My sister wanted to kill me, and the moment my mother stepped forward to help her, I stopped struggling. Later, my sister had plastic surgery to look exactly like me. She sat in my bedroom, waiting for my husband to return. My parents hoped she and my husband would live happily ever after, enjoying wealth and fortune. I just laughed—because they had no idea how terrifying that man really is. Today is the day Liam Hawthorne returns from overseas. He’s been out of the country for over two months, and I’ve already been dead for a week. My sister, Nina Dawson, nervously stood as Liam entered the house. “Liam, have you had dinner yet? I had the housekeeper make your favorite—pumpkin soup.” This should’ve been their first time meeting. Yet Liam didn’t seem to notice that his wife had been swapped. Nina had really done it—altered herself from head to toe to look exactly like me. Liam handed his suitcase to one of the staff and rubbed his temples. “I’ll have a bowl.” Nina smiled, perfectly mimicking my gestures and mannerisms, exactly as she’d seen on hidden camera footage. Following behind Liam, she entered the dining room. “Mrs. Jenkins, get a bowl of pumpkin soup for Mr. Hawthorne.” Liam glanced at her briefly. Though there were plenty of staff, I had always preferred to do things myself. I never felt comfortable ordering people around, even though I’d been living in Harbor City for almost two years now. Before I married Liam, I lived in a quiet rural town in South Carolina. And truth be told, Nina was supposed to be the one marrying Liam. The Dawsons and Hawthornes had been close for generations. The Hawthorne family was second in influence in Harbor City—nobody dared claim first. Years ago, our grandfathers had arranged for a marriage between Liam and Nina. But after both passed away, Liam’s family was betrayed in the business world. Liam’s father, in a last-ditch effort, tried to revive the old engagement, hoping the Dawsons would come to the rescue. But my father had already been courted by other powerful players, ready to divide Hawthorne Holdings, caring little for past loyalties. The Hawthornes went bankrupt. Liam’s father died shortly after, and his mother vanished from Harbor City with Liam and their butler. Two years ago, Liam returned with Hawthorne Holdings, crushing every major player in the city. Anyone who had wronged the Hawthornes wasn’t spared—either left buried in debt or sent to prison. Businessmen quietly thanked their stars that this was happening domestically. Liam’s ruthless reputation abroad was notorious. By the time the Dawsons were nearly bankrupt from Liam’s moves, my father remembered the old marriage agreement. Nina, fearing Liam’s wrath, begged me to take her place and marry him instead. My father, like many businessmen, was deeply superstitious. On the day Nina was born, my father landed a major deal, one that propelled the Dawson family to new heights. But on the day I was born, the deal went sour, and the Dawson family lost half its fortune. He believed Nina brought him luck, while I brought him ruin. If it hadn’t been for my grandfather, who fought to keep me alive, I’m certain my father would’ve drowned me at birth. Instead, he told everyone I was ill and sent me “overseas” to recuperate. The truth? I was abandoned in a small southern town, raised by a blind widow. Nina’s name symbolized peace and safety, while my father named me “Early Death.” He hoped I would die young and not curse the family’s fortune. The widow, who cared for me, pitied me and secretly changed my name to Sarah. Though I escaped an early death, I still ended up dying young.

Nina snapped back to reality and spoke softly, “I’ve been feeling lightheaded lately. I was afraid I might drop the bowl.” Liam stared at her for a moment. Nina swallowed hard. I saw the flash of panic in her eyes. How ironic. The night she stabbed me in the heart, she twisted the knife, just to make sure I didn’t survive. Now, she was pretending to be weak. Nina quickly changed her mind, “I’ll get it for you.” Liam looked away and walked into the dining room. “No need. If you’re unwell, you should rest.” I froze for a moment. In two years of marriage, he’d never told me to rest. Now, after I’m dead, I hear it for the first time. It’s odd, though. Despite my frail health when I first arrived at the Hawthorne mansion, I didn’t get sick much in the last year. Two years of sharing a bed, and I finally mustered the courage to whisper his name in his ear. I wanted him to go to the Dawson mansion and get me out of there. Grandma Dawson had passed away, leaving me with no one to care for. Though I was furious about how I died, living had also felt exhausting. The freezer was cold—too cold for me. I’d always had poor circulation, and I just wanted a warm, sunny place to rest. And when I overheard them talking about dismembering my body, I was terrified. If I died in pieces, I’d rather have been drowned as a baby, at least then I would’ve been whole. I’d rather be burned to ash and have my body intact in death. Unfortunately, Liam didn’t react. He just picked up the bowl and started eating. “I heard you’ve been going out a lot recently?” Hearing him ask that, I brightened a little. I knew no one in Harbor City aside from the Dawsons. On my wedding day, my parents had told me that if I didn’t want Grandma Dawson to lose her medicine, I should do everything I could to please Liam Hawthorne. As long as the Dawson family remained stable, the medication wouldn’t stop. Once married off, I was told not to return. So after moving into the Hawthorne mansion, aside from an occasional trip to the grocery store, I hardly ever left the house. No wonder Liam thought it strange. Nina replied sweetly, “The weather’s been unpredictable lately. My parents got sick, so I went to visit them.” Her mention of our parents reminded me of the night she tried to kill me. I fought back with all I had. But my mother, worried I’d hurt Nina, joined my father in holding me down. In that moment, all the strength left my body, and I let the knife sink into my heart. Liam didn’t say much. “Better to go out than sit at home bored,” he commented indifferently. I felt defeated. Liam, so cautious and suspicious by nature, hadn’t noticed anything strange. And now he was saying things to Nina he’d never said to me. On our wedding day, my parents had smiled apologetically at Liam, telling him that I was to repay the Dawson family’s debts. He could do whatever he wanted with me—I was at his mercy. The Dawsons wouldn’t complain. Liam hadn’t treated me as an outlet for his frustrations, but he was distant and cold. After the soup, the two of them headed to the bedroom. Nina sat expectantly on the bed, watching Liam as he finished getting ready. Just as he leaned down toward her, his phone rang. He answered the call, quickly dressed, and left. I wasn’t surprised—he was probably going to deal with some urgent business at the company. Nina looked disappointed but smiled when he turned back. “You’re wearing too much perfume. I liked it better before,” he commented before walking out the door. Nina froze, then quickly lifted her arm to sniff herself, confused when she didn’t smell anything.

Nina hurriedly called Mrs. Jenkins into the bedroom. “Can you smell perfume on me?” Mrs. Jenkins leaned close, sniffing Nina’s arms and neck. “No, I only smell your shampoo.” Nina frowned, pacing back and forth. “When you worked for Sarah, what did she smell like?” Mrs. Jenkins thought for a moment. “She didn’t wear perfume. She never used any of the bottles in her cabinet. Honestly, she smelled of nothing—like she didn’t care to enjoy life.” Mrs. Jenkins had been hired by my mother six months ago, supposedly to help me with herbal broths since I hadn’t conceived. I was thrilled by my parents’ sudden care for me. Even though Mrs. Jenkins never cooked for me, it filled me with hope that maybe, just maybe, my parents had started to care. But I later learned that from the moment Mrs. Jenkins stepped into the house, she was part of the plan. Her real job was to observe my habits and secretly film me, so Nina could perfect her impersonation. Nina smirked at Mrs. Jenkins’ remarks. “Not just unlucky—she was doomed from the start.” Mrs. Jenkins seemed puzzled. “Doomed?” Nina’s smirk faltered for a moment before she recovered and delivered her rehearsed line. “She was always sick. The old widow who raised her was constantly begging my parents for more money to take her to the doctor.” “All that woman ever did was ask us for money. A beggar raising another beggar! Sarah was so pathetic, trying to do everything herself. No wonder she couldn’t even manage the house staff.” I lunged at Nina, throwing punches and kicks, but my fists went right through her. The Dawsons had only sent money for the first few years, and after that, Grandma Dawson paid for everything herself, collecting scraps to raise me. They only remembered me when they needed someone to take the fall. Mrs. Jenkins suggested, “Why don’t you wash your hair again? Maybe it’s leftover shampoo from your place that hasn’t worn off yet.” “Sarah wasn’t picky about these things. She just used whatever Hawthorne Holdings provided. She wasn’t nearly as particular as you are.” Nina pursed her lips, irritated. “I wash my hair every day—why isn’t it gone yet? I’ll wash it again later.” Nina sent Mrs. Jenkins out of the room and then dialed a number. “Master Evans, have you trapped Sarah’s ghost like you promised?” I hovered near the phone, listening to the reply on the other end. “Don’t worry, I’ve bound her soul to the amulet. She won’t even have a chance to reincarnate!” I rolled my eyes as I floated around the room. Master or not, the man had no spine. He sounded more like a salesman desperate to keep his business.

Liam didn’t return for several days. Nina waited anxiously until 8 p.m., her favorite dishes laid out on the table. I licked my lips at the sight. It’s not that Liam and I had no common ground—when it came to food, we had identical tastes. Nina picked at some vegetables and a piece of meat before setting down her fork. She was always strict about maintaining her figure. Her daily intake wouldn’t even match one of my meals. Not only did she care about how food was prepared, she never ate after 6 p.m. Grandma Dawson used to say, “If you can eat, it’s a blessing.” I never held back at mealtime. Mrs. Collins made the best honey garlic chicken. I was practically drooling, and it hurt to think that Nina had no idea what she was missing. Liam paused, glancing at Nina. “You don’t like the food?” Nina smiled sweetly. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.” Liam watched her for a long moment before replying, “The housekeeper said your appetite has been much better while I was away. Funny how it disappeared once I got home.” Nina quickly shook her head. “I’ve been feeling a bit off—probably from the heat.” Liam looked down for a second before replying, “Lightheadedness, lack of appetite… we’ll have you checked out tomorrow.” Nina instinctively wanted to refuse, but in the end, she smiled and agreed. She probably figured that as long as it wasn’t a plastic surgeon, she had nothing to worry about. After all, only three people knew what really happened to me.

Hawthorne Holdings owns several hospitals, and whenever I got sick, I’d go there for treatment and bill it to Liam. I was shocked when Liam went with Nina for a checkup. The doctor handed Liam the report. “Mr. Hawthorne, this is Mrs. Hawthorne’s full medical report. She’s in excellent health.” “I remember when she first came here two years ago, she had several vitamin deficiencies, but everything seems normal now. Looks like she’s been taking her supplements regularly.” Back when I first married into the family, I was constantly getting sick. The doctor recommended a full-body checkup. It turned out my poor health was due to malnutrition, so the hospital prescribed all sorts of supplements to help. But taking medicine for so long wasn’t my thing, so after feeling better, I stopped. Whether the medicine had worked or not, I wasn’t sure—but now they were looking at a healthy Nina, who had always been pampered and well-fed. Liam flipped through the report casually, but then his hand paused as he turned the page. I was about to float over to take a peek, but he quickly flipped to the back. After reading it, he asked, “These symptoms—aren’t they usually linked to pregnancy?” I nearly choked in shock. Even though he wasn’t talking about me, he knew I had always taken birth control. Besides, with my poor circulation and chronic weakness, getting pregnant was never in the cards. The doctor shook his head. “It’s been a hot summer. A lot of people are feeling off. I’ll prescribe some peppermint tea for Mrs. Hawthorne. She’ll feel better after finishing a box.” Liam stared down at the report, lost in thought.

Meanwhile, Nina, noticing the conversation between Liam and the doctor, felt uneasy. After grabbing her prescription from the nurse, she hurried over to interrupt. “Liam, is there something wrong with me?” The doctor repeated what he’d said earlier, and Nina finally relaxed. Just then, Nina got a call from her parents inviting her back home for dinner, and Liam, noticing, said he would join her. I floated into the car, following along. Since Liam had come back, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he sensed something off about Nina. A man as calculated and ambitious as him wouldn’t waste time without reason. This was Liam’s first time visiting the Dawsons’ house. My parents were thrilled, their voices dripping with flattery as they greeted him. As they all sat in the living room, I was stuck within the invisible bounds that kept me tethered to Nina, unable to stray too far. My mother held Nina’s hand, studying her, and softly asked, “Are you comfortable at the Hawthornes’? Are you sleeping well?” I couldn’t stand watching her fawn over Nina. My gaze drifted toward the old storage shed in the backyard. That day, they sent all the house staff home, tricked me into that shed, and killed me, hiding my body in a freezer they’d prepared ahead of time. I wanted to see if I was still there. If only Liam would take me away from this place. At that moment, my mother gave my father a look, and he quickly invited Liam to the study for tea and a game of chess.

I followed Nina and my mother to the bedroom. My mother spoke in a low, serious voice, “Your father and I dealt with that girl last night.” I sighed in frustration. They were a little too late. Nina wasn’t happy with my mother’s expression. “What’s with that look? Are you regretting it, feeling sorry for her?” My eyes lit up as I stared at them, eager to hear more. My mother gently tapped Nina’s forehead and gave her a half-hearted scolding. “You little ingrate. The only person I care about is you!” I couldn’t help but float closer. “Mom, aren’t I your daughter too? Didn’t you carry me for nine months? Why did you help Nina overpower me?” “All these years, I’ve listened to you, staying in that small town, minding my own business. If you asked, I would’ve gone back without a fight.” I never dared to hope for the same love she gave Nina. But for the sake of ensuring Nina’s perfect life, she chose to erase me completely. She held me down so her other daughter could take my place. The memory of my mother visiting me once as a child blended painfully with the image of her pulling Nina away from my blood-soaked body, careful not to let my blood stain her hands. But I would never get an answer. Nina smiled, satisfied with the response. “Good. Make sure to scatter her remains bit by bit, somewhere far away.” My mother hesitated for a moment before adding, “There’s one thing… she was pregnant. And it was twins.” I felt my spirit sway as I stood there, staring at them in disbelief. Though I had been taking birth control, deep down, I had always wanted a child. Earlier this year, Grandma Dawson was growing weak. I rushed to the small-town hospital to see her. She lay in bed, holding my hand, worry in her eyes. “Sarah, my sweet Sarah. What will you do when I’m gone?” I held back tears and forced a smile. “Don’t worry, Grandma. Liam’s been treating me much better lately.” With her last bit of strength, she raised her hand, and I leaned in close. “Sarah, try to have a child as soon as you can. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter—someone to keep you company, someone to protect you.” “People need someone to care for to have the strength and hope to go on living.” I nodded. “Yes, I’ll bring them to see you when I have one.” Grandma smiled and asked me to take off the wooden beads from her neck. “I don’t have much to leave you, but these beads were blessed by a monk for my parents. I was born with a light spirit, and my soul was always drifting. Wearing this amulet kept me grounded.” “It might not be worth much, but it’s something to remember me by.” Remembering her words, I looked at the amulet around Nina’s neck. So that’s it. My soul had been tied to that amulet all along. Nina’s voice trembled with fear. “Who else knows about her pregnancy?!” My mother frowned with concern. “That’s what I’m worried about. But I asked Mrs. Jenkins this morning, and it seems no one at the Hawthorne mansion knows.” Nina paled and grabbed my mother’s arm. “Mom, I don’t want to go to prison!” My mother hugged her tightly, soothing her in a low voice. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll just say you went on a trip, and after some time, we’ll report her missing.” “Your father’s working on getting a meat grinder that can even handle bones. We’ll turn her to dust and bury her somewhere remote. That way, there will only ever be one Sarah Dawson.” My mother’s eyes were cold and calculating, but as she comforted Nina, she returned to her warm, nurturing self.

After dinner, the Dawsons accompanied Liam to the glass greenhouse in the backyard for tea. Nina excitedly picked a few garden roses, saying she’d take them back to the Hawthorne house. My mother eagerly encouraged her, saying, “Liam, we grow the best roses in all of Harbor City. They’ve just bloomed this week—you came at the perfect time.” Liam watched Nina picking the flowers, lost in thought. Nina noticed and asked, “Liam, what’s on your mind?” He turned to her. “Nothing. I just remembered you once told me that your sister loved garden roses. This greenhouse was built for her.” Everyone’s faces showed a flicker of discomfort. My father chuckled awkwardly. “That’s true, but Sarah loved them too.” Nina played along, offering a shy smile. Liam said nothing more, and my mother quickly changed the subject. Back at the mansion, Nina offered to help Liam take off his jacket. He opened his arms, letting her do so. Nina stood on tiptoe, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. Liam frowned. “You’re still wearing perfume?” Nina froze, her smile faltering. “No, it must be the shampoo.” Liam gently pulled her hands away. “I just remembered something I need to take care of in the office. I’ll be in the study.” Nina glared at the closed door after he left, muttering, “What, are you not man enough?” I rolled my eyes. She had no idea how powerful Liam was—especially in bed, where he could wear someone out completely. Out of frustration, Nina sniffed her arm again, then went to the bathroom to compare the scent of the Hawthorne family shampoo with her own. “What the hell? It’s the same smell! I haven’t worn perfume in ages!” I grabbed a strand of my hair and took a whiff—there was no smell. Seeing that she was about to take her third shower of the day, I decided to leave the room and explore the house. As I floated out, I saw Mr. Barrett heading into Liam’s study, and I followed him in, curious. ��Look into Mrs. Hawthorne’s whereabouts after I left for France,” Liam Hawthorne said before hanging up the phone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294930”, 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

After three years of being with Cole Stevens, I accidentally scratched his childhood friend’s hand. So, on my birthday, he brought a whole group of people to corner me in an alley and smashed the left hand I used to play the violin. He stood over me, looking down with disdain, and said, “Forget the violin. You won’t need that useless thing anymore.” Later, he lost his mind and kept hugging me, begging me over and over not to forget the past. But all I could respond with was a blank, unfamiliar stare. “Amber, are you okay?” “Amber! What’s wrong? What happened?” On a dark and windy night, Cole Stevens had his men hold me down in an alley not far from home. The sky was completely overcast, with layers of clouds piling up, pressing against the horizon. The dead silence of the alley was broken only by the cold wind howling through the streets. Two tall men restrained my hands, pinning me against the wall, unable to move. My phone lay smashed on the ground, and from it, I could faintly hear my brother Daniel’s panicked voice. “Amber? What’s going on? Say something…” My breath came out in cold, shallow gasps, and the tension in the air became unbearable. Cole held a cigarette in his hand, his eyes filled with contempt as he stared down at me. He bent down, picked up my phone, and hung up the call. I looked up at him, only to be met with a brutal kick from someone in the crowd. “What are you staring at? You think staring at Cole is going to bring back your fantasy romance?” One of the men restraining me leaned in, his face close to mine, mocking me. He grabbed my face, squeezing it with disdain. “You do look a little like Miss Harper. No wonder Cole went for someone like you.” Then he slammed me to the ground, pulling me by my hair so I’d be forced to face Cole Stevens. Even now, I couldn’t believe Cole would do this to me. I looked up at him and asked the only question left in my mind. “Why?” But he didn’t even look at me. He just crushed the cigarette against the wall with a cold indifference. The man who kicked me earlier burst into laughter. “Why, you ask? How dare you scratch Miss Harper’s hand? Her hand is meant to play the violin!” “Who do you think you are to be compared to her?” “Don’t blame us,” he said, patting my cheek. “Even if you gave both your hands, it wouldn’t be enough to make up for what you did.” So, Cole had dragged me out here in the middle of the night, just because I accidentally scratched his childhood friend Sophia Harper’s hand? From the start, the only thing he ever cared about was Sophia Harper. Cole crouched down, taking my left hand into his. He looked at it for a moment before speaking in a voice as cold as ice. “I can’t let you stand in her way.” “Forget the violin. You won’t need it anymore.” “All you need to do is stay by my side.” Sophia Harper was destined for greatness. She deserved to chase her dreams, free from mundane things like daily struggles. But did that mean I deserved to have my hand shattered, my spine bent, crawling after you like a replacement? Fury surged through me, and I screamed as loud as I could, hoping someone outside the alley would hear. But I hadn’t realized how carefully Cole had planned this. The entire street was cleared. I struggled with all my strength, but his men took turns holding me down, controlling every movement. The violin on my back was ripped off and thrown harshly to the ground. With a crack, it split in two. It was my birthday today. That violin was the last birthday gift my mother had given me before she passed. Cole glanced at the broken violin, showing a flicker of hesitation. He knelt down, pretending to be regretful, gently touching the shattered instrument. “It’s fine. You won’t need any of this from now on. As long as you have me, that’s enough.” I pressed my lips tightly together, fighting back the tears that blurred my vision. Cold tears streamed down my cheeks, but I couldn’t feel anything. All I could think about was how that violin was the only thing my mom left for me in this world. Cole waved his hand, signaling for them to proceed. And that’s when real fear gripped me. “Cole Stevens, you can’t do this to me!” I screamed, but all it got me was a metal pipe smashing down on my left arm. Agonizing pain shot through my arm, and I let out a piercing scream. I was terrified. If my hand was ruined, I’d never play the violin again. So I crawled forward, inch by inch, my mind barely functioning, all I could think about was begging for mercy. I clutched Cole’s pant leg. “Cole… please… let me go… I can’t live without my violin… “I’ll die… please…” He shook me off, coldly yanking his leg away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll leave, I’ll go far away, so you’ll never have to see me again, okay?” The metal pipe came crashing down again and again on my left hand and arm, mangling it beyond recognition. I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. I couldn’t even feel my left hand. “Cole Stevens… I don’t love you anymore, just let me go… I can’t live without my violin…” If I couldn’t hold a violin, I wouldn’t survive. I could lose everything, but not my dream. I crawled like a beaten dog, inch by inch, begging for mercy. I gave him my last shred of dignity. But he didn’t care. It wasn’t until my left hand and arm were utterly destroyed that he finally called them off. He looked down at me with a pitying gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll marry you. “But you can’t stand in Sophia Harper’s way.” I collapsed onto the ground, my right hand gently grazing over the mangled remains of my left arm. Everything I had been holding inside for so long erupted at that moment. I stared blankly, tears streaming down my face, merging with the blood on my hand. I couldn’t control myself anymore as I screamed at him with everything I had. “Cole Stevens! You’ll never see me again! “You’ll spend the rest of your life in agony, loving someone you can never have!”

I’d been with Cole Stevens for three years. At the very beginning, I was in a practice room, playing my violin, and he happened to pass by, drawn to the sound. The summer wind swept through the trees by the window as scattered people strolled down the street. The melody of “La Vie en Rose” floated through the air, reaching his ears. He turned his head, and saw me, bathed in light, playing the violin. It was like an awakening. In that instant, I saw him too. The music flowed between us, like we were walking through the streets of Paris, and at any moment, we would stumble upon a rose. Our relationship grew as quickly as the song itself, and Cole became like family to me. So, when I first heard the rumors, I didn’t believe them. “Hey, did you hear?” “Sophia Harper is back from overseas.” A group of girls, clearly from wealthy families, sat gossiping in a corner, occasionally glancing my way, as snippets of their conversation floated to me. “Who do you think Cole Stevens will choose, Sophia Harper or Amber Jackson?” “Is that even a question? Sophia Harper has been the love of his life for ten years. I heard they grew up together!” One girl, sitting closest to me, shot me a look of pure disdain, rolled her eyes, and whispered to her friends as they left. “Amber Jackson doesn’t even realize she’s just a replacement. I bet Cole will drop her any day now and go after his true love.” “Amber who? Sophia Harper is from a prestigious family…” The rumors spiraled out of control, growing louder by the day. I was restless, so distracted I didn’t even notice someone standing outside when I opened the door. The old doorknob fell off, hitting the person’s hand, leaving a deep cut as warm blood started to flow. That’s when everything changed. I finally met Sophia Harper. We looked eerily similar, especially from the side. Coincidentally, we were both violinists. Even our habits were strikingly alike. Cole always held me close, calling me “Soph.” Over and over again. At the time, I thought he was different from my brother Daniel and the others, who all called me “Amber.” But it turned out, he wasn’t calling me “Soph,” he was calling me “Sophia.”

I sat crouched in the corner of the hospital, cradling my shattered left arm. After realizing something was wrong during our phone call, Daniel had rushed out of the house, only to find me, lost and broken, at our front door. Cole Stevens, with his wealth and influence, easily brushed the incident aside with just a few words. He even promised compensation. But I could never play the violin again. I sat there, staring blankly, not reacting to anything. The only thing I could do was hold onto my arm as if that would somehow fix everything. Daniel didn’t know what else to do, so he gently brought me back home. I clutched his hand, my eyes red and swollen from crying. “Daniel…” I smiled weakly at him, even though my eyes were filled with tears. “I have a performance in a couple of days. I can’t stay home like this. Can you take me back to the orchestra?” He was stunned, frozen in place as he looked at me. “Amber… don’t be afraid…” He wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, trying to comfort me. “I’ll protect you.” “Daniel! Please… take me back to the orchestra…” I begged, my eyes pleading with him. Unable to bear seeing me like that, Daniel settled me down in bed before retreating to a corner of the house, where I could hear him quietly break down in sobs. I didn’t understand what was happening. It felt like my mind was covered in a thick fog, and pieces of my memory were being erased, little by little, like someone rubbing away at them with an eraser. I felt scared, but at the same time, there was a part of me that looked forward to forgetting everything. One day, as I sat alone in our empty house, thinking about having lunch with Daniel later, I stepped outside by myself. When I tried to return, I couldn’t find my way home. I wandered aimlessly around the neighborhood, circling the same streets over and over, but I couldn’t recognize anything. I didn’t know which way to go. I couldn’t find home. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember the way back. Unconsciously, I tightened my grip around my left arm, desperately trying to hold myself together. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just started running. Running and running. I tore through the alleyways at full speed, not knowing how long I’d be running down those endless streets. I could hear my own ragged breathing, the panicked sound of my heart pounding in my chest, and the tears streaming down my face. Until I collided with Daniel, who had been frantically searching for me. He grabbed my shoulders, trying to calm me down. I was crying uncontrollably, looking around in confusion, muttering, “Daniel, I can’t… I can’t find my way home…” “I… I can’t go back, Daniel…” “Why can’t I remember anything? What’s happening to me?” I clung to him, my fingers digging into his clothes as all my emotions burst out in that single moment. “Amber Jackson!” His voice was stern as he stared at me. “Calm down!” I was startled into silence, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t be afraid.” “I’ll take you to see the doctor, okay?” He bent down, gently picking me up onto his back, and without another word, he carried me to the hospital. I knew he was hurting too. I knew he was worried. But I had forgotten so many things… so many things…

“Preliminary tests show that the patient has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and it seems to be progressing.” “That’s impossible! My sister is only 27 years old!” I stared out the window, watching the birds chirping and flitting about, as if I couldn’t hear the conversation between Daniel and the doctor. “Not only that,” the doctor continued, “but she’s also suffering from severe depression, likely triggered by a major traumatic event. Did something significant happen to her recently?” I continued cradling my left arm, but my mind wandered to the thought that my birthday was just a month away. I wondered what Daniel would get me this year. Cole Stevens never gave me anything on my birthday. He always combined it with the day we first met! I smiled up at Daniel, reaching out with my right hand to poke his arm. “Daniel, what are you going to get me for my birthday this year?” I had forgotten that the day Cole and I first met was actually Sophia Harper’s birthday. I had also forgotten that my own birthday had long passed. As Daniel explained what had been happening lately to the doctor, he reached down to gently soothe me. He gave me a sad smile, but tried to hide his emotions. “Whatever you want, Amber. Your brother will get you anything you ask for.” “The prognosis suggests this is a sudden condition. Early intervention and treatment might slow its progress, but we can’t guarantee recovery.” “The most important thing is to keep her away from any triggers.” After hearing the doctor’s advice, Daniel brought me home and immediately removed anything related to the orchestra or Cole Stevens from the house. He stood tall and strong in front of me, like a tree. But my eyes were clouded. I couldn’t see the path ahead of me, nor could I see any future at all. “Open the door, it’s Cole Stevens.” I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the door. When I heard his voice, I glanced over at Daniel, who was in the kitchen cooking, and got up to open the door myself. Cole stood lazily outside, his expression slightly impatient as he looked at me. He seemed irritated that I had taken so long to answer the door. But I couldn’t really see what he was doing. All I knew was that this was the man I loved, and I should be happy to see him. So, I smiled brightly and grabbed his arm with my right hand. “Cole! You came to see me! What’s gotten into you?” “I thought you were busy with work lately?” Cole was caught off guard by my reaction, frowning as he looked down at me. My left arm was in a cast, thick bandages wrapped around it. But I didn’t seem to notice. It just hung limply by my side. He assumed that I was clinging to him, trying to win back his affection by playing this helpless act. But he had no idea…

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Because of a jar of chocolate, I asked Vivienne Shaw for a divorce. It was in the seventh year of our marriage. She looked at me, annoyed. “I’m really tired, can you stop making a fuss?” I calmly looked at her, then picked up what I had prepared long ago: “This is the divorce agreement.” While doing laundry, I found half-eaten chocolate in Vivienne’s coat pocket. I froze. How could she have something like this? Vivienne had always been strict about her appearance, working in the fashion industry. To keep her skin clear and her figure slim, she avoided sugar religiously. She wouldn’t even eat many carbs, let alone something as sugary and indulgent as a jar of M&M’s Minis. I remembered finding a small packet of cookies in the car a few days ago. She said a coworker gave it to her. But all her coworkers knew she avoided sugar. Why would anyone give her cookies? After hesitating for a long time, I finally went down to the garage to check the car’s dashcam. The sound of the car door closing played, followed by a cheerful, familiar male voice: “You’re the best, Vivienne. Thanks for waiting for me.” The voice was warm, bright—pleasant to the ears. But all I felt was a chilling sensation spreading through my body, and my heart ached as if struck by a hammer. Vivienne let out a light laugh. “Everyone else is working late, aren’t you worried they’ll talk since you left early?” Jaxon, pretending to be cocky, replied, “I’m part of the new generation! Besides, everyone knows you were waiting for me. With you around, why should I care what they think?” Vivienne laughed heartily, amused by his youthful arrogance. I was suddenly reminded of when Vivienne and I used to work together, back when our marriage wasn’t public knowledge. Whenever we crossed paths in the office, she would walk right past me as if she didn’t know me at all. Whenever I brought it up, she would get impatient: “Don’t you know the company policy? If people find out about us, do you think I’ll still have a chance at a promotion?” At that time, my world revolved around Vivienne, but for Vivienne, her world was all about work. As she rose higher in her career and got busier, I ended up quitting my job to become a full-time homemaker, taking care of everything for her. But now, she didn’t seem worried about jeopardizing her promotion at all. There was a soft “pop” as Jaxon opened something. “Vivienne, have some chocolate.” Vivienne chuckled. “No thanks, kid. I don’t eat stuff like that. You go ahead.” “But I want to feed it to you!” Jaxon whined. I snapped back to reality, smiling bitterly at myself as I listened to the sound of Vivienne crunching on the M&M’s. After she finished the chocolate, she said, “Don’t eat too much. I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner.” I turned off the dashcam. I couldn’t listen any longer. My head throbbed, and I wanted to open the window to get some fresh air, but my body felt drained, like I couldn’t even lift a finger. I thought back to the past. I used to cook all kinds of meals for Vivienne to help her eat better. Within a year, I went from being a kitchen rookie to knowing how to make dishes from several cuisines. One Thanksgiving, I made a honey-glazed ham. Vivienne didn’t get home until nearly midnight. When she saw the dish, she threw down her fork. “This is so greasy, so sweet! How am I supposed to eat this?” Then she got up and went to the bedroom, leaving me sitting alone at the dinner table, stunned. I had just wanted to make something festive for the holiday, but it ended in an argument. I knew she was stressed from work. At the time, I regretted being so careless, making her go hungry on a holiday. But I had forgotten that the table was full of dishes, not just the ham. But now, she had eaten half a jar of chocolate. Turns out, it wasn’t the sugar that was the problem. It was me. I found the divorce papers I had tucked away. I’d printed them a long time ago, but I hadn’t wanted to bring them out. I admit, I wasn’t ready to let go of our marriage. I’d liked Vivienne for so long. From the moment I first saw her, my heart raced, and she became the most beautiful color in my youth. But she had fallen for the campus heartthrob. He came from a wealthy family, and his mother didn’t approve of Vivienne. Instead, they arranged for him to marry a well-off debutante. Vivienne was heartbroken, so she settled for me, the guy who had always been by her side. I knew all of this, and I didn’t care. I kept waiting. Waiting for her to see me. Waiting for her to fall in love with me. But I failed. From the moment I saw Jaxon, I felt uneasy. He reminded me too much of the type Vivienne liked. They both had that sunny, clean-cut look, playful and lively, always the center of attention—unlike me, who was content to stand quietly in her shadow. The first time I felt something was off was when Jaxon called late one night. He was just an intern, and while they talked about work, there was nothing urgent. Why would an intern call the department director late at night instead of speaking to colleagues or other supervisors? It didn’t make sense. Vivienne was lying on the couch at the time. She had neck problems and sometimes headaches. I was giving her a massage to help her relax when she suddenly sat up, rushing to answer the phone. I could feel her excitement, and even a hint of nervousness. “Just go for it, don’t overthink it. We’re in a creative industry; you don’t need to hold back.” She listened patiently as he rambled about work. The entire time, the corners of Vivienne’s mouth lifted into a soft smile. After she hung up, she seemed in a great mood, even humming a tune while putting on a face mask. I sat there in the living room, feeling like my heart was being ripped apart. I didn’t think Vivienne intended to hurt our family at first. She tried to restrain herself. Every time Jaxon called, she kept it professional. But emotions are probably the hardest thing to control. Even if you cover your mouth, they find a way out through your eyes. Soon, her phone was always in her hand, and she started laughing to herself for no reason. She worked late more and more often. When I finally brought it up, she looked at me with disdain and said coldly, “Elliott, you’re a grown man who does nothing all day and obsesses over the smallest things. It’s pathetic.” Her words deflated me like a punctured balloon. I no longer had the courage to confront her. It wasn’t her fault, though. I had always known—I wasn’t the one being loved. But my heart hurt so much that I became numb, and in that numbness, I realized something: I deserve to be loved, too. Divorcing over a jar of chocolate might sound ridiculous. But I was tired. I didn’t want to be the loyal dog anymore. Even if no one else loved me, I could still love myself.

I took a deep breath and handed the divorce papers to Vivienne. She was at her desk, typing away on her computer, and she irritably swatted them out of my hand. “Elliott, can’t you see I’m working?” “How many times have I told you not to bother me when I’m busy—” This time, I didn’t stay silent. I cut her off: “These are the divorce papers. Look them over. If everything’s fine, just sign.” Vivienne was stunned for a moment, then she let out a mocking laugh. “Elliott, I see you’ve grown some backbone. What’s this? You think I haven’t given you enough, so now you want to push me into pampering you even more? You want to mooch off me?” I met her gaze calmly. “Did you forget? Back when we graduated, I had better options. It was you who said you needed me by your side, so I took a job at a company I didn’t even like. You excelled in your field, worked late every day, to the point where you had stomach ulcers. That’s why I quit to take care of you. How much does a live-in housekeeper in New York City cost per month? Would the money you spent on me even come close? Don’t paint yourself as a saint. It’s me, Elliott Reid, who’s been taking care of you—not the other way around.” Vivienne’s eyes widened in shock. She never expected me to say something like that. Then she swept the unsigned divorce papers to the floor in anger, yelling at me: “What the hell is wrong with you? Acting all high and mighty now? Do you think I’m too old and ugly for you, is that it? Is that why you want a divorce?” I simply replied, “The chocolate in your pocket—you ate half of it.” “What?” Vivienne’s face hardened, then suddenly, as if realizing something, her expression grew nervous. “You’re divorcing me over chocolate?” I looked at her, nodding seriously. “Yes.” I paused before adding, “Whether you agree or not doesn’t matter. If you refuse, I’ll file for divorce. I’m a stay-at-home husband, Vivienne—I’ve got all the time in the world.” Vivienne glared at me, then let out a bitter laugh. She picked up the crumpled divorce papers from the floor, signed them, and threw them back at me. “Get out!” she shouted, pointing at the door. I didn’t even look back. I turned and left. “Elliott, don’t come crawling back to me like a dog. Once you walk out that door, there’s no turning back,” Vivienne spat venomously at my back. My face flushed, my chest felt tight, and my heart throbbed with pain. I’d threatened divorce before in moments of despair, but I always backed down. I couldn’t bear to leave this home we’d built, couldn’t bear to leave the woman I had loved for so many years. She always knew where to hit me the hardest. She might forget my birthday, but she sure knew how to hurt me. I grabbed my jacket and said, “Let’s go. We’ve got time now; we can head to the courthouse.” Vivienne didn’t continue insulting me. She stood up and yelled, “Elliott, are you seriously doing this?”

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On the third day after my death, my family was still busy preparing Tessa Winslow’s Sweet Sixteen party. The police officer who found my body called my mother. She snapped in frustration, “Dead? So what if she’s dead! She was always lying, disappearing to make a scene. If she’s really dead this time, I still won’t pay for the funeral!” My soul hovered in the air as I watched her hang up, smiling broadly as she called Tessa to come cut the cake. Everyone gathered around Tessa, singing the birthday song. But today is my birthday too. On the fifth day after my death, my father reported me missing to the police. My mother and my brother, Derek, reluctantly joined him at the Westfield Police Department. “Ivy was always up to something,” my mother muttered, annoyed. “She used to torment Tessa, always lying and saying Tessa bullied her, hit her, tore her things apart. And every time we tried to talk to her, she’d throw a fit… This isn’t the first time she’s run away. She’s probably playing video games at some lowlife’s house.” Derek, who always resented me, scoffed and went back to playing on his phone after speaking. My mother’s attitude was no different. Even with her perfect makeup, she couldn’t hide her disdain for me. “Coming down to the station for that worthless girl? Just to make a spectacle of ourselves?” she said to my father, glancing impatiently at her watch. Tessa had a ballet recital tonight, and my mother had ordered flowers for the celebration. All this time, my father hadn’t said a word. To be fair, my father, Clay, was a remarkably handsome man, even in his middle age. Time had only added a calm gravity to his features. But right now, his brows were furrowed. I admit, a part of me eagerly anticipated how he’d react when he saw my body. “Are you Ivy’s family?” the officer asked. After confirming our identities, the officer led my family to the morgue to view my remains. Derek was the first to express his displeasure. “What’s Ivy pulling now?! This place is bad luck, I’m not going in!” “Ivy’s always had a wicked streak,” my mother whispered, casting a furtive glance at my father. “I don’t believe she’s really dead.” As I hovered there, I overheard the officer whispering to his colleague, “Are they really her family? They didn’t even come to see her one last time.” For the first time, I heard my father’s voice drop, heavy with anger. “Everyone, get in there!” My body was not a pleasant sight. After days submerged in Silver Creek, my skin had swollen and turned translucent, distorting me beyond recognition. Derek took one glance and stumbled to the wall, retching. The officer began to explain, “We found her in the creek five days ago. Initial findings suggest she accidentally fell in… Oh, and when she drowned, she tried calling someone. Didn’t she try to contact any of you?” He pulled out the evidence bag. The familiar number on my mother’s phone showed a call lasting a minute and a half. My mother screamed, “What call?! I never got any call! Ivy’s lying again, Ivy…” Her voice cut off when she saw my body. Something clicked inside her, and she began to tremble. “Tessa told me Ivy called asking for money…” Tessa, the fake daughter. That day, I had called my mother, hoping for help. Tessa answered the phone. I told her I was drowning. I begged her to come and save me. But on the other end, I heard her tell my mother, “Mom, Ivy’s asking for money again. She says if we don’t send it, she’s never coming back. She’ll cut ties with us.” My mother was furious. “Then let her die out there!”

Now I’m dead. They must be so relieved. “Ivy, I’m sorry, Ivy. I didn’t mean to… we thought you were just asking for money again…” My mother’s eyes were red as she shook uncontrollably, trying to reach out to hold me. My father pulled her aside, but she sobbed, saying she wanted to see me. He sneered. “When Ivy was alive, why didn’t you look at her then? Now you feel sorry? Too late!” It was the first time I had seen my father speak so harshly to my mother. She collapsed to the floor, burying her face in her hands and crying. Derek muttered angrily, “Dad, why are you yelling at Mom? Isn’t it good that Ivy’s dead? She came back and messed everything up. Now that she’s gone, we can finally be happy again. We can have peace…” Smack! My father’s hand struck Derek so hard he fell to the ground. “You look at her!” my father growled. “Ivy was your sister!” Derek landed right on top of me, face-to-face with my pale, bloated corpse. He tried to pull away, but my father pushed his head down. “She adored you when she was little! When you got into fights, she was terrified you’d get hurt and ran to protect you. She was only three years old then!” “When you fell off the table and wouldn’t take your medicine because it tasted bad, she saved up her candy from preschool to give to you! She was so hungry, but she only licked the wrappers!” Derek’s face twisted in shame. “That was so long ago…” My father’s voice shook with rage. “Derek Lennox! The day you took Ivy out and she went missing, you really think we didn’t know?” His chest heaved, emotions raging inside him, pushing him to the breaking point. “When Ivy came back, we asked her how she got lost, and she said it was her fault for being naughty! She didn’t say a word about you!” Derek’s lips trembled. “But… but you found out anyway! Ivy was never innocent. She was jealous that I cared about Tessa, so she didn’t say anything to you but still made sure you knew…” Smack! Another brutal slap knocked Derek to the side, leaving him spitting blood and teeth onto the floor. My mother wept even harder. “It wasn’t Ivy who told us. It was your father, Derek. He hired someone to find out.” When Tessa returned home later that night, the house felt off. Seeing my mother’s red, swollen eyes and Derek covered in blood, Tessa cautiously approached my father. “Dad, did you go looking for Ivy? I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you sooner—she’s been hanging out with some bad kids at school. They’d do anything for her.” She handed him her ballet trophy. “Didn’t everyone say they were coming to see me? But no one showed up. I got distracted, didn’t perform well, and only got silver.” My father’s gaze was cold. “Don’t you always get silver?” If I weren’t just a ghost, I’d be clapping. Tessa’s smile faltered, her lips trembling. “Are you angry because of Ivy? A few years ago, I did win a gold medal…” Derek caught her eye, signaling her desperately. She quickly wiped at her eyes. “Is Ivy still mad at me? I told you, I don’t care that she took my lucky bracelet. If she likes it, I’ll just buy another one for her. Dad, don’t be angry with Ivy. She grew up in a rough place. She’s got some bad habits, but she’ll change over time—oh, and I made dessert. We can all eat together as a family. Don’t let Ivy make you sick.” I floated after Tessa as she carefully plated store-bought pastries, proudly presenting them as her own creation. “I wanted to make something fancier, but I was missing some ingredients…” Tessa trailed off, glancing nervously at my father. “My wallet’s missing a lot of cash. I could’ve sworn I counted it before, but it seems like the only time someone touched it was the day Ivy left.” My father shot up from his chair. His sharp gaze pinned Tessa in place. She stammered, unsure of what to say. “Derek, tell her what your sister was doing that afternoon!” Derek shivered, his expression conflicted as he answered, “The police showed us the security footage. Ivy went out at noon, but she stayed at the convenience store near our house… She kept looking at her phone, probably waiting for one of us to call.” Angry that I was falsely accused of stealing Tessa’s bracelet, I stormed off to the convenience store. Even though I had been disappointed so many times, I still waited for someone from the Lennox family to come find me, to tell me they had made a mistake, apologize, and bring me home. So I kept staring at my pinned family chat on WhatsApp. But I waited from morning until night, and no one came. Tessa’s face went pale. She muttered, “The police? Ivy was arrested?” My father’s voice turned icy. “Ivy’s dead.”

Those four words hit like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile harmony that had held up the household. My mother clung to Tessa, her voice rising in protest. “Ivy’s death isn’t Tessa’s fault! Why are you treating her like this? Ivy was my daughter, but so is Tessa! We’ve raised her for over a decade! We only had one daughter, and now that Ivy’s gone, we can live like we used to, can’t we? Why do you have to keep stirring things up?” My father’s lips quivered as he stared at her. “You’re the one who stirred up all this trouble!” he shouted. “When we brought Ivy back, you told me that Tessa was our daughter too, and that we had to protect her feelings. You cared about Tessa. Derek cared about Tessa. Everyone cared about Tessa. But who cared about Ivy?!” “When Ivy came home, she had so little that she packed her things in one small bag. I told you to take her shopping for new clothes. But when Tessa started crying, you felt sorry for her and took her too. What was supposed to be a mother-daughter bonding moment turned into a show for Ivy to watch!” “The designer clothes we bought for Ivy ended up on Tessa! Don’t tell me you didn’t know!” “You keep saying Tessa is your heart and soul, but what about Ivy? She was our daughter! We spent years searching for her, and she suffered countless abuses while she was gone!” My mother gaped, tears spilling down her cheeks. For a moment, there was a flicker of guilt in her eyes. But it was faint, and she quickly dismissed it. “I wasn’t bad to Ivy… she just wouldn’t accept my love! She never considered my feelings. She was always stirring up trouble, trying to push Tessa out!” My father, drained of all hope, let out a deep sigh, slumping back as though the weight of the world had fallen on him. “You’re right,” he said bitterly. “The one who killed Ivy wasn’t Tessa. It was me. It was you. It was all of us, this so-called family.” He paused before continuing, “Margot, I want a divorce.” True to his word, he quickly set the divorce in motion, enlisting a lawyer to finalize the details. My mother, on the verge of hysteria, refused to accept it. “Ivy is already dead! I know I wasn’t good to her before, but I’ll make it up to her… I’ll give her the grandest funeral, the most expensive jewelry. I’ll invite all her friends and teachers!” It was the first time she had ever acknowledged my existence at school. She rushed out the door in simple clothes, for once wearing no makeup. As I floated above, I watched her step onto campus, hesitating as she entered. “Where’s Ivy’s class?” she asked. Derek, yawning mid-sentence, stopped cold. Mom had dragged him out of bed, and his irritation vanished as he uncertainly glanced in the direction of my old dorm. “Over there?” It wasn’t exactly wrong—that was my dorm. My old dorm.

The door to the dorm room swung wide open. Inside, Chelsea Kramer and her crew were lounging around, smoking. When my mother asked about me, Chelsea blew a puff of smoke right into her face. “Oh, look! Here comes the mother of the little trash. Guess trash runs in the family!” They burst into laughter. Derek stepped in front of my mother, but their taunts only grew louder. “A real mommy’s boy, huh? I thought Derek Lennox only cared about his fake sister!” They gestured towards the balcony with their chins. “All of that little brat’s stuff is out on the balcony. Go help yourself.” As my mother walked past them, she tripped on the doorway, losing a shoe. Laughter exploded from the room as Derek moved to help her, but she shook him off. On the floor, she picked up a photo. It was taken during my first few days in the dorm. Chelsea and her friends had pinned me down, stomping on my face while flashing peace signs for the camera. My mother’s hands were shaking as she held the picture, her voice trembling as well. “These are the clothes I bought for your sister. When she came home, they were covered in footprints. I asked her what happened, and she said nothing. But Derek… Derek, tell me, didn’t she get into a fight at school not long after?” Derek turned away, and the light in my mother’s eyes dimmed bit by bit. Her voice cracked. “Did I… did I wrongfully blame Ivy?” I watched quietly, emotionless, as she bent down to start gathering my belongings. I only had one set of school clothes. The pants were stained, showing wear. She dusted them off, seeing the patchwork I had done myself. Then something clicked in her memory. “Ivy told me her uniform was torn and asked for money to buy a new one. Derek, I asked you to give it to her—did you?” Chelsea and her friends roared with laughter. “Give her money? That little piece of trash went to beg, and her dear brother and that fake sister of hers said money doesn’t grow on trees. Told her to be frugal and not wasteful.” “Oh, lady, is Ivy really the daughter you spent all those years looking for? Because when we came to rough her up, your golden boy here saw it happen and said, ‘Serves her right.’” Derek’s face turned ashen. “Shut up!” “Shut up? Oh, come on, Derek! You had the guts to do it, but not to admit it? Let me tell you, we didn’t start bullying Ivy right away. It’s just that… when your dad doesn’t care, your mom doesn’t care, and your own brother’s so biased it’s ridiculous—how could we not knock her around a bit? Dunk her head in the toilet, make sure she knows she’s nothing but a pitiful little loser.” In a rage, Derek grabbed Chelsea by the hair. She shrieked and cursed, but before she could fight back, he grabbed a moldy sock from the floor and stuffed it in her mouth. Chelsea spat it out, her words growing more vicious. “The whole lot of you are pathetic! Pretending to be tough! Your sister fought back at first, y’know—pulled a knife on me. But in the end, we still outnumbered her, grabbed her by the neck, and made her kneel!” “You monsters!” My mother finally snapped, going completely wild. She attacked Chelsea and her friends like a madwoman, her long, perfectly manicured nails breaking as she struck them, blood welling up, but she didn’t care. She forced them to apologize, to confess everything they had done to me, recording every word. She was sobbing and screaming the whole time, like a woman who had completely lost control, unhinged and terrifying. Derek tried to pull her away, but she slapped him hard across the face. My mother was crying, and this time I truly felt the depths of her anguish. “Ivy, my Ivy… how much did you suffer back then?”

Chelsea and her gang were expelled. No school would accept them after the bullying scandal broke. Their families, who owned small businesses, couldn’t compare to the Lennox family’s influence. A single word from my father, and they were ruined. “Please, ma’am! I know I was wrong. I beg you and Mr. Lennox to have mercy on us!” Chelsea sobbed as she knelt on the rough pavement. When she got no response, she dragged one of her lackeys over. “It was her! She’s the one who made Ivy drink toilet water! I’m making her pay for it!” The best fertilizer in a field is manure, and Chelsea shoved her friend’s face right into the dirt. “It wasn’t me…” the lackey tried to protest, but her mouth filled with filth as Chelsea pressed her down harder, gloating. “Is this enough for you, ma’am?!” Chelsea shouted, her voice growing louder. “Do you think this is enough?!” As my mother, father, and Derek turned to leave, Chelsea, desperate, yanked the girl up again and pinned her to the ground. She climbed on top of her, pressing her foot against the girl’s face. “Look, ma’am! Look at how I’m humiliating her!” “Ma’am, should I strip her down and post the pictures online?” “Ma’am…” Chelsea was a natural-born bully, her tactics endless. My family hadn’t even responded yet, and she was already carrying out her sick plan. Tessa’s soft voice broke the silence. “Mom, maybe we should just let it go.” Seeing my mother’s steely gaze, Tessa swallowed hard and continued, “They’re Ivy’s classmates. Conflicts between students are normal. If they bullied her, Ivy must’ve done something to deserve it. Otherwise, why would they target her out of everyone?” “Hmph.” My father’s voice thundered through the air like a storm. “Margot, do you see? This is the girl you’ve doted on for over ten years—the girl you’ve coddled at the expense of your real daughter!”

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When the fire started, I saw with my own eyes how my mom rushed into the room to wake up my sister, carrying her on her back and running outside. All I got was a single shout to “Run!” She didn’t even glance at me. I looked downstairs at my dad, who stood there holding his computer, frozen. Then, without hesitation, I ran straight into the flames. “Is there anyone still upstairs?” the firefighter shouted to the group of residents who had escaped. My mom, along with the neighbors, responded quickly, “Everyone’s out, everyone’s out…” Everyone really was out. The five-story building had ten families, a total of 28 people. Twenty-seven made it out. The other was a ghost. I watched coldly as my dad, eyes only for my sister, patted my mom on the back. “You take care of her. I’m going to see if the computer still works.” Mom nodded quickly, her focus on soothing my sister, who was just waking up from the smoke, coughing hard. Even then, she called out to me, “Lily, come help us out.” I really did answer, but my mom couldn’t hear me anymore. When I didn’t respond, she finally turned, searching the crowd for me. “Lily? Lily! Where are you?” Her voice got louder and more frantic, moving from worry to anger, then to confusion. She suddenly grabbed Mrs. Roberts, our neighbor, asking, “Have you seen my younger daughter?” When she got a shake of the head, Mom’s expression changed. She’d frowned at me plenty before, but this time, it was different. She grabbed anyone she could find, her voice rising. “Has anyone seen Lily? My daughter? Anyone?” No one could give her the answer she wanted. Her eyes turned red as she ran toward the firetruck, grabbing the firefighter handling the hose. “My daughter is still inside! She’s still in there! Please, save her!” The firefighter looked panicked, shouting back at her, “Why didn’t you say so sooner?!” Two firefighters rushed into the burning building as I watched. Only then did my sister realize I hadn’t made it out. She stumbled over to my mom, asking over and over, “Lily hasn’t come out yet?” I’d never heard her speak so loudly before, and neither had Mom. Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged my trembling sister, and they cried together. By the time I floated back over from the burning building, I tried to tell the firefighters that I was already dead—that there was no point in rescuing me now. But, of course, they couldn’t hear me. Ten minutes ago, I was alive. Twenty minutes ago, I was dreaming. I hadn’t quite gotten used to being a ghost yet. That’s when my dad finally showed up, holding his precious computer, laughing as he ran. “It still works! We got lucky!” Mom wiped her tears and yelled at him, “Lucky?! Your daughter is still up there!” “What?” Dad looked from my crying sister and mom to the still-burning windows, and then he stomped his foot in frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “What good would that do? Could you go in and save her?” It looked like they were about to start arguing again, but the neighbors crowded around, trying to calm them down. Some tried to stop the fight, while others comforted my mom or checked on my sister. For once, the neighborhood had never seemed so united. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. The fire hasn’t been burning long. Those firefighters will bring your daughter down in no time.” The neighbor hadn’t even finished speaking when the fire was finally put out amidst the chaos. Mom saw the fire was gone and quickly handed my sister off to the neighbors. Ignoring everyone’s attempts to stop her, she tried to break through the police tape, but just before she could run inside, the two firefighters came out. I felt an intense pull, and everyone, including me, turned to look at the figure one of them was carrying. But it wasn’t quite right to call it a person anymore—it was a charred corpse. When the firefighter laid my body on the ground, I nearly vomited. The crowd gasped, and some even ran away, covering their mouths. My mom started to tremble all over. She fell to her knees, hunched over like she’d never be able to straighten up again. Her hands shook just above my burned body, barely daring to touch me. There wasn’t a single part of me left unharmed. In the silence, broken only by my sister’s wailing cries, my mom looked up at the firefighter who had brought me out. Her mouth hung open, wide and broken, but no words came out. Only after a long moment did a few scattered sobs escape from deep within her throat. The firefighter’s eyes were red, too, as he stammered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” At those words, my mom seemed to snap back to reality. The tear that had been stuck in her eye finally fell, and she collapsed over my body. From where I floated, all I could see was her shaking shoulders, just like that mother cat I used to see walking her kittens home after school.

My mom refused to let them do an autopsy, and she called a car to take my body straight to Greenwood Funeral Home. Even the funeral home makeup artist, who had seen a lot, was shaken when she saw me. My burns were so severe that there was no point in even attempting makeup. They decided to leave it until the morning, when they’d go out to buy the Funeral Attire for me. My dad was in the security office at the funeral home, smoking. I used to be so proud to tell my friends how my dad didn’t smoke, especially when they talked about how their parents argued over it. It wasn’t until later that I found out he had quit for seventeen years because my sister was a preemie with fragile health. So, when some neighbors and relatives praised my dad for giving up smoking for his daughter, I always felt ashamed—because it had never been for me. But what I didn’t expect was that he’d break his seventeen-year streak for me. He didn’t have any cigarettes of his own. The security guard had given him one after hearing how I’d died in the fire. The old man shook his head in pity, talking about how tragic my death had been, assuming I’d been alone in the house when the fire started. My dad, trying to nod along, ended up choking on the smoke, coughing hard enough that he dropped the cigarette to the ground. He stared at the ember as it slowly died, then collapsed onto the desk and sobbed. My sister was sitting quietly in the corner, folding Paper Memorial Flowers in silence. I sat next to her for a long time, just like we used to sit and watch TV together. For a second, it felt like nothing had changed, like I wasn’t even dead. But the silent tears falling onto her jeans told me we couldn’t go back. I floated over to my mom. She was sitting in front of my coffin, mumbling to herself. “It’s all my fault. You were alone in that fire. Were you scared?… I told you to run, but you stayed behind. How could you not make it out?” Maybe Mom will never know the truth—that I didn’t stay behind because I couldn’t escape. I stayed on purpose. When Mom ran out with my sister on her back, not looking back, I waited, thinking my dad would come for me. I mean, that’s not unreasonable, right? Two parents, two kids. One takes one, the other takes the other. It made sense. But I waited so long and never saw him. When I finally decided to run on my own, I looked out the window and saw my dad, standing still, clutching his computer. A wave of despair hit me like never before. I knew my parents had always loved my sister more than me, but what I didn’t expect was that I wasn’t even as important as a computer. In those few short seconds, I could already imagine how my dad would dismiss me if I ran downstairs and asked him why he hadn’t come for me. “The computer doesn’t have legs, but you do, don’t you?” And if I had asked why my sister got carried out, while I was left to fend for myself, my mom would have given me that same disappointed look. “Your sister isn’t healthy. Can’t you understand that?” In the end, if I’d just stayed silent, quietly standing by their side like I had for the past fifteen years, nothing would have happened. But I couldn’t accept it anymore. I could endure everything for my sister, but I couldn’t live in a world where I wasn’t worth more than a computer. Even if I had to die, I wouldn’t live that way. By the time I realized how terrible that thought was, it was already too late. I had stepped into the fire. I did struggle. I didn’t want to die. But by then, it was too late. I died alone, in agony. In my last moments, I thought of the ACT Exam Results coming out in two days. I remembered how my dad had promised me we’d go out for dinner if I got into my first-choice high school.

None of them—Mom, Dad, or Jessica—slept that night. At dawn, my mom finally wiped away her tears, acting like nothing had happened. She woke up Jessica, who had fallen asleep against the wall, surrounded by folded Paper Memorial Flowers. “It’s cold here. Go upstairs and get some rest.” Jessica opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just stayed quiet and went upstairs. Once the morning light fully came in, Dad walked in with Grandpa and Grandma, who had hurried in from the countryside. Grandma took one look around and asked, “Where’s Jessica?” “She’s upstairs, asleep,” Mom replied. “We should be quiet then.” Jessica’s full name was Jessica Mitchell. My name was Lily Mitchell. But when they talked about their “precious daughter,” they were really only talking about Jessica. When I was in preschool, I used to hear other parents call their kids “baby” or “sweetheart,” and I thought everyone in my class was named “Baby.” I even believed that our preschool classes were divided based on our names. It wasn’t until I was a little older that I realized everyone else had a proper name. I was the only one stuck with just “Baby.” When I asked my mom why I didn’t have a real name, she smiled and said, “Baby is your name.” Back then, I didn’t understand why everyone else could use my name too. I wanted to ask more, to understand, but in the end, I pretended to get it and ran off. By the time I was in elementary school, my name had become my nightmare. The boys in my class started teasing me, calling me “Baby” in mocking voices. Even though I was young, I could tell they were making fun of me. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I tried to bring up changing my name at the dinner table. But my mom just said, “You and your sister together are our ‘precious babies.’ Isn’t that a great meaning?” Before I could say anything, my dad chimed in, laughing, “If you don’t want to be a precious baby, we could call you ‘Little Treasure.’” He thought it was so funny he almost choked on his rice. But I didn’t think it was funny. I didn’t want to be called “Baby” or “Little Treasure.” I wanted to ask why I had to be tied to my sister, why I couldn’t have a name of my own. But I kept quiet. Even years later, when my parents still used “Little Treasure” as a joke after dinner, I laughed along with them. Even though I didn’t find it funny. Even though I knew what it meant to be insulted. I still laughed with them, pretending to enjoy the joke. Looking back, I should have known from the start. My whole life, I was nothing more than an accessory to Jessica. Like buying a six-pack of milk and getting a free yogurt. If the yogurt wasn’t there, no one would care. And if it was, people might wonder if it was just thrown in because it was hard to sell on its own. On the first afternoon after I died, my parents had their first big argument since the fire.

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I took in a man. At first, I thought he was just a poor, unwanted soul with nowhere to go. He wanted to marry me, to offer himself in return for my kindness, but I told him, “I can’t look at a man who doesn’t own a house.” The house not only had to be paid in full, but the deed could only have my name on it. Even if it was a tiny, run-down place, it would still cost a couple hundred grand, at least. I thought he’d back off at that point. But he looked at me and said, “Alright, anything you want. I’ll make sure to put it right in front of you.” To buy me that house, he took on five different jobs. He worked nearly 20 hours a day out of the 24. Every month, he’d hand me his paycheck, and I’d count it—$8,527. He’d flash me that big, happy smile of his, showing off his two little dimples. “Cate, I’ve already found the perfect spot. You love lively places, so you’ll definitely like this one.” “I’ll save up faster, I promise. You’ll have your own home in no time!” But later… I saw him at a private auction, spending millions just to see some woman smile. He gifted her a diamond-embellished lingerie set worth over a million dollars.

Because of the tough economy, I lost my job. I didn’t want to worry him, so I kept it to myself and started applying for jobs in secret. Today, a friend helped me get a gig at a private auction. “One million, going once!” “One million, going twice!” “One million, sold!” “Congratulations to bidder 1306 for purchasing the diamond-embellished lingerie!” “Please wait a moment, our staff will bring the item to your VIP lounge!” This was a private auction, divided into a main hall and separate VIP lounges. I carried the tray with both hands and stepped into the VIP lounge. The moment I saw the man sitting in the center, my mind went completely blank. That morning, when I pretended to head out for work, he was still holding me close, whining that he didn’t want to go to work. He even said I wasn’t allowed to go either; he just wanted us to spend every moment together. He begged me to make him soup after I got home. Yet not even a day had passed, and there he was with another woman in his arms. “Blake, you really outdid yourself this time! Spending a million just to make a lady smile—shouldn’t that at least earn you a kiss?” “Yeah! Kiss her!” The others around them started to cheer. Blake Montgomery’s smile was soft, the kind of smile I’d seen before. He lifted the woman’s chin and kissed her. The way he moved, so practiced and casual, like this was routine. In front of me, he had always been cautious, careful, acting like a man terrified of losing me. Now, he was the complete opposite. I felt a chill wash over me, like the air conditioner in the VIP lounge was broken, making the room feel like a freezer. I couldn’t move. My body was numb, and I didn’t know how to take another step forward. They were living in some blissful paradise, a place I clearly didn’t belong. The group egging him on—I knew them. They were the street gang that had once beat him up over unpaid debts. I’d met Blake on a rainy day. I had just finished feeding some stray cats when I saw him getting beaten by that gang. I was an orphan. I didn’t have anyone to back me up, and I wasn’t about to get myself involved in trouble. So, I hid in a corner and waited it out. Once they left, I grabbed my umbrella and started heading home. Suddenly, I felt a tug at my pant leg. I looked down and saw his eyes, drenched and desperate. He reminded me of a stray puppy I’d once brought home. He had that same helpless, clingy look that made my heart ache. That dog had gotten sick and died, though, and I hadn’t had the heart to adopt another since. But I took Blake in anyway. He was broke and an orphan, like me. Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed of owning my own home. I worked for years, saving every penny, until I had a decent amount saved up. But when Blake needed medical care, most of it went to his hospital bills. I cared for him for half a year until his injuries healed. I made him write me a loan agreement, promising to repay me in monthly installments. He agreed without hesitation, then blushed and asked if I’d marry him. He promised every dollar he earned from then on would be mine to manage. I never planned on being with anyone, so I told him he’d have to buy me a house first if he wanted to marry me. He smiled, looking overjoyed. I was confused, wondering if I should take him to get his head checked. But then he said, “Alright, you didn’t reject me, and that’s all I care about.” “Cate, anything you want, I’ll make sure you have it.” To save up for the house, he worked himself to the bone, taking on five jobs. He barely got five hours of sleep a day. I thought he’d give up soon, but he kept going for two months straight. One night, I got a call from the hospital. When I arrived, the doctor told me Blake was severely sleep-deprived and malnourished. If he kept this up, he’d work himself to death. I sat by his hospital bed until he woke up in the middle of the night. The first thing he asked was what time it was—he had to go deliver milk. I told him to stop. No more delivering milk. He still hadn’t realized he was in a hospital. He looked confused and asked, “But if I stop working, it’ll take longer to buy the house and marry you.” He started calculating how much time it would add if he gave up the milk route. “Cate, why are you crying? You’re scaring me. What happened?” It was only then that I realized my cheeks were wet. I wiped my face and said, “Just promise me you won’t deliver milk anymore, and I’ll stop crying.” He hurried to wipe my tears, panicking, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. As long as you don’t cry, I’ll do anything.” Even then, he was still mumbling about money. “Cate, I know you want a home soon. Don’t worry, I’ll just pick up more clients.” “But you have to promise me one thing—don’t leave me. If someone else offers you a house, you can’t run off with them.” He rambled on, looking terrified that I’d abandon him. My heart softened, and I smiled, “Okay.” There were so many memories like that, moments where he broke down the walls around my heart. But now, those memories felt like a cruel joke. Reality mocked me, revealing that all of this was just a game for some rich kid. They say the best hunters disguise themselves as prey. Now, I truly understood the power of that statement. Blake Montgomery was never the helpless puppy I thought he was. He was a tiger, hiding his claws until he no longer needed to. And I was just the mouse he toyed with, cheering for his every move, completely lost in the performance. I fought the urge to confront him. Who was I to him? Who was he to me? Our worlds were galaxies apart, and any words I said would only make me look like a fool. To him, I was just one of many women. Maybe the beginning was different—after all, he had tailored everything just for me. But the end was always the same. I was nothing more than a temporary fling, someone to be thrown away once he grew tired of me. At this point, I just wanted to leave with some dignity and protect the little self-respect I had left. Luckily, all the staff here wore masks and heavy makeup, with standardized uniforms, so no one would recognize me. The woman in the red dress clung to Blake, breathless from their kiss, while he left marks on her neck before finally letting go. She slithered back into his arms like a boneless snake. “Blake, I want to wear that lingerie tonight. Why don’t you help me see if it fits?” She was giddy with excitement, but Blake’s eyes had already turned cold, though he still agreed to her request. I laughed at myself for ever believing he wanted to spend every moment with me, for believing the way he cared when he ended up in the hospital trying to save for our house. The woman in red smiled brightly, “Blake, why don’t you stay with me tonight? You always leave by 11, and I still have so many ways to spoil you that I haven’t had the chance to try yet.” His eyes narrowed. “You think you can manage my time?” Blake hated being controlled, hated being told what to do. The woman turned pale, apologizing, trying her best to make amends. Blake shook her off, his disdain for her evident. “You know the rules—I decide what I do, and no one gets to question that.”

“Blake, you’re practically turning into that girl’s perfect boyfriend these days.” “Yeah, no matter how late it gets, you always head back to her.” “Blake, don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her—like, seriously thinking about marriage?” Blake shot a glare at the few friends teasing him, pulled out his phone, and started dialing. “Shut up.” Seeing this, the group fell silent, knowing better than to push it further. That’s when my phone started vibrating. The sound, faint as it was, echoed in the stillness of the VIP lounge, catching everyone’s attention. All eyes were on me. My hands trembled, a light sheen of sweat forming on my forehead. I flinched, and the tray tilted. The diamond-embellished lingerie tumbled to the floor. A million dollars! I panicked, dropping to my knees to pick it up. Thankfully, the thick carpet cushioned the fall, and the item wasn’t damaged—though it was definitely covered in dust. The woman in the red dress had only insisted on wearing the lingerie tonight to get Blake to stay with her. Seeing the dirt on it, she slapped me across the face. “You useless idiot! You couldn’t even handle something as simple as this! A million-dollar lingerie set! You’d have to sell yourself a hundred times over just to afford it!” Her fury only grew, and she raised her hand again, ready to strike. The first time, I hadn’t expected it and took the hit. But this time, I wasn’t going to let her get away with it. I grabbed her wrist and looked her dead in the eye, refusing to back down. The woman raised her other hand to strike me once more. “Stop!” Blake’s voice cut through the tension, startling us both. The woman froze, confusion flashing in her eyes as she turned to look at him. I could feel his gaze fixed on me. My body stiffened, afraid to look up and meet his eyes, terrified that he’d recognize me and tear away the last shred of dignity I was clinging to. “Your eyes,” he said, his voice lighter, almost playful. “They remind me of hers—the way you don’t back down. But she doesn’t wear makeup. That’s where you two are different.” I could hear the amusement in his tone. “It’s just a piece of clothing. Wash it and move on.” The woman in red recognized the command in his voice. Though she was reluctant, she couldn’t do anything about it. She shot me a venomous glare before backing off. I discreetly silenced my phone, trying to stay out of sight. The others, however, were quietly alarmed. They knew Blake Montgomery too well—he was ruthless and vindictive. Normally, a server like me would’ve been tossed out and punished for such a mistake. His leniency was unsettling. I watched as he dialed my number repeatedly, his expression growing darker with each unanswered call. Just when I thought he might go home to check on me, he pressed a few keys on his phone, tossed it aside, and took a sip of his wine. “I’m not coming with you to the next stop,” he told his friends. “I’ll hang out for a little longer, then I’m leaving.” The woman in red immediately panicked. “But Blake, you said you’d come to my place tonight!” Blake turned to her, his face set in a cold, hard stare. She was desperate. She knew that as long as Cate was involved, she’d always be cast aside. But thinking about the million-dollar lingerie set Blake had bought for her tonight, and the way he’d appreciated her efforts in bed, she felt a renewed sense of confidence. Pouting, she rubbed her arm against his, her voice dripping with seduction. “Blake, I’ve prepared all your favorite things at my place. She could never understand you like I do.” Blake’s expression shifted into a sneer. “You think you matter? You’re just a whore money can buy. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her.” Her face turned ghostly white at the blunt, humiliating insult. His friends were stunned into silence. One of them finally spoke up, shocked, “Blake… are you serious this time?” Blake said nothing. Just as I thought he wouldn’t respond, a smile curled across his lips, and he laughed. “What are you thinking?” “There isn’t a woman alive who could make me stay.” His careless tone made it hard for me to breathe. “Haha, still the same Blake. Even if you’ve been with a thousand women, you never let one get to you.” “A woman’s just for fun. No matter how pretty or interesting, once you’ve slept with her, she’s all the same.” One of the men grinned, then asked in a low voice, “But Blake, I’ve gotta know—this girl you’ve been with for over a month, what’s she like in bed? She must be something special to last this long…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Blake’s fist collided with his face in a heartbeat. For the first time, I saw the violence Blake was capable of as he pummeled the man to the ground. The others hesitated to intervene at first, but when they realized their friend was barely breathing, one of them, probably the closest to Blake, stepped forward to pull him back. Finally, Blake stopped, straightened up, and cast a threatening glance around the room. “She’s not someone you’re allowed to talk about. If I ever hear any of you mention her again, I’ll make sure you end up worse than him.” At that moment, Blake resembled some dark god of vengeance, radiating an aura of danger that made everyone in the room swear they’d never speak ill of me again. Seeing my chance, I turned to slip away, but Blake’s voice called after me. “What’s your name?” I froze. If I spoke in my normal voice, he’d know who I was immediately. Luckily, I’d taken two months of voice acting lessons before. I wasn’t great, but now was the time to make it work. “Sir, my name’s Liz,” I said, my voice rasping slightly. He frowned, “Why does your voice sound so weird?” I coughed lightly. “I used to scream a lot when I was younger. My voice just turned out like this. Sorry if it bothers you.” He stared at me, then leaned in to study my eyes. “So similar,” he muttered. Suddenly, his hand reached out and touched the spot where the woman in red had slapped me. I almost gasped in shock, barely holding back my natural reaction. “You’re lucky you’ve got eyes like hers. Be more careful next time.” Then, he pulled out a thick wad of cash from his wallet and handed it to me. “Use it to get something for your face.” The cash had to be at least a couple thousand. His wallet—it was one I had made and given to him. But this was the first time I’d ever seen him carry so much money in it. He could drop over a million on lingerie, then casually throw a few thousand at a stranger. Money meant nothing to him. And I—meant even less. I didn’t take the money. He threw it onto my tray. He looked at me one more time, commenting that a face like mine didn’t deserve to be bruised. Then he shook his head and chuckled, “You really look too much like her. For a second, I thought it was her who got hit.” “But this place is somewhere she would never set foot in. Right now, she’s probably at home making me soup.” His lips curled into a tender smile. At that moment, Blake seemed like a sweet, devoted boyfriend. But the reality was, a woman stood beside him, waiting to serve him in bed. Any trace of affection I once had for him instantly vanished.

I had only worked a few hours, but I felt completely drained. Curling up in the corner of the couch, I hugged my knees to my chest, searching for some sense of comfort. I didn’t know how long I stayed like that before I drifted off to sleep, but when I woke up, I realized Blake had carried me to bed. The moment I opened my eyes, he kissed me. The images from earlier that night—him with another woman—flashed through my mind, and I felt sick. As I tried to push him away, he held me tighter, kissing me more insistently. I gave up struggling, staring blankly at the ceiling. Kisses, embraces—these had once been moments I cherished, when I believed they represented our connection, our trust, our bond. But now, they were hollow gestures. My stomach churned violently. I shoved him off and rolled to the edge of the bed, dry heaving. “Cate, what’s wrong?” Blake asked, his voice panicked. “Are you sick?” I didn’t respond, lying there motionless. He grew more frantic. “Cate, do we need to go to the hospital?” Blake pulled me upright and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead to check for a fever. I stared at him, feeling utterly exhausted by the charade he was playing in front of me. “Cate, say something. Did someone hurt you? Tell me who, and I’ll make them pay!” His concern seemed genuine, and it startled him when I didn’t react. He hugged me so tightly I could feel my bones ache. “I’m fine,” I finally muttered. Relief washed over his face. “You scared me. You’ve been acting strange all day. How about some good news to cheer you up?” Blake’s eyes lit up as if he were about to reveal something exciting. “I found another job today—factory work. I’ll be working four hours a night after my regular shift.” He smiled proudly, like he was doing this huge thing for us, already counting how much sooner we’d have enough money for the house. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small hair clip. “Surprise!” he said, eager for my reaction. “Tonight’s pay was just enough to get this. I remember you wanted it when we were out last week. Other girls have nice things, and so should you.” My eyes burned with unshed tears. If only all of this were real. But it wasn’t. I forced a smile and took the hair clip from him. It was something I had admired when we went shopping, but I’d moved on, thinking it was too expensive. I had no idea how many women he had practiced this act on. Every day after work, Blake brought me things I liked—my favorite desserts, cute accessories, things I’d casually mentioned. He never missed a detail. Looking into his expectant eyes, I coldly pointed out, “You’ve got lipstick on your collar.” His pupils shrank, and instinctively, his hand reached for his shirt. He was about to touch the collar but changed direction at the last second, scratching his head in confusion. “Cate, I work with all guys. Where would a lipstick stain come from?” He seemed genuinely puzzled, oblivious to what I was implying. Of course, he had changed into the cheap T-shirt I had bought for him. Someone like Blake wouldn’t make such a sloppy mistake. Watching him try to act innocent, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Blake Montgomery, do you love me?” Without hesitation, he grabbed my shoulders. “I love you, Cate! I swear it—if I’m lying, may I never marry, never have children!” His hand shot up in a mock vow, his expression sincere. I broke down in tears. If I hadn’t seen everything with my own eyes tonight, I would’ve believed him. No one could have convinced me otherwise. Right then, I wanted to scream, cry, demand to know how much of his love was real and how much of it was a lie. If he loved me enough to swear never to marry or have kids, how could he still kiss and sleep with other women? But what would be the point? Once the truth was out, I’d be the one left humiliated, realizing I had been played all along. For him, this had been a game—like a cat toying with a mouse, just waiting for the moment I called him out so he could laugh at me before ending it. There were plenty of women eager to take my place. What was I to him? I opened my mouth, my throat dry and rough as sandpaper, struggling to form the words. “We’re breaking up.”

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I spent ten years trying to win over Tristan Wilder. The only way I could avoid being erased by the system was to marry him before he turned twenty-eight. But on our wedding day, the female officiant made a mistake. Instead of asking, “Do you take her to be your wife?” she asked, “Do you take me to be your wife?” The audience burst into laughter, but Tristan’s eyes turned red. Without a second thought, he took the officiant by the hand and left the wedding, saying, “I do.” That’s when I realized: Tristan had always been in love with someone else—his first love. And now, she’s back. Everything is over. 0″Do you take me to be your wife?” “I do.” When Tristan said those words, his eyes were red, and the entire room went dead silent. But he ignored everyone. He turned, took the hand of the woman in the white dress, who looked eerily like me, and walked out of the wedding. It was supposed to be my wedding. Yet, I stood there like a spectator, feeling the despair well up in my eyes. It’s all over. The system’s voice, tinged with regret, echoed in my head. “That’s Tristan’s first love. Ten years ago, she left to study abroad.” “And now she’s back.” “Your mission… it’s failed.” The wedding venue erupted into chaos: Guests whispering, the officiant trying to restore order, my friends furiously cursing under their breath… But to me, everything was eerily quiet. Yes. It was all over. My mission had failed, and I was going to die. I had spent the last ten years trying to win over Tristan Wilder. I was there for him when he had nothing. I watched him climb his way up to become the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country. During the hard times, I stayed up late making him soup, nursed him back home after drunken business meetings, and shared meals of mac and cheese with him. I thought my companionship was the greatest act of love. I thought I had made my way into Tristan’s heart. But now, it all feels like a joke. A first love is always a first love. She didn’t need to do anything. All she had to do was stand there, and Tristan would follow her. I’m sorry, host, the system said, with a faint trace of sadness. “You only have three days left to stay in this world…” I took a deep breath, my chest tightening as though two heavy stones were crushing it. My friend held my hand and gently rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. “Lana, don’t worry about it. That jerk isn’t worth it…” I shook my head and sent the guests home. I declined the sympathy from family and friends, and left the wedding alone. Dressed in my pristine white wedding gown, I waved down a cab on the street. The driver looked at me in shock, but I held back my tears. “Take me to Gull Cove.” Gull Cove was where I first met Tristan, where we started his business together. There was an old, run-down apartment there—our first home and where all my fond memories were stored. I only had three days left. I wanted to die there. 0

The driver was silent for a long time, probably confused by the sight of a bride leaving a chapel alone. When we finally arrived at Gull Cove, I pulled out my phone to pay, but the driver waved it away. “No need. Miss, take it easy. As long as you’re still alive, there’s no obstacle you can’t overcome…” I didn’t cry when Tristan left with his first love. I didn’t cry under the weight of all the judgmental stares at the wedding. But the driver’s unexpected, kind words shattered my defenses. Once he left, I collapsed on the ground and cried, my heart aching with every sob. Yes, there’s no obstacle I can’t overcome. But I’m about to die. I walked along the muddy path at Gull Cove for a long time until I finally reached the familiar, run-down apartment building. Room 20

That’s where Tristan and I spent our hardest three years. Dragging my mud-stained wedding dress, I silently pulled out the key and twisted it in the rusty lock. It creaked, loudly, as the door finally opened. The door next to me swung open too. Mrs. Hattie Greene, the woman with her hair in rollers, peeked her head out, looking me up and down for a while. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she asked, “Lana?” I forced a smile and nodded. Mrs. Greene rushed out, her apron still on, grabbing my hand with warmth. “Do you remember me?” “I’m Mrs. Greene! I lived next door when you two stayed here…” Of course, I remembered. Back then, Tristan and I would come home late from work. On nights we were too tired to cook, Mrs. Greene would pull us into her house to eat dinner with her. She was warm and kind, reminiscing about old times. “So, where’s that young man? You two must be married by now, right?” As she continued talking, her gaze finally landed on my pale face, tear-filled eyes, and the mud-streaked wedding gown. She stood there, stunned for a long moment, before gently patting my back. “It’s okay, dear. There are plenty of good men out there.” “Don’t worry, I’ll find someone better for you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced back the tears that threatened to fall. After saying goodbye to Mrs. Greene, I stepped into the tiny apartment. This place, full of memories Tristan and I shared… The room was small. Just a double bed, a dust-covered table, and a worn-out panda plushie. This was everything Tristan had given me. I sat on the bed, running my fingers over the stuffed panda, and tears poured out. “Don’t cry, Lana. Tristan was wrong.” “Don’t cry, Lana. Tristan was wrong.” The broken, mechanical voice repeated, blinking its dim light. It was from my first birthday with Tristan. I had cooked noodles at home, waiting excitedly for him to come back. But he never showed up that night. When he finally returned the next afternoon, his eyes were red, and he looked completely worn out. Maybe out of guilt, he gave me the panda plushie. I was so happy back then. Tristan’s panda… I loved it so much. But later, I found out his first love’s name was Rachel Whitmore. The panda said “Lana,” but it wasn’t for me. It was for Rachel. That night wasn’t just my birthday. It was also Rachel’s birthday. He had spent the whole night running around, trying to ship the panda overseas to her. But because the plushie had a lithium battery inside, he couldn’t send it by air. So Tristan brought it back and threw it to me like trash. The panda was pitiful, discarded like garbage. And my love? Just as worthless. 03. That night, I lay on the bed where Tristan and I had once slept together, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Seven years had passed, and the faint scent of lemon still lingered on the sheets—Tristan’s scent. I used to love that smell. But now, it only made me feel sick. Our text conversation was still open from the night before. “Babe, babe, we’re getting married tomorrow. I’m so nervous! What if I can’t sleep?” “Don’t worry, after the wedding, you’ll control the money, and I’ll do all the housework…” How laughable. Last night, Tristan was still anxious about our wedding. And today, he chose to leave me, walking out hand-in-hand with someone else. He didn’t even look back at me when he left. Of course, he never really saw me at all. I was just a stand-in for Rachel. Now that she’s back, he doesn’t need me anymore. Tristan was probably somewhere right now, happily walking in the moonlight with his first love. Pathetically, I stared at my phone. Through blurred tears, I saw a message pop up: “Lana Brooks! Where are you? So, we didn’t get married, big deal!” “Are you really going to disappear and throw a fit over this?” “Don’t you get it? I’ve never loved you!” “I transferred $300,000 to your account.” “Take the money and leave. If you want to die, then go ahead!” The pain in my heart stabbed like a knife. Tristan’s cold words were just as harsh as the day we first met. He couldn’t even muster an apology. $300,000? I had spent ten years helping him build his business, standing by his side as he went from a broke young man to a successful entrepreneur. What we earned together was far more than that. But… When you truly love someone, do you really care about money? Then go ahead and die… Those words clouded my mind like a dark storm. But Tristan, I’m really going to die soon. Tears welled up again, but I swallowed them down. I hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say. But in the end, I had nothing left. With a final breath, I clicked the “delete contact” button. Goodbye, Tristan. The Tristan I’ve loved for the last ten years. 0

The night had grown late. A cold wind blew in through the poorly sealed window, chilling me to the bone. Ten years ago, when Tristan and I lived here, the window was always like this—never fully closed. Every night, the room would grow cold, almost unbearably so. Back then, Tristan would hold me close, his body pressed against mine, sharing his warmth with me. Those winters were harsh, but with Tristan by my side, they always felt like spring—bright, warm, and full of promise. Now, lying alone in this bed, all I feel is the biting cold. A dull, relentless ache spread through my chest. I lay there, staring blankly into the darkness. Maybe I’ll just die here like this. By the time my body turns cold and rigid, Tristan will be in bed with his first love, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, just like he used to do with me. The phone on the nightstand buzzed suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. I picked it up, and a friend request appeared on the screen. It wasn’t from Tristan. The request was from a person with a name that made my heart sink: Rachel Whitmore. Rachel Whitmore… Tristan’s first love, the “Lana” that the panda plush had referred to all along. The woman who had truly won Tristan’s heart. I accepted the request, my curiosity getting the best of me, and immediately went to look through her posts. I couldn’t help but wonder. Why? Why did this woman, who resembled me in so many ways, deserve Tristan’s entire heart without lifting a finger? Why had I given everything, only to end up with nothing? Why did I have to pay with my life? What made her so much better than me? Her most recent post was a nine-picture collage. In every photo, Tristan was smiling, looking at Rachel with a tenderness that I’d never seen before. His grip on her hand was tight, as if he feared losing her again. And to top it off, Tristan was wearing the same suit he had worn to our wedding. So, the moment he left me at the altar, he rushed to her, embracing his first love and taking these pictures. They looked so happy. As if I had never existed at all. The caption that accompanied the photos was like a knife dipped in poison, stabbing deep into my heart. “After ten years, you’re still you, and I’m still me. (Oh, by the way, we’re getting married in three days~)” Three days? I let out a bitter laugh. Three days was when my mission would fail, and I’d be erased by the system. It was also when Tristan would marry Rachel Whitmore. The system’s voice suddenly echoed in my head. “Disgusting…” Even the system sounded angry. I shook my head. The system continued, its tone softening. “Lana Brooks, I can see it. You’ve done everything you could over these ten years.” “I’ll give you a choice—choose how you want to die…” Choose how I want to die? I sighed. Since I was going to die anyway, it didn’t matter how it happened. The phone buzzed again. It was a message from Rachel Whitmore. She sent me an address. “We’re getting married in three days. I hope you’ll come.” Staring at those words, an idea started to form in my mind.

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The next time I saw Ryan Brooks, I was working at Club Renaissance, the most popular nightclub in the city. Dressed in a revealing bunny costume, tray in hand, I let the greedy eyes of the men linger on my legs as I passed by. A drunk customer bumped into me, knocking the tray from my hand, and the champagne crashed to the floor. The man was overweight, and with one slap, he struck me across the face. “You stupid girl! Do you even know how much these shoes cost?” My face stung, and my lips swelled almost immediately. I forced my aching mouth to move as I knelt down to wipe his shoes with my palm. The man seemed pleased, crouching down to grab my chin. “Not bad. How about coming with me tonight?” I smiled slightly, shaking my head. The alcohol made him bolder. Furious at my refusal, he kicked me hard in the stomach. He raised the bottle, aiming to strike me, but a tall figure stopped him. I looked up, and even after three years, I recognized him instantly—Ryan Brooks, the man I had dreamed of day and night. I was taken to a long black Lincoln limousine. Smooth piano music played, and I curled up quietly in the corner. Ryan poured himself a glass of whiskey and casually asked, “With ice?” I hesitated, nervous under his gaze. Seeing he wasn’t joking, I nodded. I sipped my champagne slowly from the crystal glass. Three years had passed, and Ryan had changed so much. The youthful boy I once knew had transformed into a man who carried himself like a king—powerful, regal, untouchable. His sculpted face, sharp features, and thin lips paired with his dark, intense eyes. Even when he lowered his gaze, you could see his long, thick eyelashes. He undid the buttons of his tailored suit, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at me with a calm expression. “Why did you end up working as a hostess?” My face flushed, and I felt embarrassed as I tried to explain. “I’m not a hostess, I’m just a club girl…” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with a mocking smile. “Is there a difference?” Of course… there wasn’t. Even though I was only making money carrying trays, in everyone else’s eyes, I was just another trashy hostess. “For your bedridden grandmother? Or was it for that little bit of tuition you needed?” Ryan’s tone was light, dripping with mockery, making me squirm in my seat. “Nina Morgan, if you agree to be my mistress, I’ll give you everything you want.” His voice was soft, but the words hit me like a bomb. I looked up at him. “Shouldn’t I be your girlfriend?” He finished his whiskey, tilting his head to look at me. “Girlfriend? Do you think you deserve that?” And just like that, I became Ryan Brooks’ mistress. He had good habits, never seeing other women, always keeping himself clean. That’s probably why I managed to stay in this role for ten long years. From the intensity of our nights together, I knew I was the only mistress he had. It sounded ridiculous, but it gave me some peace. The Morgans and the Brooks families were close since I was born, and Ryan and I were childhood sweethearts. I didn’t have any siblings, so I clung to him. We were in love with each other, even though he was always cold and distant. Still, he spoiled me endlessly. In the spring, we’d fly kites. In the summer, we’d watch the flowers bloom by the lake. In autumn, we’d walk under the tall sycamore trees, and in winter, we’d roast marshmallows at the cottage. When my parents fought, he comforted me. When I forgot my holiday homework, he stayed up all night helping me finish it. We promised to attend the same school. He would propose to me, become my lifelong partner, and make me the happiest woman in the world. But everything stopped that day. Ryan and I had gone back to my house after school, just like we always did, when we got the call from the police. My mom and Ryan’s dad had left suicide notes before driving off a cliff into the sea.

By the time we got to the scene, a crane was pulling the car out of the water. My mom and Ryan’s dad were lying on the beach, their bodies bloated from the water and starting to smell in the summer heat. I don’t remember how much I cried that day. All I know is that on the way to identify the bodies, Ryan’s mom was in a car accident. In just one day, he lost both his parents. He grabbed me by the neck, his face streaked with tears, but he smiled bitterly. “Nina, I don’t have a home anymore. What should I do?” I didn’t know how to comfort him, so I just hugged him and cried. Before he left, he looked at me with empty eyes. “Nina, I hate you.” After that, I never saw Ryan Brooks again. I heard that after his parents’ deaths, his uncle took over the family fortune. I tried looking for him many times, but he refused to meet me. Before long, I heard he had gone abroad to study, with the help of family friends his parents had before they died. I didn’t have it easy, either. My mom had barely died when my dad brought his mistress into the house. That’s when I found out that not only had my dad been seeing someone behind my mom’s back, but that he also had a daughter about my age. Now I had to call my dad’s mistress “Mom” and her daughter my “sister.” Speaking of that “sister,” I owe my job at the nightclub to her. Since Chloe Morgan arrived, my life had spiraled downward. I had no allowance, and my dad kicked me out to live in an old shed in the outskirts of town with my sick grandmother. I had to fend for myself, or I would’ve starved to death. One day, I saw a black Bentley pull up outside. Ryan Brooks was back. I took off my bathrobe, revealing the champagne-colored slip underneath. Ryan was the one keeping me alive. If it weren’t for his help, my grandmother wouldn’t have been in the hospital. He was unpredictable. I always had to be on guard around him. If I made the slightest mistake, I wouldn’t get any sleep that night. When I got downstairs, the butler was already holding the door for him. I rushed to greet him with slippers and a basin of warm water for his feet. Ryan leaned back on the couch, watching me intently. His gaze made my skin crawl, and I hesitantly asked, “You’re home early today. Tired? Should I make the bed for you?” He didn’t say anything, just handed me a red velvet box. “I saw this in the store window. It’s beautiful. I thought you’d like it.” I stared at the box, swallowing hard. “Is it a bracelet?” He shook his head, his eyes darkening with something more menacing. Fear ran cold through me, draining the color from my face. “Then it must be a necklace. I love necklaces. Thank you.” I reached for it, but he suddenly opened the box and wrapped the necklace tightly around my throat. I hadn’t expected it, and the chain nearly cut off my air supply. I struggled desperately to breathe. His breath was hot against my ear, and just when I thought I would die, he released his grip and fastened the necklace around my neck. “Pure ruby red. If I had squeezed a little harder, the blood from your veins would’ve been the same color, don’t you think?” I clutched the cold gemstone at my chest, gasping for air. It had been ten years, and he had never stopped finding ways to torture me—letting me experience death up close. And every time, it was always suffocation. I knew deep down, he wanted me to relive the shame and horror of my mother and his father’s deaths, to never forget the humiliation of our past. When the night was finally over, I went upstairs to take a shower. Ryan was a clean freak, so I had to scrub myself thoroughly, inside and out. When I got out of the bathroom, he was gone. After searching the house, I found the light on in the study. Good. He had work to do. That meant I could finally get some sleep. I turned around, only to bump into his broad chest. The familiar smell of cigarettes washed over me, and I almost fell to my knees in fear. Ryan stood there holding a cup of coffee, glaring down at me. He hung up the phone he was holding, but I still heard the sweet, sugary voice of the woman on the other end.

“What are you doing?” My shoulders trembled, and I lowered my head. “I’m going to sleep,” I murmured. Ryan Brooks gave a soft smile and pulled me into the bedroom. Tonight, he was unusually gentle. I let myself get lost in the moment, pretending, for once, that we were a real couple, entangled in passion through the night. When we were done, I got up and began dressing. It was his rule—I wasn’t allowed to stay the night in his room. He said it was because he found it “dirty.” He leaned on his hand, watching me with an amused expression. Casually, he tossed a card toward me. I glanced at it, confused. “I already have a limitless card—you gave it to me, remember?” Ryan smiled, the kind of smile that made him look like a cunning fox. “Tomorrow’s your mother’s death anniversary. Why don’t you buy some ‘paper money’ for her?” His next words cut deep. “Better take a little extra to keep her mouth shut down there. Otherwise, the other lost souls might mock her, calling her a cheap whore who seduced a married man.” I was furious. Ryan always knew exactly where to strike, never missing a chance to twist the knife. He hated when anyone brought up the past, and so did I. “Ryan, can’t you have just a bit of decency?” I spat out. He didn’t care about my anger. “Decency? Does a woman who broke up someone’s family deserve decency?” Tears welled up in my eyes, and I glared at him, wishing my gaze could burn a hole right through him. He got up, grabbing my neck. His muscles flexed, and for a moment, it felt like he could snap my neck with just a little more pressure. “Are you going to cry now? Poor little thing. A whore raised by a whore. You’ve already sold yourself; why not go all the way? What’s the point of pretending to have morals?” “If you make your benefactor mad and lose your chance to make money, your mom might curse you for being bad at your job.” Blinded by rage, I slapped him across the face. “This isn’t my fault, Ryan! Why are you treating me like this?” He tilted his head, cold light flashing in his eyes. The oppressive silence suffocated me. Just as I was about to run, he grabbed my waist and threw me onto the bed. That night, I endured unspeakable torment. My cries echoed through the bedroom until the early morning. By the time the light crept through the windows, Ryan had already left. I dragged my exhausted body downstairs, where the maids were preparing breakfast. Seeing my disheveled appearance, they all kept their distance, avoiding eye contact. The events of last night must’ve been heard by everyone. “Where’s Ryan?” My voice was hoarse as I asked. “Miss Riley has returned from abroad. Mr. Brooks went to pick her up,” one of the maids said, hastily setting down the breakfast and practically fleeing the room. I sat there, stirring the bowl of porridge absentmindedly. Riley Carter, heiress of the Carter Group, was the one who funded Ryan’s education abroad after his parents’ death. I’d only met Riley once when I was very young. It was at Ryan’s birthday party, and I still remember the proud way he introduced her, saying that I would be his future wife. I didn’t have much to do with Riley. Frankly, I didn’t care to know more about her. The weather was beautiful today, and I felt the need to get out. The driver dropped me off at the street corner, where I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and took a taxi to the cemetery. The cemetery was old and overgrown with weeds, looking like it hadn’t been tended in years. I placed the flowers on my mother’s grave and started pulling out the surrounding weeds. My mother lay peacefully beneath the earth, while her picture on the tombstone had already faded with time. But even in the photograph, her gentle eyes smiled softly. I never understood what drew my mother to Ryan’s father or what kind of love story they had. I only knew that their tragic affair had dragged Ryan and me into hell. I leaned against the tombstone, gazing at the sky. The blue was so pure, dotted with fluffy white clouds, and for a moment, I felt lighter, as if I could breathe again. But the sudden ringing of my phone interrupted my thoughts. I fumbled for my phone, seeing the familiar number. My heart clenched. “Hello?” I answered, clutching the phone tightly, but there was silence on the other end. Swallowing hard, I spoke again, “What made you call? Don’t you have a meeting today?” Still no response. I knew this was Ryan sulking. I didn’t dare say more, waiting quietly. After a moment, I heard him take a sip of something, his tone growing lazy. “You’re out?” “Yes, just shopping,” I lied, my hands and feet tingling with fear. I had lied to him many times before, but I could never tell if he believed me or if he was playing along. All I knew was that if he ever found out, I’d be in serious trouble. Then came a low chuckle from the other end of the line. “Nina, you’re cold-blooded. Shopping on your mother’s death anniversary? What a devoted daughter you are.” I bit my lip, letting him ridicule me. I knew that the only reason he had called was to throw salt in the wound, just because of today’s significance. It had been like this for ten years. When he was done mocking me, he asked, “Did you buy anything? Something for me, perhaps?” Cold sweat trickled down my back. “I haven’t found anything yet. What would you like?” He laughed again. “Even though it’s your mom’s death anniversary, you wouldn’t want your benefactor to be tainted by bad luck, would you? Dead people aren’t worth as much as the living.” I swallowed my tears, pretending to be indifferent. “I understand.” “Come home later. I’ll pick you up tonight.” And with that, he hung up. That house. It was the last place I wanted to go, especially on a day like today. Going back to the Morgan Family Estate only meant more disdain, but I couldn’t disobey Ryan’s orders.

I left the cemetery and headed to the nearest mall. I casually picked out a designer watch, making sure to remind the sales associate that I wanted the latest model. Ryan had given me a black card with no spending limit. I could swipe it as much as I wanted. I had thought about buying a house and running away with my grandmother, but Ryan would be notified of every transaction. Plus, all the medical expenses for my grandmother were handled by his assistant. I couldn’t make a move without risking everything. If he ever found out I planned to escape, I’d be doomed. The watch was expensive, but I paid for it with my own card. I also picked up some groceries and rushed over to the estate. It was just about dinnertime at the house. The housekeeper looked awkward when she saw me, then handed me a pair of disposable slippers. I didn’t care much about the cold reception and headed into the living room with the gifts I’d brought. Diane Morgan, my stepmother, was sitting on the couch, painting her nails and watching TV. She muttered, “That old housekeeper must be losing her mind, letting any stray cat or dog in here. Doesn’t she worry about catching some disease?” Then she noticed me and flashed a fake smile, holding her coffee cup up as if to toast me. “Well, Nina’s here. Have a seat.” I nodded and deliberately placed the gifts in the most visible corner, making it clear I wasn’t here to freeload. She glanced at the gifts, her expression full of disdain. “Next time, don’t bother wasting money like that. Your dad and I don’t eat knock-offs.” Ignoring her insults, I moved to sit down, but she suddenly shrieked, her voice shrill and mocking. “Where’s the housekeeper? Get over here! The couch is contaminated by someone who’s been on the streets!” I froze mid-squat as the housekeeper rushed over to cover the couch with several layers of plastic wrap beneath me. I decided not to sit after all, standing there instead, watching them. Just then, Chloe Morgan came downstairs, and her face immediately soured when she saw me. “Oh, no wonder it stinks in here. The plague has arrived,” Chloe sneered as she pushed past me and cuddled up next to Diane. “Mom, she smells awful. You should kick her out!” Diane caressed Chloe’s flawless skin like she was a precious gem, her expression gentle and loving, but her words were laced with venom. “What can I do, sweetie? The girl’s got legs of her own. I can’t stop her from coming in here to beg for our money.” Chloe pouted, picking a grape from the fruit bowl. That’s when I noticed the diamond bracelet on her wrist—my mother’s bracelet. It wasn’t just the bracelet. My mother had owned a lot of jewelry, all of it passed down from my grandmother as part of her dowry. But after my mother’s death, the estate had been absorbed into my dad’s possessions. Furious, I lunged forward, grabbing Chloe’s wrist to rip the bracelet off. She slapped me across the face. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to have you arrested for robbery?” I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I yanked her up from the couch and slapped her across the face—twice. The loud smacks echoed through the room. Chloe had always been pampered, like a delicate flower kept safely in a greenhouse. Her skin wasn’t used to the rough treatment I endured every day. Her lips quickly swelled from the blows. “This is my mother’s dowry. What gives you the right to take it?” Chloe had clearly never expected me to actually hit her. She collapsed on the floor, screaming and crying. I took the opportunity to yank the bracelet off her wrist. Seeing her precious daughter in distress, Diane rolled up her sleeves and rushed at me, grabbing a handful of my hair. My mother had been a lady of grace and refinement, but Diane and Chloe were different. Despite living in luxury for years, their true nature showed when provoked. Diane clawed at my hair, screaming every vulgar insult she could muster, dragging my family’s name through the dirt. The words were filthy, words I wouldn’t repeat. But I wasn’t about to let her walk all over me. If acting crazy meant survival, I could play that game, too. I bit down hard on her wrist, making her howl in pain. Chloe jumped in to help her mother, but I kicked her away with a hard shove. Diane had wormed her way into my parents’ marriage, and it didn’t take long after my mom’s death for her to move in like she owned the place. She even kicked my grandmother and me out of the family home. I had to juggle school and work just to support us, and every so often, Diane and Chloe would show up to harass us. I’ll never forget the night it was pouring rain. My grandmother had a heart attack, and Diane threw us out of the storage shed where we lived. I knelt outside in the rain, begging for mercy, but Chloe had someone tear the roof off the shed. Everything I owned—my furniture, even my college acceptance letter—was soaked and ruined. Chloe caught a cold after that, and my dad came to the hospital just to beat me, then cut off my grandmother’s access to life-saving medication. Suddenly, I understood Ryan’s hatred toward me. After all, when his family’s fortune was taken from him, he was left at the mercy of others. He must’ve suffered the way I did. I could hate my dad, Diane, and Chloe, but who could Ryan hate, if not me? As Diane continued to wail, she suddenly collapsed, clutching her chest, gasping for breath. She looked pitiful, tears streaming down her face. I hadn’t even processed what was happening when I felt a strong hand grab the back of my head. In one swift motion, I was hurled across the room. I crashed into the wine cabinet, sending crystal glasses tumbling down. One of the shards sliced a deep gash across my hand, blood dripping onto the floor. “Calm down, Diane. She’s still a child,” I heard a familiar voice say. It was my father, Richard Morgan, the man who had abandoned me. “Dad, it’s my fault! I made her mad!” Chloe cried, rushing into his arms, tears and snot covering her face. “I just wanted to give my bracelet to her, but I guess her taste is too high for cheap things like this.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the bracelet toward my father, fury burning in my chest. “This was my mother’s dowry. What right does anyone have to take it from me?” Richard Morgan looked down at me with cold indifference. “When your mother married into the Morgan family, her things became the family’s property.” “Considering what she did, do you really think you have a claim to it? You ungrateful little brat. Do I need to remind you of your place?” Tears threatened to spill, but I held them back. “You have another child now. So who’s really at fault—my mother or you?” As expected, another slap came down on my face, so hard it made my teeth rattle. I staggered back, barely managing to stay upright, when I felt a pair of strong hands steadying me. I turned, and there stood Ryan, his face impassive as ever. He addressed my father with a calm, detached voice. “Apologies, Mr. Morgan. I’m here to take Nina home.” Ryan let go of me, and the moment he appeared, the tension in the room thickened. Mr. Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and Chloe stopped crying, her face lighting up. She hurried toward Ryan, throwing herself into his arms. “Ryan, thank God you’re here! My sister’s gone crazy! She really scared me.” I stood there, frozen. I had no idea what to say, what kind of expression to wear. It felt like my world had tilted, leaving me standing on unsteady ground.

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I woke up in the middle of the night, parched. As I stumbled to the kitchen for water, I heard muffled sounds coming from the guest room. Thinking it was our nanny Rachel feeling unwell, I was about to knock when I heard my husband Jack’s voice mingling with Rachel’s sultry moans. As an adult, I knew exactly what was happening behind that door. The realization sent chills down my spine. My mind went blank. I couldn’t tell if I was more angry or shocked. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor, too weak to even stand. Rachel was the nanny my mother-in-law had brought in. I had just given birth to our son and was resting. Initially, I wanted to hire a nutritionist, but when my mother-in-law saw the cost, she insisted on finding a reliable nanny herself. I had wanted to refuse, but seeing her enthusiastic face, I swallowed my objections. The day after I was discharged from the hospital, my mother-in-law brought Rachel. When she first entered our home, Rachel wore dark linen pants and a faded short-sleeved shirt. Her complexion was sallow, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. When she saw me, she gave an awkward smile, nervously smoothing her pants. She hid behind my mother-in-law, her eyes darting around curiously. She was so young. Could someone like her really be a nanny? I felt doubtful. I pulled my mother-in-law aside and whispered, “Isn’t this nanny too young?” My mother-in-law laughed and patted my hand. “Emma, dear, don’t let Rachel’s youth fool you. She’s excellent with children.” She glanced at Rachel, who immediately nodded and approached me. “Ma’am, I come from a big family. I have two younger brothers and a sister, and I raised them all,” Rachel said with a nervous laugh, puffing out her chest. “I’m strong and capable. You can trust me with your child.” I looked at her face, searching for any sign of deceit, but found only sincerity. I hesitated, but my mother-in-law made the decision for me. “It’s settled, Emma. Rachel will stay for now. If you’re not satisfied, we can always let her go. Okay?” Hearing this, I couldn’t bring myself to send her away. And so, Rachel stayed. I have to admit, Rachel did well in her first week. She took care of all the household chores, big and small, with impressive efficiency. At first, I wasn’t satisfied with her cooking, finding it too oily and greasy. But when she noticed I wasn’t eating much, she quickly learned to make a few vegetarian dishes. Even with the baby, she was extremely careful and attentive. Whenever I saw her cradling my baby, soothing him, I felt quite pleased. I even suggested to Jack that we should give Rachel a raise. Jack just smiled and said it wasn’t necessary yet. Little did I know that my kindness would be repaid with Rachel’s ambition. I was truly blind, nurturing a wolf by my side. In the guest room, Rachel’s cries grew louder. Startled, I pushed myself up from the floor. Leaning against the guest room door, I heard Jack let out a final satisfied groan. The two of them panted heavily inside. Through the crack in the door, I saw Jack holding Rachel in his arms, both of them naked on the bed. Rachel’s fingers were tracing circles on Jack’s chest. “Honey, when are you going to divorce Emma? I can’t wait much longer,” Rachel whined. Jack grasped Rachel’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss before replying, “Baby, don’t rush. Our good times are just beginning. Once I’ve swindled all that yellow-faced bitch’s money, I’ll marry you. How’s that sound?” I froze, my scalp tingling with shock. Rachel continued to pester him, seemingly impatient. It turned out that Rachel and Jack had been engaged back in their hometown. Everyone in the village knew about their relationship. Only I had been foolishly kept in the dark. I remembered the first time I went back to Jack’s hometown to meet his parents. The entire village had gathered at the entrance to welcome us. When they saw me, their faces twisted into strange smiles that made my skin crawl. I clutched Jack’s hand nervously and asked, “Why is everyone looking at me like that?” I recall Jack casually replying, “They’re just jealous of me for finding a city girl as a wife.” He walked past the villagers, chest puffed out proudly. I overheard people whispering behind me, “That bastard Jack really pulled it off, huh? He actually managed to snag a city girl.” “Hah, it’s all thanks to that pretty face of his. What else does he have going for him?” “What about his girl back home?” I was walking too quickly then and only caught snippets of their conversation. I didn’t understand what they were talking about. Later, Jack and I got married. Although my parents weren’t thrilled about Jack, they agreed to the marriage for my sake. After the wedding, my parents bought us a spacious apartment and provided capital for us to start a business. With my help, we opened a small company. We caught a lucky break, and over the next few years, the company grew increasingly successful. Jack became a self-made millionaire. I never imagined that my wholehearted devotion would be repaid with his betrayal. I trembled with rage, wanting nothing more than to burst into the room and tear those two apart. However, reason prevailed, and I quickly calmed myself. Now was not the time for confrontation. Rachel spoke again, “Honey, you’re not having second thoughts about divorcing her because she gave you a son, are you?” My heart skipped a beat. My son was my bottom line. Jack chuckled, the sound jarring in the quiet space. “That’s my son, isn’t he your son too?” Rachel’s voice piped up, “That’s right. The boy is still young. When the time comes, I’ll raise him as my own.” They both laughed. I was stunned. Hah, these two had it all planned out. They not only wanted my assets but my son as well. Just wait and see. In the end, I’ll make sure they end up with nothing. I heard Rachel start to whine to Jack again, “Honey, I want you again.” “You little minx, are you trying to drain your man dry?” Jack laughed. In no time, their lewd noises started up again, even louder than before, completely disregarding my existence. I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, but I felt no pain. After a while, I stumbled back to my bedroom. Lying on the big bed, I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling, tears flowing uncontrollably. I thought back to when Jack and I first started our business. Back then, it was just the two of us. I handled everything, both at home and at work. At the company, I was responsible for all administrative tasks, financial reports, and client relations. At home, I cleaned, did laundry, and cooked. I was spinning like a top every day. With my help, the company finally got on track after three years. Jack had officially left his village life behind. Now, whenever he went back to the village, he was the picture of success. My mother-in-law walked with her head held high in the village, looking down on everyone. I remember one time when my mother-in-law came to our house. In the kitchen, she whispered to Jack, “Son, now that you’re a big boss, isn’t it time to give me a grandson to inherit everything?” I saw Jack nod in agreement. “Mm-hmm.” My mother-in-law clapped her hands excitedly and said in a low voice, “Well, you’d better get a move on. Try to let me hold my grandson by the end of next year.” Jack proudly patted his chest. “Of course. Your son is in excellent shape, you know.” After hearing their conversation, I quietly retreated to my room. Actually, after being married to Jack for so long, I too wanted a baby of my own. But the company needed me, so I had always put the idea of having a baby on the back burner. Now that Jack was on board with the idea, I was secretly thrilled. Not long after, I did indeed get pregnant. After I became pregnant, Jack insisted I stay home to take care of myself. His reasoning was that the company was now on track, and I should enjoy some peace at home. Seeing my hesitation, Jack put his arm around my shoulders and coaxed, “Honey, stay home and take good care of yourself. Grow our son big and strong.” I playfully punched him, laughing, “How do you know it’s a boy? What if it’s a girl?” Jack’s face darkened, his brows furrowing in displeasure. “My mother wants a grandson. We must have a boy.” Later, seeing my dissatisfaction, he changed his tune, saying, “Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re the one giving birth.” After I got pregnant, Jack became even busier, often not coming home for entire nights. Whenever I texted him, he was either in a meeting or entertaining clients. I was so stupid then, thinking he was working hard for our little family. Now, the thought of him fooling around with Rachel makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t swallow this anger. To gather evidence, I bought wireless cameras online. While Rachel was out grocery shopping, I installed them in the guest room, living room, and kitchen. Sure enough, that very night, Jack and Rachel were at it again.

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The year my adoptive parents passed away, my brother noticed my feelings and responded with just two words: “Disgusting.” Soon after, his company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and he arranged for me to marry into the Sinclair family, giving me away to Rhett Sinclair, the simpleton of their family. Three years later, my brother’s business flourished, and he no longer needed the Sinclairs. With a wave of his hand, he had the entire Sinclair family thrown in prison. Standing before me, he extended his hand and said, “Come home with me.” I simply shook my head and replied, “You must be joking, Mr. Greer. My husband’s name is Sinclair. The Sinclairs are my family now.” My fingers gently traced the photo tucked in my wallet, as if the person in the picture was still by my side, as though he had never left. Tears slowly slid down my cheeks, and I quickly put the wallet away. I couldn’t let him see me cry—he would’ve been heartbroken. A voice, cutting through the moment, interrupted my thoughts. “Ms. Greer, you’ve suffered for three long years in the Sinclair household. Now that things are finally turning around, Mr. Greer is waiting for you. Please, come with me.” I wiped away the remnants of my tears and glanced at Harlan Greer’s assistant, who stood before me. I shook my head calmly. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to stay here.” This was the third time his assistant had tried to convince me, and once again, I refused. He was growing desperate, knowing he had to report back without success. “There’s not a soul left here. Staying like this isn’t doing you any good.” That’s right—no one was here anymore. Just last month, Rhett was here, his arms wrapped around my waist, begging me to feed him oranges. The Sinclairs were still here, laughing together in the garden like a scene out of a perfect family picture. The person in the photo was my husband, Rhett Sinclair. When the District Attorney’s Office arrived to arrest the entire Sinclair family, Rhett was terrified. In a panic, I shoved him into hiding, hoping to save him from their grasp. After the dust settled, he vanished without a trace. I didn’t know where he was, whether he was eating well or sleeping soundly. All I had left was this photo, the only thing that carried my love and worry for him. “I can’t leave. I have to stay and wait for Rhett. If I leave, how will he ever find me?” I turned and met the assistant’s eyes. “Tell Harlan Greer not to send anyone else to fetch me.” The assistant sighed deeply and dialed Harlan’s number. I knew Harlan was always busy—either negotiating deals or rubbing elbows at social events across the country. It took nearly the entire night before he finally answered the call. The assistant switched to speaker so I could hear. Harlan’s voice was hard to read, but I could tell he wasn’t in the best mood. “What is this? Have you stayed away so long that you’ve forgotten your own home?” I didn’t respond, instead turning my gaze to the night outside the window. Silence said more than words ever could. After a long pause, he spoke again, issuing a cold order. “If she wants to stay there, let her stay. She can rot there for all I care.” The moment he finished speaking, the call ended with a sharp beep. He hadn’t even bothered to say anything more to me. I figured he was busy, as always. Busy putting other companies out of business, sending those who crossed him to jail. Rhett was just one more name on that list. Everyone said the Sinclair family deserved their punishment. A lifetime in prison was too kind for the crimes they supposedly committed. But I knew better—it wasn’t the Sinclairs who had committed the crimes. I knew Harlan’s methods all too well. When he needed you, he’d throw away his pride. When he was done, he’d cast you aside without a second thought. The night wind chilled my skin, but I couldn’t rest easy knowing Rhett was out there somewhere, alone and lost. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I spent the entire day like a fool, clutching that photo and holding on to this house. I didn’t even know when I finally fell asleep. “Get up! Stop pretending to be dead!”

I woke up to the sharp, cutting voice of a woman. Blinking my eyes open, I saw Lila Greer standing before me, her presence so different from my disheveled state. She was dressed in the height of fashion, her lips painted in bright red lipstick, exuding the air of a high-society debutante. Watching me struggle to sit up, she looked down at me with a sneer. “Three years, and this is what you’ve become? If anyone knew you were the eldest daughter of the Greer family, wouldn’t they just die of shame?” She continued, “Harlan specifically told me to bring you home. If you still care about him, you’ll divorce that simpleton and stop wasting your life waiting for him to get out of prison.” “I’m not getting divorced,” I said, laughing coldly. “You haven’t changed a bit, still just as sharp-tongued as ever.” Lila was my younger sister, though unlike me and Harlan, she wasn’t raised with us. She was kidnapped at the age of eight by traffickers. By the time she was found and brought home, our parents had already passed away. Because of this, Lila never had the poised grace of other high-society women. Instead, she carried a bitterness that showed in her every word, always ready to kick someone when they were down. A flicker of something malicious crossed her face but quickly disappeared as she regained her composure. “So what? Do you really think saying something like that would make me angry?” “And don’t think that refusing to divorce him means Harlan can’t do anything about it. He saw this coming, you know. He sent me not just to bring you home but to give you something.” A sinking feeling settled in my stomach as I watched her pull a piece of paper from her designer bag and toss it in front of me with a mocking smile. “You let your own brother force you to marry a simpleton, and now that simpleton is rotting in prison, yet here you are, still waiting.” “Violet, you’re such a fool.” I didn’t listen to the rest of her taunts. My eyes locked onto the paper. My blood ran cold. My ears rang. It was a divorce certificate. My name was on it, my signature at the bottom. But I had never signed it. Harlan had forged my signature, legally severing my only tie to Rhett. Even the bond I had with him was now gone, stolen from me. “No… How could he…?” I gripped the paper, trembling. My stomach churned violently. Darkness crept into my vision as the shock hit me, and my weak body couldn’t take the strain. The world spun, and I collapsed onto the ground. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was Lila’s panicked face. She was terrified—if I died, she’d have to answer to Harlan. I don’t know how long passed before paramedics rushed in and took me away on a stretcher. That’s when I finally let go, falling into a long, deep dream. In that dream, I was taken back to the winter I was 22. My adoptive parents had died in a car accident, the family business faced a dire crisis, and Harlan looked at me like a pawn, a mere tool. Then, he made the decision that changed everything—he married me off to Rhett Sinclair, the simpleton no one in their right mind wanted, in exchange for the Sinclair family’s help. Lila had just returned to the family then, screaming and crying about how she had struggled for twenty years. But when it came down to it, Harlan had to choose between his blood sister and me, his adopted one. By the time I knew what was happening, my in-laws were already waiting at the door to take me away.

That night, I ran to Harlan, sobbing. “Why, Harlan? We grew up together. How could you ignore all those years of love between us?” “You know I’m being thrown to the wolves, and you’re willing to sacrifice me to satisfy your ambition? I’m your sister!” He stood in the dark, his expression unreadable. “Violet, just give me some time. When the moment is right, I’ll come back for you.” Just then, Lila rushed out, fanning the flames. “Violet, our family took care of you all these years. You’re always talking about repaying our parents, aren’t you? This is the perfect opportunity, and now you want to refuse?” “Unless… there’s someone else you love?” Her words silenced me. There’s nothing more humiliating than having your deepest feelings laid bare. Instinctively, I glanced at Harlan. When I met his gaze, my face went pale. He frowned, turned away, and muttered, “Disgusting.” Seeing that look on his face, everything suddenly became clear. As time ticked away, he had me bound and thrown into a car, forcing me into the marriage. Before the window closed, the last words he said were: “Violet, once you’re married, there’s no need to come back. Our parents only adopted you because they missed my sister. Now that she’s returned, it’s time for you to step aside.” He had made it clear that I was no longer part of his life. I cried like I had never cried before. All those dreams I once had? Crushed. He despised me, and this was his way of cutting me off completely. I stared at him, the sorrow inside me overwhelming. “Then, I’ll pretend you’re dead to me.” And with that, I married Rhett Sinclair—a man with the face of an angel but the mind of a five-year-old. Life as his wife wasn’t as terrible as I had feared. In fact, it was surprisingly happy. Despite his condition, Rhett was kind-hearted, and most of all, he loved me deeply. “Pretty lady, are you really my wife? Mama said a husband has to protect his wife! Pretty lady, I’ll protect you forever!” He said those words with such sincerity, handing me his treasured candy as if it were the most precious thing in the world. At that moment, it felt like light had pierced the darkness I’d been drowning in. Over the next three years, just as he promised, the entire Sinclair family treated me well—especially Rhett. We watched flowers bloom, and sunrises together, sharing meaningful moments. Rhett never let me suffer, not for a second. In fact, he took better care of me than my own parents, better than Harlan had ever done. He would always follow behind me, proudly telling everyone how lucky he was to have me as his wife. With time, I fell for him. Deeper and deeper. But Harlan destroyed it all. He already had everything he wanted, yet he couldn’t let go of anyone who had wronged him. He obliterated the happiness I had found, leaving nothing but ashes. And so, I hated him. I refused to go back with him. To me, Harlan Greer had died three years ago. That dream collapsed the moment he reappeared in my life. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The man from my nightmare was now sitting at my bedside, his gaze soft, almost gentle. I turned my head, refusing to look at him. He tried to act kind, but I knew what he really wanted. “Violet, if you can’t make the decision yourself, then I’ll make it for you. I’ll divorce you from Rhett. You won’t have to lower yourself to be married to a simpleton. He’s in prison anyway, so…” “Harlan Greer.” I cut him off, my voice laced with venom. “My brother abandoned me three years ago. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a brother anymore.” “And as for your home? It hasn’t been mine for a long time. The only home I have left is the one I made with my husband.” His face hardened, his anger rising. “Violet Greer, are you seriously that in love with a simpleton?”

“Yes, I love him very much,” I replied truthfully. Harlan’s anger only grew. I could feel the heat in the air from his furious breath. Meanwhile, my fingers instinctively reached for the photo in my wallet, a habit I had developed after Rhett’s sudden disappearance, as if holding onto it could keep him close. Harlan caught this small gesture. Without warning, he snatched the wallet from me, pulled out the photo, and stared at it with a cold, dark expression. “Violet, I had no idea you loved him this much. Maybe I made a mistake sending you to him in the first place.” As he spoke, he pulled out a lighter from his pocket. Right in front of me, he set the photo ablaze, watching as it slowly turned to ash. The entire time, his gaze was fixed on me, waiting for a reaction. But I gave him none. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about the photo, but I knew that showing any kind of distress would only give him the satisfaction he craved. If Rhett were still here, he would never want me to get upset over something like this. He hated seeing me angry or sad. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to swallow the rising sorrow. When I opened them again, the ashes of the photo were scattered by the wind. Seeing that I was unmoved, Harlan’s frustration was evident. He leaned in closer and left me with a cryptic remark. “If you love him that much, then I’ll take you to see him.” What? He knew where Rhett was? I grabbed Harlan’s arm, my voice shaking with urgency. “What did you do to him?!” Though his words filled me with hope, they also brought an overwhelming sense of dread. If Harlan knew where Rhett was, it could only mean that Rhett had been taken and hidden away. God only knew what kind of suffering he had been enduring. Harlan, seeing the anguish in my face, remained unnervingly calm. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. “That’s why you need to behave, Violet,” he said slowly. “Otherwise, I can’t promise my men will keep their hands off him. For now, they’re just watching over him. But if I wake up on the wrong side of the bed one day, well… let’s just say that simpleton might not have it so easy anymore.” “Harlan Greer, you’re doing this on purpose!” I screamed, balling my fists in rage, wishing I could tear him apart right then and there. He tilted his head slightly, cracking his knuckles as he spoke with a chilling calmness. “Exactly, Violet. So, you’d better start listening to me. Right now, I’m giving him a little lesson. But if you don’t fall in line, next time won’t be so gentle.” “I’ll be honest with you—I’ve gotten to where I am by stepping over a lot of bodies. So, what’s one more death to me?” “You’re insane!” I yelled, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. His twisted satisfaction only deepened as he left me with one last thing to think about. “I’ll let you sleep on it.” Once he left, I collapsed onto the floor, drenched in sweat. My body was trembling, and the room felt like it was closing in on me. After that, I had no choice but to agree to return home. But it wasn’t my home. I was a prisoner in the Greer Mansion. Harlan had guards stationed outside my door, day and night, making sure I couldn’t escape. I didn’t resist. I simply watched the geese outside my window, flying in pairs across the sky, their movements lively and free—everything I wasn’t. Sometimes Lila would come by to mock me, but I barely listened. And Harlan? He often came home early, especially on days like this one, when he brought me a skewer of candy apples, hoping to stir some kind of reaction. “Violet, you used to love these. Try one. See if it still tastes like when we were kids.” I shook my head. I remembered the third month after I married into the Sinclair family, still lost in the pain of betrayal. Every time I cried, there was always a man following me around. I found him annoying and ignored him. But Rhett didn’t seem to care whether I paid attention to him or not. He just kept bringing me sweet treats every day—sometimes it was cotton candy, sometimes little sugar figures. “I don’t know why you’re crying,” he would say, “but I asked around, and everyone told me you love sweets. So I brought these for you, hoping they’ll make you smile.” “I don’t understand all that scheming, but I do know one thing—anyone who makes my wife cry is a bad person. They need a good beating.” His goofy, innocent words made me laugh, and somehow, my tears stopped. But now that Rhett was gone, sweets just didn’t taste the same anymore. The candy apples Harlan brought me were nothing compared to the treats Rhett used to give me. And without warning, I felt a wave of nausea. Before I could stop myself, I vomited right there on the floor. Harlan panicked, immediately calling for the guards to help. They rushed me to his private clinic. The doctor ran a few simple tests. What he said next shocked everyone in the room. “Mr. Greer, congratulations. Ms. Greer is pregnant. And judging by the ultrasound, the baby is almost full-term.” I placed my hand on my stomach, and amidst all the suppressed pain, I found a small sliver of joy. I was pregnant? I was carrying Rhett’s child… That meant, when Rhett came back, he would see the baby I had for him, and we could finally reunite as a family—the three of us. I was lost in the warmth of the thought, basking in the hope of our future, until Harlan’s sudden outburst pulled me back to reality. In a fit of rage, he swept all the medical instruments off the table, sending them crashing to the ground, before grabbing the doctor by the collar. “Check again! You must’ve made a mistake. That simpleton has the mind of a child—how could he have done something like that?” The doctor remained silent. Harlan knew the truth, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Rhett might have been slow, but he was still a man, and he was fully capable of fathering a child. Harlan stood there for two minutes, letting the room’s heavy silence settle. Eventually, he let the doctor go, who quickly fled the room. Now, it was just the two of us. I stood up slowly, hands protectively cradling my stomach, and headed toward the door. But I had only taken a couple of steps when Harlan’s voice, cold and distant, echoed behind me. “Violet, get rid of the baby.” I froze, whipping around to face him. “What did you just say?” He was standing there, his expression unreadable, slowly walking closer to me. When he got near, he tried to sound gentle, as if he was concerned for my well-being. “This child’s father is a simpleton, Violet. If you have this baby, it will only grow up to be a simpleton too. You don’t want that for your child, do you?” I felt panic rising in my chest, and I took a few steps back, retreating as far as I could. But something had changed. Knowing I was a mother now gave me strength, a courage I hadn’t felt before. I raised my head and forced myself to meet his eyes. “Even if the child is a simpleton, as long as it’s Rhett’s, I’m keeping it.” Harlan’s lips curled into a bitter smile, one filled with mockery. He glanced toward the doorway where the doctor had fled, and then gave the order. “Get rid of it.”

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