren’t love. You’re just confused. You’re still too young to—” I cut him off. “Henry, do you think I’m joking because of my age? Just wait. I’ll prove it.” His eyes searched mine, almost helpless. “You’re crazy. Absolutely crazy…” I don’t remember how that argument ended; I only know that every birthday since, I wished to be with Henry. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one—it was always the same wish. He always said I was stubborn, like a mule. And he was right. But now, with my 22nd birthday a month away, my wish has changed. This year, I decided to leave. I decided to leave Henry Jones.

After confessing my love to Henry when I was eighteen, I’d done it again and again, despite his rejections. “It’s okay,” I’d tell myself. “I have time. I’ll succeed eventually.” But then everything changed. Half a year ago, I got a call from across the ocean. “It’s Mom,” I said, barely able to believe it. She explained, “After the accident, someone rescued me. I was in ICU for a month. I lost my memory, married that person, and had a child.” “Mom, I—” “Recently, I got my memory back and I found you.” She wanted me to move abroad with her, but I refused. Henry was too important to me. I hoped he’d accept my feelings one day—until three months ago. That day, I waited for Henry to come home for dinner, but he walked in with a girl. “Henry, who is she?” I managed to ask. He looked at me calmly. “This is my girlfriend. You should call her aunt, based on seniority.” The girl hit him playfully. “Aunt? That makes me sound old!” She turned to me, smiling. “You must be Lola! Henry talks about you. Don’t call me aunt; just call me Mary. I’m the same age as you.” My heart dropped. “Same age?” I whispered, my heart sinking. Was I just too young? While Mary changed, I couldn’t hold back. “Henry, did you get a girlfriend to make me give up? To provoke me?” He looked at me coldly. “Lola, why are you being so sentimental? I made it clear before: I’m your uncle. We can’t be together.” That night, Mary stayed over at the house. I sat in the garden for half the night, staring at Henry’s room. Behind the curtains, I saw two figures entwined, kissing. When the light finally turned off, tears streamed down my face. In that moment, I decided to give up on Henry. The next morning, I packed my things and waited until he usually got up. I walked to his door and knocked. After a moment, he opened the door, frowning. “What are you doing?”

I felt a bitter sting in my eyes. Ever since I confessed my love at eighteen, Henry had grown distant. He spoke coldly, stopped trying to make me happy, and no longer brought me my favorite cake. He even used work as an excuse to stay out late. I knew he was avoiding me, hoping I’d back down. But how could I give up? I clung to him, acted sweetly, tried to show kindness, even as he became more indifferent. “It’s time,” I told myself. “I need to let go.” But even with that decision, my heart ached. “Why does this hurt so much?” “Uncle.” My voice was dry and hoarse from the sleepless night. Henry frowned at me. I hadn’t called him “uncle” since I confessed my love, thinking it would close the gap between us. But now, ready to give up, I returned to the beginning. “What do you want?” he snapped. “Didn’t I tell you not to bother me?” “I want to change rooms,” I replied. Henry chose my room himself. It had great lighting, beautiful decor, and was right next to his. Too close for comfort. When Henry was fourteen, he said, “Lola lives closest to me, so it’s convenient for me to take care of her.” Now, he had someone else to care for, and I had to step back. It was better to give up my position than be kicked out later. I knew the future mistress of the Jones family was more important than the adopted daughter. “If you want to change, just change,” he said impatiently, slamming the door in my face. I moved to a corner room downstairs, next to an abandoned study filled with junk. During the move, Henry didn’t show up; he was likely too busy with his girlfriend. After settling in, I called my mom. “Mom, I’ve thought about it. I’m going abroad with you.” Now that I decided to go abroad, I had to complete the necessary paperwork. After submitting the application, I waited for the certificate. During that time, Henry and I hardly spoke, only sharing awkward silence at the dinner table. “It’s like we’re strangers,” I finally said one evening. “Worse than strangers,” he replied, not looking up. “At least strangers acknowledge each other.” I nodded, feeling the distance between us grow. We couldn’t even manage a simple conversation anymore. Mary Angel moved into my old room, and I watched her come and go, a bitter smile on my face. Why bother with separate rooms when they could just live together? It was rare to see Mary Angel in the mornings, but today, there she was at the dinner table. I finished my meal quickly and stood up. “I’m done,” I said, nodding to both of them. As I walked out, I could feel Henry’s gaze on me, his discomfort palpable. “Lola, what’s with the coldness?” he asked. I didn’t turn back. “Just being sensible.” “Where are you going? Let me take you. It’s raining outside,” Henry Jones said, surprising me after three years of avoidance since my confession. I felt a flutter in my chest but quickly masked it. “No need. It’s Valentine’s Day. You two should enjoy your date. I’m just going to school to fill out some forms and will be back soon.” Henry looked taken aback. “Valentine’s Day?” I forced a smile. “Didn’t you get a big gift for Mary? Have a great holiday.” “What are you talking about?” He frowned. I shrugged, keeping my tone light. “I saw the news. The next head of the Jones won a jade bracelet worth millions at auction.” God knows how heartbroken I felt seeing that news. I recalled when I was seventeen. Henry asked, “Lola, you’ll be eighteen next year. What birthday gift do you want?” I joked, “A bracelet, the kind in novels. A glass one will do.” I smiled, knowing no gift could compare to him. Henry laughed and scratched my nose. “A glass bracelet? You’re quite greedy, little girl.” … He remembered. But it wasn’t for me. “That’s a gift from me…” he started. “Henry!” Mary interrupted, cutting him off. “Henry Jones, you prepared a gift for me! What is it?” Mary asked, rising from the table and wrapping her arms around his. Henry didn’t respond to my earlier question. “Then be careful,” he said, pulling Mary close before heading upstairs. I felt the sting of reality: I was now an outsider. Once my visa is approved, I’ll leave quickly and stop being a nuisance. “Okay, uncle,” I replied quietly.

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When I went back home for Thanksgiving, I discovered that my 60-year-old mother-in-law was pregnant with her third child. After finding out, she tried to manipulate me into paying for everything and helping her out. When I finally confronted them, Blake, my husband, excused his mom, saying she’s had a hard life. His true nature as a mama’s boy was revealed. They really thought they could take advantage of me. No way. I filed for divorce, leaving my husband to live with his mom for the rest of his life. Let them figure it out. At the end of the year, Blake and I hurried back to the Whitford Family Home, with our daughter, Violet, to celebrate Thanksgiving. But the moment I saw my mother-in-law, Evelyn, something felt off. She used to be around 90 pounds, but now she looked like she had easily gained more than 20 pounds. What struck me more was how drastically her attitude toward me had changed. She warmly held my hand, looked at my eight-month-pregnant belly, and asked, “Have you been getting your prenatal checkups regularly?” I thought maybe Evelyn was finally changing her cold attitude from when I had given birth the last time. Feeling touched, I replied, “Yes, I’ve done all my prenatal checkups.” Then, Evelyn asked, “I’m curious, when women get older, do they need an amniocentesis test?” Why was she asking me this out of the blue? Just then, Violet pointed at Evelyn’s belly and asked, “Grandma, is there a baby in your belly?” I quickly glanced at Evelyn’s midsection. Sure enough, her waistline had expanded noticeably. Flustered, Evelyn said, “Oh, I’m 60 years old! There’s no baby here, I’ve just put on some weight.” I sighed in relief. But when I walked into the house, I saw baby clothes, a crib, and… prenatal vitamins. I was the only pregnant woman in the house. Colton, my brother-in-law, had a girlfriend, but she wasn’t staying with us. So, who were those baby supplies for? I didn’t want to think too much about it. That night, I told Blake about my suspicions. Blake rubbed my belly and reassured me, “That’s Mom’s stuff. Prenatal vitamins are easier to absorb, and her immune system isn’t great. She’s been drinking them to boost her health. Didn’t you notice she’s gained weight?” Even though Blake had explained it away, and I could rationalize that maybe Evelyn was giving the baby stuff to someone else, I still felt uneasy. So, I started paying closer attention to Evelyn. I saw Grant, my father-in-law, place his hand on Evelyn’s belly when he came home from work, and Evelyn would shyly look down. I noticed that when Evelyn bent down to pick things up, she unconsciously protected her stomach. Even Violet mentioned that Grandma had been eating a lot of sour foods lately. All signs pointed to the fact that Evelyn, my 60-year-old mother-in-law, was pregnant. But the whole family was keeping it from me. No one wanted to tell me. During dinner one night, I asked Evelyn, “Mom, you never used to like vinegar. Why are you eating so many sour things now?” Before Evelyn could respond, Blake interrupted, “What Mom likes to eat is her business. Why are you, as her daughter-in-law, getting so nosy?” I shot Blake a look that made him go quiet. Still, without an answer from Evelyn, I couldn’t even finish my meal. I kept asking Evelyn why she liked sour foods now. Suddenly, Grant slammed his utensils on the table. “Your mother is pregnant! So what if she didn’t tell you? It’s her right to be pregnant. Does she need your permission?” Blake tried to calm me down, saying, “You shouldn’t be upset. You’re not supposed to tell anyone in the first three months of pregnancy, and that’s why Mom kept it a secret.” So, they all knew? They all knew Evelyn was pregnant, and I was left in the dark? A 60-year-old mother-in-law and I pregnant at the same time? I would be the laughingstock of the town! But I couldn’t get mad because of my own pregnancy. I took deep breaths to calm myself. After a while, I gently said to Evelyn, “Mom, you’re not even three months in yet. Maybe it’s time to consider ending the pregnancy.” Evelyn clutched her belly and shrieked, “The baby inside me is an innocent life! Why is it okay for you to have a baby but not me?” I remained calm. “Because you can’t have this baby. You’re 60. It’s bad for your health, and frankly, it’s embarrassing to tell others.” “Plus, how are you going to raise a child? Do you and Dad have a retirement fund or pension? Blake and I are the ones paying for your vitamins and health insurance. Are we supposed to take care of this baby too?” I got a little worked up. Evelyn burst into tears, holding her belly and saying she didn’t feel well. Grant helped her up and glared at me. Grant added, “Do you think it’s easy for us to have a third child? We love kids. Why can’t we have one? And you’re just a stay-at-home mom. You get to spend Blake’s money, so why can’t we as his parents?” I was livid. I stormed off to the bedroom to calm myself, reminding myself not to get too angry for the sake of my baby. As I thought back on what Grant had said, I realized every word was an accusation. But calling me a stay-at-home mom who lived off Blake’s money? That was way off base. My family had given a generous dowry when we married, and I worked part-time to help with expenses. Half of the household costs came from me. So why did Evelyn and Grant act like I was some useless freeloader? Later that night, Blake tried to justify his parents’ behavior. “My parents have had a hard life. And you know, older folks believe that the more kids you have, the better. It makes the family lively, and more family is never a bad thing, right?” I scoffed, “Your mom’s hardships weren’t caused by me, were they? Did she have it easy before I married into this family? Am I the reason for all her struggles?” Blake fell silent. Whenever he went quiet like that, I knew he felt guilty. Before we got married, Blake would always defend me. He wouldn’t let his mom say a single bad thing about me. But after we tied the knot, every time Evelyn and I clashed, Blake would say, “My mom’s had a hard life.” Luckily, we didn’t live with his parents. Now I realize Blake was just a mama’s boy in disguise. If I had seen through him before the wedding, I never would have married him. But for my own sake, I had to stay calm. I was eight months pregnant. I couldn’t let myself get worked up. But the Whitford family wasn’t making it easy. The next day, Blake’s relatives showed up at the house, all rallying around Evelyn. One by one, they said things like, “It’s not easy for an older woman to get pregnant. This baby is a blessing from God. And having more kids makes for a livelier family.” “Exactly. When you marry into the Whitford family, you become part of the family. You should put the family first. What’s so wrong with your mother-in-law being pregnant at 60? How many women can even get pregnant at that age?” Evelyn’s relatives were acting like this was some kind of miracle and almost expected me to bow in gratitude for the blessing of a new brother- or sister-in-law. When they had finally worn themselves out, I calmly responded, “If having a baby at 60 is such a good thing, why don’t you have your mother or your daughters spend the postpartum recovery period with her?” They were speechless. But they didn’t give up that easily. They kept going on about how more kids would bring more energy and prosperity to the family. I sarcastically asked, “So am I done having babies?” At this point, Blake felt a bit embarrassed. He pulled me aside and said, “Honey, you should show some respect to the elders. That’s just basic manners.” I didn’t care what the rest of the Whitford family said, but Blake siding with them? That disgusted me. What a fool I was to marry him. But I was too pregnant to keep fighting and didn’t want to stress myself out. That night, when Blake was in the shower, I saw a notification pop up on his phone. He had transferred $2,000 to an online baby store. Curious, I snuck over to Evelyn’s bedroom and overheard her talking to Grant. “Did I order everything right online? I’ve bought so many baby supplies. Thank goodness Blake is such a good son and linked his bank card to mine. That way, it’ll be easier when I get the prenatal test and during my recovery.” Grant said with satisfaction, “That’s right. Having a good son is better than anything.” Evelyn hesitated for a moment and asked, “But what if Sloane makes a fuss about getting a divorce?” Grant replied, “Then let her divorce. We’ll be just fine as long as our family stays together. Who needs outsiders?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. My whole body went numb. The baby in my belly must’ve sensed my distress and started kicking furiously. I rubbed my stomach to try and calm the baby down, but the kicking only grew more intense. I quickly lay down, waiting for Blake to come back and bring me some prenatal medicine. But when he returned, Blake said, “Taking too much prenatal medicine isn’t good for you. You’re just overthinking this and stressing yourself out.” I threw a pillow at Blake, shouting, “Am I overthinking things, or have you and your family been hiding all this from me? How many ‘good deeds’ have you been keeping from me?” Blake jumped up, accusing me, “You’ve been brainwashed by those online articles, haven’t you? You’re having a baby, and so is Mom. You’re younger, so you’ll recover quickly. When Mom has the baby, you can help her with the postpartum care.” He said it so seriously, like it was the most logical thing in the world. I had been shocked earlier by what I’d heard from Grant and Evelyn. But now, Blake was pushing me to my breaking point. I felt sick and dizzy, and my stomach began to hurt. I waved him off, too overwhelmed to even argue. But the next day, Blake told his mom, “Mom, don’t worry about a thing. Sloane is totally on board with you having the baby. We’ll take care of the costs and the postpartum recovery.” I didn’t agree to any of that! Blake had completely twisted what happened. I had only waved him off because I was feeling unwell. But I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Thanksgiving was in three days, and I decided to go back to the Monroe Family Estate to recover. I’d deal with everything else after the baby was born. I called my mom, and when I told her what was happening, she immediately exploded. “Evelyn has the nerve to get pregnant? And then expects you and Blake to raise the child?” Thank goodness my mom was on my side. She assumed Blake supported me, so I didn’t bother explaining. I just asked her to come and pick me up. Luckily, I didn’t live too far from my parents. It was only a two-hour drive. That evening, my parents arrived, and I quickly packed my things to leave. But just as we were about to go, Blake and his parents blocked the door. Evelyn turned to my mom and said, “You’re a mother too. You can’t be selfish…” My mom was not one to back down. She rolled up her sleeves and snapped back, “Well, I’m pregnant too. If your son is going to take care of your baby, then my daughter will take care of mine.”

Evelyn’s face turned pale as a ghost. “You’re too old to be pregnant! Don’t you have any shame?” My mom scoffed, rolling her eyes and spitting on the ground in disgust. “I’m only a few years younger than you. You think I’m too old, but you, at 60, can still be pregnant? You’re the one without shame!” Evelyn was left speechless, her expression as sour as if she’d just eaten something rotten. Watching the scene unfold, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside me. My dad pulled Blake aside for a private talk. He had probably expected Blake to take my side, but what he didn’t expect was for Blake to say, “Sloane’s been moody during her pregnancy. I get that, it’s normal, but life’s never perfect, right?” When my dad heard Blake’s words, he realized there was no point in continuing the conversation. He walked back to the car, pulling me along with him. On the drive back, the tension in my belly worsened. The stress and anger had caused complications, and I was in serious pain. Worried, my parents rushed me to Riverview Medical Center. The doctors examined me and said I needed to be hospitalized. They warned that due to my unstable emotions, I was showing signs of a potential miscarriage. They recommended an immediate C-section to save the baby. On the first night after my surgery, Blake showed up at the hospital. The first words out of his mouth were, “Why are you picking a fight with my parents? Now the whole neighborhood is talking about what a joke they are. Sloane, you have no heart!” I was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from a C-section, and Blake had the nerve to come and berate me? The sight of him made my stomach turn. If I weren’t still healing, I swear I would’ve slapped him across the face. But my silence only made Blake think I was feeling guilty. He sneered, “You’re such a wicked woman. You have no kindness in you. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and instead of staying with your husband’s family, you ran off with your parents. Do you know how much shame you’ve brought to my parents and me?” His face was twisted with anger, and I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. It was clear he was losing sleep over the situation, but I couldn’t care less. I sat up slightly and said, “Fine, Blake, think of me as the bad guy. After I recover and give birth, we’re getting a divorce. You, your parents, and your new sibling can all live happily ever after without me. In fact, why don’t you let your mom have ten more kids? Why did you even bother getting married?” If I weren’t so physically drained, I would’ve given him a much bigger piece of my mind. Blake stared at me, dumbfounded, for a moment. Then, like a child throwing a tantrum, he pointed a finger in my face, yelling, “You’re disrespectful and ungrateful! How dare you speak to me like that!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged forward, intending to bite his finger, but before I could, Blake shoved me hard. Being so heavy with pregnancy, I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. The impact made my head spin, and I felt like I was sinking into deep water, drowning in dizziness. Through the haze, I faintly heard my mom’s desperate screams and the doctors rushing in for an emergency.

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Under my mother’s strict discipline, I became the valedictorian and was accepted into Stanford University. On the day the results came out, everyone praised my mom for her successful parenting, saying she would enjoy a blissful retirement. The local news came to interview her, and she shared her parenting methods without a hint of humility. “Spare the rod, spoil the child, and that’s how you raise a successful one.” The whole city celebrated my achievement. But I left a note behind, and stood on the edge of the rooftop. “I’ve given you Stanford. In my next life, please let me go.” My mom, Vivian Whitmore, holds a PhD, and my dad, Gregory Whitmore, has a master’s degree. I could say “mom” and “dad” by seven months old, and by eight months, I could walk. Everyone praised me for being naturally gifted, saying that with the right upbringing, I was surely Ivy League material. My mom thought so too. She became obsessed with the idea, even going as far as renaming me Serena Whitmore, as if that would seal my future at Stanford. At three years old, despite barely being able to write, I would attend preschool during the day, and then at night, I was forced to memorize poetry until 10 p.m. Meanwhile, kids my age were running wild in the yard, playing without a care in the world. I was jealous, always peering longingly through the window at them. When my mom noticed, she had the curtains sealed shut, cutting me off completely from the outside world. She struck my palms with a rod, her face full of disdain. “Those kids are already falling behind. They’ll never amount to anything, and neither will you if you waste time like them.” Relatives pressured my mom to have a second child, saying her good genes shouldn’t go to waste. But she was resolute. “All my time and energy are for Serena. She’s destined for Stanford, and I can’t afford to be distracted.” Then, turning to me, she added, “I’ve sacrificed so much for you, betting everything on your future. You have to get in.” When I entered Willow Creek Elementary, my mom became even more extreme. Every night, I worked on extra assignments until midnight, never getting enough sleep. I would often doze off while solving problems, and she would stand behind me, whipping me with that thin rod. “Sleep, sleep, sleep. That’s all you do. You aren’t allowed to sleep until you’ve finished all these exercises.” With tears streaming down my face, I dared not defy her. As time went on, the bags under my eyes grew bigger than my eyes themselves. Relatives voiced their concerns, saying my mom was suffocating me and would drive me to an early grave. Infuriated, she accused them of being jealous of her genius daughter. They complained to my dad, Gregory, who was working out of town, but he could only tell them to stay out of it. Soon, the relatives stopped coming altogether, saying our family was full of lunatics. My mom, however, was satisfied with this outcome. She would stand over me, rod in hand, watching me work through endless stacks of practice tests. “Now that no one will bother you, let’s see how you try to slack off.” The pile of worksheets next to my desk grew taller than me, and I felt so, so tired. After I graduated from elementary school, I got into Redwood Middle School, the best in the city. In a new environment where no one knew me, I finally made my first friend. Her name was Delilah Brooks, and she was my seatmate. Delilah was outgoing and friendly. On our first day, she started chatting with me and even shared some of her favorite snacks. I was over the moon and saved the snacks in my backpack, too excited to eat them. After school, I rushed home to give the snacks to my mom and told her about my first friend. Without a word, she threw the snacks into the trash and berated me for being lazy and foolish. I hung my head, too scared to speak. Then she asked about Delilah’s grades. I answered truthfully, “She’s at the bottom of the class.” My mom’s face darkened, but she didn’t say anything. The next day at school, Delilah suddenly refused to speak to me, and she asked the teacher to change seats. Confused, I asked her why. Delilah shoved me and yelled, “Your mom called my house and said that losers like me aren’t worthy of being your friend—that I’d only drag you down!” The whole class started whispering. “Just because she has good grades, she thinks she’s better than everyone.” “Her mom’s crazy. Since when do bad grades mean you owe someone food?” I walked away in tears, too ashamed to say anything. When I got back to my seat, I noticed my desk and chair were gone. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Gideon Brooks, awkwardly explained, “Your mom insisted that you sit alone so no one will distract you.” I nodded, looking down. “I understand.” From that day on, no one dared to talk to me, terrified that even a single word would lead to a warning from my mom. I ate alone, sat alone, and walked home alone. And as always, I stayed up late doing practice tests until deep into the night. Every time I took a test, I ranked first in the grade. My mom beamed with pride, telling everyone that Serena Whitmore was a natural-born Stanford candidate. Was it talent? I touched the thick calluses on my hands, left by the countless practice tests I had done. When it came time for high school entrance exams, I ranked first in the city and broke all previous score records, earning a $5,000 scholarship from the city of Boston. My mom happily collected the money. Her colleagues called for advice on how to raise such a brilliant child. She proudly shared her methods, one call at a time. “I think it’s just talent. After all, both her father and I are Ivy League graduates. How could our kid turn out anything less?” “But if you don’t have talent, then you have to work hard. My Serena does at least ten practice tests every single day.” “And if you don’t have talent and you don’t work hard, well, that’s when the rod comes in. You can’t get a good kid without some discipline.” She even posted a video on social media. The caption: “Discipline raises geniuses.” The video showed her hitting me with a rod across my back when I got a question wrong. Her colleagues shared the post widely, and it unexpectedly made it to the front page of the Boston Post. The question on everyone’s mind: Does strict discipline raise obedient children, or rebels? My mom replied confidently in the comments: “Of course, it raises obedient children. Serena has never disobeyed me, not even once.” But soon, my actions would completely disprove her.

At Evergreen Prep Academy, the top high school in the state, it was filled with kids who were not only talented but also worked incredibly hard. I began to struggle, and on my first monthly exam, I completely bombed, falling to 30th in the grade. My mom refused to believe it and stormed into the school. She accused the teachers of messing up my test, demanding a reevaluation. “There’s no way my Serena could score this badly! She’s always been number one! You teachers are taking bribes to suppress her grades!” The teachers were upset, but what could they do? I was humiliated beyond words. I tugged at my mom’s sleeve, trying to get her to leave. But she slapped me across the face, her expression twisted in anger. “Serena Whitmore, you better pray the test was graded wrong, or you’ll regret it!” I backed into the corner, covering my face, while the teachers tried to calm her down, explaining that no matter the result, hitting me wasn’t the answer. But she wouldn’t listen, insisting on a regrade. Unable to stop her, the teachers had to call the principal. The principal had my test paper regraded right in front of her. The score was exactly the same. My mom’s face grew dark. She didn’t say a word, just yanked me out of school without even asking for permission. At home, locked in my room, I received the worst beating of my life. “Serena, is this how you repay me? You think just because I’m not there, you can slack off? With grades like these, how do you expect to get into Stanford?” I curled up in the corner, my eyes squeezed shut in pain. The wounds were on my back, so when I returned to school, no one could see them. At school, I was the talk of the town. Everyone whispered about how my mom had made a scene. But I was numb. This wasn’t the first time, after all. Teachers approached me, discreetly offering help. I shook my head and forced a smile. It’s no use. No one can help me… For the first time, I skipped class and wandered to the pond behind the school. The green lily pads were clustered thickly together, with brilliant blooms of lotus flowers rising up. I stared at them, a dangerous thought flashing through my mind. If I jumped in, no one would find me. It would be a complete, final death. Not even my body would be left for my mom. I bit my lip and slowly moved toward the railing. “Woof… woof…” Just as I swung one leg over the edge, a faint bark came from the bushes. I froze, slowly bringing my leg back. Maybe I should take one last look. Just one more. I’d never had a childhood—only study sessions that lasted late into the night. When I was seven, I gathered the courage to ask my mom if I could get a cat or a dog. She refused, stone-hearted. In her eyes, any distraction was a waste of time. It wasn’t that I loved animals; I just wanted to feel the presence of something living. Something to remind me that I was alive. I followed the sound and discovered a boy crouched in the bushes, feeding a stray puppy bits of jerky. I recognized him. Asher Hawthorne. He had scored second on the recent exam. His photo was on the school’s honor roll. When he noticed me, he handed me a piece of jerky with a gentle smile. “Want to feed it?” I bit my lip and silently took the jerky, offering it to the puppy. The puppy ate eagerly, occasionally licking my fingers. The sensation was so unfamiliar, almost electric. I was startled, but it made me smile for the first time in forever. After the jerky ran out, I still wasn’t ready to leave. “You’ve had enough for today,” Asher said softly, stroking the puppy’s fur. “Don’t be greedy.” His voice was gentle and calm, so much so that I felt compelled to ask quietly, “Do good students skip class too?” Asher chuckled and glanced at me. “Didn’t you skip class?” I pressed my lips together and looked down. That’s when I noticed the faint white scars running along the inside of his wrist. “You…” No wonder he wore long sleeves in the middle of summer. Startled, I looked up at him. He had caught my gaze and quickly tugged his sleeve back down, covering the scars. He resumed petting the puppy, his eyes cast downward. “Her name is Peanut. Cute, huh?” “She’s the last of her litter. Her mom was killed by some kids, so I come here every day to feed her.” As he spoke, I quietly sat down beside him. No one had ever shared anything personal with me before, so I listened intently. But suddenly, Asher fell silent. I glanced over at him, confused. “I saw you earlier,” he said quietly, “when you were thinking of ending it. I made Peanut bark on purpose. I was betting that you wouldn’t go through with it.” “I won that bet. You came down.” He looked at me, his pale face cracking a sad smile. “Because we’re the same.” I froze, utterly stunned. Maybe it was because I had finally met someone who understood me, but we bonded deeply from that moment on. Asher told me about his family and his genius twin brother. His brother had won a national science competition, skipped two grades in middle school, and had already been accepted into an Ivy League school. Asher had spent his life constantly being compared to his brother. Without the same high IQ, he had to work a hundred times harder, but still couldn’t measure up. I looked at him seriously. “But you’re already amazing.” Asher gave a bitter smile. “If only they thought the same thing.” By “they,” he meant his parents. I was at a loss for words, feeling like I had no right to comfort him. But Asher didn’t seem to mind. He scooped Peanut into her small bed and stood up. Before leaving, he invited me back. “Want to come feed her again tomorrow?” I nodded eagerly, feeling a strange sense of excitement. It was like we had found a secret world of our own. On the way back to class, my steps felt lighter, and even the air tasted sweeter. But the moment I stepped into the classroom, my smile faded completely. My mom was standing outside the classroom door, her icy gaze fixed on me. She stormed toward me, delivering a hard kick to my knee. I collapsed to the ground, forced to kneel before her. Looking down at me with a fierce glare, she slapped me across the face in front of the entire class.

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On New Year’s Day, Aunt Barbara’s entire family taught me a lesson. Her grandson burned my custom-made wedding dress, and her daughter stole my $15,000 diamond necklace. When I demanded compensation, Aunt Barbara slapped me and said, “What do you mean steal? Taking your stuff is doing you a favor!” So, I filed a lawsuit and took her entire family to court. On the day of the verdict, Aunt Barbara got down on her knees and begged for my forgiveness. I just smiled and said, “Forgive you? Taking you to court was doing you a favor.” My name is Emily Shaw, and I’m a designer specializing in custom wedding dresses. After wrapping up a project, I packed my car with gifts and drove home through the night. I finally made it just in time for New Year’s Day. Before I could even park the car, my phone rang. It was my mom. “Sweetheart, could you pick up a pack of chocolates on your way home?” I was confused. “Mom, since when do you eat chocolate?” She chuckled, “It’s not for me. Your Aunt Barbara is here with Zach, and he wants some chocolate.” Hearing this made my temples throb. Aunt Barbara hadn’t set foot in our house since my uncle passed away. Why had she shown up out of nowhere this year? Feeling uneasy, I stopped to buy the chocolate. The closer I got to the house, the stronger this sense of foreboding grew. And sure enough, the moment I opened the door, something rammed into my stomach. I stumbled backward, hitting the doorframe hard enough to make my head spin. Before I could recover, an obnoxious voice cut through the pain. “Worthless brat! Worthless brat!” Zach Wells, all right. At just 8 years old, this kid already weighed a solid 120 pounds. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought a pig had learned to fly. He snatched my bag, dumping everything out onto the floor, frantically searching for the chocolate. “Where’s my chocolate, you worthless brat?” I was too furious to respond, but when I didn’t react, Zach raised his foot, aiming for my hand. “Have you lost your mind?” I jerked my hand back just in time. The lipstick Zach had thrown earlier hit the ground and shattered, its bright red color splattering across the floor. If I had moved any slower, it wouldn’t have been the lipstick breaking—it would’ve been my bones. “I want chocolate! I want chocolate!” Zach’s ear-piercing shrieks overpowered the chatter in the living room. Finally, someone noticed the commotion at the front door. Aunt Barbara was the first to rush over, unleashing a string of curses before she even saw what was happening. “Are you out of your mind? Picking on my grandson on New Year’s!” I leaned against the doorframe, barely managing to stand. “Your grandson ran into me, dumped out my bag, couldn’t find the chocolate, and tried to stomp on my hand. Look at that lipstick—if I hadn’t moved fast enough, it would’ve been my hand!” Aunt Barbara paused for a second, surprised. “Zach, did you break that lipstick?” Zach, still nestled in her arms, boldly replied, “She didn’t give me the chocolate, so I stomped on it! I stomped on it!” I thought to myself, at least the kid’s honest. He admitted it; now let’s see what Aunt Barbara has to say. But once again, she surprised me. Aunt Barbara beamed and patted Zach on the head, “Wow, my clever boy! One stomp and it’s shattered!” I stared in disbelief as she continued to praise her grandson like he’d just won a trophy. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Aunt Barbara hadn’t changed one bit from the woman I hated as a child.

The noise in the living room brought the rest of the relatives over. Seeing me clutching my stomach in pain sent my mom into a panic. “Sweetheart, what happened to you?” I answered honestly, “Zach almost knocked me out cold.” Zach, emboldened by the adults around him, raised his chin and spat back, “Shut up, you worthless brat! You deserved it!” The room fell silent. Everyone was shocked that such venomous words had come out of an 8-year-old’s mouth. Aunt Diane gently patted Zach’s head, trying to calm him down. “Zach, you shouldn’t talk like that. She’s your elder.” But Zach wasn’t having it. He burst into tears. “You old hag! How dare you touch me! I’ll have my grandma beat you up!” At that, the house erupted. Even Aunt Diane, who was usually so patient, was speechless. But Aunt Barbara wasn’t even paying attention to us. The moment Zach started crying, she lost it. “What kind of elder is she supposed to be?” “Our Zach is the pride of the Wells family, the only real man left in the bloodline. And you think you, a woman married off, have the right to scold my grandson?” Aunt Diane’s hand trembled in mid-air, her bad heart clearly struggling with the stress. Sensing things were about to spiral, my mom jumped in to diffuse the tension. “They’re just kids, they don’t know any better. Let’s not ruin the holiday over this.” She gave me a look, signaling for me to help out. “Didn’t you say you missed Aunt Diane yesterday? Why don’t you two catch up?” I got the hint and helped Aunt Diane back to the living room. But Aunt Barbara wasn’t about to let us off the hook that easily. She stormed over and started yelling again. “Don’t pretend to be nice! If you’re not going to live long, hurry up and die already! Stop cursing my grandson with your bad luck!” That was the last straw for my mom. She stepped up to Aunt Barbara and firmly said, “Watch your mouth. You can’t just say anything that comes to mind.” “And who do you think you are, acting all high and mighty?” Before Aunt Barbara could throw out more insults, her daughter, Cassie, pulled her aside. For a brief moment, mother and daughter locked eyes, and Aunt Barbara’s anger seemed to simmer down. She sat down with Zach, stuffing his arms with candy like a peace offering. Ah, the magic of New Year’s. As long as no one crosses the line completely, there’s nothing a good “It’s the holidays” can’t fix. My mom led me into the bedroom. When she lifted my shirt, sure enough, a massive bruise covered my back. “Why are we even letting her stay after this?” I asked, frustrated. Mom sighed, “Ever since your uncle passed, life’s been hard for her. Plus, your cousin just went through a nasty divorce, so she’s not in a good place.” “Try to remember how she looked after you when you were little. Don’t hold it against her.” I bit my tongue as Mom went back to the living room to play the gracious host. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. When I was a kid, both my parents worked out of town, so I was left in Aunt Barbara’s care. With my uncle always busy, I spent most of my time with her. And all those buried memories, the ones I swore I’d forget, started resurfacing, making me sick to my stomach. I pulled out the chocolate I had just bought and tossed it into the trash without a second thought. She started it, and I sure wasn’t going to let it slide.

When I stepped back into the living room, the first thing I saw was Aunt Barbara sitting on the couch, barefoot, her feet propped up on the coffee table, spitting sunflower seeds everywhere. She was criticizing everyone and everything, bragging like her son was the only successful person in the world, while the rest of us were losers or good-for-nothings. But everyone knew the truth. Aunt Barbara had two kids. Jason had cheated on his wife and lost everything in the divorce, and Cassie had dropped out of high school and hadn’t found a job since. If I were her, I wouldn’t even have the nerve to open my mouth. Trying to keep my cool for the holiday, I decided to just ignore her. But of course, Cassie wasn’t about to let that happen. No sooner had I sat down than she sidled up next to me like a leech. “Emily, that bracelet you’re wearing is so beautiful. Could you give it to me?” I smiled but didn’t respond, instead calling over Buddy, our family dog. He trotted over, and his fluffy head landed right on my lap. Cassie wasn’t giving up. She pointed to my necklace and said, “Emily, that’s a diamond necklace, right? I love diamonds! How about giving it to me as a New Year’s gift?” I calmly stroked Buddy’s head, pretending Cassie wasn’t even there. After failing twice, her fake smile cracked. Raising her voice so everyone could hear, she shouted, “You’ve got so much jewelry, what’s one piece to give me? I bet you could get any man to buy you more in no time. Why be so stingy?” At that point, staying quiet would’ve been too polite. “No matter how much I have, it’s mine. What does that have to do with you?” “Do you think I owe you something just because you want it? Did I wrong your ancestors in a past life?” Cassie was stunned. She clearly didn’t expect me to hit back like that. “Emily, how can you say that? We’re family!” Family? When was that ever the case? I smirked and asked, “Weren’t you the one who said I was nothing but a dog your family raised? Told me to know my place and stay away from you? And now you’re stooping so low as to call me family?” Cassie’s face flushed red, her eyes welling up with tears. “At least… we grew up together. Doesn’t that count for something?” “Grew up together?” Back in elementary school, we were in the same class. She used to force me to do her homework, and if I ever hesitated, she’d run home crying to Aunt Barbara. What followed was always the same—starvation or a beating. One time, I took too long buying her a bottle of water, so she and three of her friends pinned me down and smashed my head against the ground. When blood started pouring down my face, they got scared and let me go to the teacher. Cassie even threatened me afterward, making me say I fell on my own or she’d have Aunt Barbara throw me out to freeze to death. I still have a scar by my left eye to remind me of our so-called “sisterhood.” “Crying won’t work on me. If you want someone to buy you a necklace, go cry to them.”

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At her mother’s funeral, Cassie Monroe fell right into Evan’s arms, clinging to him for dear life. Watching the two of them—sickeningly cozy—and Cassie’s restless seven-year-old nephew, I chose to stay quiet as a mouse. That is, until her nephew threw one of the ceremonial fireworks dangerously close to the urn. With a bang, gray dust puffed everywhere. I leaned toward the stunned Cassie and whispered, “Your mom just went off with a bang.” “Sam, it’s all in the past. Why can’t you just let it go?” Evan Walker, my boyfriend of seven years, looked at me with utter disappointment. “I’m telling you now: if you go today, we’re done.” His handsome face no longer felt familiar; I barely recognized him. “No matter what history you two have, Cassie’s mom just passed away. You can’t let it go, even for that? Since when did you get so heartless?” Heartless? That almost made me laugh out loud. The funeral Evan was insistent on attending wasn’t just any service; it was for the mother of his “star trainee.” And his treasured trainee? Cassie Monroe, who’d bullied me every day for three years in high school. I could never forget Cassie’s two-faced, innocent expression—or her mother’s smack across my face in front of the entire school. Evan knew my whole history with Cassie, and yet here he was, telling me I was “heartless” for asking him not to go. “Even if it means we’re done, you’re still going?” I expected myself to get hysterical—after all, before Cassie showed back up, Evan and I rarely fought, even when we spent three years apart because of work. For us, “break up” was an unspoken taboo. But Evan didn’t answer. His only response was to finish tying his shoes by the entryway, his choice clear. When the door slammed shut, I felt exhausted. In the TV’s dark reflection, I saw myself slouched and worn, looking just as I did years ago, curled up in my dorm’s corner. Back then, punches, slaps—they never stopped. Back then, I was too weak to fight back. But now? Even if Evan and Cassie thought they could trample over me, I’d make them pay.

After mulling it over, I did my makeup, slipped on a black velvet dress, and got a car to Greenfield Memorial Funeral Home. I know Evan’s vanity well; he cared more than anything about preserving his “good man” image, even telling me to play along with his little “henpecked husband” act in public. And now, he was determined to make me the villain so he could move on to Cassie with a clean slate. I wasn’t about to make that easy. Honestly, the first time Evan and I fought over Cassie should have been my wake-up call. He was no longer the man who once “rescued” me from the past. When I arrived, Evan seemed shocked to see me but quickly tried to come over, smiling. Before he could touch me, a small figure flung herself right past me and straight into his arms. Evan’s face froze for a second before softening again as he soothed Cassie, who sobbed dramatically into his chest, clearly relishing every second. The pity in his eyes? I didn’t miss that. I stood back and watched, unbothered. This little scene was precisely what I’d expected. Cassie’s all-time favorite pastime was using her pitiful, doe-eyed look to lure in other people’s boyfriends, just to toss them back with scorn. Cassie finally looked up, blinking as if just noticing me. She flinched, acting like a scared rabbit. “Mrs. Price,” she stammered, “I…didn’t see you there. Sorry, I just got so emotional….” Her eyes teared up again, playing innocent for the bystanders. “Oh, you got emotional, so naturally you ran into my boyfriend’s arms?” Caught off guard, Cassie’s face twitched before she stepped back from Evan’s embrace. “I’m sorry, Evan; I crossed the line.” With tears rolling down her cheeks, the murmurs around us grew. To anyone watching, I looked like the bad guy. “Sam, that’s enough,” Evan said, frowning and gently pulling Cassie close, comforting her again. I watched them calmly, then found myself a seat that offered a perfect view of their romantic little display. Picture-perfect. “Ow, monster punch!” I winced as a sharp pain hit my side. Turning, I saw Cassie’s nephew, Tommy, his nose running, throwing a toy robot at me. “Scared yet, monster? Pew pew!” I ignored him, but that only egged him on. He kicked my shin while his mom watched from a few feet away, clearly unfazed and absorbed in her conversation. “Little guy, that’s not very nice,” I said patiently, but he spat at me in response. Looking at his wild grin, a thought popped into my head. “Hey, you know how your toy shoots lasers? Can you do that?” His eyes lit up as he sniffled and mimicked his toy’s laser attack. “No, no, not like that. Real lasers make real lights—see? Like over there,” I said, pointing to a crowd getting ready to light up sparklers for the memorial. The moment I said it, a series of sparks went off, flashing in Tommy’s wide eyes. “See? Way cooler than just pretending.” He grinned, looking eager. I casually stepped back, putting some distance between us, just in case. Who knew what he’d do next? Sure enough, not long after, I heard a loud crack. Right in the center of the funeral hall, Cassie’s mother’s urn had fallen with a loud thud, scattering gray ash all over. The whole room fell silent. Even Cassie stared, shocked and still, as Tommy’s giggles broke through the hush. Well, wasn’t this the perfect disaster. I walked over to Cassie, leaned in, and whispered, “Your mom just went off with a bang.”

What started as a respectable funeral had turned into complete mayhem. I took my cue and made my exit, missing the shouting match that soon erupted. Someone recorded the whole scene and posted it online, and soon enough, it was trending. The comment sections were filled with debates on how to handle unruly kids, and a surprising amount of sympathy for “poor Cassie.” Seeing an opportunity, I logged into my anonymous account and sent the muted video to a gossip account. Since Cassie was already getting attention, they gladly took the footage without asking who I was. The video, which only showed Cassie clinging to Evan, made them look like a picture-perfect couple, with every clip showing Evan glued to Cassie with the softest look in his eyes. Once the video was sent, I packed a bag and took off for a brief vacation. This was only the beginning.

The trip lasted only two weeks, during which I blocked all contact from Evan, not that he tried to reach out. The peaceful grandeur of the Grand Canyon helped me reflect. For the first time, I realized I didn’t need anyone else—I could find peace within myself. But I didn’t forget Cassie. Her video had caught fire online, and though it initially garnered sweet comments about “true love,” some curious onlookers soon unearthed my existence, shifting the narrative. “Homewrecker” and “snake” filled the comments. This was exactly what I’d hoped for, but it was only a taste of what I had in store. Cassie, of course, saw this as her moment, starting live streams to cash in on her “fame.” And me? I tuned in, curious to watch her spin our story. Her live stream opened with those wide, tragic eyes, her trembling voice recounting her “forbidden” love with Evan. She played the part well, painting herself as a hopeless romantic who, in her moment of loss, found comfort in her “soulmate.” Naturally, she didn’t mention me at all. I had to admit, her move was clever—her delicate face, coupled with that pitiful act, had fans sympathizing with her. Some viewers even suggested I’d been dumped because Cassie was prettier. Apparently, to them, “Evan just fell for someone who was easier to love.” Seriously? Because she was prettier, she could just break up my relationship? So she was “delicate” and automatically excused? The internet even christened their fan club “Cloud Nine,” after Cassie and Evan, calling them a “match made in heaven.”

When I finally went back to the house Evan and I had shared, I opened the door to find Cassie standing there. She was wearing our matching fluffy slippers and my favorite silk camisole. Hearing the noise, Evan came out from the kitchen, spatula in hand, and froze when he saw me. “Sam…you’re back?” He looked as though he’d been caught red-handed. I let out a laugh. “If I hadn’t shown up, would I have walked in on something even more interesting?” “There was a big storm last night,” Evan mumbled, his voice defensive. “Cassie just needed somewhere to stay. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” His rigid tone only made it more obvious that he was lying. “If I’d come back a bit later, would you two have gone ahead and slept together?” “Oh, Mrs. Price, you’ve got it all wrong. Evan and I…we’re not…there’s nothing going on,” Cassie stammered, quickly fixing her hair and pulling the collar of the camisole just so, but I noticed the red mark on her neck. Nice try, but I wasn’t about to give her the show she wanted. No way was I going to start screaming, giving her the chance to play the innocent, hurt “other woman.” I brushed past both of them, went inside, and, ignoring their protests, locked them out of the house. Let them pound on the door all they wanted—I was done. This house was bought with money I’d made shortly after college by flipping stocks, saving up every cent for the down payment. I’d even thought it would be our home, where we’d build a future together. Now, it was the perfect place to kick him out of my life. The pounding eventually stopped, but soon after, I heard my phone ring. It was Blake Sutton, Evan’s old friend, calling in as backup. We’d only met a handful of times, but Blake wasn’t subtle. The first time we met, he’d openly looked me up and down, leaving me creeped out. So I knew this call was just him doing Evan’s bidding, putting on a “concerned” act. “Hey, Sam. I’m calling on behalf of Evan, okay? Look, Cassie really means nothing to him. You really shouldn’t lock him out in this cold weather, don’t you think? Neighbors might get a laugh, you know?” Blake’s smarmy tone grated on my nerves. “If they know what he’s been up to, why should he care what anyone else thinks? Tell Evan we’re done. I’ll pack up his things and leave them outside.” Without another word, I hung up, exhausted from my trip and the day. Finally, I fell into bed and slept. The next day, I hired a cleaning service to help sort through our things. I’d expected there to be a lot of shared memories, reminders of the years we’d spent together. But as we sorted, I found that his belongings barely filled one box. Nearly everything in the house was something I’d paid for myself. One item caught my eye: an old photograph buried in a drawer. Dusting it off, I looked closer and felt a chill run through me. It was Evan, back in high school, kissing a girl with a high ponytail and painfully thin frame. It was unmistakably Cassie. Evan had never told me he knew her back then, let alone that they’d dated. All the hazy memories I’d buried, trying to forget the bullying, came rushing back, suddenly sharper than ever.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294941”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #擦边Steamy #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School