When Grandpa Joe suddenly passed away, he left two houses behind. Aunt Karen, usually tight-fisted about everything, chose the old, rundown place, leaving the high-value, centrally located school district property to us. We were surprised but didn’t think much of it and signed the paperwork. But as we were finalizing everything, I caught a glimpse of Aunt Karen’s thoughts. “Ha! You think you got a deal, huh? I chose the safe zone, and in a few days, you’ll all roast to death!” “We’re not fighting you for it this time; we’ll take Maplewood Grove Apartments!” Aunt Karen declared. The four of us exchanged baffled glances. Grandpa Joe had just passed away three days ago, and after rushing through all the arrangements, we’d finally gotten through the funeral. Aunt Karen and her family had shown up halfway through, showing not a trace of grief; if anything, they seemed excited. I could guess why—she was likely hoping to avoid contributing financially, something she’d done countless times before. For years, we’d shouldered the expenses for Grandpa’s needs, from everyday essentials to medical costs. Aunt Karen’s only child, Ryan, had dropped out of school early and regularly asked Grandpa for money. Dad had always said it was only for Grandpa’s sake that he didn’t cut them off entirely. Now that Grandpa had passed, he figured we’d sever ties for good. We fully expected a big showdown over the inheritance today, with Aunt Karen kicking up a storm given the two houses’ vastly different values. But Aunt Karen had suddenly volunteered to take Maplewood Grove Apartments. Maplewood Grove was an old community complex from decades ago. Its neighborhood was run-down, mostly occupied by older folks. Young people wouldn’t even consider it. Riverside Gardens Apartments, however, was in the heart of the city, close to everything and right next to a top school. “Karen, are you sure about this?” Dad asked, like he was double-checking one last time. “Of course, I’m sure! You signing or what? We’ve got things to do!” she snapped, looking at us like we were wasting her time. Dad glanced back at us, then went ahead and signed his name. “Finally! What took you so long?” Aunt Karen blurted, a huge grin on her face, unable to hide her glee. Uncle Roy gave us a strange look as if he knew something we didn’t. As they turned to leave, I heard that familiar, sharp voice in my head again. “John thinks he’s getting a freebie? Ha! I’m back from the future, honey! I got the safe zone first. In a few days, they’ll burn up! Let’s see them beg me for help then!”

On the way home, the more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. “Dad, Mom, Rachel—are you sure none of you heard what Aunt Karen said?” “Nope. Are you sure you’re not just stressed out and hearing things, Jessie?” Rachel asked, half-joking. It wasn’t impossible, but it didn’t seem likely either. Something about what she’d said—about a “safe zone” and coming back from the future—was just too strange. To be cautious, I told them what I’d heard. “A safe zone? From the future?” Rachel was still in college and had the lighthearted skepticism of her age. “Maybe, maybe not. Better to be safe than sorry. Rachel, pull up Aunt Karen’s Facebook,” I said, handing her my phone. It looked like they’d just left the lawyer’s office and went straight to Maplewood Grove. She’d posted a picture of herself inside the apartment. The place was covered in dust and badly rundown. Grandpa had moved to a new place years ago, leaving this one empty. “Read her caption,” I told Rachel. She read it, her eyes widening. Aunt Karen had written, “Who cares if this place isn’t fancy? You’ll all be jealous soon enough. You’ll be begging me, and I won’t even look at you!” “Sis, this…” Rachel looked worried, and then thoughtful. Mom, who’d seen it too, now looked serious. “Jessie’s right. Better to be cautious than caught off guard. John, we’d better prepare,” Mom said.

Back at home, the four of us sat down in the living room to hold an emergency meeting. With Dad and Mom discussing and my adding in what I’d overheard, we pieced together a theory: the heat was about to get much, much worse. The human body can’t survive past about 136 degrees Fahrenheit without dehydration. If it was really about to reach those extremes, it might be as high as 140 degrees. “Elaine, you and Jessie check prices and make a list of supplies. I’ll take Rachel to Willow Bend and start setting up. If all goes well, bring everything over,” Dad said. Willow Bend was Mom’s hometown. Her parents had been farmers, and when they passed, they left their land to Mom. Once Mom got a steady job in the city, she’d stopped tending it. Later, there were rumors about the land being seized for government projects, so she left it idle. But Dad’s focus wasn’t on the land; it was on the old bunker nearby, built decades ago during wartime. The entry point was hidden near the farmland. Willow Bend had become a ghost town, with only a handful of elderly residents left. It was the perfect spot to quietly set up. “John, should we consider selling Grandpa’s other house?” Mom asked. “We’d have more funds if we need to act quickly.” Dad thought it over for a moment. “No. If we sell, Karen will figure out we’re planning something. Just post a picture at the house, make it look like we’re unaware of anything. I’ve been more than fair as a brother. If there is a ‘safe zone,’ let’s see if she can really hold onto it.”

Once Dad and Rachel left, Mom and I headed to a nearby warehouse store. Before we left, Mom and Dad went over our savings. Selling a house or car would take too long, and we didn’t know how soon the heatwave might hit. After years of saving, plus my own contributions, we could pull together about $300,000. It wasn’t a fortune, but it would do. At the warehouse, we spoke to a manager about placing a large order. To avoid suspicion, we claimed we were stocking a new grocery store. Fresh produce wouldn’t last long in the heat, so we focused on non-perishables. We loaded up with 100 crates each of beef jerky, chicken jerky, and other dried meats. They were filling, nutritious, and didn’t spoil easily. Next were dried vegetables and fruit—another hundred crates each. Already, we’d spent nearly half our budget. We weren’t done yet. We bought emergency rations, canned goods, and every type of seasoning, another hundred crates. Our last major expense would be water. Mom and I visited three stores, buying out every jug and bottle of water we could find, and spent over $100,000. She rented two box trucks, and by the time we’d finished, both trucks were full, with a third nearly there. To keep it discreet, Mom planned to leave the trucks in a parking lot and drive them out one by one. Mom and Dad had a history of long-haul driving, so both had their commercial licenses. Willow Bend wasn’t far—about a three-hour drive. Mom and I drove one truck home, with Dad meeting us halfway to switch cars. He took the supplies on to the bunker while we returned to load more. We spent the next few hours shopping for essentials: toothpaste, soap, tissue paper, underwear, bedding, and items we’d need daily. We stocked up on bags of cat litter and composting chemicals, knowing that waste disposal might be an issue. On our final trip, we got solar panels to help generate electricity. There was no guarantee of cell service, but with a generator, at least we’d have light. We also grabbed rechargeable lamps, flashlights, and basic first-aid supplies—anything that might be difficult to find later.

For three days, Mom and I drove the trucks, while Dad and Rachel handled the smaller trips. Between us, we barely slept ten hours in those three days. We were anxious, watching every minute tick by. By the time we hauled the last truckload to Willow Bend, we were exhausted. Dad and Rachel had spent days cleaning and organizing the bunker. When we arrived with the last batch of supplies, they were covered in dirt and looked like they’d both lost weight. Together, we hauled boxes into the bunker, filling every available inch. When we were done, Dad even set up a small bathroom. Finally, Mom and Dad returned the trucks to avoid drawing attention, driving the last car back with a few extra tools in case we needed them. That night, we lay on the ground under the stars, grateful for a moment of peace, even knowing it might be a while before we’d get another like it. Just then, Dad’s phone buzzed. After reading the message, he let out a bitter laugh. “Karen finally cracked.” We gathered around to read Aunt Karen’s furious messages: Karen: “John, your family’s got some luck, huh? Bet you’re real cozy in that mansion.” Karen: “When have you ever given me anything when I asked? All you’ve ever done is preach at me!” Karen: “I bet that big house feels nice! You just wait until tomorrow! Your family will be on its knees begging me for help, and I won’t even look at you!”

And just as Aunt Karen had warned, the next day at noon, the outdoor temperature spiked dramatically. Mom was quick to react, pulling the clothes off the line and shoving us all into the depths of the bunker. Near the entrance, we still had cell signal. Rachel and I huddled together, scrolling through news alerts. “City’s issued a red alert heat warning. Temperatures will keep climbing over the next few days. Citizens are urged to stay indoors and avoid direct sunlight.” “Jess, it’s already 122 degrees outside!” Rachel said, curling up in fear. “They say they’re lowballing it—that it’s probably even hotter!” We both glanced toward the shelter’s entrance. Outside, what had once seemed warm sunlight now felt ominous, bringing a chill to our bones. The air shimmered with waves of heat like fiery snakes, ready to scorch anyone in their path. “Jess! Look at this!” Rachel turned her phone to me. A few pictures caught my attention. It was Aunt Karen and her family, lounging around in the sun. “In this heat? They’ll get killed out there!” “Something’s not right…”

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My husband, Ethan Stone, has abilities that are genetically enhanced. I once saved his life, and since then, he’s been obsessed with me. For three years, he pursued me relentlessly. In his desperation, he even ran his car into my childhood boyfriend, Mark Dawson, leaving him crippled. Then, he threatened to kill my family if I didn’t marry him. Now, after seven years of marriage, Ethan’s obsession has only intensified. He implanted a tracking chip in me to keep tabs on my every move, stripping me of any freedom. Despite this, he showers me with a twisted kind of love, always trying to give me whatever I want. One time, during an argument, his mother, Loretta Stone, pointed a finger at me, and Ethan broke her finger without hesitation. Another time, when his sister Diana’s kids interrupted my nap, he kicked them out, cutting off all ties with them. When I refused to give him a child with his enhanced genes, he poured his fortune into developing gene-editing tech to create a “perfect baby” that I would agree to carry. Then one day, I found out I was pregnant. Just as the news sank in, Loretta stormed into Stone Manor with her friends. She accused me of cheating, claiming I was pregnant with another man’s child. As I tried to defend myself, they beat me until I lost my baby. Just as I was about to pass out, Ethan arrived. Loretta waved a fake video in front of him, grinning as she said, “Son, your wife’s unfaithful! She’s carrying another man’s child! Look at this proof!” 1 Staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, I was deep in thought. Ethan and I had been together for nearly a decade. Now, with a baby on the way, maybe it was time to give in. He might be a madman, but I was the one holding the reins. With that thought, I snapped a picture of the test and sent it to Ethan, who was out of town on business. Minutes later, I heard shouting from downstairs. Peering out the window, I saw her—Loretta Stone, my mother-in-law, whom I hadn’t seen in ages. She marched toward the house, a group of gray-haired friends trailing behind her, murmuring. “What a disgrace to the family!” “Ladies, if it weren’t serious, would we be exposing such shame?” “I don’t care if it ruins my reputation today. I’ll tear that cheating witch apart!” I listened for a moment before losing interest. Ever since Ethan married me, Loretta had believed I “stole” her son. Her bitterness lingered until Ethan finally snapped and kicked her out after breaking her finger. Our relationship was toxic. Moments later, the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock, I thought, It’s only 9 a.m. Why is Mrs. Peggy Hayes, the housekeeper, here so early? Confused, I opened the door—and Loretta barged in with her gang. Loretta raised her crooked finger at me and yelled, “Look, everyone—there’s the evil daughter-in-law! She convinced my son to break my finger right after their marriage!” “And she kicked me and my grandson out of the house, cutting ties with us!” I raised an eyebrow and told her, “This is my home. Leave, all of you.” But before I could shut the door, Loretta slapped me across the face. “You ungrateful little tramp! My son gave you everything, and you go around cheating on him, making a fool of him!” A sharp sting spread across my face. Since marrying Ethan, even a tiny push would send him into a rage, and if he knew Loretta hit me, she’d be lucky to walk away unharmed. To avoid a family disaster, I bit back my anger and said, “Leave now, and I’ll pretend this never happened.” Ethan was gentle with me, but ruthless to anyone else. Loretta, however, didn’t back down. She yanked my hair, hissing, “Nervous, are you? If you had the guts to cheat, then you better be ready to face the consequences.” I freed myself, glaring at her. “Accusing me of cheating? Do you remember how your finger got broken?” 2 Ethan’s need for control was extreme. After we married, he implanted a GPS tracker in me to monitor my every move. There wasn’t a single person around me, yet she accused me of cheating. It was ridiculous. I thought reminding her about her finger might make Loretta back off, but instead, she slapped me again. “Oh, still playing innocent! Why don’t you get an acting job with that talent?” “You think I came here without proof?” she spat, pulling out her phone and opening a video. On the screen, a scantily dressed woman kissed a man before he pinned her down. The video was graphic, and the woman looked just like me. Loretta’s friends chimed in, “Absolutely shameful! In the old days, they’d drown women like her!” “If she were my daughter-in-law, I’d beat her right now!” “What a disgrace—acting so sweet when she’s actually trash.” Hearing their insults, anger boiled inside me. I’d never faced such humiliation. That video was clearly a deepfake, but explaining it to this crowd of elderly women felt pointless. I pulled out my phone to call Ethan. This was his mother, and he should handle her however he wanted. But Loretta snatched my phone and smashed it to pieces before I could dial. “You think I won’t handle you if Ethan finds out? Watch me,” she sneered. I squared my shoulders. “Your actions today are criminal. This is your last chance to leave.” Her friends laughed, mocking, “Look at her—cheating and acting so bold!” “Exactly! Show her who’s boss, Loretta. Put this tramp in her place.” Encouraged by her friends, Loretta kicked one of the antique oak chairs Ethan had bought me, splitting it in two. “You’re only here because of my son. Without him, you’d be living in some slum. Don’t you dare tell me to leave!” The women cheered her on, calling her bold and strong. They began smashing the rest of the chairs, following her lead. The whole set was a gift from Ethan, one he had bought at an outrageous price to make me happy. One of them grabbed a Tiffany lamp off the table, ready to smash it. “That’s an antique worth two million,” I warned her calmly. Hesitating, she glanced at Loretta, who walked up and smashed it to pieces. “Everything here is my son’s,” she declared. “Destroy whatever you want, ladies—let this tramp know her place.” With that, they tore through the house, breaking everything they could find. I watched, unflinching, knowing each broken piece would serve as evidence when they faced justice. Then one of the women nudged Loretta, saying, “Look, she’s glaring at you!” “Everything she has is thanks to your son’s money. Breaking it won’t teach her anything. You need to teach her a lesson,” she hissed. Loretta’s eyes gleamed with malice. She marched toward me. Outnumbered, I knew I couldn’t fight them all. I bolted for the door, but Loretta grabbed me, yanking me back. Pain shot through my knee as I hit the floor, unable to move. 3 Loretta pressed her heel into my thigh, grinding down hard. Pain shot through me, and a scream escaped my lips. “Oh, you weak little witch,” she sneered. “You’re acting all fragile now? I barely touched you, and you’re already crying out. Who’s this for?” I glared back at her coldly. “Loretta Stone, you’re going to regret everything you’ve done today.” “Still talking back? Well, now I’m going to teach you how a real daughter-in-law behaves!” she snarled. From the day I married Ethan, she’d been itching to lay down “rules,” even giving me a list of chores. She wanted me to wash her clothes, massage her feet—the whole nine yards. Apparently, Ethan’s grandmother had treated her the same way, and she was eager to pass it on. After all, no one knows how to torment a woman like another woman. But she forgot who she was dealing with. I didn’t marry Ethan by choice, and he was a man with power—power he wouldn’t hesitate to use. I had forgotten who I was dealing with. Marrying Ethan wasn’t my choice, and he wielded power—power he didn’t hesitate to flaunt. In front of me, Ethan ripped apart her list, shouting her down. Ever since, she had harbored a deep hatred for me, unable to confront him with her anger. Today, she finally had her moment. Loretta called one of her friends to fetch a basin of water from the bathroom. Grabbing my hair, she lowered her voice, her chilling tone sending shivers down my spine. “Back in the day, women like you would be locked away for cheating. Today, you’re going to experience that feeling.” Without warning, she shoved my head into the icy water. The cold engulfed me, filling my nose and mouth. Panic surged as I struggled to breathe. I thrashed, trying to escape her grip, but she held on tightly. Just as I felt myself slipping away, Loretta yanked me up, and I gasped for air, my face and clothes drenched, completely humiliated. “You think you can waltz around my son’s house like you own it?” she spat. “He works hard to provide for you, and you treat him like a servant?” Once I caught my breath, I glared at her, fury coursing through me. “If that’s your plan, Loretta, you better kill me. Otherwise, you’ll regret it.” In that moment, my hatred for Ethan matched my disdain for her. If he hadn’t forced me into this marriage, I wouldn’t be enduring this abuse. Loretta’s expression twisted with anger, and she slapped me so hard that blood dripped from my lip. “Oh, still talking back? I’m not finished yet.” She shoved my head back into the water, holding me there longer, pushing me to my limits. With each time she forced my head under, I felt my strength fading, my body losing the will to fight. Finally, one of the women hesitated. “Loretta, maybe that’s enough. We don’t want her dead here.” “Right,” another murmured. “This isn’t the old days. We’d all end up in jail.” More voices joined in, convincing her to stop. Loretta finally released me, shoving me to the floor, soaked and gasping for breath. “Consider this a warning,” she spat, watching me like a hawk. “Once Ethan knows what you’ve done, he’ll deal with you himself!” I lay there, exhausted but victorious, knowing that when Ethan returned, she’d have to plead for mercy—and I wouldn’t give her any. Just then, one of her friends emerged from the bathroom, holding something—my pregnancy test. She handed it to Loretta, who stared in shock. “Look at that,” Loretta sneered. She kicked me in the stomach, and I instinctively doubled over, wrapping my arms around my belly. “You little tramp! You’re carrying another man’s child?” Panicking, I managed to say, “This isn’t some other man’s child—it’s Ethan’s!” “Shut up!” she yelled, her rage unyielding. “You think you can fool me? I know you didn’t want to have his baby! You made him get a vasectomy!” She pointed a finger at me. “You’re trying to cut off my son’s family line!” When Ethan and I first got married, he refused to use protection, insisting we be “one in every way.” I bought boxes of birth control, making it clear if he touched me, I’d take a pill every time. I didn’t want a child with his “enhanced genes.” Eventually, he relented and had a vasectomy. Loretta’s friends gasped in horror. To them, family lineage meant everything. “This woman is pure evil,” one whispered. “She’s ruined his bloodline and expects him to raise another man’s child.” “In my day, we wouldn’t let that child see the light of day,” another muttered. Loretta’s eyes darkened with determination. “You’re right. I’ll handle this myself, right now.” Fear gripped me, and I tried to reason with her. “Loretta, please, this really is Ethan’s child. His company developed genetic technology to ensure the baby would be healthy.” “Right, you think I’ll fall for that? You’ve got him so hooked he’d believe anything. But I’m his mother, and I won’t let him be humiliated.” With that, she slammed her foot into my stomach. Pain shot through me as I crumpled. “Please, Loretta…he’s your grandchild…” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper.

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Everyone in Maple Hollow knew my mother, Miriam Gardner, as the woman who sold an unbelievably pricey yet magical beauty remedy. This remedy, costing $10,000 a bowl, was shockingly expensive. Yet people still came in droves, including women from neighboring cities who had heard about its miraculous effects. They all swore that eating my mother’s remedy left them with fair skin, rosy lips, and an enchanting allure. My sister Del, seeing the attention the remedy garnered, was practically drooling with envy. But no matter how much she begged, Mom refused to let her taste even a spoonful. Unable to resist, Del snuck into the back cellar one night. That was when I heard strange noises drifting from the cellar at midnight. My mom had a little shop in Maple Hollow, open only a few days a week, exclusively selling the beauty remedy. But the remedy wasn’t always available—customers had to book it in advance. “Mrs. Gardner, is my remedy ready today?” A plump, middle-aged woman wearing a gold bracelet and bursting with excitement walked in, her face beaming. I paused in my sweeping, glancing at her in curiosity. People from all walks of life came to Mom’s shop: tall, short, round, thin, even women well into their sixties. This woman looked to be around forty, a bit on the heavier side, but definitely radiating excitement. My mom nudged me, signaling I should continue cleaning, and then she turned back to the woman, smiling warmly. “Yes, yes! Mrs. Hale, I’ve prepared it especially for you!” Mrs. Hale’s smile widened, and she eagerly pulled a thick wad of cash from her purse. “Hurry, bring it over!” she insisted, practically bouncing with anticipation. Mom’s eyes widened at the sight of the thick stack of bills. “Mrs. Hale, there’s way more than $10,000 here!” she exclaimed. “Oh, keep the extra,” Mrs. Hale said, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s $100,000—I want to order more for the next few months. A treat like this once just won’t cut it!” Mom put on a look of hesitation. “Well, Mrs. Hale, you know how hard it is to make this remedy. I can’t make it every day, and I’ve got to think of all the other ladies on the list…” Mrs. Hale looked at her, took Mom’s hand in hers, and gave it a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry. I’d never ask you to make things difficult for yourself. I’ll only come in once every two weeks, let’s say, but could you prepare three or four bowls each time? It’ll save me from having to book every single visit.” “Oh, of course! Come, come, it’s all ready for you in the cellar,” Mom finally said, pocketing the money as she led Mrs. Hale to the back. “This remedy will make you more than satisfied.” As the cellar door closed softly behind them, I returned to cleaning. Mom never let Del or me go into the cellar. She said that only when one of us was married could we inherit the remedy shop and everything that came with it. Thinking of my boyfriend, Ryan Blackwood, made my cheeks flush. He’d been my childhood friend, but I didn’t know when he’d finally propose. If I inherited the shop, I wanted to show him the transformation the remedy could bring. Time slipped by as I worked. Soon, Mom returned, helping Mrs. Hale out. She was trembling, sighing with delight. “That remedy is simply incredible!” Mrs. Hale exclaimed. “If you hadn’t told me I could only have one serving, I’d be begging for another!” When I saw her under the bright lights, her skin glowed with a delicate softness, her face transformed. Her friends waiting outside gasped. “Oh my goodness! Look at her! She’s glowing!” one whispered. “That’s not even the same person! She looks so… full of life!” another added. Mom laughed, bidding Mrs. Hale goodbye as she moved to greet the next customer.

Del grabbed a chair and plopped down beside me, complaining, “Mom’s a real piece of work, isn’t she? Won’t even share a drop of that good stuff with her own daughter, all so she can make a quick buck! All these ugly women are getting prettier by the day, and look at me! I can’t cover my face no matter how much powder I use—ugh, it’s all caked up!” I took a closer look at her. Del was all dressed up, likely about to meet another one of her many boyfriends. After a final check in the mirror, she fluffed her hair and left, threatening, “Keep your mouth shut about this, or I’ll make you regret it!” I kept cleaning, not saying a word. But I knew Del was anxious. Mom’s rule was that whoever married first would inherit the remedy shop, and while I had a steady boyfriend, Del seemed to switch from one to the next. That evening, Del came home in tears, her makeup smeared and looking pitifully disheveled. “Mom!” she shrieked, storming into the living room. “He dumped me! That jerk said I’m ugly! Mom, I want that remedy! I need to look like all those other women who come out of here looking gorgeous! I’ll make him regret leaving me!” As Del’s tantrum grew louder, Mom’s expression hardened. “Go find yourself a husband, then,” she said coldly. “I’ll hand over the shop, and you can do as you like.” With that, Mom turned and walked away. In a fit of rage, Del kicked the chair across the room. “If I could find someone to marry me, I wouldn’t be so desperate!” she shouted. “I’ve been through three or four boyfriends already, and not one of them wants to settle down! Mom’s doing this to torture me! Fine! If she won’t share, I’ll find my own way!”

Late that night, I rolled over in bed, only to find Del wasn’t beside me. Remembering her earlier outburst, my heart sank. Could she have snuck into the cellar? Despite Mom’s strict warning not to, I got up, both anxious and curious, and headed to the cellar door. “Del?” I whispered as I opened the door, trying not to make any noise. “What are you doing here?” Del’s voice was strangely soft, almost too alluring, a tone I’d never heard from her before. She was in the cellar, up to something that didn’t sound right. “Del… what are you even doing in here? Mom will kill you if she finds out!” I hissed. “Just go back to bed… I’ll be out in a minute.” After a long moment, she finally emerged, her eyes glassy, yet she threw a lingering glance back toward the cellar as if she couldn’t tear herself away. Back in our room, she warned, “You better keep your mouth shut, or I’ll tell Mom you came in, too. If I go down, you’re coming with me.” Angry and betrayed, I clenched my jaw and nodded. What had she been doing in there alone? And why was she acting like this? Soon enough, Del’s nightly trips to the cellar became routine, her self-control waning with each visit. She started asking me to stand guard, and her beauty blossomed unnaturally. Her once dark complexion became fair, her features more delicate and shapely. Despite my curiosity, I never peeked inside, trusting Mom’s words.

One day, Del brought Ryan home and announced they were getting married. The moment I saw his hands all over her, I felt a chill wash over me. This wasn’t the same sweet Ryan I’d known for years. Rage boiled up inside me, and I threw myself at them. “You cheating jerk! Delilah, you knew he was my boyfriend, and you went behind my back?” But two fists were no match for four hands, and I quickly found myself shoved aside. Leaning against Ryan, Del looked at me with mocking pity. “Sorry, little sis, but I’m looking better than ever. Anyone can see who’s the better choice here.” Ryan scratched his nose, looking guilty but shrugging. “Lily, don’t be mad. Just look at you two! You’re as plain as a twig. I can’t help it if Del’s curves are more… enticing.” They had the nerve to defend their betrayal! Just as I opened my mouth to fight back, Mom’s voice cut in sharply, “Enough!” Mom stared at Ryan and Del with a look that could pierce steel, then turned to help me to my feet. “So, Ryan, you were Lily’s boyfriend, but now you’re marrying Del? You wouldn’t mind if I tested you a little first, would you?” His eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Not at all! Whatever you think is fair!” Mom’s face softened as she gestured toward the door. “It’s late. Stay the night, and I’ll consider your proposal tomorrow.” With a smug smile, Del took him into the room next to mine, and soon I heard creaking noises echoing through the wall. But the noise quickly died down after ten minutes, and I laughed quietly to myself. So much for Mr. “Enticing.” When I couldn’t sleep, I peered through the hallway and saw Del sneaking out—back to the cellar. Well, if she could play dirty, so could I. I went straight to Mom’s room and told her what Del had been up to. Mom nodded, unbothered. “I knew she was sneaking in. I gave her chance after chance, but she can’t resist temptation. If something goes wrong, she’ll have no one else to blame.” Then she looked at me, her gaze thoughtful. “Lily, your sister is reckless, but you’ve followed my rules. Would you like to take over the remedy shop?” I blinked, stunned. Weren’t we supposed to be married first? Was this all just a test? Quickly, I nodded. If I inherited the shop, I’d not only secure my future—I’d finally make Del pay for everything she’d done. Smiling with satisfaction, Mom took my hand. “Follow me.” When she opened the cellar door, I was shocked. It was larger than I’d ever imagined, divided into smaller rooms and chambers. She shot Del a cold look as we passed her chamber. Through the half-open door, I glimpsed Del lying on her back, her body flushed and moving rhythmically, lost in a haze of her own making. Finally, we reached the end of the cellar, where a large, heavy trapdoor lay. I followed Mom down the narrow staircase to a stone door. When she twisted the lock, the sight on the other side was one I’d never forget. Mom gave me a satisfied smile, nodding approvingly. “Come with me,” she said. As she opened the door, I felt my eyes widen with shock. The back room was far bigger than I’d imagined, divided into several small chambers, each secluded from the others. Mom cast a cold, almost disgusted look at Del’s chamber as we passed. Inside, I caught a glimpse of her, completely exposed, her skin flushed red, her body moving in a rhythmic, trance-like state, and soft, breathy sounds escaping her lips. We walked on, further into the back room until we reached a small doorway. In the center was a heavy trapdoor. Following her lead, I descended the narrow stairs to a stone door at the end of the corridor. Mom reached up, twisted the knob with careful precision, and opened it. What lay inside was a scene I would never forget for the rest of my life.

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My boyfriend of ten years, Aaron Grant, was the picture of a perfect partner. Handsome, smart, and successful—the only problem was that he constantly put me down. When I ranked second instead of first in a competition, he’d say I just wasn’t “smart enough.” When I earned my first commission check for writing, he brushed it off as “pointless work.” But the final straw came at a bridal shop. While I tried on a wedding dress, Aaron criticized my body, saying I didn’t look “bride-like” enough in it. That’s when I snapped, yelling at him for the first time, “If I’m not good enough, then don’t marry me!” In the bridal shop, I stepped out of the fitting room in the dress. Even some strangers nearby gasped in admiration. The sales assistant beamed at me, “Miss Monroe, you’re so tall and slender; this dress looks perfect on you.” “Better show your fiancé; he’ll love it.” I smiled politely, “I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s got high standards.” After all, for over a decade, Aaron had been a perfectionist when it came to me. Never a single compliment. But today, seeing my reflection—my waist looked narrow, my skin glowed, and the dress seemed made for me. I hoped this might be the time he’d say something nice. Maybe he’d find me beautiful, like the other husbands in the store who couldn’t stop smiling at their fiancées. Holding onto that hope, I tugged at his sleeve with a small, nervous smile. But that hope was about to shatter.

Aaron turned, looked me over, and his first words were, “Jess, you’re still too chubby.” The smile froze on my face, and even the sales assistant looked taken aback. “Your face is puffy, arms are thick, big frame, thick waist—this doesn’t look good at all,” he sighed, “Jess, you don’t look like a bride at all.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for everyone in the shop to hear. Eyes turned my way—some sympathetic, some judgmental, some just entertained. In that moment, I felt like nothing more than an object for Aaron to scrutinize, not a person. Tears threatened to spill, my chest tight with a feeling I couldn’t breathe through. For months, I’d followed Aaron’s orders, working out every day to fit into this dress. I’d barely eaten anything, losing twenty pounds just to look my best on our wedding day. Why did he have to say that? Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe the disappointment, but suddenly, ten years of endurance snapped. I tore off my veil and shouted, “Aaron, if I’m not good enough for you, then let’s not get married!” “Yes, I don’t look like a bride, so I’m calling off the wedding!” And in his shocked silence, I took a deep breath, finally saying what I’d rehearsed in my head a thousand times: “Aaron, we’re breaking up.”

By the time my best friend, Lily Quinn, came to get me, the tears hadn’t stopped. After I’d posted the news about calling off the wedding, everyone was messaging, asking what had happened. Most people said, “Jess, isn’t there some misunderstanding?” or, “He’s such a great guy; you won’t find anyone better.” Even my mom was on Aaron’s side. “I heard from Aaron; it’s just a small matter. No need to overthink it,” she’d said. Aaron’s message? A flat, “Quit overreacting.” Holding my phone, a wave of helplessness washed over me. No one understood. To everyone else, Aaron was the perfect boyfriend. Good-looking, successful, made good money, and hadn’t cheated on me in ten years. His only fault? He put me down. We’d been childhood friends, growing up side by side. He was one of those “perfect kids” who excelled at everything, way ahead of me in every way. But life had dealt him a tough hand. His mom passed away when he was young, and his father was a workaholic who barely acknowledged him unless he won an award. So, Aaron had matured fast. When the other kids played outside, he was already competing in math tournaments—and winning. That harsh upbringing had shaped him, making him cold. He only showed any real personality with me, often in the form of harsh criticism. If I placed second instead of first, he’d knock on my head and say I wasn’t “smart enough,” pointing out every mistake I made. When I won bronze in a competition and he won gold, he’d look at me with disappointment and call me “dense.” In my teenage years, my mom constantly reminded me, “Look at Aaron; so talented. Always top of the class, winning all these awards.” It’s safe to say I grew up in Aaron’s shadow. I hated how he tore me down and how my mom kept comparing us. But when we were teenagers, everyone called us a “perfect pair.” They insisted Aaron’s teasing was his way of showing he cared. Even when Aaron confessed his feelings, he said, “Jess, if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t push you so hard.” It was the first time he’d spoken to me so gently, his face soft, eyes full of laughter. Everyone cheered us on so loudly, I barely noticed the discomfort in my heart. And just like that, I ended up dating Aaron. It’s been ten years since then.

Lily had been my best friend since college, and the only one to support my decision to break up with Aaron. In college, Aaron had asked me to join him for an early-morning study session at the library one weekend. It wasn’t easy to wake up at 7 a.m. on a weekend, and despite rushing, I was two minutes late. Aaron was waiting, arms crossed, annoyed. “Jess, why can’t you keep time?” “Will you be late for client meetings once you’re working? What if it’s a million-dollar deal on the line?” I automatically apologized, but Lily—fresh from her morning run—pulled me aside. “Getting up early to study on a weekend is already a big deal; Jess is doing great.” “And it was just two minutes. Don’t blow it out of proportion.” From then on, Aaron and Lily didn’t get along. Lily always praised me. She cheered when I ranked second, celebrated when I passed my exams, even admired me for getting up early for class. She’d say, “Don’t listen to Aaron; you’re amazing, Jess!” Those simple affirmations were something I hadn’t heard in over twenty years. That’s why I loved spending time with Lily. Aaron, though, scoffed, “She only praises you to make you arrogant. She’s keeping you from seeing your flaws.” “Humility builds growth. Pointing out your weaknesses like I do? That’s what’s really helpful!” Anytime Lily came up, Aaron’s eyebrows would furrow, his lips would press into a line. That expression always signaled a lecture coming my way. I wanted to defend Lily, but fear paralyzed me, pinning me to the spot. I was so afraid. Afraid of Aaron’s anger, afraid of his criticism. When Lily heard, she sighed softly, “Jess, it’s hard to break free once you’re used to being put down.” “Take it slow.” So, today, when I finally ended things with Aaron, Lily was thrilled. She hugged me, whispering, “Congratulations, Jess. You’re free.”

Lily took me to her place, offering me the spare bedroom to stay for a while. As she led me to the room, her eyes sparkled, “Jess, do you like it? I decorated it just the way you like!” I looked around at the pastel pink wallpaper, the Mickey Mouse desk, and a pigtail-wearing doll on the bed. It was surreal. How long had it been since I’d seen anything like this? Aaron’s minimalist style only allowed black, white, and gray. He’d always rolled his eyes at my love for pink and toys, saying, “Jess, your taste is painfully tacky.” Thinking of it brought tears to my eyes as I hugged Lily, sobbing. If Aaron had been a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from, then Lily was the remedy life had sent to me.

I planned to head to the apartment Aaron and I had shared to pack my things. But when I arrived, Aaron was already there. He was lounging on the sofa, looking up at me lazily, “Done throwing a tantrum?” I steadied my voice, fighting to keep it from shaking. “I’m not throwing a tantrum, Aaron. I meant what I said. I’m here to pack.” Surprisingly, he didn’t argue. He just sat there, legs crossed, hands folded, giving me that strange half-smile. Ignoring the discomfort in my gut, I went to gather my things. In truth, I didn’t own much; just a few personal items. Most things were Aaron’s purchases after we’d moved in. When I’d first brought over my colorful toothbrushes and towels, Aaron had wrinkled his nose. “Jess, your things are gaudy. They look awful.” By the next day, he’d replaced all of them. When I confronted him, he’d shrugged it off, saying, “Your things were too cheap-looking.” That was the first time I’d thought of breaking up. Why should someone else decide what I could or couldn’t like? But my mom advised me, “He’s doing it because he loves you. You’ve been together for so long; it’s not worth breaking up over.” So I gave in. Looking back now, I realize it was a bigger deal than I thought. Anything that makes you feel uncomfortable should never be brushed off.

The only thing I’d miss in that apartment was my small writing corner. Just a desk, a lamp, and a computer, but they’d helped me create so many stories. I’d always loved writing, though Aaron called it “a waste of time,” and I’d set it aside. But in college, with more free time, I began again. I’d even shown Aaron my first piece, hoping he’d be proud. But after reading it quickly, he’d only scoffed, “This is garbage. Just quit.” But I kept writing. And eventually, I even got paid for it. When I earned my first $300, I couldn’t wait to tell him, hoping he’d be proud. What was his reaction? After a glance, he simply said, “Worthless drivel.” He gave me that pitying look, as if humoring a child. “Someone probably just felt sorry for you.” Every word slashed through my excitement, leaving nothing but a raw, festering wound. After that, no matter how much I made, I never mentioned it to Aaron. As I packed up my computer, I noticed it was still on. When I opened it, I realized every file I’d saved was gone. Ten thousand words, painstakingly crafted, my heart poured into each sentence—gone. Only one person would do this… From behind me, Aaron’s voice drifted over. He was leaning against the door, his gaze dark. “Deleted your files for you. That worthless hobby was getting in the way.” “You don’t think you can live off that ‘writing’ and leave me, do you?”

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I was furious when my boyfriend hooked up with a rich woman. In a fit of anger, I found an older man. I declared boldly, “I’ll take care of you, mister.” He replied, “Alright.” Until the company’s annual party… When my “poor” husband went on stage to give a speech, I was dumbfounded. On May 20th at 8 AM, I put on a white lace top paired with a burgundy maxi skirt, ready to walk down the aisle with my boyfriend of 3 years. But reality slapped me hard in the face, leaving me stunned and confused. I should have been suspicious when he stepped out of that BMW. “Zoe, I’ve been thinking… I can’t marry you after all. I’m sorry, but we need to break up today.” My ex-boyfriend, who had hooked up with a rich woman, chose to break up with me on the very day we were supposed to get married. I can’t believe I gave you guys the satisfaction.

I stormed back home and plopped down at the dining table, gulping down a large glass of ice water. My best friend looked at me in shock. “Zoe, are you a water buffalo or something?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized something was wrong. “Wait, weren’t you supposed to go register your marriage with your boyfriend today? Why are you back alone?” “Don’t even mention it!” The anger that had just been quelled by the ice water flared up again. “That jerk hooked up with a rich woman. He couldn’t break up earlier or later, he had to do it on our wedding day. Does he think I’m a dog he can summon and dismiss at will?” My friend snorted. “I told you Ben was no good. Forget about it, let that loser enjoy his sugar mommy. I’ll find you some hot guys and take you out to have fun!” I was going to refuse, but then I thought, Ben’s first move after hooking up with that rich woman would definitely be to get married. How could I fall behind him? So I agreed. My friend got excited and pulled out a bunch of photos of handsome guys for me to choose from. “This one is my cousin’s friend, a total puppy dog who would stick to you all day.” “I met this one while drinking, he’s got a great body. I wasn’t into him so I didn’t pursue it, but I checked and he’s still single.” “Oh, and this one is…” My friend went on and on, introducing the guys one by one. Looking at all these different men, I felt overwhelmed. This was like selecting concubines for an emperor! No wonder the cat in “Empresses in the Palace” was so irritated when faced with all those men vying for the emperor’s attention. Who could handle having all these people laid out in front of them, having to get to know each one? “Hey, I’ve been talking for so long, hurry up and pick someone already!” My friend finally got tired of talking and took a sip of water, then pushed me impatiently. I stared at the photos spread all over the coffee table, feeling a headache coming on. I randomly pointed at one. “This one, I guess.” My friend followed where I was pointing and fell into an odd silence before speaking with great difficulty. “Zoe… I didn’t know you were into… that type?” Me: “Huh?” I took a closer look. Oh boy! Among all the young, handsome guys, my finger was pointing steadily at the only photo of an older man. Me: “…” Was this fate?

My friend dolled me up and sent me off on the blind date. I stood in front of the agreed-upon restaurant, my friend’s words echoing in my head. “I don’t know this guy very well, but I heard from another friend that he seems pretty ordinary, maybe not rich, but he’s apparently very honest and quite handsome. His personal life is pretty clean too, no major issues. You can go for it with peace of mind.” Alright, got it. Not rich, good-looking, honest guy. I psyched myself up and pushed open the restaurant door, politely telling the hostess I had a reservation while scanning the room. Ah, the man sitting by the window on the right must be him. I confidently walked over, ignoring the hostess’s hesitant look. “Hello, I’m Zoe Wilson.” I stopped at the table and extended my hand, flashing my signature smile that showed eight teeth. The man seemed to pause briefly before reaching out to shake my hand lightly. “Lucas Gray.” His voice was pleasant and slightly husky, a real treat for the ears. Looking at his unbelievably handsome face, any lingering doubts in my mind instantly vanished. With such a good-looking older man, who cares if he’s not rich? I’ll take care of him! I sat down across from Lucas, took a sip of water to wet my throat, and began speaking. “Mr. Gray, here’s the situation. My family has been pressuring me to get married, and the boyfriend I was supposed to marry yesterday became my ex due to certain circumstances. So I’m here on this blind date today.” “Um… I’ve heard about your basic situation, that you’re in a tight financial spot? Don’t worry, after we get married, I can support you.” I explained everything calmly, then looked at Lucas expectantly. Lucas: “…” “Miss Wilson…” Lucas began slowly. My heart tightened, and I quickly interrupted to add: “My current salary is $5,000 a month, plus monthly commissions and year-end bonuses. It’s actually enough to cover expenses for both of us.” “And I don’t need your money. I have my own place and car, so you won’t have any financial burden.” I rushed to get all the words out, then realized Lucas was looking at me with a… strange expression? As I was feeling nervous, Lucas glanced at me, then lowered his eyes, seeming to quirk his lips ever so slightly. “Alright. When shall we go get married?” My eyes lit up instantly. “We can go right now!” Lucas nodded calmly, then gestured for me to order. “Let’s eat first, then we’ll go tie the knot after.”

After finishing our meal, I happily drove Lucas to the courthouse to get married. It was a weekday, but that didn’t dampen couples’ enthusiasm for getting hitched. Lucas and I were waiting in line when I kept glancing behind us. Sure enough, that jerk Ben was in line with his rich woman, waiting to register their marriage. “Zoe?” My stare must have been too intense, as Ben turned his head slightly and spotted me. Ben frowned: “We’ve broken up, why are you here?” “What, you’re allowed to get married but others aren’t?” I rolled my eyes and pulled Lucas forward, interlocking our fingers to show Ben. “I’m here to get married too, you know.” Ben: “…” Lucas looked Ben and his rich girlfriend up and down, then glanced at our intertwined hands, seeming to understand something. The rich woman was staring intently at Lucas, who knows what she was thinking. I didn’t like the way she was looking at him. I couldn’t be bothered to say anything and just pulled Lucas away. Behind us, I heard the rich woman mutter: “That man… he looks familiar somehow?” Hmph… Just say you think my husband is handsome! … Back in the car with Lucas, I stared at the marriage certificate in my hand, still in a daze. We just… got married like that? It felt unreal. I kept turning the certificate over and examining it. “You…” Lucas had been watching my foolish behavior for a good 30 seconds before he couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up. “Did you suddenly decide to get married because of that man just now?” “Huh?” I was caught off guard. Meeting Lucas’s serious gaze, I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “Of course not. Who is he to me? Why would I suddenly get married because of him?” That was the truth. My decision to get married really had nothing to do with Ben. Maybe the initial blind date was because I was angry at that jerk, but after meeting Lucas, whether I was angry or not didn’t matter anymore. Deciding to marry Lucas was actually the calmest decision I’ve made in my 28 years of life. After all… Just thinking about spending the rest of my life with this incredibly handsome man made me overjoyed!

After asking Lucas where he wanted to go next, I dropped him off at the restaurant where we had our blind date, then drove to work. As soon as I got to the office, I habitually grabbed some paper and headed to the bathroom. “Did you hear this morning’s meeting was cancelled?” What what what? This morning’s meeting was cancelled? I distinctly remembered there was an important meeting scheduled for this morning. Given our big boss’s workaholic tendencies, he never cancels meetings unless it’s for something extremely important. “Yeah, we were all prepared, but then the big boss called to cancel the meeting out of nowhere. I was completely stunned.” The secretary in her business attire seemed to rub her temples in frustration. “This meeting was crucial for the upcoming collaboration. Cancelling it so suddenly… we’ll need to give them a reasonable explanation.” Another woman in casual clothes hesitated, then leaned in close to the secretary’s ear. She thought she was whispering, but I could hear her clearly from two stalls away. “I have a friend who works at that company. Apparently the big boss’s reason was that he got married today, so the meeting had to be postponed.” Me: “???” What??? Our iron-faced, extremely strict big boss got married? Wow! Who is this amazing woman who managed to tame the big boss? The secretary seemed shocked too, stumbling over her words. “But… the big boss… he…” “Forget it, let’s just focus on our own work. The boss can handle this himself.” I was stunned, forgetting to flush the toilet for a while. After some time, a loud “Holy crap!” suddenly echoed through the quiet bathroom, and then it instantly became lively. “No way, the boss is so rich and successful, he actually got married?” “His spouse must be incredibly impressive!” “Another poor soul entering the grave of marriage!” “Tsk tsk, so even the big boss can’t escape marriage after all!” “Hey, you know what, I actually heard the boss’s mom was pressuring him to get married! Said he had to bring a girlfriend home by next month!” Me: “…” Well well, looks like I’m not the only one getting paid to use the bathroom.

I flushed and walked out to see women from various departments with excited expressions on their faces, chattering away even though they didn’t know each other. Hmm… Looks like this news will spread through the whole company within half an hour. But everyone seemed to be marveling at how even someone like the big boss could be pressured into marriage. I couldn’t help but purse my lips. What’s the big deal? No matter how awesome and rich the big boss is, he’s still human. If someone doesn’t truly hate the idea of marriage, most people will end up taking that step eventually. But I did feel a bit emotional about it. After this incident, the high and mighty big boss seemed a bit more… human. I couldn’t help but smile as I walked to my desk and sat down to start work. I guess the only things the big boss and I have in common, besides being human, is getting pressured to marry! Just before leaving work, I got a message from Lucas. He said he was already home and had tidied up all the stuff I hadn’t gotten around to unpacking since moving into the new place. He even called cleaners to thoroughly clean the apartment. The whole place was now neat and tidy, starting to feel like a real home. Home… Looking at Lucas’s message, I suddenly felt a bit of anticipation. This home was one I established after leaving my parents, starting my own family. From now on, I would work hard for this home. After work, I rushed home eagerly. Lucas had timed my commute perfectly and prepared a table full of dishes. As soon as I walked in, I was hit with the mouthwatering aroma. I was moved to tears. Ever since my parents kicked me out for not getting married, I hadn’t eaten such hot, home-cooked meals! At that moment, I completely forgot about my best friend who used to cook for me, my mind filled only with thoughts of my dear husband. “Honey! I love you so much!” Lucas’s movements paused: “Honey?” I smiled brightly, linking my arm with his and happily telling him about what happened at work today. “Honey, guess what? My company’s big boss, like the top CEO, he actually got married! And he even gets pressured to marry too!” “What’s so strange about that? Aren’t we all human?”

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After my husband passed away, my mother-in-law, Evelyn, brought home a little boy. His face looked so much like Jack, my late husband, that it startled me. She told me he was my husband reborn, a chance to make amends. So, I devoted everything I had to raising him, making him the heir to Landon Enterprises. But the first thing he did after taking over the company was to torture me to death. As I lay dying, Jack appeared with his loyal protégé, Megan Starr. “Thanks for raising our son and building a billion-dollar empire. After you’re dead, our son will be there to send you off,” Jack sneered. I died in rage and heartbreak, only to open my eyes and find myself back on the very day my husband had faked his death. “Ms. Landon, Professor Hayes was in a terrible accident… They don’t think he’s going to make it. Please hurry to St. Andrews Medical Center… maybe… maybe you can still see him one last time…” Megan’s voice trembled with despair before breaking into sobs. Hearing Megan’s voice again, memories of my previous life rushed back, chilling my resolve. But I feigned shock, struggling to control my voice as I replied, “Jack… wait for me… I-I’ll be there soon!” I added with an edge, “Megan, tell the hospital to use whatever resources are necessary, the best treatment available. Landon Enterprises has no shortage of money!” Megan, so poised and disdainful, always looked down on me as if I were some vulgar merchant. But this time, she would learn just how powerful money could be. In my previous life, Jack had never been in a car accident at all. Megan had lied about his “imminent death” to lure me to the hospital, and overwhelmed by grief, I drove recklessly, crashing into oncoming traffic. By the time I woke up from surgery, Jack’s ashes were already in an urn. Not this time. If Jack wanted to fake his death, I’d gladly help him make it real. I quickly called Andrew Carson, my assistant, instructing him to pick up my mother-in-law, Evelyn, in my car and drive her to the hospital. Then, I went to my office’s hidden safe, retrieved a little “something,” and headed downstairs, taking along four bodyguards my father had insisted I keep by my side. We climbed into my armored car and headed for the hospital.

Outside St. Andrews Medical Center, Andrew’s anxious voice crackled through the phone. “Ms. Landon, I’m so sorry, the car was in an accident on Lexington Avenue!” “Are you hurt?” I asked, knowing well that this trap was meant for me, and that Andrew would be fine. But I asked anyway. “I’m fine, Ms. Landon. But Evelyn… her leg is broken.” Ha! The exact same injury I’d suffered before. Jack and Megan must be terrified I’ll get to the hospital on time. But I wouldn’t play into their plan. “Andrew, call the police for an investigation and then dial 911 for an ambulance to get her to the hospital!” I ordered calmly. She wouldn’t die so easily. Then, I called my chief lawyer, Sam Reese. “Sam, handle the accident on Lexington Avenue. Have the driver held for attempted murder. No settlements, only criminal charges.” “Yes, Ms. Landon!” he confirmed. Satisfied, I let my guards in on my act, stumbling out of the car with crocodile tears, sobbing and stumbling toward Jack’s hospital room. Behind me, the bodyguards exchanged bewildered glances.

Inside the hospital room, Jack lay under a white sheet. My abrupt entrance made Megan go pale. “Ms…Ms. Landon, h-how did you get here?” she stammered. Ignoring her and everyone else in the room, I clutched my mouth and collapsed to my knees, my muffled sobs rising into gut-wrenching wails. “Ms. Landon, I’m so sorry. Professor Hayes is… gone. You have my condolences,” Megan whispered, moving to offer me support. I sidestepped her, throwing myself onto Jack’s body, brushing his hair with trembling fingers and choking on my words, “Jack, how could you be so cruel, just leaving me like this? Jack… come back… open your eyes…” As I leaned over Jack’s body, I swiftly jabbed three needles into pressure points on his scalp, hidden within my sleeve. Landon Enterprises was founded on the medical expertise my grandfather passed down, and I was the sole inheritor of his rare acupuncture secrets. In my previous life, Jack had injected himself with a fake-death serum, concocted by him and Megan, that fooled the doctors and orchestrated the car accident to fool me. Together, they’d faked his death successfully, living carefree abroad for twenty years. By the time I raised their son and handed him Landon Enterprises, I was left broken and dying, having realized I’d been conned all along. Their serum had side effects, though. Without a counter-injection within two hours, Jack would actually die. With my needlework, I’d shortened that window by half an hour without leaving a single detectable trace. My work done, I stepped away from the miserable corpse, my voice barely audible as I instructed my bodyguard, Bobby, “Bring Evelyn to see her son one last time.” “Ms. Landon, but her leg…” Bobby hesitated. “Doesn’t matter. She’s his mother, and she has a right to say goodbye,” I replied. Megan’s eyes widened, panic flashing across her face as she murmured, “Ms. Landon, maybe it’s best not to tell her. Evelyn just had an accident and has a weak heart… if she hears Jack is dead, it might be too much.” Oh? Megan knew about Evelyn’s accident already. This car crash wasn’t some random act of fate. Ignoring her, I waved Bobby off with a weary gesture. He left immediately. “Ms. Landon, you’re being reckless!” Megan hissed. “Jack wouldn’t want you to endanger Evelyn, not after what happened!” “Ghosts? Oh yes, Jack, do come back and haunt me. Show me you care…” I whispered, quaking with feigned emotion, putting on the perfect show of a grieving, love-stricken widow. Megan’s practiced composure cracked. If she could play the composed saint, I could just as easily play the loyal, devoted wife. And I wouldn’t stop until they both suffered.

“Ms. Landon, we should prepare Jack’s arrangements and send him to the County Coroner’s Office,” Megan pushed, clearly anxious. So, she had accomplices waiting there. But I wasn’t in any rush. None of these schemers would be getting off easy. “Evelyn will be here soon,” I said, savoring the panic that washed over Megan’s face. “M-my son… my Jack… get up and look at me. I’m here, Jack!” Evelyn wailed, entering the room in an overdone display of grief, her voice cracked and dry, her eyes tearless. She seemed so heartbroken, yet her sorrow wasn’t genuine. In my previous life, I’d been blind. I’d thought Evelyn’s quick recovery from “losing her only son” was miraculous, and convinced myself that her devotion to their son, Jeremy, was simply love, failing to see the truth. “Evelyn… Jack is really gone,” I said, watching her body go rigid, her gaze darting nervously toward Megan. Megan gave her a barely noticeable shake of the head. Evelyn’s tension faded, and she resumed her display of anguish. As I withdrew the needles from Jack’s head, Evelyn’s face turned deathly pale, her hand clutching her chest. “Ah… my… heart… it hurts…” “Evelyn, are you okay? Don’t scare me!” I said, my tone dripping with fake concern, though I hadn’t moved an inch. “Move! She’s having a heart attack!” Megan screamed, pushing me aside. I let her. Switching to speaker, I called Evelyn’s cardiologist, Dr. Grey. “Dr. Grey, my mother-in-law’s heart condition has worsened. Please advise,” I sobbed. “…Ms. Landon, I’ve told you, her heart transplant can’t be delayed anymore. But we haven’t found a donor,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “If it were my husband’s heart… could it be a match?” “What?” My tearful voice wavered as I explained, “Dr. Grey, my husband just died in a car accident…” “Oh… my deepest condolences, Ms. Landon,” Dr. Grey replied, sadness mingling with a glimmer of hope. “It’s possible, Ms. Landon. I’ll bring my team immediately.” “No! I won’t allow it!” Megan and Evelyn both shouted in unison. Evelyn’s voice was weak, but she managed to raise a finger, pointing at me. “Rachel, my son just died, and you’re already after his heart! How heartless can you be?” Megan chimed in, “Yes, Ms. Landon, Jack feared pain. How could you? Let him be cremated, and let him rest.” I looked at them, tears welling up. “Mom, I wouldn’t suggest this if I had a choice. If Jack knew his heart could give you a longer life, he’d approve. And if possible… I’d like to donate his other organs to others in need, so Jack can live on in others.” Evelyn’s face flushed with fury. Unable to contain herself, she collapsed, sending the room into silence. Only Megan remained, shrieking, “Help! Help!” Just then, Dr. Grey and his team arrived. Seeing my chance, I clung to him, crying, “Dr. Grey, please save my mother-in-law. I can’t lose her, too!” Dr. Grey squeezed my hand. “I’ll do everything I can. If the transplant’s a success, Evelyn could have another two or three decades.” Yes, I’d been the one to find her a heart donor in my past life, ensuring Evelyn a long and healthy life even after I was gone. Remembering the cruelty they showed me back then, I felt my anger reignite. “Dr. Grey, I leave everything to you,” I said. “I’ll handle the paperwork.” With my consent, Dr. Grey split his team, one group taking Evelyn to surgery while the other prepared Jack’s “body” for organ retrieval. I caught Megan’s desperate expression as she clung to Jack’s bed, sobbing as if it were her own husband lying there. Unable to contain myself, I slapped her hard, saying, “Mind your place! This is my family business, not yours.” At my signal, Bobby yanked Megan away, her face blank with shock. Jack’s “body” was taken from the room. Megan was in disbelief. I wanted to see just how deep her so-called love for Jack ran. Sure enough, as Jack’s body disappeared down the hall, Megan finally broke, screaming, “Jack isn’t dead! He’s not dead…” What a laugh. The play is about to begin.

Megan’s outbursts had already crossed several lines. Dr. Grey looked at her coldly, a flicker of impatience crossing his face as he asked, “And who is she?” “Oh, she’s just one of my husband’s students, Dr. Grey,” I answered, stepping forward to block her from him. “Please don’t listen to her nonsense.” “No, Dr. Grey, I can prove it! I can prove that Jack’s still alive!” Megan’s voice was trembling, but her face was desperate and determined, as though she thought she could still salvage this disaster. I shot her a sharp look, and Bobby loosened his grip just enough for her to stumble free. She tore into her purse, pulling out a small insulated medical box and fumbling with the syringe inside it. Eyes wide with panic, she lunged toward Jack’s bed, trembling as she tried to inject him. I slapped her hard across the face, making her freeze. “Enough! Megan, you’re a medical student, yet you’re acting like a fool. Jack’s gone! What, are you going to bring him back from the dead with one injection?” “Ms. Landon, I swear, it’ll work! Jack’s only faking it. Just give him this shot!” Megan was crying now, her sobs disfiguring her face, her panic morphing into a pitiful display. Looking at her, I felt the same disgust I’d felt back when Jack betrayed me. I realized, at last, what Jack had sacrificed his life and career for—a second-rate, weeping fool. He must have been blind. Trying to keep up the pretense of professionalism, Dr. Grey approached and checked Jack’s vitals again, only to shake his head solemnly. Nearby, Jack’s attending physician, who had already lost patience, glanced at the clock and declared firmly, “It’s been exactly one hour, eighteen minutes, and twenty-six seconds since Professor Hayes was pronounced deceased. There’s no way he could be revived now.” The nurse beside him agreed, glancing at Megan with thinly veiled scorn. “Landon Enterprises’ CEO is his wife. If anyone wants him to be alive, it’s her. Who does this woman think she is?” “She must be his… mistress. Why else would she act this way?” I seized the moment, gesturing to Bobby. “Escort this lunatic out. She’s done enough damage.” It wasn’t yet the full hour and a half Jack’s serum would buy him, but there was no way I’d let Megan have her chance to save him. I wanted Jack to die beyond any doubt. As Bobby dragged her, she screamed until her voice cracked, but no one believed her. They assumed she was just another woman gone mad over a married man. Watching Dr. Grey handle the syringe Megan had dropped, I feigned curiosity. “Dr. Grey, are you sure that shot couldn’t bring him back? Maybe… we should try it?” He examined it for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Landon, but Jack has truly passed. My condolences.” The grief in my eyes gradually dimmed, and I whispered, “Is there no hope, then?” The attending doctor approached, a pen and a death certificate ready. “Ms. Landon, if you’re ready, please sign here.” I took the form, my hands shaking as I signed, then collapsed into muffled sobs, my face hidden behind trembling hands. “Oh, Jack… how could you be so heartless…” I wailed. Everyone in the room saw my raw despair, murmuring to each other. “Ms. Landon, you have to stay strong. Your mother-in-law needs you. You’ve made the right decision to help her,” someone murmured. “Yes, this poor woman… so much grief to endure,” said another. After I signed the death certificate, Sam arrived, placing the organ donation forms in front of me. I handed them to him and then watched as Dr. Grey and his team wheeled Jack’s “body” down the hall to the surgery room.

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After my mother remarried, my younger brother, Jon, discovered from Dad’s old box of belongings that Grandpa’s family came from a prestigious military background, one that held power in the Old Guard Social Circle. Jon immediately clung to the idea of becoming part of that elite world, choosing to go with Grandpa. But Grandpa had other ideas. Instead of introducing Jon to the elite circles, he had him working on the farm, tending sheep, writing, carving, and studying hard with no chance to show his face in public circles. Meanwhile, I stayed with our stepfather, Dan, at the Rivers Family Estate and became his right-hand man, eventually making my way into high society. By the time Jon returned home after graduating high school, he learned that Savannah “Sunny” Charleston and I were heading abroad to study together—and that we’d be engaged upon returning. Jon went into a rage and killed me, and in some twist of fate, we both found ourselves back at the moment when we had to choose: go with Grandpa or stay with Mom. This time, Jon hid behind Mom, insisting, “I’m not going back with Grandpa; my dad is here.” I quickly gripped Grandpa Sam’s coat. I’d had enough of the life of servitude and catering to someone else’s every whim.

When Dad passed away, he left behind two sons: my brother, Jonathan “Jon” Rivers, and me, Lucas “Luke” Rivers. Mom quickly remarried, throwing her energy into her new husband, Dan Thompson, and the unborn child she was carrying. That was when Grandpa Sam, whom we had never met, showed up and said he wanted to take both Jon and me. Mom’s face twisted with anger. “When I married your son, you didn’t contribute a penny. I’ve never even met you until now, and now you want to take both kids?” “These are my son’s children too,” he replied. “I know you’ve remarried, but I can’t bear to see them left entirely to you. If you insist, maybe I could take one of them off your hands. Let them choose for themselves.” Before he could finish, Jon had already taken Dan’s hand, eager to help him sit, calling him “Dad” with this sweet look in his eye and volunteering to make tea. With a voice as soft as silk, he promised Dan would be his only dad from now on. Mom looked completely stunned. When she was first talking about remarrying, Jon had been firmly against it. She was overwhelmed, caught between the son of her late husband and her new love. Now Jon was going out of his way to be nice to Dan, even promising to change his last name to match Dan’s. She’d always favored Jon, so his offer to stay was an easy choice. With Jon firmly holding Dan’s hand, he looked at me and said loudly, “Make sure you follow Grandpa closely, brother.” When I finished packing, ready to leave with Grandpa, Jon mocked me openly. “This time, you can get down in the dirt and dig. Time for you to see what real hardship is like.”

I knew exactly why he was so smug. In the last life, he had found Dad’s medal—a heavy-duty Distinguished Service Medal—along with a letter from Dad in a box of his belongings. The letter explained that Dad’s family came from a distinguished military background. Jon was determined to live a privileged life without feeling like a second-class member of Dan’s family. So when given a choice, he clung to Grandpa’s arm, demanding to go with him. His vision of an elite lifestyle crumbled when he saw where Grandpa actually lived: a modest little town with a small, self-built house surrounded by woods. Grandpa’s income came from farming and collecting herbs, entirely dependent on what he could sell to buyers from town. When the season wasn’t good, money was tight. Grandpa had Jon on a strict schedule, with no room for coddling. At the crack of dawn, Jon had to be up, eat, and walk or catch a bus to public school. After school, Grandpa would make him finish every bit of homework and then supervise his exercise. Weekends meant going up into the woods to forage for herbs—no leisure time, no entertainment. Jon would go on to describe his life there as unbearable misery. He wanted a housekeeper, servants, a mansion with gilded walls, and a school with a private driver. He wanted to attend a prep school and make friends with the sons of CEOs. Meanwhile, I had everything he wanted and then some. While he wore handmade, out-of-style clothes Grandpa had tailored at a local shop, I was out shopping with Dan’s black card, getting the latest designer suits and watches delivered straight to our door. When Jon was battling acne and drinking bitter herbal concoctions, Dan was arranging for my braces, a personal trainer, and a whole team to help me sculpt a perfect physique. In his eyes, I became the “lost son” everyone saw as the next Rivers heir, while he faded into the background. When I was barely sixteen, alliances with other wealthy families were already being considered. Standing by Dan’s side, I gained a polished reputation as his heir and his public face. Jon was smitten with Sunny Charleston and pestered Mom relentlessly to arrange an introduction. But she refused, so he finally asked, “I’m a Rivers too—why can’t I?” With an icy tone, Dan shot him down. “Look at you—following your grandpa around in the dirt. You don’t know the first thing about finance, fine wines, or golf. What makes you think you belong here?” Grandpa hauled Jon back to Willow Creek and forbade him from returning until after college applications. When Jon asked about the medal he’d found, Grandpa just shrugged and said he picked it up from a junkyard, telling him to focus on his studies. When Jon was taking his college entrance exams, I was performing solo piano for my debut. Dan, with his background in music, had trained me well; my hands moved with expert grace over the keys, and when I finished, the crowd applauded, and the crystal lights sparkled in my eyes. Rumor spread: “The Rivers have Luke; the Old Guard has Sunny.” But after Jon’s college results were in, he returned home proudly, only to hear about my engagement to Sunny Charleston, the girl he had liked. When Dan and Mr. Charleston discussed our study abroad plans, Jon introduced himself to Mr. Charleston, who smiled politely. But as Jon walked away, Mr. Charleston sighed, “So, I’ve heard your ex-wife brought two sons here. Well, one of them’s wasted his life; the other—Luke—is refined and accomplished. I could smell the stench of poverty on that first one as he walked past.” Jon lost it. He stormed into my room, choking me, shouting, “Die! Just die!” I swung an object at his head in self-defense. In the end, we both died that night—at just eighteen—only to return to the crossroads of fate once more. This time, he chose Dan without hesitation, telling me, “This round, you’re the one who’s going to waste away with that old man. You’ll be nothing but a bumpkin now.”

Grandpa’s place was humble, to say the least. Mom didn’t even feel responsible for providing my child support payments to Grandpa. She only showed up during school breaks when she brought Jon home, going through the motions. She’d always thought Grandpa’s life would be wealthier and more prestigious than Dan’s, or at least rich enough to maintain the lifestyle we had at the Rivers Estate. Grandpa set up a small room just for me, with only the essentials and a plain writing desk with a few pencils and paper. We walked around the land, the summer heat cracking the soil. Grandma watered the plants, saying, “You chose this path; you can’t turn back now.” Grandpa didn’t think I’d last after the luxury of the Rivers Estate. In the last life, Jon had called Mom and asked to come home shortly after moving in, but she had refused. He quickly learned that in reality, Grandpa’s household was nothing like the high-society circles in Old Bridge. I picked up a watering can and helped Grandpa. “I don’t regret it, Grandpa. I like this life. It feels real.” Grandpa just looked at me, as if taken aback. Finally, he murmured, “You’re nothing like your dad.” I asked, “What was my dad like when he was young?” The only image I had of Dad was one of worry etched into his face. But Grandpa’s expression darkened, and he changed the subject. “If you’re going to live with me, you follow my rules. I’m strict, and I don’t like nonsense. Go rest now.” That night, listening to the frogs and crickets outside my window, I drifted off to sleep.

The books piled on my desk were like a mountain. Even with two lives’ worth of experience, I hadn’t learned much about basic subjects. Studying at a public school, without the luxury of private tutors, was nothing like socializing at high-end gatherings. I’d fall asleep at the desk, only to hear Grandpa cough, startling me awake. My hand shot up instinctively, “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’ll get back to work.” Grandpa looked at me in surprise. “You get hit a lot, huh?” I answered honestly, “Yes.” He sighed heavily. “Maybe tonight, get some rest.” I shook my head, determined. “No, if I take breaks, I’ll never catch up with my studies. My handwriting won’t get any better. I know I can do this.” Grandpa watched me for a long while. Then he said, “I’ll go shoo the cicadas away if they’re bothering you.” I could feel Grandpa’s care for me. Though he rarely said much, he would stay up with me to correct my mistakes. And though my clothes weren’t designer, he’d have the neighbor lady, a retired seamstress, take my measurements. Grandpa never said it, but I knew he felt for me, wishing Mom would come visit. But after two lifetimes, I didn’t have any expectations of motherly love, nor did I want her to show up. When she did visit, it was usually just to snap a few photos to add to her social image, acting like she cared. Every time, her gaze spoke volumes of judgment and discomfort. One day, I heard the sound of a violin drifting through the door, and my hands automatically mimicked the rhythm. Grandpa moved in front of me protectively as I looked over his shoulder. Jon stood there, playing his violin with pride, every movement as poised as a showbird, his eyes full of smug satisfaction when he finished. Not far off, Dan and Mom approached hand in hand. Mom’s belly was visibly large now, and her gaze was filled with love as she looked from her stomach to Jon. But when her eyes landed on me, her face turned cold and distant. As they drew closer, she feigned surprise. “Oh, Uncle Sam, I didn’t see you there.” Dan took this moment to show off. “Jon, you played that part well, but it should go more like this. Let me demonstrate. Maybe Luke could listen in too,” he added nonchalantly. Jon clung to Dan’s sleeve. “Dad, let’s go home. Mom says you were her first music mentor. Why don’t you teach me some more?” It was almost comical. Music mentor? It was just two people drawn to each other out of vanity and money. Performing at home wasn’t enough; they needed an audience here. With Mom in the middle, Jon and Dan on either side, she nodded my way. “Luke, stay close to Grandpa now; we’ll be off.” Jon turned to me, grinning as he asked, “Could you walk me out, big brother? I want to spend a minute with you.” I had a hunch about what he’d say. “You saw that medal, didn’t you?” he asked with a sneer. “I’m just giving you a heads-up—it’s a fake. Grandpa’s just a country bumpkin.” He smirked as he delivered the words, delighted in the jab. “Oh, by the way, did you get an invite from the Johnsons?” “Ah, I must’ve forgotten,” he continued, glancing down with a smirk as he fiddled with his expensive watch, just to make sure I’d noticed. “Out here in these sticks, you’re probably already blacklisted from the high society of Old Bridge. Beg me, and I might take you along—though you’ll only embarrass yourself.” I knew he was watching for any sign of anger or regret, but I just looked at him and asked, “When’s the last time you actually enjoyed the taste of a real meal?” That single question made his face harden. He glared. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, you hillbilly.” And with that, he turned and hurried back to the car, looking almost panicked as he left. I walked home slowly. When I arrived, Grandpa was awkwardly holding out a small cake. “It’s your birthday,” he muttered. “I didn’t know how you celebrated it back at the Rivers house, but here’s a cake for you.” It had been so long since I’d celebrated my birthday that the creamy sweetness hit me like a flood of memories. I savored every bite as it melted on my tongue. Music was something you needed talent for, but to make it big, you also had to look the part. Dan believed that if you looked the right way, the world was yours. That was why, from my early teens, I struggled with an image I’d never really wanted. Even the slightest bloating was grounds for punishment. I’d wake up starving in the middle of the night, only to be forced to purge if I was caught rummaging in the fridge. Eventually, my stomach learned the response on its own, and anything I ate past a certain amount would make me sick. For performances, Dan would buy me custom designer suits, and I’d chug protein shakes to bulk up. My body was already running on fumes, and yet he never let up. I once tried telling Mom how bad things had gotten, and her only response was, “Dan does it for your own good.” He was as meticulous in my upbringing as a dollmaker, turning me into a flawless but soulless puppet. When my half-brother was born, Dan dropped all pretense, constantly reminding me, “For Ben’s sake, you need to keep excelling. Otherwise, there’ll be no place for you in this family when Ben’s older.” Mom fully agreed, telling me, “Ben is our future, and you need to marry well so you can be there to support him.” But Dan’s heart was never content. He had plenty of flings on the side, and even with Ben around, he never reined himself in. Mom thought she could use me to bring his focus back to her.

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My husband’s form of emotional manipulation? The silent treatment. At the slightest displeasure, he storms out, disappearing for days or even weeks. I learned to set my own emotions aside, smile, and take care of our son. Then, one day while I was helping Tyler with his homework, I saw his one wish written out: “I wish Mom would just disappear. “She’s so scary when she loses it on Dad.” It was then I finally woke up. Sunday nights are the hardest. Tyler is dragging his feet, crying over homework that’s due tomorrow, while Dan is lost in his own world, gaming with his headphones on, utterly indifferent. No one wants anything to do with me. Tyler is glaring at me, teary-eyed from my scolding; Dan is pretending not to notice, clearly annoyed by my presence. I’m left standing by the table, clearing up their plates, whispering to myself that it’s all my own fault. But my heart aches. Late at night, Dan slips away to the study, Tyler falls asleep, tear stains on his cheeks, and I find myself in the bathroom, looking at my own weary reflection. This is the third month of Dan’s silent treatment. Three long months—I can hardly remember why we’re fighting. Under the same roof, he hasn’t said a word to me. I refuse to give in; I’m convinced he’s at fault. But sleeplessness nags at me. I walk to Tyler’s room to tidy up his backpack. And there, on his desk, I see the new journal I got him. Under “Rewards,” written in that innocent, clumsy handwriting, I see: “I wish Mom would just disappear.”

I blink, thinking I’ve read it wrong. I pick up the journal and take it to the living room, reading that line again. “I wish Mom would just disappear. “She’s so scary when she yells at Dad; she chased him away.” I collapse on the couch, numb, feeling an overwhelming, dull ache settle in. The study light flips off as Dan emerges, grinning. The moment he sees me, his usual icy expression returns. He doesn’t say a word, just picks up his car keys from the coffee table. As he walks past, I catch a whiff of his cologne—Vanilla Musk. It’s the same scent I picked out for him in college when we started dating. Back then, he was a tech geek, always in black-framed glasses and a white T-shirt, hopelessly oblivious to style. I remember teasing him, “A little cologne goes a long way with girls.” He promised he’d keep it because I liked it. And he’s used it ever since. The familiar scent stirs memories of who he was, of our better times, and of the family I desperately want to keep whole for Tyler’s sake. The pain my son caused me rushes back, and without thinking, I stand up and grab Dan’s arm. “Dan, please, can we talk?” Tears silently slip down my face as I stand behind him. He jerks his arm away. I notice his phone screen: he’s on a call. Who is he talking to this late at night, wearing cologne? “Dan, are you coming down? I’ve been craving BBQ all week!” A girl’s voice comes through, laughing flirtatiously. That soft, sweet tone brings back all the reasons we’re in this fight. I turn to leave, but Dan grabs my arm again. With a smirk, he says, “Beg me, and I’ll stay with you and Tyler tonight.” Dan has always reveled in the moment I give in, that satisfaction of seeing me break, especially now that some young girl is competing for his attention. The way he stays—like he’s doing us a favor.

I laughed, but not in amusement. “Beg you? As if I made Tyler all by myself. You’re his father, too, aren’t you? “Am I the only one responsible for him? Don’t you care at all? “Do you even realize the toll this is taking on him?” Dan’s expression hardened, his mouth a thin line. Like I was some madwoman, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him. Tyler’s journal, with its wish for my disappearance, was still lying on the couch. Dan had left his study lights on as usual. He never bothers with issues—either saying something sharp to rile me up or storming out the door, leaving me to pick up the pieces. The slam of the door woke Tyler. Barefoot, he padded out of his room, staring at the direction his dad left. He came over, picked up his journal from the couch, frowning. “Mom, why do you always make Dad so mad?” I didn’t answer. Downstairs, the sound of Dan’s car engine roared, and the car drove off. Guess I’ll be biking Tyler to school again tomorrow. I looked at the journal clenched in his little hand, at the eyes he inherited from his father. For the first time, I realized just how trapped I’ve been all these years.

I managed to make it to my bedroom, collapsed onto the bed. Closing my eyes, I kept seeing, “Mom would just disappear.” Those four words. Honestly, I’d never screamed at him hysterically. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid conflict, humbling myself to keep Dan around for Tyler’s sake. I pleaded with Dan to come home, to spend time with his own son. Sleep was impossible. My phone lit up on the nightstand; it was a message from Linda. “I heard Dan storm out again. Did you two argue? Are you okay?” I met Linda through Craigslist, where I sold handmade crafts after Dan cut off my access to our joint account during one of his silent treatments. I had no income, so I took on small jobs to make ends meet. Eventually, we discovered we were neighbors. She even bought from me, supporting my small business and showing care. As I heard Tyler’s door close, I texted back: “Thanks, Linda. I’m fine.” The next morning, I woke up completely drained, my eyes swollen. Dan had returned. The scent of Vanilla Musk was barely there, drowned in alcohol. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, then shifted away. This wasn’t the silent treatment. This time, he muttered from the bathroom doorway, scornfully. “Don’t you think this look is a bit dramatic?” He expected me to lash out, to scream and cry so he could leave, feeling justified. But I’d grown tired. I didn’t react. He seemed surprised, watching me with something like uncertainty. He walked into Tyler’s room and spoke in that bright, affectionate tone. “Hey, buddy, Daddy’s taking you to school today.” The two of them left hand in hand, happily chatting, his kindness for Tyler a sharp contrast to his coldness with me. Neither of them thought to ask how I was doing. It felt like two knives twisting in my chest.

Taking out the trash, I ran into Linda. She noticed my eyes and took me inside, rolling a cold spoon over the bruises under my eyes. She looked at me, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Does it hurt?” Her kindness brought back memories of Dan from when we were first married. Back then, Dan and I had nothing. Living in San Francisco was expensive, and we could only afford a tiny basement apartment on the outskirts. Our bathroom and kitchen were communal, and we slept on a small twin bed. One day, after cooking in the shared kitchen, I accidentally ran into someone in the hall. In my reflex to avoid them, I burned the back of my hand with hot food. When Dan came home, I wore gloves to hide it, not wanting him to worry, but he noticed immediately. I tried to laugh it off, saying it didn’t hurt. Dan, frantic, rushed to get me first aid. He cried so hard, his tears wouldn’t stop. I teased him, saying, “What kind of man cries so much?” He replied through sobs, “Evie, I’ll make sure you never suffer again!” That night, he held me close, promising all the beautiful things we’d do together. “Evie, I won’t ever let you get hurt again.” I believed then he truly loved me. But when did he change? Now, it feels like we’re two ticking time bombs, bound together, ready to explode at the slightest friction. Except Dan is a dud—no noise, just a silent smoke that fills every corner, choking me in fear, making me scream. Returning home, I found the place empty. The kitchen was cold, Tyler’s dirty clothes scattered across the wet bathroom floor, muddy footprints tracked through the living room. I sank onto the couch and opened my laptop. I started drafting the divorce papers. I didn’t lack qualifications compared to Dan. Before becoming a stay-at-home mom, I was a college grad, passed the bar, and worked as an attorney for two years. I once earned a good salary, winning cases and thriving in my career. Then, I got pregnant. Dan convinced me to quit and focus on raising Tyler. At first, he’d said: “When your maternity leave’s over and Tyler’s a little older, we can hire a nanny. You can get back to work whenever you’re ready.” Later, he changed it to: “Tyler’s used to you now, and I’m in a career upswing. Going back would mean hiring a nanny, and her salary would eat up yours. It just doesn’t make sense for us financially. “Let’s wait until Tyler’s a bit older.” My son hugged mine and babbled for mommy. I went soft. Blame me for not insisting. Thinking about it now, Dan’s cold violence appeared a little bit from that time.

Having finished drafting the divorce agreement, I noticed it was almost evening. Dan still hadn’t come home with Tyler. Out of habit, I started worrying about Tyler’s homework, then I slapped myself hard across the face. “As a mom, I have to be tough, just like his dad.” Then I got a call from Dan. It was that same girl from the other night. “Hey, it’s me. Dan is too drunk to get home. Can you come pick him up?” “Why don’t you just take him home? Aren’t you two close?” I glanced at the divorce papers on the table and changed my mind. “Forget it. I’ll go get him.” As soon as I hung up, I rushed to the bar where he was. Inside, a mix of people filled the room. Apart from the girl I’d spoken to on the phone, everyone else was a stranger. Yet they all looked at me with judgment, as if I had failed to be a good housewife. Dan sat in the main seat, his face flushed, raising an empty glass while Tyler was right beside him. His backpack lay discarded on the floor, and a girl dressed in revealing clothing had him in her arms, chatting away. So this is how he spends time with our son? No wonder my efforts to care for Tyler all these years seemed futile compared to the few times Dan takes him out for a good time. Before I could step inside, Tyler yelled out. “Dad, I don’t want to go back with Mom! She’ll just make me do my homework!” He darted around like he’d seen a ghost, and only then did Dan feign waking up. “Don’t be scared, buddy. Dad’s here.” Then more voices chimed in, urging me to back down. “Hey, don’t be mad at him. He’s been hiding out at my place for almost two months because of you.” “Same here, Dan’s been hiding out at my place for nearly a month; my wife is getting annoyed.” The girl next to Dan chimed in, “You know, Dan talks about you and Tyler a lot when we chat. He really cares about you both.” That’s when it hit me—this call wasn’t about getting Dan home. They wanted me to break down, beg, and apologize to him so he would come back. I couldn’t help but scoff. “With all these sob stories, can’t he just come home on his own? Does he not have legs? “I’m the one working my tail off to raise our son, yet he storms out at the slightest inconvenience and is now the one suffering. “If having fun outside is suffering, how about I trade places with you, Dan? Quit pretending to be drunk. “Is this what you want? Should I say it privately or would you prefer I say it right here?” The girl clinging to him suddenly paled. “Look, it’s all a misunderstanding.” A misunderstanding? Almost caught him in the act while he was out partying, and when I pressed him, he just shut down. Dan went cold again, not saying a word. He shot a dark glance at Tyler, who shuffled over to me, looking dejected, while still glancing back at Dan, hoping he would call him back. He thought that meant more fun and no homework. This was his way of sending me packing. Telling me to take our son and leave while he continued to enjoy himself. Why does it always have to be this way? I’ve had enough. I stood my ground, pulling out the divorce papers.

“Dan, let’s get a divorce.” The noise in the bar fell silent instantly. Dan finally looked up at me. His expression was one of disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend what I just said. After seven years of marriage, no matter how tense things had become between us, I’d never once brought up divorce. He knew me well enough to know I never backtracked once I made up my mind. He jumped up from the leather sofa and took a few steps towards me. “Are you serious?” Finally, he was looking me in the eye and speaking to me like a normal person. He glanced at Tyler and smirked. “Evie, if you want a divorce, you can’t take Tyler with you. He’d much rather stay with me.” Dan was confident I’d fight him for our son. He wasn’t blind; he knew how much I had put up with for Tyler’s sake over the years. Tyler clung to Dan, glaring at me with fear, as if I was going to take him away. “Mom, I don’t want you. I want Dad.” The girl stepped closer, smiling mockingly as she advised me. “Sweetie, at your age, without a job or a place to live, you can’t take custody of him. “Just take your son home; there’s no need for overnight grudges in a marriage.” I gritted my teeth, clutching the divorce papers tightly. I knew what I was up against when I walked in here, but seeing their disdain and disapproval stung. But no, I pinched myself. Reminding myself: Women must be strong; no tears. Tears are magic in front of those who love you; they’re merely a joke in front of those who don’t. “Dan, rest assured. “I’m leaving. I don’t want the child or the house.”

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My crush finally said yes to my confession. The next day, my best friend slept with him. She said, “I didn’t mean to, I was drunk that night… Can you forgive me?” I opened a can of soda, took a few gulps, and said solemnly, “You don’t understand me.” I continued, “I don’t like dirty things.” “A man who’s been with someone else is no different from trash to me.” “Don’t feel burdened. If you want him, go ahead. I really don’t mind.” Everyone in our circle knew I had a crush on Ryan. Ryan himself knew it too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dared to boss me around so shamelessly. I’ve lost count of how many nights I’ve received calls from Ryan while half-asleep. “Lily, I’m hungry. Bring some late-night snacks to my office.” Or how many afternoons he’d call without even a hint of courtesy. “Lily, I have a business meeting. Park your car downstairs within 30 minutes.” Or when I’d spend two hours getting ready, looking gorgeous as I stood at Ryan’s doorstep, reminding him of the date he’d agreed to half a month ago. And he’d frown and say, “Lily, can you stop being so unreasonable? I told you I have a business dinner!” “Lily.” The day after I received photos of Ryan and Julia in various acrobatic-like positions in bed, Julia found me wearing a white dress. Her face was perfectly made up. Even her knuckles, clutching a limited edition Chanel handbag, were blushed. In contrast, I had a greasy ponytail that hadn’t been washed for days, wearing a gray tank top similar to what old men in the neighborhood wear for their morning walks. And in front of me was a large can of surströmming, continuously emitting its “fragrance.” My appearance must have been quite unexpected. Julia paused before continuing. “Lily, I didn’t mean to sleep with Ryan. I was drunk that night… Can you forgive me?” My good friend had just uttered the classic line of someone caught cheating. But I didn’t want to play along with her “We’re best friends! Wah, why did you sleep with my man?!” drama. I nodded, looking indifferent: “Of course I can forgive you. Why not?” Julia was stunned: “Lily, are you serious?” “But it’s Ryan, isn’t it? Haven’t you liked him for many years?” “Many years? Has it been that long?” I shrugged: “Then it’s about time for a change.” I opened a can of soda, took a few gulps, and said solemnly: “Julia, you don’t understand me.” I continued, “I don’t like dirty things.” “A man who’s been with someone else is no different from trash to me.” “Don’t feel burdened. If you want him, go ahead. I really don’t mind.” After I said this, Julia’s face went through a rainbow of emotions. She probably expected me to cry my eyes out. So she stuttered again: “Lily, I know you’re upset.” “But don’t say things you don’t mean.” “No one expected this to happen. Why don’t we talk about how to solve this?” She tried to come closer as she spoke. But because the surströmming smell was truly overwhelming, she had to wrinkle her nose and stop half a meter away, next to an oil painting. If someone could see us two right now, they’d definitely think Julia was the owner of this mansion. After all, she’s the one wearing haute couture. She’s the one wearing limited edition perfume. She’s the one who’s been controlling her oiliness for years, to the point where even when the real owner wants to eat something she likes, she has to do it sneakily. I’ve raised this parasite for five years, spoiling her to the point where she dared to sleep with my man and then come ask for forgiveness. What is this called? Feeding pearls to a swine. “I’m really not angry.” Just then, a phone call came in. I left Julia hanging there for over half an hour before putting down the phone: “What were you saying earlier?” Julia looked at me, very frankly: “Lily, I’ve never been in a relationship before. Ryan is my first man. Can you let him go for me?” “Sure.” I nodded without hesitation and said, “He’s yours. What else do you want?” “If there’s nothing else, take out the trash by the door when you leave.” After all, you like trash so much, don’t you? After that day, I deleted Julia’s fingerprints from all the properties registered under my name. Including that townhouse near Central Park that neither my parents nor I visit often. Only a fool would pour their heart out to Julia in this world. For the past five years, to ensure Julia had enough monthly allowance to live like a princess, I worked crazy hours, overtime, risking my life to make money. But now… it’s not my responsibility to support her anymore. ··· I hired over twenty professional accountants to work overtime calculating the accounts. Three days later. Looking at the astronomical figure submitted by the chief accountant, I unwrapped a lollipop and put it in my mouth. “Are you sure she owes me this much?” I crossed my legs and smoothed the silky hair on my shoulder, exuding an urban lady vibe. “Miss Quinn, I’m absolutely certain.” “Good, good, good.” I laughed out loud three times, then emailed the bill to Ryan. And, I CC’d all our mutual friends! Actually, the moment I decided to make Julia pay back the money, I knew I’d make a small profit. But I didn’t expect it to be more than just a small profit! It was like winning the lottery, and tax-free at that! Ryan quickly called after receiving the email. I used to love his voice, obsessively saving every voice message he sent me. When he was too lazy to type and called directly, I’d beg him to say more. But now, just seeing the name “Ryan” made me sick. So. I hung up the call and sent my bank account number directly, with a note: “Surely this small amount isn’t beyond Mr. King’s means?” After doing this, I took out a stack of cash from the safe and handed it to the chief accountant. “You and your team have worked hard lately. This money is a small token of my appreciation.” “Let them buy snacks, buy whatever they like to eat.” I said this with great generosity. The chief accountant, seemingly infected by my enthusiasm, didn’t stand on ceremony. He reached out with his slender hand, took the money, pushed up his rimless glasses, and smiled faintly: “Miss Quinn, you’re very generous.” Hey! This is nothing! I waved my hand: “I’m not an ordinary capitalist, I’m…” Halfway through my sentence, I realized something was off. Was this handsome chief accountant genuinely praising my generosity, or subtly implying I was a sucker?! Looking at Zach’s face that could practically debut as an idol on the spot, I fell into deep thought. Has he always been this good-looking? How come I didn’t notice yesterday? Perhaps my image as a lovesick fool was too deeply ingrained in people’s minds. Lucas, upon learning that Julia and Ryan had gotten together, quickly arranged a gathering. He said: he wanted me to see the true colors of this pair of scumbags. To this, I quickly waved my hands and said: unnecessary, completely unnecessary. I might be stubborn, but I’m not stupid. I’ve already experienced how disgusting these two are. But my refusal was ineffective. When I showed up at the party in a Dior mini dress, Ryan had been beaten black and blue by Lucas, while Julia was sobbing softly beside him, occasionally comforting him. “Lily.” Lucas and a few other mutual friends pulled up a chair for me to sit in front of these two: “They have something to say to you.” “Lily…” Julia opened her mouth, ready to act. Ryan also looked pained: “Lily…” “Stop.” I halted this farce, serious and cold: “Julia, you said Ryan was your first man and asked me to give him to you. Okay. I don’t want trash, if you want it, it’s yours.” “Ryan, we only dated for a day, there wasn’t much emotional foundation. But you cheated.” “Lily, I’m sorry, I really…” He was halfway through his sentence when I interrupted him: “You are indeed sorry, but I don’t forgive you.” “Ryan, we’ve broken up. I dumped you.” After saying this, I went straight home from the party, not caring what the onlookers thought. But when I reached my front door, I was surprised to find that the usually well-lit upscale neighborhood was pitch black. I called the property management: what’s going on? They said: “We’re sorry, Miss Quinn, due to weather conditions, we’ll temporarily stop power supply for a while.” Weather? I looked up at the perfectly normal sky, about to tell the management: “At least find a better excuse when making things up.” Who would have thought, several flashes of lightning accompanied by rolling thunder. In less than half a minute, it turned this urban lady into a drowned rat. It was so sudden… It inevitably reminded me of certain TV dramas. I shed a few tears in the rain, reason unknown, but somehow felt relieved. I was about to indulge in it when suddenly a low, magnetic male voice came from behind: “Miss Quinn?” I turned around abruptly: “…Chief Accountant?” He looked at me, his handsome features somehow appearing more youthful without the suit, like a campus heartthrob from some university: “You’re in quite the mood.” “Ahem.” My image of elegance, sophistication, and grace was completely ruined. I forced a smile: “So late… Mr. Harrison out for a walk?” “So Miss Quinn does know my name.” Zach nodded, seeming satisfied with this. This guy was hard to read. Every time we talked, I felt awkward and didn’t know where to put my hands and feet. Trying to salvage the situation, I smoothed my hair, suddenly realizing something: “Mr. Harrison lives here too?” “Mm.” Zach tilted the black umbrella he was holding over his head towards me: “Where are you going, Miss Quinn? I’ll walk you.” “Ah, okay, thank you.” I was almost soaked through by the rain. I didn’t care much about the little shelter Zach’s umbrella provided, but as the old saying goes… It’s foolish not to take advantage of a good opportunity! Zach walked me to my front door. But my fingerprint lock wasn’t working due to the power outage, and of course, I hadn’t brought the emergency key. Three minutes later. Holding my phone with its critically low battery, I took a deep breath and said to Zach: “Maybe you should just leave me…” Zach: “Come to my place.” Our voices mixed together. A few seconds later, we spoke simultaneously again. “Okay.” “Alright!” Zach’s lips curled up slightly, as if smiling: “What did Miss Quinn want to say?” “How come you even have dimples?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I could have dug a mansion-sized hole with my toes to hide in. Trying to regain composure, I put my hands together: “I mean, if Mr. Harrison is willing to take me home, I won’t shortchange you on the price.” I’m used to solving problems with money. But Zach isn’t someone who can be bought with money. “Is this an original?!” I pointed at the painting on his wall, my eyes shining. Zach gracefully folded his umbrella: “Miss Quinn has a good eye.” “You actually have the full set of these figurines?!” I looked at the set of toys worth millions, drooling. Zach took off his glasses, using a cloth to wipe off the raindrops: “Does Miss Quinn like them?” I was completely shocked by Zach. Taking the clothes Zach handed me, I asked seriously: “Mr. Harrison, if you’re so rich, why do you still work?” “Isn’t Miss Quinn the same as me?” Zach looked at me earnestly. It was at this moment that I noticed his eyes were a beautiful amber color. The kind worth insuring. “That’s… true.” I felt a bit deflated by Zach’s evasiveness. But after a pause, Zach added: “Work allows me to meet many interesting people. Besides accumulating wealth, I also enjoy the process.” “…Interesting people?” I’ve only encountered various people with questionable intelligence. “In my heart,” Zach said casually, “Miss Quinn is one such person.” Thank you, I really appreciate it. He could have just directly called me a sucker, but he still complimented me as interesting. After showering in Zach’s guest room. I picked up my phone, which had been buzzing non-stop after being plugged in. Thanks to Lucas, the video of Julia, Ryan, and me at the party was now being frantically forwarded in various group chats within our circle. As the victim of betrayal by a friend and cheating by a boyfriend, I received unanimous praise for my cool and collected behavior. “This is so satisfying,” someone commented, tagging Ryan and asking: “When are you going to pay Lily back?” Ryan might have been drunk, as he directly sent a voice message: “What does my business with Lily have to do with you all?” “I know you’ve all been waiting to see me make a fool of myself. If you’ve got the guts, come laugh in my face!” “Ryan, stop drinking.” At the end of the voice message was Julia’s faint plea. I tossed the phone aside and lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. After a while, Zach came to knock on the door: “Miss Quinn.” “The backup power in the house isn’t much. Turn off the lights after you finish showering and come out to eat something.” “Okay.” Without much delay, I put on the pajamas Zach gave me and poked my head into the kitchen: “Mr. Harrison, is there anything I can help with?” Zach didn’t look up: “Miss Quinn, just have a seat.” “Then when my phone is fully charged, I’ll send you a big red envelope?” “Miss Quinn.” Zach said as he brought out two bowls of noodles. The noodles smelled so delicious that I wondered if this dish could be mass-produced, the boxes would probably circle the Earth over 300 times: “I didn’t take you in for money.” “Then why did you?” I looked at Zach, who was so handsome there was hardly room for improvement. I forcefully swallowed the words “You’re not coveting my beauty, are you?” After eating our fill. I lounged on Zach’s high-end sofa, lost in thought. Zach washed some fruit in the kitchen and brought it out. I ate a few pieces by candlelight and suddenly felt tears welling up: “Zach, you’re such a good person.” “Miss Quinn, there’s no need for that.” He took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and the whole person looked like the epitome of a cultured rogue, making one want to sigh in admiration. Swallowing some saliva, I said sincerely: “Mr. Harrison, I’m speaking from the heart.” “If Miss Quinn feels indebted, why not help me with something?” Zach hit the nail on the head, pointing out the reason for my flattery. I didn’t shy away, patting my chest and saying: “Mr. Harrison, although I can’t go through fire and water for you, I have many friends and can introduce you to business opportunities. I guarantee…” “Miss Quinn.” Zach interrupted my grand promises: “I hope you can be my girlfriend.” “Impossible!” I was shocked. “Miss Quinn.” The candlelight was too dim for me to see the emotion on Zach’s face, but for some inexplicable reason, I felt a sense of guilt as if I had angered him. He said: “You misunderstand.” “This girlfriend I’m talking about is a kind of cooperative relationship.” “My parents are pressuring me to get married, and I don’t want to waste time on blind dates, so I thought you could help me out.” After Zach finished speaking, I felt a bit relieved. I knew it, how could my beauty only be worth a bowl of noodles and a few cherries? “I understand what you mean, but…” Isn’t it not good to deceive people like this? I hesitated. Zach took a candle holder from the coffee table, using his nearly six-foot height to look down at me. “Miss Quinn doesn’t need to answer right away.” He looked noble and arrogant like a vampire from Europe: “It’s late today, you should rest.” “Okay.” I said as I got up. But just as I was about to enter the room, I suddenly remembered something. I turned back and found Zach still standing in the same spot, his looks worth more than a series of figurines combined, somehow making my heart race. “Zach, how old are you this year?” Zach is actually younger than me! Mature, steady, successful, handsome, and a great cook, Zach is actually younger than me!? Although it’s only three months, how can I be like an older sister in front of him? Comparison really is the thief of joy. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t sleep. The scene of me handing that stack of cash to Zach like a nouveau riche kept replaying in my mind. Thanks to Zach, I didn’t think about Julia and Ryan for a second before falling asleep that night. The next morning. As expected, I woke up late. I rushed out of the guest room wearing the same little dress from yesterday. I bumped into Zach, who was holding milk and toast, with my bare face. “Miss Quinn?” “You, you.” I looked up at him, strangely at a loss for words: “Don’t call me that anymore.” “Since we’re now in a ‘shared hardship’ relationship, I’ll take the lead. From today on, you call me sister, and I’ll call you little brother.” Zach laughed, his small dimples briefly appearing: “If I remember correctly, I’ve always been calling you Miss Quinn.” “How are Miss Quinn and sister the same?” I said while grabbing a piece of Zach’s toast and running out: “Little brother, I have something to do, so I’m leaving first. See you later.” Zach seemed to say something, but I closed the door too quickly to hear. I rushed back home, took five minutes to put on makeup, and opened my computer to start discussing a project with the other party. After two hours of intense debate. When the meeting ended, I collapsed back into my chair like a deflated balloon. After a moment of emptiness, I couldn’t help but smile. Who isn’t a small tycoon capable of negotiating projects now!! To celebrate the successful negotiation of the project, I decided to reward myself with a good meal. But when I changed my clothes and opened the door, I was completely stunned by the situation outside. Ryan was furious, looking slightly haggard. Zach looked innocent, his hair slightly covering his eyes without much styling, looking like a college student who had just entered society. I didn’t understand this combination. Clearing my throat, I chose to speak to the handsome one: “Little brother, why are you here?” Raising his hand like a puppy, Zach said: “Sister, you took my slippers when you left.” Indeed, what he was holding were my high heels. Too embarrassed, I was already used to it: “I’m sorry, I left in a hurry this morning and didn’t notice.” “It’s okay.” Zach shook his head obediently. I smiled appreciatively. This understanding child will surely achieve great things in the future. “Lily Quinn!” Ryan suddenly gritted his teeth: “You slept with him?” “We broke up yesterday, and today you’re already with this pretty boy?” “All your kindness to me before was clearly fake.” I was completely confused by Ryan’s words, took a breath and said: “Mr. King, are you alright?” “Do I need to make a PowerPoint of your and Julia’s explicit photos to help you understand what really happened?” “What photos are you talking about now!?” Ryan stepped forward: “I’ve caught you red-handed!” His expression was ferocious, his demeanor frenzied. Zach stepped forward, blocking between us, looking a bit innocent as he lowered his eyes: “This… uncle, are you her ex?” Ryan couldn’t accept it and roared: “What did you call me!?” “Aren’t you an uncle?” Zach fearlessly continued to add fuel to the fire of the nearly exploding Ryan: “Since you and her are over, don’t come looking for her anymore in the future. Otherwise…” His eyes darkened slightly: “I’ll get jealous.” Hearing this, Ryan’s face changed dramatically, raising his fist to punch Zach’s face. I was startled, wanting to stop it. But Zach reacted faster than me. He dodged skillfully, and on Ryan’s third attempt to hit him, Zach landed a punch right on Ryan’s face, followed by a swift kick. “Sister.” Ryan was down. Zach turned to look at me, his tone serious, as if afraid I would misunderstand. “I don’t have violent tendencies.” “I-I know.” To prevent the situation from escalating further. I pushed Zach into my house before Ryan could get up. “Lily.”

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My parents are divorced. I was granted to my mom, but I live with my dad for school. The large house I now live in has been transferred to my name after mutual agreement from both parents. After my dad remarried, my stepmom moved in with her daughter. The little one started causing all sorts of trouble, even asking my dad to arrange for us to be in the same class at school, under the pretense of needing his help. After a fight with my stepmom and her daughter, I changed the keypad lock, set the central air conditioning to 32 degrees, and took all the remote controls to my grandparents’ farmhouse. During the summer, Riverstone can reach nearly 100 degrees, and I left the heat on. When they called me, I was lounging in my grandpa’s rocking chair, munching on chilled watermelon. After my dad remarried, my stepmom moved in with her daughter, Luna Fairchild. We didn’t get along at all; I had always been the cherished one in the family, and everything revolved around me. But ever since Luna arrived, she wanted a piece of everything I had, even trying to claim my belongings as her own. I heard that Luna’s biological father was a gambler who sold everything of value in their house, almost risking his wife and kids as collateral for his debts. So, you can imagine how envious she was of the love and attention my family gave me. On her first day at our house, she saw my spacious room with the best view, complete with its own bathroom and walk-in closet. She tugged at my dad’s sleeve and said, “Dad, I’m so jealous of Ella! She gets to live in such a big room. I’ve never had a room of my own.” My dad, feeling sorry for her, gently patted her shoulder and turned to me, saying, “Ella, why don’t you let your sister stay in your room? She’s never lived in such a big house before.” I scoffed, “Is it my fault she’s never lived in a big house? Why should I give her my room? Just because she calls you ‘Dad’ doesn’t mean she is your biological daughter. Why don’t you go get a paternity test; maybe she really is your daughter?” Before my dad could respond, I turned to Luna and said, “Let me be clear: this house was bought by my mom and dad together. Now it’s in my name, so you and your mom should be grateful to stay here. If you’re not happy, then leave and stop making demands.” Feeling the tension in the room, Luna’s mom hurried over to smooth things over, chuckling awkwardly, “Oh no, we won’t take your room; the guest room is fine. It’s much bigger than the room we had before.” Luna wiped away nonexistent tears and nodded, following Selene to the guest room. My mom and dad met in college; my grandparents were university professors, so naturally, my mom was exceptional. My dad came from a poor background but worked hard academically, so my grandparents approved of their marriage. It wasn’t until after the wedding that my mom discovered my dad’s weakness—his lack of backbone and his being overly attached to his mother. My mom had received higher education in the city, while my grandma, uneducated and quite traditional, always tried to impose her will on my mom, leading to a strained mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. My dad always defended his mother, insisting my mom should yield to her, which ultimately led my mom to choose divorce. By the time I was a sophomore in high school, my dad married Luna’s mom, and Luna moved in with us. After the divorce, my mom moved abroad for work, while my grandparents always favored a pastoral life and returned to their rural hometown after retirement. Though I was granted to my mom, I still lived with my dad for school convenience. “Ella, Luna is your sister; you shouldn’t be so harsh with her,” my dad said after the two of them went back to their room. I barely looked up from my book, too lazy to even raise my head. “Mom only had me; I don’t have a sister.” My dad knew my temper and could only shake his head helplessly. “Luna is transferring to your school, and she should be in the same class as you. Can you please look after her?” “In the same school? Who’s paying for her tuition, you or her dad?” I went to a private high school with great educational quality and a nice environment, which meant tuition wasn’t cheap. Luna’s dad was deep in debt and wouldn’t pay for her tuition; as for her mom, she seemed to be out of work at the moment. “Your aunt is starting a job tomorrow, so she’ll cover Luna’s tuition. I’ll take care of her daily expenses since I’m married to her now; we shouldn’t nitpick about these small things,” Dad replied. I nodded, indicating I had no problem with that. “But my allowance needs to go up.” Dad affectionately patted my head and said, “No problem.” Just as I thought this new sister wasn’t so bad after all, things took a turn for the worse.

Even though my mom was working abroad, she sent me gifts every month—mostly jewelry and clothes, which I kept neatly in my room. Every time I opened a package, Luna would hover nearby. I had warned her not to just come into my room, and she had promised to obey. Until one summer day, I accidentally discovered a selfie of hers on social media. She was wearing a dress from a trendy luxury brand. It looked just like the birthday gift my mom had sent me last year. When I got home, I opened my closet, and sure enough, the dress was gone. At dinner that night, I pretended to casually mention her photo, asking Luna, “Your dress is gorgeous! When did you buy it?” Her face flashed with panic as she stammered, “Uh, just recently, I bought it while shopping.” “That dress must have been expensive. When did you get so much money?” I pressed on. To my surprise, Luna suddenly slammed her hand on the table, angry. “Why do you keep asking? Can’t I buy clothes? Are you jealous that I have nice things?” “I’m just asking; I lost a dress that looks exactly like yours,” I explained. “Why should I answer you? I’ve never even been in your room!” she shouted defiantly. I nodded. “Since you’ve never been in my room, that means we have a thief at home. The price of that dress is enough for a police report,” I said, pulling out my phone to call the cops. “What are you calling the cops for? I thought the dress looked great, so I borrowed it!” Luna tried to grab my phone, but I dodged her. “Borrowed? Did you ask me? Did you get my permission? Taking it without asking is stealing!” “You’re being so rude! I just wore it for a bit! I’m giving it back!” Luna shouted back at me. “Where is the dress? Give it back!” I reached out my hand. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly pulled a crumpled dress out of her bag and handed it to me. The brand-new dress was torn in several places. “I… I accidentally damaged it,” she said, her voice shaky. “I never wore this dress. It was worth $12,800; you owe me,” I stated firmly, placing the necklace back in her hand. “What do you mean, over $12,000? Just say you want to extort me!” Luna exclaimed, her anger palpable. I was too tired to argue and returned to my room to find the receipt to show her. To my surprise, she snatched the receipt, tore it into pieces, and tossed it into the trash, grinning as she said, “Now that the receipt is gone, this dress is trash, and I won’t pay you a dime.” The birthday gift from my mom was something I treasured and never wore, and now she called it trash. Fury surged within me as I raised my hand and slapped her hard. Luna was stunned for a few seconds before we both started fighting. Just then, Selene came home from work and saw Luna and me wrestling. She rushed over to pull us apart. On the surface, she was trying to break up the fight, but secretly, she pinched my side hard a few times. So, I retaliated and started hitting both of them. Seeing me attack indiscriminately, Selene began pulling my hair, cursing, “You little brat, your dad is away, and I can’t wait to teach you a lesson! You’ve always been so arrogant toward us!” I couldn’t take them both on, so I bit down hard on Selene’s thigh when the opportunity arose. She screamed while hitting me, trying to make me let go, but the more they hit me, the harder I bit, until my mouth was filled with blood. When they finally let go, I released her and wiped the blood from my lips. While they went to the hospital to get treated, I quickly packed my bags.

The next day, I woke up early and, while they were still asleep, set the central air conditioning temperature to 32 degrees before packing all the remotes and keys into my suitcase. Before leaving, I didn’t forget to change the password on the keypad lock and locked the door; without the password, the lock can’t be opened from inside. With summer temperatures in Riverstone reaching nearly 100 degrees, they could enjoy the heat at home. After doing all that, I dragged my suitcase downstairs, my hair a mess and my clothes torn from the previous day’s altercation. To leave the neighborhood, I had to pass through the small park where the older folks were doing their morning exercises. We had lived in this neighborhood for a long time, my parents were friendly, and I often tutored the neighborhood kids, so many residents recognized me. I was crying as I walked to the gate when someone stopped me. “Oh my, isn’t this the Caldwell girl? What happened to you?” an elderly lady asked. I wiped my tears and shook my head, unable to speak. I recognized this lady; her last name was Chen, and she lived in apartment 301 of our building. “Where’s your dad? Who bullied you? Tell me, and I’ll stand up for you,” Mrs. Chen said, holding my hand with concern. Hearing “dad” made me cry even harder, saying I missed my parents. Hearing the commotion, people nearby gathered around, asking what had happened. I sobbed as I recounted yesterday’s events, and a kind lady heard that I hadn’t eaten and handed me two buns. Between tears, I said I couldn’t stay in that house anymore and wanted to go to my grandparents’ place. The lady who gave me buns was named Mrs. Zhang, known in our neighborhood for her love of gossip and her warm heart. After hearing my story, Mrs. Zhang slammed her thigh and said, “I knew that mother-daughter duo wasn’t good! When they first moved in, they didn’t even respond to my greetings. I didn’t expect them to take advantage of the situation while your dad was away, bullying you like this. It’s so heartless!” “Exactly! What kind of stepmother is genuinely kind to their kids? Poor Ella!” “She’s a mother herself; how could she do that?” While Mrs. Chen was fixing my hair, Mrs. Zhang went home to get some iodine to disinfect the scratches on my neck. Once Mrs. Zhang finished applying the medicine, I stood up, bowed to everyone, thanked them, and said I was going to stay with my grandparents. As I left the neighborhood, I could still hear the indignant discussions behind me. They messed with the wrong person; the neighborhood’s wrath could drown them in their own words. Just as I got into the car, Selene’s call came through. I hung up and turned my phone off.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294871”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic