Tessa Lewis, my manipulative roommate, got rejected after confessing her love to a married man. To save face, she dragged us to the underground parking lot and hugged a million-dollar sports car, claiming it was a gift from her boyfriend. Unexpectedly, a tall, handsome guy actually got out of the car and walked away with Tessa in his arms. I’m part of a very dark chat group on SnapChat. Every day, people post strange messages that seem like coded language. I only got into this group because of my brother. About a year ago, when my brother passed away, I was responsible for sorting through his belongings. He had worked at a private high school, and due to his background in psychology, he was promoted from a regular teacher to the assistant of the school’s psychology research department. He was preparing to take over from the retiring psychology professor. I don’t know much about his death, and my parents are reluctant to talk about it. All I know is that he died in a car accident. A drunk driver crashed into the school gates, and my brother pushed away a student who was about to be hit, but he never came back himself. My parents were too grief-stricken to go to the school and sort through my brother’s belongings, so I had to go and bring them back. In my brother’s notebook, I found this group number. My brother was a meticulous person with an amazing memory. He rarely wrote things down if he could remember them, so out of curiosity, I used my own account to join the group. It’s a chat group called “Cats,” but they rarely talk about cats. Many people use obscure language, as if they’re speaking in code. Until one day, the group finally posted a message I could understand. It was a photo of a girl with an amazing figure, wearing a sexy black lace outfit. There was a crimson birthmark on her chest, barely visible but incredibly alluring. The background was blurred, but you could make out that it was a bathroom because of the obvious yellow-gray drainage pipe behind her. “Group admin recalled a message” This message suddenly flashed, and the picture disappeared. As I stared at the now-empty chat box, a voice like thunder from a clear sky came from behind me: “Amber Gordon, what are you doing here?” I turned off my screen and looked back. It was my roommate, Tessa Lewis. “Tessa, you scared me to death. Can’t you make some noise when you walk?” Tessa casually switched her handbag to her other hand. It was a popular LV counter item. She used her free hand to adjust her freshly curled waves. “Who knows what guilty thing you’re doing here? My heels are so loud, how did you not hear them?” Her words guided my eyes downward. She was wearing a pair of YSL super killer heels. Black heel with a striking logo. Expensive, but not comfortable, yet very eye-catching. I put my phone in my pocket and crossed my arms, looking her up and down. She was obviously uncomfortable with my scrutiny and glared at me. “What are you looking at? Never seen designer brands before?” “Tessa, you know they’re designer brands? When you were fighting for Melody Parker’s scholarship, didn’t you cry to our homeroom teacher saying your family couldn’t even afford a TV?” The motion-sensor lights in the hallway were triggered by my voice, lighting up a whole row. I caught a glimpse of our dorm door opening, with half a head peeking out, but I couldn’t see whose it was. Her demeanor weakened a bit, but she still maintained an inexplicable air of arrogance. “It’s not my fault if she couldn’t get it. What’s that got to do with me?” “Right, it’s not your fault. Who could be as capable as you, crying to the homeroom teacher, saying your mom has heart disease and your dad is disabled, and that you couldn’t even provide proof?”

After starting college, I picked an easy job. Since our school had a student who committed suicide due to mental health issues, the school paid extra attention to mental health. I managed to snag this easy job and became a student counselor. When it was time to evaluate scholarships, I was in the homeroom teacher’s office filling out forms for the psychology department. Perhaps because I was hiding behind another teacher’s desk writing at the time, Tessa didn’t notice me when she came in that day. She’s very beautiful, with a hot body, and has many pursuers behind her, but she always maintains an ambiguous relationship with them. When Tessa ran into the homeroom teacher’s office wearing a little camisole, the teacher was about to publicize the list of financially disadvantaged students. Tessa didn’t sit in the guest chair opposite the teacher’s desk, but went directly behind the desk and started massaging the teacher’s shoulders. “Mr. Quinn, are you going to publish the list?” The teacher, tired from a long day, didn’t refuse her advances and seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. “What’s up? Do you have any suggestions?” “I don’t have any suggestions. It’s just that I forgot to submit my application form. Is it too late now?” For the financially disadvantaged student scholarship, you need to first be certified as financially disadvantaged. I remember when Melody Parker was writing her application for financial aid, Tessa was mocking her on the side, saying you could find plenty of these things online, why bother writing it yourself? After Melody finished writing her application, she went to take a shower. Tessa took the application and read it for quite a while. Seeing that no one in the dorm was paying attention to her, she took a photo of it and sent it somewhere. I listened carefully and was surprised to hear the teacher agree. Tessa pushed further, saying, “Mr. Quinn, there’s not enough time. Why don’t you publish the list first, and I’ll tell you about my special circumstances tonight~” The seductive tone at the end was captivating. Then, Tessa made up a bunch of “reasons for poverty,” even bringing up nonsense like her parents being sick. Just like that, Melody Parker’s spot was replaced by Tessa. No one knew about this except me.

Melody Parker came out of the dorm room. She pulled my hand and whispered, “Amber, stop arguing with her. Let’s go back to our room.” Tessa grabbed my arm, “Don’t go. Tell me what you mean. Don’t try to frame me!” “Whether it’s framing or not, you know it yourself.” With that, I followed Melody back to our dorm. The atmosphere in the dorm was tense for a long time. No one spoke, and no one paid attention to Tessa frantically changing clothes in front of the mirror. Her phone rang. Because she had so many pursuers, almost all of her ringtones were specific. This ringtone was unfamiliar. I also have a keen sense like my brother, at least able to memorize many unique things in a short time, like Tessa’s annoying ringtones. This ringtone, I definitely hadn’t heard before. She answered the phone, calling out in a coquettish voice: “Brother Donnie~ Are you thinking about me so late at night~” After that, it was all sickly sweet talk, but you could feel more that Tessa was humbly pleasing this “Brother Donnie.” “Okay, then I’ll sneak out to see you tonight.” This was Tessa’s closing line. After saying that, she left. Seeing that Tessa had gone far, Melody took an apple, put it on my desk, and started asking about Tessa stealing the scholarship. In our dorm, when we discuss Tessa, there’s always endless topics, from her personality, way of doing things, speech and manner, dressing style, and all kinds of eye-opening trashy behaviors. Before we knew it, it was half past one in the morning. My phone ringtone interrupted our late-night chat session. It was our homeroom teacher. “Is Tessa from your dorm not back yet?” I pretended to be completely unaware, my voice full of drowsiness, completely acting as if I had just been woken up: “Teacher, she was still here before I went to sleep. What’s wrong? Do you want me to call her?” The teacher impatiently said, “No need.” Melody worriedly asked, “Amber, should we ask Tessa? I hope nothing happened…” Melody reminded me that I’m the student counselor. It was originally a cushy job that could add points to my record. Thanks to Tessa for adding so much challenge to my work. As her roommate, if something happened, my cushy job as a student counselor would fly away like a cooked duck. I called Tessa, but she didn’t answer. I called again, still no answer. After repeating this three or four times with no one answering, I had to give up. At five in the morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing. It was Tessa. “Sis, did you not come back to the dorm all night just to wake me up at this hour?” On the other end of the phone, Tessa mumbled drunkenly, “You’re the class representative, come pick me up.” “Where am I supposed to pick you up from? I don’t even have a leave slip. I don’t want to risk getting disciplined.” “I don’t care, you’re the class rep, you have to come pick me up.” I hung up the phone and prepared to go back to sleep, but Melody woke me up again: “Amber, let’s go check on her. I hope nothing happened.” I turned over to continue sleeping: “She’s a grown-up, she should learn to take responsibility for herself.” Our other roommate seemed to have been persuaded by Melody too: “Amber, after all, she’s still our roommate. Let’s go check on her. If something happens, we still have to live here, and it would be scary if something happened to her.” As a firm materialist, I’m not afraid of ghosts or spirits, but I’m afraid of these two idiots nagging in my ear.

According to Tessa’s location, we arrived at the third floor of “Desire KTV.” Tessa was slumped in the corner of the private room. It seemed everyone else had left, with only Tessa lying listlessly on the sofa. Melody shook her for a long time but couldn’t wake her up. I went to get a cup of water from the bathroom and splashed it on her. She woke up groggily, mumbling, “So what if you have a wife? You still come to me every day anyway.” The three of us looked at each other, pretty much guessing what had happened. It seemed that this “Brother Donnie” was a married man who had an affair with Tessa. Tessa really thought he considered her his sweetheart, constantly trying to please him, but ended up being dumped after he was done with her. She rambled on for a while, not saying anything good. I got impatient and retorted, “Who told you to be the other woman? Who are you blaming?” She weakly pushed me, “Who asked you to nag? I have plenty of men.” She pulled our arms, making us follow her to a bright but oppressive underground parking garage. The brightness here was uncomfortable. There was a ceiling light every few meters, extremely bright under the lights, but quite dark between two light points at the extreme. Tessa suddenly pounced on a flashy purple supercar, rubbing her body against the car’s hood. Because she was wearing a super short skirt, if she moved forward a bit more, she would be exposing herself. I pulled her arm, “Come on, let’s go back to school. Stop being crazy.” “I’m not crazy,” she shook off my hand and continued to embrace the supercar, “This is a Bugatti my boyfriend gave me!” “Okay, okay, your boyfriend gave it to you. Can we go back to school now, sis?!” I was already exhausted and had to deal with a drunk person here. “Yes, my boyfriend is so handsome. You’re just jealous.” “Alright, alright. Your boyfriend is a 6’3″ muscle man who’ll give you a billion dollars in cash tomorrow. Happy?” Before I could pull her away, the supercar door opened. Long legs touched the ground first, then a man about 6’3″ tall, wearing a dark suit, stepped out. He was wearing a white mask, revealing fair skin and handsome features, full of mystery. He lowered his head slightly and said to me, “This is my girlfriend. Why don’t I take her home?” I cautiously extended my arm, separating the man from us, but the drunk Tessa, like a mare in heat seeing a stallion, and a racehorse at that, became unstoppable. She pushed away my arm and hugged the handsome stranger in front of her, slurring seductively, “Handsome, you’re my boyfriend. Take me home quickly.” I tugged at Tessa’s arm, but it didn’t budge. The handsome guy picked Tessa up in his arms and said to us, “I’ll take my girlfriend home first, and send her to your school tomorrow.” My phone in my pocket vibrated a few times. Through my smartwatch, I saw the content of the message. It was a message from the “Cats” group. Someone who usually had a good private relationship with the group admin posted a message, [If the Cat Boss doesn’t find the little fish today, what fun will we have?]. By the time I came to my senses, the man had already put Tessa into the supercar. “Hey, do you know her name?!” I shouted as I ran to the car window. He smiled, “I really don’t know…” The supercar accelerated quickly. By the time he flew out of the parking lot with the car, I realized that Tessa had fallen into a tiger’s den.

In the “Cats” chat group. The group admin posted a message. [Got the fish.] This message was too coincidental, so coincidental that I couldn’t help but connect these two events. While I asked my roommate to call the police, I kept calling Tessa’s phone. Tessa’s number was a campus card, with a dynamic video of a famous scenic spot in our province as the ringtone. The video kept looping, but the call never connected. The situation had escalated. The three of us sat numbly in the police station’s reception room, with our homeroom teacher sitting opposite us, his face gloomy. Mr. Quinn suddenly looked up, his eagle-like eyes staring straight at us. He warned, “Amber Gordon, listen to me. If anything happens to Tessa, see if I don’t give you a disciplinary record!” The policewoman hit him on the shoulder with a folder, “This is a police station, mind your manners.” The policewoman smiled professionally at me, “Don’t be afraid. We’ll bring this girl back as soon as possible. We’re just asking you for routine inquiries, don’t be nervous. Amber, right? You come first.” Since we were the ones reporting the case, we didn’t go into the small dark room I had imagined, but into a clean and bright office. A middle-aged police officer was standing in front of the desk, holding a cup of tea. When he saw me come in, he was very welcoming. “Little sister, sit on the sofa. Don’t be nervous. My name is Henry Johnson. You can call me Uncle Henry.” I had heard from my brother that in psychology, to get closer to someone’s heart more quickly, you usually try to close the relationship between you, reduce the sense of distance, to achieve the purpose of relaxation. I sat on the sofa and nodded to him, “Okay, Uncle Henry.” Detective Johnson kept asking about things between me and Tessa. After all, I was the class student counselor. Even if I didn’t get along with Tessa, I wouldn’t completely fall out with her. Tessa had a difficult personality, but I was the only one in the class who could talk to her for more than a few sentences. That being said, I didn’t know her very well either. After I mentioned that Tessa had unclear relationships with her friends, Detective Johnson became interested. “You say Tessa has many social friends?” I nodded, “She has many male friends, and the relationships are all unclear and messy.” Detective Johnson asked, “Do you know which male friend she was closest to?” I shook my head, “She rarely tells us these things. Only when she’s bragging about who gave her what gift does she mention a few names.” After asking what needed to be asked, Detective Johnson propped both hands on the wooden desk, pondered for a moment, then told me, “That’s all. You can go now.” I suddenly remembered that group full of coincidences. Maybe it could help uncover the truth about my brother’s death. I put my phone on the desk. I had already turned off the internet and even turned on airplane mode. Detective Johnson looked at the group chat messages on the screen, slowly frowning, looking at me with confusion and shock. I pointed to the last message [Got the fish]. “This message came shortly after Tessa got in the car. It’s too coincidental… I… I decided to show you.” Detective Johnson leaned close to his shoulder radio, contacting his other colleagues: “Little Xu, ask the tech department to come over.” They copied all the information from my phone. To avoid alerting anyone, they needed me to cooperate with the investigation and continue to lurk in the group.

Tessa had been out of contact for exactly three hours. All kinds of thoughts kept surging in my mind. Three hours is enough time to do anything. Even a bull could be dissected by now. My two roommates had already fallen asleep leaning on each other, leaving only me still staring at my phone in the police station. Mr. Quinn seemed to casually get up and pace over to sit beside me. He looked around, making sure the police were far from us, before asking, “Why haven’t you mentioned this group before?” Actually, Detective Johnson had told us all to go home and wait for news. But Mr. Quinn didn’t want to leave. As the primary person responsible, if anything happened to Tessa, he couldn’t escape responsibility. As students under our homeroom teacher, we didn’t know whether we should leave or not, so we just stayed here with him. He must have only heard about the group from the discussions of other police officers. I was about to turn off my phone screen, but he quickly slapped my phone away. Because of the low battery, the screen had automatically dimmed, but you could still see a message that popped up. It was a picture. My phone data had already been synchronized by the police, and Detective Johnson asked us to come over to identify it as soon as he saw the photo. In the photo was a woman wearing revealing clothes. Her chestnut-colored waves covered her face, but Mr. Quinn recognized her at a glance. “It’s Tessa!” At this moment, he no longer had any intention of hiding his shame. He just wanted to find Tessa. Facing the sidelong glances of several police officers, the homeroom teacher didn’t hesitate. Pointing at the chest area of the image on the big screen, where there was a crimson birthmark, he said, “Tessa has a birthmark here. It must be her!” The tech department had already contacted SnapChat officials and retrieved all the information from the group. Detective Johnson asked me as usual, “Miss Gordon, see if there’s anything missing?” I was about to shake my head when I suddenly remembered the photo that had been recalled. I pointed between two messages, “Here, there was a photo that was recalled.” I recalled that unique crimson birthmark on her chest, and I was absolutely certain: “Uncle Henry, it must be Tessa. Both photos are nude pictures of Tessa.” Mr. Quinn was obviously stunned, and even Detective Johnson couldn’t help but frown. Detective Johnson put down the printed chat records in his hand: “How can you be so sure?” I tried my best to recall that photo, the black lace dress in the image floating in my mind, as well as the blurry water pipes in the background: “It’s in the bathroom of Teaching Building B. The fixtures there are old, and only that place has that kind of pipes.” I called my boyfriend, Finn. At this time, he should be in Economics class on the third floor of Teaching Building B. “Finn, go to the bathroom quickly.” I briefly told him about the photo I wanted, and although he was confused, he didn’t refuse. After about two minutes, Finn sent the photo, the last stall in the men’s bathroom. The gray-yellow drainage pipes, the dim light, and that smell you could almost sense through the screen. I handed the photo to Detective Johnson: “The background of the photo was like this, with a girl in front wearing a black lace camisole dress.” Mr. Quinn squeezed between us, even snatching my phone from my hand to look carefully. After a while, he threw the phone back to me: “Impossible, impossible!” A female police officer pulled the somewhat out-of-control homeroom teacher to the side: “Mr. Quinn, please calm down.” Mr. Quinn, a young man, strong and vigorous, now looked like an aged old man, breathing rapidly, desperately hoping to fill his nostrils with air. “This is impossible, this is impossible!” Mr. Quinn stared straight at me: “You’re talking nonsense. Lin Lin’s photos couldn’t possibly appear in these places!” Detective Johnson seemed to know something and tilted his head to ask, “Mr. Quinn, how can you be so sure?” “Because… because…” Mr. Quinn hesitated for a long time, still unable to spit out a complete sentence. Detective Johnson reminded him in a stern tone: “Mr. Quinn, now Tessa is missing and her life is in danger. If you don’t speak up, it might slow down the investigation progress.” “Henry, the traffic police department has sent over the surveillance footage, but that car had fake plates. We can’t trace the owner through the license plate.” Seemingly aware that the surveillance video was now in the hands of the police, Mr. Quinn’s dark pupils lowered, pondering whether to spill everything. Detective Johnson also read Mr. Quinn’s eye expression and continued to warn: “You are Tessa’s teacher. You should be more aware than us of how big an impact this incident has on the students, parents, school, and society.” Detective Johnson went with others to check the surveillance footage, leaving a female police officer to guide Mr. Quinn to tell the truth. Standing on the side, looking at the hesitant homeroom teacher, I decided to give him one last push. “Teacher, you must have guessed it too, right? Tessa didn’t just send you this photo, so why are you still covering for her?” Mr. Quinn and Tessa had confirmed their relationship at the beginning of the school year. During the freshman orientation week, Tessa pretended to be sick multiple times, making the counselor come to take care of her. Tessa was beautiful and excellent at pleasing people. As they interacted more, Mr. Quinn fell for her too. Due to their special status, they didn’t make their relationship public, always maintaining a teacher-student relationship. However, they were very intimate when chatting online. So intimate that… they exchanged private photos.

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When an arranged marriage was about to happen in a wealthy family, the real daughter showed up. She claimed the billionaire parents were hers. She claimed the rising star fiancé in the business world was hers. I just nodded and smiled. If it weren’t for my lucky koi fish constitution… Are you sure her family is really that wealthy? Could this fiancé really have become such a success on his own? My wedding to my childhood sweetheart was just around the corner when an unexpected visitor showed up at our house. She claimed to be my mother’s long-lost biological daughter and accused me of being an imposter who had stolen her life. She and my mom even did a DNA test, which confirmed their biological relationship. That night at dinner, Luna slammed her fork down and pointed at me, yelling, “You need to leave this house right now! You’re not welcome here anymore!” My mom frowned and said softly, “Luna, don’t be so rude to your sister. Even if Rachel isn’t my biological daughter, I still raised her.” Luna immediately threw her bowl on the ground and burst into tears, burying her face in my mom’s chest. She sobbed about how difficult her life had been, growing up all alone. By the end, my mom’s eyes were red as she comforted Luna, saying she had suffered so much. “But Rachel isn’t really part of our family,” Luna insisted. “She shouldn’t have our last name or live in our house!” My mom frowned but didn’t say anything. I finished my last bite of shrimp and stood up. “If that’s how it is, I’ll move out for now so you can spend time with Mom.” Luna glared at me. My mom looked heartbroken as she slipped a credit card into my hand. “The PIN is your birthday,” she whispered. Luna saw this and started crying even harder. I called Luna’s brother – or I guess my brother now. Apparently when we were born, the nurse had mixed us up. When he answered, a cultured male voice said, “Who is this?” “I’m your sister – the one you’ve never met but who shares your blood. Any chance you could come pick me up?” Half an hour later, a car pulled up outside. Luna shoved me out the door. “Hurry up and leave. Don’t come back!” My mom kept telling me to take care of myself. I looked at this stranger who was supposedly my brother as he helpfully put my luggage in the car. Turning back, I gave a cold smile to the smug-looking Luna. “I hope you’re prepared. Don’t regret this.” Then I got in the car with my newfound brother. As he drove, he kept glancing over at me. “My place is pretty small. I hope you won’t mind.” “Of course not. We’re siblings after all – we have to support each other!” I said with a bright smile. We pulled up to an apartment building with no elevator, so we had to walk up. My brother was carrying my suitcase when he got a phone call just as we reached the door. After listening for a moment, a huge grin spread across his face and he started thanking the caller profusely. “What happened?” I asked when he hung up. “A small program I wrote just won an international gold award. The prize is about $100,000!” I smiled and congratulated him. “I can’t believe it,” he said excitedly. “I knew the winner for this competition was usually predetermined, so I just entered to get my name out there. But the expected winner dropped out, and I actually won!” He ushered me inside, still beaming. I wasn’t surprised by this turn of events. Ever since I was little, I’ve had incredible luck that seemed to rub off on those around me too. My luck has always been unbelievable. As a kid, I could ace multiple choice tests with my eyes closed. Finding money on the ground when I was thirsty and wanted ice cream was a regular occurrence. Once when I was young, I bought a lottery ticket on a whim and won $30 million. My parents invested that money, and I decided to buy some stocks too just for fun. Those stocks skyrocketed, making us a fortune. From then on, my parents’ business flourished. Even my childhood sweetheart rode the wave of success, becoming a rising star in the business world. I patted my brother’s shoulder. “You’re going to be even richer in the future.” He nodded with a grin, promising to treat me to a fancy dinner once the prize money came through. True to his word, he took me out to celebrate as soon as the money hit his account. He told me about work that day – how everyone else had been slacking off, but the boss caught him working hard and was planning to give him a promotion and raise. “Rachel, why has my luck been so amazing lately?” he wondered aloud. We went to an upscale restaurant, and just after ordering, I ran into some familiar faces – my ex-fiancé Zachary and Luna. Luna looked startled to see me, then angrily pointed at my brother. “Matthew, what’s the meaning of this? You never took me to places like this before!” I grabbed her finger and bent it back until she gasped in pain. “Because we’re real siblings,” I said sweetly. I only let go when Luna’s face had gone pale from the pain. “Long time no see, Rachel,” Zachary greeted me. Luna immediately latched onto his arm. “You’re MY fiancé now. Why are you talking to her?” Zachary glanced at me awkwardly as he gently pushed Luna away. “I was engaged to Rachel. Even if you’re Mr. Lee’s real daughter, that doesn’t change our engagement.” Luna’s expression froze, her eyes filling with tears. “Why? She stole everything from me! My parents should be mine, and you should be mine too!” I chuckled softly at her dramatics and sat back down. Luna threw herself into a chair, sobbing. Zachary looked between us uncertainly, clearly torn. “Rachel, did your aunt and uncle really kick you out?” he asked. I nodded. “Why else would I be out to dinner with my brother?” Zachary’s expression tightened, and he slowly moved towards Luna. Of course – he still needed the Lee family’s support for his business. And I was no longer the daughter of the wealthy Lee family. Seeing Zachary come over, Luna finally stopped crying and shot me a smug look. After dinner, I took my brother to buy a lottery ticket. I was looking for the one with the biggest jackpot. He laughed and teased me. “Rachel, don’t try to get rich quick. You have to work hard to earn money.” “I know, but sometimes luck beats hard work,” I replied. And luck was definitely one of my talents. I spent $20 on a ticket. A week later when the numbers were drawn, I had won! After taxes and donating some to charity, I walked away with $15 million. Matthew’s jaw dropped. “Are you some kind of lucky charm reincarnated?” To be honest, I’ve wondered about that myself. It’s entirely possible. Without hesitation, I bought a mansion across the street from the Lee family and happily moved in. The dog that had been in Luna’s arms immediately ran over to me, tail wagging furiously. “What are you doing back at my house? Get out!” Luna shouted angrily. I pointed at the mansion across the street. “Actually, that’s my new house!” Luna couldn’t believe it until I waved the deed in her face. My parents weren’t surprised at all. After all, their initial success had come from a scratch-off lottery ticket I bought on a whim as a child.

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I Climbed into the Bully’s Bed, Actively Pleasing Him, Just to Gain His Trust. To Make Him Pay with His Life. I was an accidental product of my parents. My father was an alcoholic, and my mother abandoned me early on. When I was five, my father died of alcohol poisoning, and I was sent to foster care. At six, the well-dressed Liam Foster stood in front of me. His eyes were contemptuous as he pointed at me crouching on the ground: “Let’s take her.” At that time, I didn’t understand what this meant. The foster care worker told me I could have a good life from now on. She didn’t lie to me. After coming to the Foster family, I could have whatever I wanted. Exquisite clothes, limited edition dolls, high-end meals… But I lost the one thing that was worthless – my dignity.

Mrs. Foster raised me well. At just 16, I became the perfect lady in the eyes of all the wealthy women in the city. I was their ideal choice for a daughter-in-law. A perfect doll without a temper, to be manipulated at will. On the night of Liam’s 18th birthday party, I had just entered the room when a strong hand suddenly grabbed my arm. Then a familiar scent hit me. Through the moonlight, I looked up to see Liam, who was a head taller than me. Liam had never liked me, and I always tried to minimize my presence around him. I lowered my head timidly: “Brother, do you need something?” Liam’s eyes were filled with undisguised disgust: “Don’t look at me like that.” I knew it was because of my existence. Liam felt that the unique love that belonged to him was divided, He despised me. Liam’s hand suddenly wandered to my neck, He lowered his head, and then a warm, stinging sensation came. I covered the red mark on my neck, looking at Liam in front of me in horror. It seemed that from that day on, He had opened Pandora’s box, taking pleasure in tormenting me and making me uncomfortable.

In high school, I entered one of the top private schools in the city. The students there were either rich or noble. Perhaps because of Liam, everyone knew I was adopted by the Foster family. Even though I tried hard to lower my presence, I still couldn’t escape their bullying. “Brother, please tell them not to touch me! Please!” “Don’t call me brother!” My body was firmly pressed down by four strong students. While Liam just hugged the prom queen on his body, looking at me coldly. He glanced at my torn uniform, his eyes flashing with contempt. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare without Mother’s orders.” I was almost desperate. Liam thought I had stolen all his mother’s love. But he didn’t know at all that my existence was just to marry into a higher-status family, paving the way for his future. I felt the clothes on my body peeling off layer by layer. My tears had completely dried up, and I gave up struggling completely. It’s fine, maybe Mrs. Foster would give up on this useless pawn. “So many people bullying one girl? That doesn’t seem right, does it?” All eyes were drawn to the source of the voice. Sunlight filtered through the layers of leaves, shining on Noah Parker’s smiling face. He seemed to have just woken up, his uniform was a bit wrinkled, and his hair was messy. This was the first time I saw Noah, a boy even more handsome than Liam. In this school, it was the first time someone dared to openly contradict Liam’s words. “If you know what’s good for you, get lost.” Liam squatted beside me, took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. I coughed and sneezed, looking pathetic. Noah didn’t say anything, he just walked straight to me. He put his jacket over me. “Are you going to let go, or do I have to make you?” The boys looked at each other, then burst into laughter. The next second, Noah’s fist landed on their faces. He grabbed my hand: “Run!” For the first time, I wanted to resist. Ignoring Liam’s warning behind me, I ran wildly following Noah’s footsteps.

That day when I got home. I saw Liam barbecuing in the yard with Mia Anderson and his group of friends. I ran to the basement wine cellar. Only here could they not find me. But I didn’t expect that this decision would plunge me into an endless abyss. “Liam! Why did you reject me! You know I like you so much!” It was Mia’s voice! Out of fear, I froze my body, shrinking in the corner, not daring to move. “I just see you as a sister.” I had thought they were in a relationship! After all, I had seen them kissing in front of me before! — At night, my door was pushed open. I was awakened by the pain on my body. It was Liam! His eyes were a bit hazy, obviously not in a normal state. “Brother, let me go! I’m Chloe!” But he couldn’t hear any sound at all. My tears dried up, and my throat was hoarse from crying. Mrs. Foster was out of the country, and there was no one in the whole Foster house who could save me. The next day Liam sobered up. He looked at the messy room, the bloodstains on the bed, and the hideous red marks on my body, and immediately understood. Without any remorse. He just said lightly: “Clean up quickly, don’t let Mom find out.” I laughed. “Apologize!” Liam sneered, his contemptuous eyes scanning me from head to toe: “Chloe, you’re just a toy my family bought. You’re not even human, and you want my apology?” He pushed my body away and left the room. When I arrived at school, I saw him under his school uniform, a beast in human clothing, without any guilt. But because of his one night of madness. I was directly grabbed by the hair by several of Mia’s female companions and dragged into the bathroom. Mia slapped me without saying a word, cursing with filthy and dirty words. “Bitch! Who told you to seduce Liam!” “He broke into my room!” Mia didn’t listen to my explanation at all. She tore at my clothes, using her phone to take pictures of my naked body. “Get lost if you don’t want to die!” It was Noah’s voice. He rushed in front of me, avoiding eye contact with me, and once again covered my defeated body with his uniform. “Hand over the phone.” “Noah, this is the girls’ bathroom!” “Mia, don’t make me hit a woman!” Mia looked at me with a hateful face, but she obediently handed over the phone. Noah threw it into the toilet and flushed it away in front of us, then hugged me and left.

Noah took me to the infirmary. I clutched the clothes on my body tightly. Unwilling to let Noah see those shameful marks. “It’s not your fault.” “Huh?” This was the first time in my life that someone told me it wasn’t my fault. Even after experiencing such a thing, suffering such harm. The first reaction in my mind was if only I had locked my door tighter. If only I wasn’t in the room. If only… “The ones who made mistakes are them, the abusers will never think they’re wrong. Chloe, you did nothing wrong. Don’t be ashamed of the scars on your body, those who should be ashamed of seeing these wounds are them, not you.” Without waiting for my response, Applause sounded at the door. With a man’s usual mockery: “Chloe, I was wondering why you’ve been so bold lately, turns out you have a backer.” I followed Liam’s gaze, Found that he was staring intently at the marks he had left on my body. Noah held my hand. His hand was very large, able to completely wrap around mine. He seemed to be continuously transmitting his own courage into my body. I found that I dared to look directly into Liam’s eyes. My reaction seemed to anger Liam. His upturned phoenix eyes were filled with malice. But due to Noah’s presence, he didn’t say much more before leaving.

After returning home, as expected. Mrs. Foster knew about this. She tore open my clothes and slapped me across the face without a word. “Chloe! Is this how you repay me for raising you!” Liam’s smile froze. He seemed not to have expected that Mrs. Foster, who had always been kind to me, would hit me so hard. Completely different from the gentle mother in his memory. I just laughed coldly. This was the norm of my life. But when she heard Noah’s name, her smile at the corners of her mouth became more obvious. She walked up to me and grabbed my hand. “You really are my good daughter.” Even though her hand was warm, I only felt endless coldness. Liam also seemed to understand something at this moment. The look in his eyes towards me became complicated Perhaps because of Mrs. Foster’s instructions, Since that incident. Liam and Mia never bullied me again. That day I received a text message from Noah. He told me to meet him in the art room after school. I didn’t think much and went straight in. I didn’t see Noah, but soon smelled a strong smoke. I wanted to get out, but found that all the doors and windows were locked. The smoke was thick, and my breathing was already becoming rapid. I saw Liam and Mia’s faces outside the window. I knew they wanted me dead! In a daze, I saw a white figure appear in front of me. It was Noah! — When I woke up again, it was three days later. I heard the news of Noah’s death. I couldn’t believe it. How could Noah possibly be dead? This must be a joke, right? I wanted to rush out of the room, but was blocked by Mia. She smiled at me and leaned close to my ear. “Noah died horribly, he rushed into the fire to save you, but stupidly tried to take out those paintings. But I also helped you fulfill his last wish. I took the paintings away for him in advance.” I knew what those paintings meant to Noah! They were his life’s work! I grabbed Mia’s hair like a madwoman: “Go to hell!” Mrs. Foster didn’t expect that I, who had always been docile, would react like this. She slapped me across the face and told me to apologize to Mia. And I could only apologize to this murderer! From that day on, I began my revenge plan.

I didn’t stay in the city for college. I started investigating Liam’s preferences and aesthetics. Completely transforming myself into the perfect lover in his mind. When I appeared in front of him again, it was already my senior year of college, I returned to the city for an internship, Seeing Liam’s eyes gradually becoming infatuated with me, I knew my years of planning had succeeded. In the end, I married him as I wished. “Silly girl, what are you looking at?” I stared at those eyes: “I don’t eat beef.” Liam’s expression stiffened, and he almost instinctively threw the cooked steak into the trash. We both knew very clearly. One of his ex-girlfriends had once deliberately bullied me, ordering a dozen steaks and making me eat them all. Eat and vomit, vomit and continue eating, from day to night. No one could help me, because Liam was also sitting at the dinner table, watching my “performance” with great interest. The difference is that now he awkwardly walked to my side and hugged me. As if wanting to fuse me into his flesh and blood: “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” I rubbed his head, holding back my disgust, and kissed his cheek: “It’s okay.” The phone rang inopportunely. We both looked over at the same time. It was Mia, my nightmare. Liam glanced at me and immediately hung up the phone. “I have absolutely no contact with her!” I deliberately showed a trace of pain, with a forced smile at the corners of my mouth: “It’s okay, I believe you.” But the phone kept ringing, Liam finally answered in exasperation. “Mia! I’m married! Can you stop bothering me!” I don’t know what Mia said on the other end. I only saw Liam’s face gradually turning ashen. He hung up the phone and squatted in front of me. “Chloe, Mia attempted suicide and is in the hospital, she’s not in a good emotional state, I…” Liam hadn’t finished speaking when I interrupted him directly. “Go ahead.” If you don’t go, how can I carry out my revenge plan.

After Liam left, I leisurely cooked the beef steak and ate it. Round one, failed. I dialed a number on my phone and went downstairs with a garbage bag. Passing by the traffic light, I looked at the car driving towards me and took a deep breath. “Boom!” The car hit me hard. It really hurts! I used the last bit of strength in my body to dial Liam’s number. No answer. I curved my lips in satisfaction, then lost consciousness. In my dream I saw Noah, the man who had illuminated my dark life, just like his name. “Don’t go!” I screamed at his receding figure. “Chloe, are you okay!” The first thing I saw was Liam’s exhausted face. He was still wearing the clothes he had left the house in that day. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his pupils were bloodshot, looking quite hideous. My tears instantly filled my eyes, I hugged Liam tightly and sobbed softly: “Liam, I thought… I thought I would never see you again.” I felt Liam’s body stiffen, as well as his guilt. “I really didn’t expect this to happen, I didn’t mean to not answer your call, I…” He seemed to know that too much explanation was useless. And this was exactly the effect I wanted. I habitually stroked the back of his head, my eyes indifferent. Unexpectedly, I made eye contact with Mia who had rushed over. She was wearing a hospital gown and charged angrily into my hospital room. “Liam! She just smiled! I saw her smile! She must have staged this herself! She just wanted to make you feel sorry for her! This bitch!” “Enough!” Liam walked up to Mia and slapped her across the face without regard for their past relationship.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294828”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #校园School

In the middle of the night, I got up to feed the baby and caught my husband satisfying his urges in the bathroom. That’s not a big deal. I’m still breastfeeding, and the stretch marks from carrying twins haven’t faded yet. I can understand if he’s not in the mood. But when I saw the photo he was looking at, I completely lost it. It was Melody, a girl he dated during our breakup period. I slapped him and asked if he’d been using Melody’s photos to get off for the past year and more that he hadn’t touched me. He calmly straightened his clothes and smiled. “Not just this past year. Even when we were doing IVF and I had to provide sperm samples, I did it this way!” Chloe I’m Chole. It was the middle of the night when I got up to feed my babies. As I passed by the bathroom, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. The light was off, but I could hear the faint sound of running water. I had a hunch about what was going on. Since I got pregnant, Alex and I hadn’t been intimate for safety reasons. Now, six months after giving birth, he still hadn’t touched me. I understood – I was still breastfeeding, and my body hadn’t fully recovered yet. Quietly, I pushed the bathroom door open. In the dim light from his phone, I could see Alex’s back, slightly hunched over. One hand was braced against the wall, while the other… A wave of sympathy washed over me. I called out his name softly, intending to go and embrace him. We were overdue to resume our normal marital life. But Alex turned around, startled. The look of desire in his eyes instantly cleared when he saw me. And I… in that moment when he turned, I clearly saw what was on his phone screen. It was a photo of Melody. Melody Lin. The girl Alex had dated for three months during our breakup. Rage boiled up inside me. My outstretched arms, ready to embrace him, instead swung around in a vicious slap across his face. I screamed at him, asking if he had been using Melody’s photos to satisfy himself all this time – over a year – that he hadn’t touched me. He locked his phone screen and started adjusting his clothes, as if I’d ruined his mood. I grabbed his collar, demanding answers. He showed no guilt whatsoever. Looking me up and down with a smirk, he said something that shattered me completely: “Not just this past year. Even when we were doing IVF, when I had to provide sperm samples – I used her photos then too!” Chloe His words hit me like a thunderbolt. I stood there, stunned, as he finished straightening his clothes and left the bathroom. The dark mirror reflected my unkempt, ghost-like appearance. No wonder he wasn’t attracted to me. I remembered our IVF treatments at the hospital. The doctor had Alex go to a private room to provide his sample. He was in there for a long time. Another woman doing IVF told me wives were allowed to go in and “help” if needed. I knocked on the door. Alex opened it just a crack. I asked if he wanted me to come in and help. He slammed the door shut and locked it. At the time, I thought he was just embarrassed. Now I realized he didn’t need me – he had been using Melody’s photos instead. The thought that our precious babies, the fruit of our love, were somehow tainted by Melody’s involvement made me sick. But I had brought this on myself. Before we got married, Alex and I had broken up for eight months. I was the one who dumped him. He was two years younger than me, fresh out of college with a mediocre job and no ambition. He spent all his free time playing video games, while my male coworkers were getting promotions and six-figure salaries. My family was pressuring me to settle down, buy a house, get married. I tried to talk to Alex about buying a place together. His parents, both working class, agreed to help with the down payment if we took out a mortgage for the rest. I was fine with that, but my mom complained. She said my cousins’ husbands had all bought houses outright, or at least covered the mortgage payments themselves. Plus they bought cars too. My mom felt that since I was prettier and had a better job than my cousins, I deserved better than what Alex could offer. I understood my mom’s perspective, and I understood Alex’s family’s limitations. So I tried to mediate between everyone, which left me emotionally drained. But Alex didn’t understand my position at all. When I was working overtime, he was playing games. When I was on the phone placating my mom, he was playing games. When I wanted to go look at apartments, he made excuses not to come – and I’d return to find him still gaming. Fed up and full of resentment, I broke up with him. I packed all his things from our apartment into one suitcase. The afternoon he left, carrying just that suitcase, I felt a twinge of guilt knowing he was going to crash at a friend’s place. But I pushed it aside. After that, work kept me extremely busy with long hours and business trips. I was too preoccupied to deal with Alex’s attempts to reconcile. By the time things slowed down, nearly six months had passed. Alex seemed to have gotten through the worst of the breakup. And I found I felt surprisingly liberated being single. Potential suitors started appearing, some with very impressive credentials. But then my best friend called with some news – Alex was dating someone new, a girl named Melody who apparently looked a lot like me. At first I just felt bad for him. We’d been together since high school and had a deep emotional bond. The fact that he was so hung up on me that he found a lookalike replacement was kind of touching, in a sad way. My friend also mentioned that the breakup had been a wake-up call for Alex. He’d done some serious self-reflection and was now much more driven at work. His company had launched a new game that he helped develop. He’d even gotten a promotion and stock options. It seemed the old saying was true – you plant the seeds, someone else reaps the harvest. I had sacrificed our relationship to motivate Alex to improve himself, only for this Melody girl to enjoy the results. Maybe it was that seed of resentment that made me lose my composure when I finally saw Alex again. I had just returned to the city when I happened to see Alex dropping Melody off at the train station. I was waiting for a taxi when I spotted them getting out of Alex’s new car. My first thought was that Melody really did look remarkably similar to me. Watching Alex wrap his arm tenderly around her waist, I was overcome with jealousy and regret. For the first time since our breakup, I realized I still loved Alex. I waited by his car for him to return from seeing her off. When he came back, I said simply, “Alex, I’m back.” I saw his eyes well up with tears, but he stood frozen in place. I went to embrace him. “You’ve finally grown up,” I said. “My tough love worked after all.” He pushed me away, then couldn’t resist reaching out to wipe my tears. I hugged him again. He pushed me away again. “Why are you back now?” he asked. “I have a girlfriend.” But three months of dating couldn’t compare to our years of history. Though he was rejecting me, I could see the pain and longing in his eyes. I begged and pleaded with him for days. My mom even flew in when she heard what was happening. She had a private conversation with Alex. I don’t know what she said, but afterwards – despite looking unhappy – Alex agreed to get back together with me. After eight months apart, everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. Alex could afford a house now, and he had a nice car. My mom had stopped constantly criticizing him now that he was more successful. We got married quickly. I was confident Alex would soon forget about Melody, who he’d only known for three months. But I never imagined Alex would say what he did that night in the bathroom… Chloe After leaving the bathroom, Alex and I had a huge fight. The babies woke up crying, and my mom – who was staying with us to help with childcare – was startled awake as well. The whole house erupted into chaos in the middle of the night. When my mom found out the reason for our fight, she collapsed onto the sofa, looking faint. I panicked and took her blood pressure – 190 over 90. She was already exhausted from helping with the babies. Now the shock had triggered her hypertension. To his credit, Alex immediately stopped arguing and rushed to get her medication and water. Once she’d calmed down a bit, my mom launched into a tirade from her spot on the couch: “Alex, how can you be so heartless? Don’t you know how much Chloe has sacrificed for you, how much she’s suffered? She’s been with you since she was 18. You had nothing back then – your family was dirt poor. But Chloe didn’t care. She even fought with me over you. “Later on, it was Chloe’s idea to break up with you to motivate you to improve yourself. That’s the only reason you’re successful now. Don’t look at me like that – don’t think Chloe came back to you just because you’re doing well now. With her looks and job, she could have any man she wanted. She had plenty of suitors who were more successful than you. “She’s always put you first, and this is how you repay her… Is that homewrecker still chasing after you? Let me tell you, she only wants your money. If you were broke, do you think she’d give you a second glance? “Chloe went through so much to have your babies. Do you know how many injections she had to take for the IVF treatments? And now you won’t even touch her? How can you live with yourself?” My mom went on and on. Alex didn’t say a word, but his demeanor became much more subdued. The next morning, Alex got up early to make breakfast. He hadn’t cooked in ages. The table was laden with all my mom’s favorite dishes – a clear peace offering. Seeing my mom’s blood pressure still dangerously high, I swallowed my anger and resentment. For the next few days, Alex was the model husband and son-in-law. He came home on time every day to cook dinner. He helped clean the house and take care of the babies so my mom could rest. After the kids were asleep, he’d sit at his computer to finish up work from the day. I wanted to find a good time to have a real conversation with him. Maybe what he’d said that night was just spoken in anger. But before I got the chance, disaster struck. My mom got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and suffered a massive stroke. By the time we got her to the hospital, the doctors told us to prepare for the worst. She passed away before we could even get her back home. She never got to see my dad one last time. I was devastated and consumed with guilt. My mom had died from the stress of helping care for my children. Throughout the entire funeral, I could barely stand up straight from sobbing. They say true character is revealed in times of crisis. Despite our recent conflict, Alex really stepped up when my family needed him most. He handled all the funeral arrangements. Since I only have one sister and no brothers, Alex took on the traditional son’s duties – carrying the casket, holding the memorial banner, coordinating with guests, looking after my dad… All the neighbors commented on what a good son-in-law my mom had found. After we laid my mom to rest, I felt a huge weight lift despite my grief. Alex and I may have lost our passion, but it was clear he still cared for me deeply. Melody was no real threat to our marriage after all. Alex I’m Alex Chen. Pathetic Alex Chen. The day Chloe dumped me, I left our apartment like a stray dog being kicked to the curb. Years of love and memories reduced to a single suitcase. I boarded a bus, clutching that suitcase, with no idea where to go. I rode it to the end of the line, then got on the return trip. Back and forth. I spent that entire afternoon aimlessly crisscrossing the city on the Number 25 bus. Until 10 PM when service ended for the night. Standing alone at the bus stop, I broke down sobbing like a lost child. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I knew her mom was putting pressure on her to settle down. So I’d tried talking to her mom directly, behind Chloe’s back. Her mom called me a worthless bum. A penniless loser. I understood her desire to see her daughter with someone better. But they wouldn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. I told them I was helping develop a new game at work. They assumed it was just an excuse to play video games all day. Even so, I wanted to win Chloe back. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the girl I’d dreamed of a future with. So I crashed at a friend’s place and tried everything I could think of to contact her. But she seemed too busy to care. Too busy to even be heartbroken over our breakup. During that time, I was in agony. I lost over 40 pounds. My mom was worried sick. She started working a second job after her regular shift, trying to save up money to help me buy a house someday. She even went behind my back to talk to Chloe’s mom. My mom said they could not only help with the down payment, but chip in for the mortgage payments too. Chloe’s mom asked, “What about a car?” My mom said they were getting older, so they could sell their house when the time came to buy me a car. What Chloe’s mom said next, I’ll never forget as long as I live: “So we have to wait until you’re dead to free up money for a car? That could be decades from now. If you can’t give up your life to buy your son a car right this second, don’t waste my time. My daughter can have any man she wants. She’s got a rich guy pursuing her right now. Tell your son to stop pathetically chasing after her and getting in her way.” My mom came home that day and collapsed from stress. She never recovered. Less than two months later, she fell into a hepatic coma and passed away. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself. My own inadequacy had killed my mother. My mom’s death made me give up on Chloe completely. I met Melody at my mom’s funeral. She worked at the crematorium but had an unusually upbeat personality. At first, I was drawn to her because of her resemblance to Chloe. But soon I found myself genuinely attracted to her character. Melody was adamantly against marriage. She had a carefree attitude that set her apart from most people. She had a healthy perspective on life and death, and a clear-eyed view of the world. On the surface she seemed flippant, but she was actually quite philosophical. With Melody’s encouragement, I threw myself into my passion for gaming. The project I was working on became a huge success. I’d finally found my path in life. Just as Melody and I had started dating, Chloe came back. She knew exactly how to manipulate me. She cried about how much she’d missed me. She knew just what to say to tug at my heartstrings. She even claimed breaking up with me was all part of a plan to motivate me to improve myself. It was absurd. But I softened anyway. I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but I never intended to leave Melody. Until Chloe’s mom got involved again. I have to admit, the old woman was crafty. Before approaching me, she went to Melody first. When we met, she played me a recording of her conversation with Melody. She had told Melody our whole history, even playing her recordings of me begging Chloe to take me back after our breakup. She even had a recording of my mom pleading with her. I knew Melody wasn’t the type to be easily manipulated. But I’d forgotten one crucial thing: Melody was a free spirit who hated complications. After Melody refused to break up with me, Chloe’s mom showed up at the crematorium where she worked. She caused a huge scene, screaming that Melody was a homewrecker who had destroyed her daughter’s relationship. Just as Melody was about to call security, Chloe’s mom suddenly changed tack. She apologized profusely, claiming she’d mistaken Melody for someone else. Then she whispered, “If you don’t break up with him, next time I won’t pretend it was a mistake. I’ll keep harassing you, and my daughter will keep chasing after Alex. Your life will become a living hell. You’ll end up breaking up with him anyway.” Melody’s feelings for me weren’t deep enough yet to weather that kind of storm. So she let me go with her typical nonchalance. But she got in one last jab at the old woman: “Now that I’m voluntarily stepping aside, I’ll always be the one that got away – the unattainable ideal in Alex’s heart. Your daughter will forever live in my shadow.” Listening to the recording of Melody’s carefree voice, I felt the happiness I’d grasped slipping through my fingers once again. My mind went blank. I stared at Chloe’s mom, my face expressionless. The hatred I’d been suppressing exploded silently inside me. My mother’s death, all the times I’d swallowed my pride and anger – I wanted to settle those accounts one by one. Since they’d handed me this opportunity on a silver platter, it would be rude not to take advantage. I pretended to gradually give in to Chloe and her mother’s relentless pressure. Then I agreed to marry Chloe, as if it were the natural progression of events. After we were married, Chloe initiated intimacy a few times, then started bringing up whose name should be on the house deed. I magnanimously offered to pay for the house in full and add her name to the deed as our joint property. She wasn’t as thrilled by this as I’d expected. Her mom also made several comments about so-and-so’s husband putting the house solely in the wife’s name. And how their daughter-in-law wasn’t nearly as pretty as Chloe. I went along with looking at properties but remained noncommittal about the name on the deed. We found a development we liked and were waiting for a promotional discount period. When the sale started, I conveniently had to go on a business trip. The mother-daughter duo finally lost patience. They called me repeatedly, insisting I transfer the money immediately before the discounted price expired. I knew exactly what they were up to, but I sent the money anyway. Sure enough, they bought a finished property and rushed to get the deed processed as quickly as possible – with only Chloe’s name on it. When I returned from my “business trip,” I didn’t say much. I just quietly saved the bank transfer records. Later, Chloe’s mom started pushing for me to get a new car. So they persuaded me to sell my car. Once again, I was conveniently out of town when they bought the new one – registered solely in Chloe’s name. We only got officially married after all this was settled. The house and car were now considered Chloe’s premarital assets. Before the wedding, I met up with Melody one last time. She smiled as she tried to comfort me: “Don’t be sad. If you’d stayed with me, you might never have gotten married or had kids. I’d rather be the one that got away than a constant thorn in your side.” I asked if she’d regret never marrying or leaving anything behind after she was gone. She said she planned to donate her eggs, so she wouldn’t leave nothing behind. After that conversation, I had some new things to consider. I approached the wedding with an unexpected sense of anticipation. It wasn’t until over a year into our marriage that Chloe realized the gravity of our situation. She said she wanted to get checked out at the hospital. Figure out why she wasn’t getting pregnant yet. Her mom was anxious too. She said Chloe shouldn’t go alone – what if I was the one with fertility issues? She ranted about how some seemingly healthy men turn out to have problems in that department. How they trick women into marrying them without disclosing their condition. How those men should be forced to pay compensation for the deception. And so, amidst her mother’s pointed comments, we embarked on a long journey of fertility treatments. Neither of us had any medical issues, yet Chloe still couldn’t conceive. I admit I was secretly sabotaging our efforts. But maybe it was also fate. Finally, we turned to IVF as our last resort. My real show was about to begin. Everything proceeded according to my plan. I was just waiting for the right moment to unleash my pent-up, almost maniacal resentment. That night, before Chloe got up to feed the babies, I snuck into the bathroom early. I turned the water on full blast – loud enough to draw her attention. She came in, about to embrace me. I quickly pulled up a photo of Melody on my phone, deliberately angling it so Chloe would see. When she raised her hand to slap me, I let go of my last shred of sympathy for her. I told her that even during our IVF treatments, I’d used Melody’s photos to “produce my samples.” I knew she couldn’t handle that kind of shock. Sure enough, she came out and started a huge fight with me. Predictably, it woke up her mom. And just as predictably, her mom’s blood pressure spiked dangerously. Right on cue, I played the role of the remorseful son-in-law who’d been manipulated. I showed my contrition through actions. Every day, I cooked meals catered to her mom’s tastes. I prepared a variety of dishes. But they all had one thing in common: High sodium. High salt. High calorie. The kind of food that causes constipation. I insisted on doing all the housework so her mom would rest as much as possible after meals. When she sat on the sofa after dinner, legs crossed, snacking on sunflower seeds and watching TV, I’d bring her more snacks. Within days, she suffered a massive stroke. She died on the toilet, straining to have a bowel movement. … Cruel, wasn’t it? After the funeral, I asked my reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at me twisted into a grotesque expression. “No,” it said. “The real show is just beginning…”

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I’m trembling in the corner of the bed. “Boss, you’re… you’re not usually like this.” He angrily throws his tie onto the bed. “Everyone has two sides to them!” A few months ago, I drew two erotic sketches. I meant to send them to my own phone via SnapChat, but accidentally sent them to my hot boss. I was confused at first, thinking my phone had glitched. When I realized what happened, my mind went blank. Shit shit shit! Unsend unsend! In a panic, I hit “Delete”. Nice save! Now I can start thinking about whether I need to resign. I collapsed onto my bed, my face burning red and my body weak. I could already imagine how my cold, reserved boss would react seeing those drawings. He’d probably rest his head on his hand with a look of disgust, even hating to look at my chat window. “Hmph, Lily. I thought you were the good girl of the office. I didn’t expect you to be this kind of person. How disgusting!” I felt so wronged I wanted to cry. After covering my eyes for ten minutes, my phone buzzed. I knew without looking it was a message from my boss. When I opened it, two images full of holy white light were slapped in my face. It was so bright it hurt my eyes. I rubbed my swollen eyes and saw he had sent another message. “Come to my office after work on Monday.” Great, I don’t even need to resign. He’s already preparing to fire me, and I can get double severance pay. Waaah. I suffered through the most painful weekend of my life, finally reaching judgment day. By the end of the workday, I had already packed up all my personal belongings. After most people had left, I finally worked up the courage to knock on his door. When the door opened, he was still focused on drawing a design. The setting sun illuminated his profile, half light and half shadow, like a character from a manga that’s half angel, half devil. Even just ordinary black-framed glasses looked extremely stylish on his face. Ah, he’s so handsome! But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. “B-boss.” I was such a coward, I couldn’t even look at him. He glanced up at me and coolly tossed a folder my way. “There’s a Shakespeare-themed design gala coming up. Choose one of his works and create costume designs for three characters.” “Huh??” Just talking about work? “Is there… nothing else you want to say?” I was a bit dazed. He put down his pen and looked at me seriously. Oh god, don’t look at me like that!! Those beautiful eyes nearly made me ascend on the spot! If he wasn’t wearing glasses, he’d probably be even more mesmerizing… “You can stay and work overtime with me if you want, but… there’s no overtime pay.” He said flatly. My heart instantly calmed down. Who would work without overtime pay! “Then I’ll head out first. You should go home early too, boss.” I entered in a daze and left in a daze. Just as I turned to open the door, I heard a faint voice behind me, “Do you… like that kind of thing?” !! I quickly turned back. I saw my handsome boss diligently working on his design as if he hadn’t said anything. Did I mishear? “Anything else?” He looked up at me. I shook my head vigorously: “Goodbye, boss.” Ah… I’m at peace. My hot boss is so nice!!!! He deliberately avoided mentioning that day’s incident, saving my face. I think I like him even more now. When I got home, I opened Twitter and happily posted an update using my secret account. Instantly, I was flooded with comments like “You’re amazing!”, “So steamy!”, “Mama’s content is so delicious!” All the unpleasant things were instantly forgotten, leaving me with only a sense of accomplishment from being praised. However, one comment caught my attention. “You like this kind of thing?” My heart felt like it had been electrocuted. It instantly reminded me of the voice I heard when leaving the office. I clicked on that person’s profile. It was a burner account without even a profile picture. I was probably overthinking things. After a week of exhausting work, I finally welcomed the weekend. I had planned to sleep in the next day, but my plans were interrupted by a message from my boss. “The organizers are in a rush. We need to finalize the designs by next Monday. Find some time tomorrow, I’ll give you feedback on your designs in person.” In person? It’s clear the boss takes these designs very seriously. “Should we meet at the office or…” I asked. “Choose a quiet place close to your home.” I couldn’t help but fantasize – my place is quiet, and if we get tired we could just take a nap. But I didn’t have the guts to suggest that. Me: “There’s a nice coffee shop downstairs from my apartment. If we get hungry we can grab food nearby.” “Alright.” The boss agreed right away. I ascended to heaven on the spot!! Ahhhh! We’re going on a date!! I’ve been on dates with guys before, but I’ve never been this nervous. I woke up at 7 AM to shower and do my makeup, and even sprayed on a cologne similar to my boss’s scent. I arrived at the coffee shop early to wait. “Good morning, boss…” I waved with a smile. I had practiced this smile in the mirror 8 times yesterday! I saw his body stiffen for a moment. “Morning,” he said as he sat down across from me. His Adam’s apple suddenly bobbed. Oh my god! Did he just gulp? Damn, how can a man even look good swallowing! “Boss, here are the designs.” I took out my tablet. He glanced at it and pointed out many areas for improvement. “Here, and here…” The table was quite large, so it was inconvenient for him to point things out. He had to move to sit next to me. We accidentally brushed against each other. “Sorry,” he said. My heart started racing, and I felt like steam was coming out of my head. He erased all the clothes on my design, leaving only the body outline. “Try redrawing one based on what I said.” I could barely hold my pen steady. How am I supposed to draw like this? As expected, what I drew in front of him looked like crap. He frowned. I quickly apologized: “Boss, I might not be in the best condition. I’m having trouble drawing.” He was silent for a long time, then took my tablet and opened the photo gallery. “I remember you had a pretty good draft before.” Oh shit! No!! Damn, I was too slow and couldn’t stop him. I saw his expression become extremely strange, his eyelids even twitching. “You don’t separate your work tablet and personal tablet?” I’m poor, okay? If I had money I’d buy two. I didn’t say anything, and I didn’t dare look at the tablet. It was full of extremely explicit drawings. I was utterly mortified. Can you die twice from social embarrassment? I thought he would close it, but I didn’t expect him to actually click on one of the images. That image only showed a pair of legs on the tablet screen. How did he recognize it from such a tricky angle and click on it? “Boss!!!!” The image enlarged, revealing a very handsome man on the full screen. The man in the picture wore a navy blue suit with a gold tie clip inlaid with blue sapphires, gold-rimmed glasses, and a gold chain hanging from the glasses. I had designed this entire outfit from head to toe. It wasn’t just exquisite, but also had a powerful and confident aura. My boss’s eyes widened next to me, his pupils constricting. This was the first time I’d seen him with such an expression. His Adam’s apple bobbed again. “Is this… me?” “Mm-hmm.” I couldn’t come up with an excuse so I didn’t bother trying. “It looks very good. Can you send it to me?” My hot boss smiled. Oh my god!! He smiled!! Ahhhhhh!! I didn’t know the boss could be so gentle! I quickly sent it over. After sending it, I realized that due to my professional habits, I might have sent it in PSD format. Help! I hope he doesn’t hide the most recent layer, otherwise he’ll see an extremely explicit version without any clothes. Because I didn’t know when he would discover it, I was on edge for the next two weeks. This caused me to have writer’s block when starting a new story, so I turned to Twitter for help, asking for suggestions for a new plot. Among the many comments, one caught my attention. “The female lead could be an artist, sweet and innocent on the surface, but secretly loves drawing erotic art. She even secretly draws the male lead, and gets caught by him.” !! That electrifying feeling in my heart came back. It was that burner account without a profile picture again. This paragraph seemed to be describing me. I had a guess, but I wasn’t sure… “You have some great ideas, sweetie! For the male lead, do you have any good suggestions?” I tried to probe further. He replied to the comment: “If I were the male lead, I wouldn’t immediately expose this. After all, I’m not sure if she likes me or just enjoys drawing. “I can only be certain that she’s satisfied with my appearance, so I would deliberately do things to attract her, to make her fall completely in love with me. The best hunters often appear in the guise of prey, don’t they?” Whew – this person is so devious! It definitely can’t be my boss. I breathed a sigh of relief. But I couldn’t help imagining – what if my usually reserved boss also had a scheming side? Oh shit, nosebleed… tissue… Late that night, inspiration struck and I rarely felt like working hard! The male lead in my new story was based on my boss, but I was afraid of being discovered. I had to give the male lead some attributes my boss didn’t have. Like being scheming, jealous, and having a strong possessive streak. Inside the boss’s office. I sat with my head lowered. After fantasizing about him for two nights over the weekend, I didn’t dare look him in the eye. “Your face is so red. Is my office too hot?” I shook my head. He put some documents in front of me. I had just opened them when I saw him take off his suit jacket right in front of me, then loosen his tie! Oh my god! He’s really not treating me like an outsider. Am I allowed to see this? He glanced at me and coughed awkwardly twice. “Sorry, I’m actually quite hot. Is it okay if I talk to you like this?” He leaned back in his office chair looking a bit worn out. His tie wasn’t completely undone, hanging loosely, and he unbuttoned the first button of his shirt. I stared, transfixed. Heavens! I’m so hot! This was the first time I’d seen the boss looking so vulnerable. If I don’t draw a few gigabytes worth of erotic art of him, I’d be wasting this trip to his office! But I acted very reserved, holding back a mischievous smile as I stood up and slowly approached. “Are you not feeling well, boss?” His breathing was heavy. “It’s nothing. Let’s continue discussing the stage play. This time all the major design companies want to use the play as an opportunity to show off. You got the female lead role, so you must perform well. I’ll do my best to support you.” I nodded vigorously. For this stage play, my boss and I had been cast as the male and female leads. This was a heaven-sent opportunity, so of course I would work hard. He propped himself up to reach for the water glass on the desk, but before he could grab it, he swayed and nearly fell to the floor. Luckily I was standing right next to him. I quickly steadied him. “Boss, should I take you to the hospital?” He didn’t say anything. His body was very limp, almost leaning into my arms. “I’m sorry, my head hurts a lot right now. Can you stay in this position without moving and let me lean on you for a bit?” Oh, damn! Am I dreaming? How did I get so lucky? He was groaning in pain. But I couldn’t help wanting to prick up my ears to listen. Even his groans sounded amazing!! And this scene was very similar to the first chapter of my new story! A palace artist catches a poisoned prince as he collapses. The prince’s poison acts up and he immediately pins down the artist. If the maids hadn’t arrived in time, the little artist would have been devoured in the first chapter!!! “What are you thinking about? Why is your heart beating so fast?” The voice from my arms brought me back to reality. My face was already red, and after being called out it burned even hotter. “I won’t trouble you anymore.” He managed to sit up straight and let out a breath. “Thank you. I’ll treat you to a meal another day.” I nodded, trying to calm my wildly beating heart as I left. Just as I turned to close the door, a fleeting image in the office startled me. The boss who had been painfully rubbing his head was actually smiling? Impossible!! I must have seen wrong. On Twitter, I created a fan group. People eager for my erotic content immediately flooded in. I typed, “Help! This isn’t about drawing! Can anyone analyze what my chances are if I want to pursue my hot boss?” These online friends’ enthusiasm for gossip was no less than their enthusiasm for erotic content. They all asked me to elaborate. So I told them about the office hug incident and secretly drawing my boss. At this point I remembered I still had a male fan. I scanned the group and didn’t see him, so I proactively added him to the group. “Hey Mr. No Profile Picture, can you help analyze this for me?” Mr. No Profile Picture: “What?” A fan copied and pasted what I had posted. Mr. No Profile Picture: “?!!” Mr. No Profile Picture: “There’s a version without clothes too?” Me: “Actually… I have even more explicit ones on my tablet. He just didn’t see those.” Mr. No Profile Picture: “!!” For some reason, I felt like his reaction was a bit over the top. Shouldn’t a stranger just be enjoying the gossip? Meanwhile, the other fans were clamoring non-stop: “Author, I want to see pics of the hot boss”, “Show us the goods”, “Let me see”. They were about to flood the chat, so I had no choice but to post a few of my best drawings. There were no full face shots anyway. Even if the actual person saw them, they probably wouldn’t recognize themselves. As soon as the images were posted, the group exploded. Everyone was shouting that the hot boss belonged to all of them, and begging me to draw “more more more” in the future. I found it too noisy, so I left to private message that guy. “Hey, can you help analyze now?” That guy: “Sorry, those images had quite an impact. I need a moment to recover.” I get it, I get it. We’re all horny here… But this guy took half an hour to “recover”. “Sorry, I just took a cold shower.” Me: “Damn, that’s intense. You’ll catch a cold showering in this weather.” “Ahem, you’ve been updating so frequently lately, I’ve been taking cold showers for days.” Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. Suddenly I thought, my boss had a headache and fever earlier. He couldn’t have been taking cold showers too, right? He continued: “I think you should try getting closer to him. You might discover that your hot boss isn’t just physically attractive, but has many other shining qualities.”

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My father is the CEO of the country’s largest media company, my mother is a retired Golden Globe-winning actress, and my brother is a top celebrity. As soon as I entered college, gossip news spread that the youngest daughter of Reed Media’s CEO had enrolled in a prestigious drama school. My roommate, desperate for fame, rushed to claim the title: “Thank you all for your attention! I want to study quietly and hope not to affect others.” A few days later, it was revealed that Reed Media’s little princess was actually someone else! “Thank you, media friends, for your attention! I’ve just started my four-year college journey and would like to study quietly for now. I hope everyone won’t pay too much attention, and I hope my fans will behave and not disturb others.” I looked at the SnapChat post from my roommate Yvonne Shaw and couldn’t help but laugh. What a drama queen. Wasn’t acting in movies enough? Now she’s trying to act in my life? It all started on the first day of school when some small media outlet, without checking with my dad’s company, broke the news that “Reed Media CEO’s youngest daughter enrolled in a prestigious drama school.” Anyone who’s been in the industry for a while knows that Reed Media’s chairman’s youngest daughter is a sensitive topic and absolutely off-limits for reporting. I didn’t expect someone would dare to poke the bear. What I expected even less was that someone would be so desperate for fame that they’d try to piggyback on my dad’s name. That person was my new college roommate, Yvonne Shaw. She did have the prerequisite to pretend – her surname was Shaw, and my dad’s surname was also Shaw. What a coincidence, right? Yvonne had starred in a web series and shot to fame with her pure and lovely image, gaining five million fans overnight. When school started, she was already voted the most popular girl on campus, trending in the top ten on Twitter. When people heard that Yvonne was in the Acting Department’s Class 1, the class group chat exploded like boiling water. “Our goddess is here!” “Wow, will we get to act opposite the campus beauty?” … Now, seeing this trending topic, my roommates looked at Yvonne with envious eyes and tried to curry favor: “Yvonne, I can’t believe you’re the CEO of Reed Media’s daughter. My God, it’s like having a big shot right next to me!” “Oh my, Yvonne, doesn’t that mean Sean Reed is your brother? Can I get an autograph?” “Yvonne, your family will definitely arrange great resources for you in the future, right? Please take me with you! I’ll be happy just playing your maid!” … Listening to all this flattery and praise, I couldn’t help but sneer. What kind of daydream is this? Sean Reed is MY brother! By blood! Autographs are easy, but I’m afraid that “maid” role might be hard to come by. My family’s projects aren’t for just anyone. A freshman who just entered college, not even a real actress yet, instead of thinking about how to attend classes and hone her acting skills, is thinking about taking shortcuts all day. If we gave you a supporting role with lines now, could you even handle it? I opened my account and posted on the trending topic. “Some people, not even famous, but love to leech off others.” A few of Yvonne’s fans found their way to my Twitter and started cursing: “Who the hell are you talking about?” “Yeah, we’re talking about you. Don’t try to ride on our Yvonne’s coattails.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond. The truth will come out eventually. Probably because my sneer didn’t sit well with her, Wendy, the roommate who wanted a role, sarcastically said: “What are you laughing at? Some people aren’t that good-looking and don’t have such a good family background, yet still act all high and mighty.” Another person chimed in: “Exactly, I don’t know what she’s pretending to be.” Haha, if I told you, you’d be scared to death. All those “husbands” you like have to bow and scrape before me. All their exclusive autographs and merchandise fill up the basement storage in my house. I get their warm greetings on every holiday, afraid that I might forget about them one day. Yvonne said gently: “We’re all classmates. Although some classmates might not have good family backgrounds, we’re all here chasing our acting dreams. We should work hard together and not discriminate.” Wendy shook her head: “Oh, Yvonne, you’re just too kind. But you know, everyone has their own status. Some people need to know their place.” “Skylar, you don’t even have a single designer item on you. Your family must not be well-off, right? How can you compare to Yvonne? In the future, you need to know your place.” Yvonne interjected again: “Let it go, let’s not compare.” Just then, my dad called. I couldn’t be bothered with them anymore and went to the balcony to answer the phone. “Hello, is my baby girl okay? Daddy just saw the trending topic and immediately had it taken down. It won’t affect you.” Hearing the word “baby” come out of the mouth of my dad, a dignified middle-aged man, really gave me goosebumps. “No, no, don’t take it down yet. Just leave it.” “Really? Are you sure you’re not upset, baby?” “I’m fine.” I want to see what other tricks she has up her sleeve. “When are you coming home? Daddy misses you so much.” Three black lines almost materialized on top of my head. “It’s only the third day of school.” Can someone please control this daughter-obsessed dad? It’s exhausting. My name is Skylar Reed. My father is the CEO of the country’s largest media company, my mother is a retired Golden Globe-winning actress, and my brother is a top celebrity. The reason I have a different last name is because I took my mom’s surname. When she was pregnant with her second child, she insisted that the baby should take her surname to prove my dad loved her. My dad, who loves and fears my mom, naturally agreed. Plus, when I was little, I got lost among my mom’s fans while out playing with her. A crazy fan secretly took me into the women’s restroom. I vaguely remember that psycho fan kept taking pictures of me with their phone in the restroom until my family found me three hours later. So I developed psychological trauma, resulting in fear of crowds and claustrophobia. Whenever I was in crowded or dark places, I would easily have emotional breakdowns, crying and screaming. For the first few years, I couldn’t be left alone at all and had to sleep with a night light on. After seeing a therapist for several years, I finally recovered. So, my parents have always been very protective of my privacy and made it clear to all major media outlets that any photos of me must be deleted. Taking my mom’s surname works well too. Reed is a common name that doesn’t stand out, which allowed me to live like a normal person for ten years. I didn’t expect to lose the “opportunity” to be known as my dad’s daughter. I don’t like wearing luxury brands covered in logos all over. It feels so tacky. Many of my clothes are specially designed by my aunt who does fashion design in Europe. They’re one-of-a-kind pieces that even royalty can’t buy. I’ve always kept a low profile and never let my family appear at my school. The night before school started, my dad paced back and forth in my room, my mom sat on my bed wiping away tears, and my brother dutifully helped me pack. The three of them kept bombarding me with questions. “Baby, why don’t I send you to school tomorrow?” I coldly replied, “No way. If you go, the entire school leadership will probably surround you.” “Then let mom go with you. I’ve been out of the spotlight for so long, no one will notice.” “You’re lying. Last week I saw that famous Director Li come to our house to give you a script, begging you to come out of retirement.” “Then how about your brother…” “You don’t even need to mention it. If you go, my entire dorm building will be surrounded by your crazy fans.” Thinking of such a scene, I shuddered. After experiencing many hypnotherapy sessions, I only have a vague impression of what happened when I was little, but I still can’t face crowds calmly. Better to avoid it if possible. Seeing my firm attitude, they had to give up. On the first day of school, our butler Mr. Lin drove me to school in our family’s cheapest car used for grocery shopping. He dressed like an ordinary old man, very low-key when we arrived at school. The butler has worked for our family for over twenty years and watched me grow up. I’ve always treated him like an elder. Although he looks older and dresses plainly, he’s a proper working professional. My family pays him a high salary. I didn’t expect that in their eyes, it turned into evidence that my family wasn’t well-off. Yvonne and I didn’t have much conflict at first. It was just that when the campus beauty vote happened, I barely made it onto the list, and she felt I stole her spotlight. Since then, she’s always been passive-aggressive, either mocking my family background or saying I have no sense of style. Ever since Yvonne posted that ambiguous SnapChat, she’s been treated like a queen. My roommates all flocked around her, and our dorm automatically formed a barrier. When I returned to the dorm after class, I saw Yvonne come back with a pile of gifts and a bag of letters. Wendy immediately rushed over, carefully took the things from her hands, and picked up a few beautifully packaged gifts. “Wow, a Cartier bracelet, it looks so expensive.” “And an LV bag, I’ve wanted this handbag for so long, waaah.” “Wow, this perfume is from Chanel’s limited collection.” “Huh, why are there a pair of slippers? These slippers don’t even look that good…” Wendy muttered, and Yvonne overheard. She rolled her eyes. “Look carefully, these are Fendi, over $1,000 a pair. You really don’t know anything.” “What? So expensive.” Wendy exclaimed. Yvonne picked out a bottle of Dior perfume and tossed it to Wendy, “Here, it’s yours.” Wendy held the perfume like a treasure, curiously asking. “Who sent you all these gifts?” Yvonne said proudly, “Who else? All from my fans, of course.” I coldly observed their showing off, secretly turning on my phone’s voice recorder. “Every time I say no verbally, but hint a little on social media, they still send stuff anyway.” Yvonne continued. “It’s just that they spend money on unnecessary things. Last birthday they even bought me a star. Just a stupid star in the sky, you know?” “I think it’s such a waste. You can’t see or touch it. It would make me happier if they spent that money on luxury goods instead.” “Every time they stuff a bunch of letters in too. What era is this?” “I’m too lazy to read books, let alone their letters. How naive.” I really feel bad for these fans. The money their parents work hard to earn, these kids use to chase celebrities. And all their heartfelt gestures, the celebrity doesn’t even care about. They only care if your money reaches their account. Yvonne took a lipstick and walked up to me. “Skylar, I see you have so few cosmetics. This lipstick color suits you well, I’ll give it to you.” I coldly refused. “No need. I don’t need it. You should cherish the gifts from others.” Wendy angrily said. “You’re so ungrateful. Yvonne is taking pity on you and you don’t even appreciate it.” “I don’t think you deserve to use such good lipstick. Just stick to your drugstore brands.” What’s wrong with drugstore brands? There are great domestic brands too. Lipstick is one of those things where the price is artificially inflated, mainly due to brand markup. I said seriously. “Don’t look down on domestic brands. We’re all talking about developing national products now, and many brands are doing very well.” “Not everything expensive is good. As long as the lipstick is properly produced and works well, it’s worth buying.” Although my family is rich, we don’t worship all foreign brands. For example, some T-shirts, the cotton from our country is very good. And silk pajamas, custom-made from a family workshop in Suzhou that doesn’t sell to the public. Their ancestors made clothes for the Empress Dowager Cixi, and the imperial craftsmanship has been passed down. All year round, they only make clothes for a few top wealthy families. In this world, what you can buy isn’t necessarily the best. Wendy rolled her eyes, looking at me with disdain. “A country bumpkin is just a country bumpkin. I can’t be bothered to talk to you.” They happily unwrapped gifts, ignoring me. I looked at the recording on my phone, thinking, one day, I’ll expose your true face to your fans. Let them see clearly whether some celebrities are really worth being fans of. The next day was our major class, and the teacher gave us a script to perform. I drew the female lead role, paired with the most handsome guy in our class to perform a love scene from a famous movie. The male lead was our school’s heartthrob, William Yuan, a former boy band member turned actor with over 10 million followers on Twitter. Unexpectedly, Yvonne bit her lip, looking like she was about to cry. Classmates rushed over, asking with concern: “Yvonne, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” “If you’re not feeling well, take a break first.” Even the male lead teacher came forward to ask what happened. Yvonne looked up, glancing at me carefully, and opened the paper in her hand. “It’s… it’s nothing. I just didn’t get the role I wanted. Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll act well and won’t drag everyone down.” Fine, you’re the queen of fake nice. My roommates turned around, took Yvonne’s paper and walked up to me: “Skylar Reed, switch with Yvonne. After all, she’s the campus beauty, and she has acting experience. She’ll definitely perform better than you.” “Yeah, and Yvonne is prettier than you. She was born to be the female lead. How can you measure up?” Ever since they found out Yvonne might be Reed Media’s little princess, they’ve all been sucking up to her like lapdogs. I remained unmoved, “Why should I? We all drew lots fairly. Besides, how do you know I can’t act well?” William Yuan said rudely, “Because you have no experience, and because your last name isn’t Shaw. Happy now?” He snatched the paper from my hand, walked to Yvonne’s side, and gently placed it in her palm: “Don’t cry. Come on, we’re partners now.” Heh, I truly wish you two-faced people a long and happy life together. I looked at the teacher, hoping she would be fair. “Teacher, are you really going to let them snatch roles like this?” The teacher looked impatient. “What does it matter what role you play? When you become an actress in the future, can you pick your roles?” I was unconvinced. This was clearly favoritism. I’ve never been treated like this in my life. “Why don’t you say that to her? She’s the one picking roles.” “I think as a teacher, you should treat everyone equally. If you set this precedent, everyone will pick roles in the future. Who will play the small roles then?” “In a play, whether it’s the lead or supporting role, they’re all important. Without supporting roles to set off the lead, how can the lead shine?” The teacher ignored my plea and angrily said. “You talk back ten times for every word I say. Why don’t you be the teacher? You can act or not, if you don’t want to, then get out.” I sneered and said. “You’re all doing this because her last name is Shaw, right? What if she’s not actually the daughter of Reed Media’s CEO?” I saw Yvonne’s face suddenly turn pale in the crowd, trying to keep her composure. “If I’m not, are you saying you are?” I confidently answered: “Of course.” The whole class burst into laughter. “Hahaha she says she’s James Reed’s daughter, I’m dying of laughter.” “If she’s James Reed’s daughter, then I’m Jeff Bezos’ long-lost son.” … James Reed is my dad’s name. Fine, laugh all you want today. Soon enough, I’ll make sure you can’t laugh anymore. But it’s not enough for just you to know. I want the whole world to know who the shameless thief really is. A week after school started was my brother Sean Reed’s concert. He became an internet sensation after debuting as the center in a talent show. Overnight, I gained millions of “sisters-in-law”. Wendy had been promoting herself as Sean Reed’s die-hard fan since school started, even hanging a title in the fan club. Sean Reed’s concert tickets went on pre-sale three days ago, first come first served. But the tickets sold out so fast that they were gone almost as soon as they were released.

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My ex-boyfriend of four years showed up at the hotel where I work as a receptionist, with a woman in tow, asking for a room. The man had sharp features, with eyes as dark and deep as an abyss, exuding an air of aggression. He raised an eyebrow, his voice low and husky. “You have condoms in the rooms, right?” I smiled politely, my tone even. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t stock extra small sizes here.” Hidden behind the counter, I quietly slipped off my heels, feeling instant relief. After standing for most of the day, I only had ten more minutes before I could leave. Unfortunately, my moment of comfort was short-lived as guests entered the hotel lobby. I instinctively rose to my tiptoes, plastering on a smile. A tall, mature man in a dark shirt strode in. He had sharp features and cold eyes, with a suit jacket draped over his arm. As I watched him approach, I felt a sudden sense of déjà vu. Ethan Quinn, my college boyfriend of three years, whom I hadn’t seen since we broke up. Four years had passed, and the boyish charm was gone, replaced by a more mature demeanor. His once rebellious air had mellowed, making him appear even more sophisticated. He looked like quite the gentleman now. Beside Ethan was a woman with pale skin and a delicate frown that seemed designed to elicit sympathy. I couldn’t help but marvel at life’s unpredictability and the awkwardness of the situation. My ex-boyfriend was here to get a room with another woman, and I was still working the hotel front desk. Thankfully, there were three receptionists on duty. Please don’t look at me, please don’t look at me, please don’t… Just as I was fervently praying, Ethan’s gaze bypassed the other two receptionists and landed squarely on me. Damn it! His dark eyes, like deep whirlpools, bore into me with an intensity that felt even stronger than before. The Ethan I knew in college had been like a wolf cub, but now he resembled the alpha of a pack. He looked at me as if I were a shameless ex-wife who had run off with all his money, and he was the poor wronged husband here to catch me in the act. If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one who suggested we break up? Time seemed to stand still as Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on me. It wasn’t until the woman beside him noticed something was off and looked confused that Ethan finally shifted his gaze. He placed a card on the counter, his voice low. “One king room.” I maintained my professional smile and calmly processed their check-in. Ethan picked up his suit jacket and gently draped it over the woman’s shoulders, his movements smooth and practiced. I continued working, but found myself slightly distracted. In college, Ethan had been a germaphobe who disliked others touching his things. I had been the only one allowed free rein in his personal space. But that was four years ago. People change. Ethan used to hate wearing suits too. The only time he wore one was after I begged and cajoled him for an entire day. “Excuse me, could I see your ID please?” Ethan took out his ID and handed it over. As I took it, I instinctively ran my thumb over the back. There were faint scratches, and the photo was unchanged. It was still the same ID we had gotten together in college. I continued processing their check-in and handed over the key card. “Here you go, sir. Room 1087, the elevators are to your right. Enjoy your stay.” Ethan took the key card and passed it to the woman beside him, who headed towards the elevators. I silently willed this jerk to leave already, when Ethan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curving into a mischievous smile, his gaze intense. “There are condoms in the room, right?” Hearing this, I almost lost my composure. I thought four years would have matured him, but it seems he was still the same scoundrel underneath that polished exterior. What an insufferable jerk. I smiled politely, my tone even. “I’m sorry sir, but we don’t stock extra small sizes here.” Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly, but his smirk grew wider. Oh, did I hit a nerve? He leaned in closer, his voice low. “If there aren’t any, how am I supposed to enjoy my stay, Miss Shaw?” Who cares if you enjoy it or not? Ethan shifted, about to leave, but then turned back, his finger tapping lightly on the counter. “As I recall, Miss Shaw used to be quite fond of my extra small size.” I suddenly had the urge to slap that smug look off his face. But remembering my job and my bonus, I held back. “Sir, my shift is over.” Please leave me alone. I gave him a slight smile and retreated to the break room.

“What? You ran into Ethan Quinn yesterday?” I locked the door and made a sound of affirmation. “How was it? How was it?” I got into the elevator and pressed my floor, switching the phone to my other hand. “How was what? He brought a beautiful woman to get a room. What else could there be?” It’s been four years. Even the sweetest memories fade with time. Lucy was about to say something else when she was interrupted by a baby’s cry. “Oh, hold on, Bella woke up. I need to go comfort her.” I shook my head with a smile and hung up. It only took 30 minutes to get from my place to the hotel, but it took all morning to mentally prepare myself for work. After forcing smiles for several groups of guests, I found myself wanting to quit this front desk job for the umpteenth time. Just as I was about to get a drink of water, the front desk phone rang. I cursed under my breath as I picked up. “Hello, thank you for calling the front desk. How may I assist you?” There was no response on the other end, just the sound of breathing. But somehow, I knew who it was. After half a minute, the caller finally spoke: “It’s me.” I inwardly scoffed but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. Come on, what’s your move, jerk? Is it a wedding invitation or a kid’s birthday party? After two breaths of silence, the man spoke again, his tone slightly teasing. “I have a question.” Oh? “Don’t you have any bigger beds at your hotel? The one last time was too narrow for me to… maneuver.” Hah. I forced a professional smile, my voice sickeningly sweet. “I’m sorry sir, but all our king rooms have standard-sized beds. However…” He seemed very close to the phone, his breathing clearly audible. “If you turn left when leaving our hotel and walk about 500 meters, there’s a love hotel with very large beds. I’ve tried them myself. You can roll over three times while hugging someone.” His previously steady breathing hitched. I maintained a benevolent expression and promptly hung up. As expected, the phone rang again within seconds. Seeing the familiar number, I didn’t answer. My coworker asked, “Jenna, why aren’t you picking up the phone?” I replied, “Ex.” She made an “oh” sound and gave me a knowing look. When the phone started ringing for the third time, I finally answered leisurely. “Hello?” The man’s low voice was laced with anger. “Jenna Shaw.” What are you mad about? You can book rooms but I can’t have fun? “Oh, I forgot to mention. Mr. Quinn, I highly recommend the Sweet Ocean theme. The waterbed plus the mirrored ceiling…” This time, he was the one who hung up. I raised an eyebrow and put down the receiver, feeling like the day’s fatigue had melted away.

Ethan and I met in the spring semester of our freshman year. I was participating in a club activity, wearing an American-style cheerleader outfit and dancing to a girl group song on the basketball court. Ethan was surrounded by a group of guys, passing by in a large crowd. He had just lit a cigarette and looked up, catching sight of me in the midst of the crowd. That look in his eyes was hotter than the midsummer sun, seeming to burn right through me. When I finished dancing and was leaving, Ethan took a few strides to block my path. “Ethan Quinn.” I glanced at him sideways while tying up my hair. “Let’s be friends.” In the sunlight, Ethan’s eyes were half-closed, but he looked like a wolf crouching in tall grass, his gaze intense and filled with undisguised desire. I casually looked him over and turned my attention away. “Your cigarette smoke is bothering me.” With that, I tried to leave. Ethan stubbed out his cigarette with his fingertip and said, “I’ll quit.” I suddenly found it amusing, both his shamelessness and his empty promises. Why should I care if you quit smoking or not? But perhaps it was Ethan’s persistence, or maybe I found his wolfish gaze intriguing. A month later, I became friends with him. The kind of friends who could kiss. And we kept kissing for three years. Until he suddenly said we should break up.

It was a rare weekend off, and I decided to go shopping at the mall, browsing everything from snacks to lingerie. Even if I wasn’t buying, window shopping was harmless. As I picked up a purple bra, someone stood beside me, bringing with them an unfamiliar but faint scent of men’s cologne. The presence, however, was frustratingly familiar. A hand with well-defined knuckles picked up the black version and placed it at the front of the rack. “Black looks better.” The tone was casual, completely shameless. There’s really something to that saying about exes being like ghosts that won’t leave you alone. Without turning around, I smiled and said, “I’ll pass. He prefers me in purple.” With that, I finally turned to admire his sullen face. Ethan’s features were deep-set, but his facial lines were hard, making him look a bit fierce. But I wasn’t intimidated by him at all. I gave him a quick glance and then went to the men’s section, picking up a pair of underwear and smiling as I beckoned him over. Ethan’s face was as dark as if he’d just committed murder, but he obediently walked over. I showed him the underwear and asked sweetly, “Is this your size?” Ethan raised an eyebrow slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “What about it?” I smiled slyly. “Oh nothing. If this is your size, I’ll need to buy one size larger. My boyfriend is a bit bigger than you.” Seeing Ethan so agitated that he was about to lose his mature man composure and have a sudden attack, I left satisfied. And I put down the underwear I was holding. But when I was checking out, Ethan sidled up to me again. As expected. In college, he was always like this. Though back then he at least knew how to play hard to get and keep me guessing. Now that he’s older, he seems more impatient and can’t hold back. Ethan’s fingers were long and graceful. Back when we held hands, they could completely envelop mine. He took out a card and handed it to the cashier. “I’ll pay for what she wants.” I looked at him, suddenly finding it a bit amusing. The once impulsive and passionate boy had become a successful businessman. The contrast was quite stark. But my mischievous heart couldn’t resist. I turned to him with a smile. “Wow, Mr. Quinn, you’re so kind. In that case, could you also pay for my boyfriend’s underwear?” Ethan’s face, which had just relaxed a bit, darkened again. “In your dreams.”

To avoid being responsible for Ethan’s potential heart attack, I didn’t actually make him buy the underwear. I did let him pay for my two sets though, considering it compensation for his recent harassment. But I really didn’t expect to see this sucker at the gym the next day. Geez. It really is fate. I also suspected that Ethan might be stalking me. But since he wasn’t being too excessive and was even willingly spending money on me, I decided not to make a fuss about our past relationship. Ethan was wearing a black T-shirt, sweat beading on his forehead. As he tilted his head back to drink water, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his whole body exuding male pheromones. Four years later, he still liked wearing black. I swiped my card and walked in. Ethan wiped his forehead with his hand, sweat rolling down his straight nose, his profile sharp and resolute. He grabbed the hem of his shirt with one hand and pulled it off, revealing smooth muscle lines. His abs rose and fell with each breath. Ethan rested his elbow on a machine, using his T-shirt to wipe away sweat with his other hand. He had a tattoo in ink-wash style on his right shoulder. The bamboo leaves were subtle yet snake-like, cool enough to make anyone whistle at the sight. But faint, twisted scars could be seen beneath the tattoo. The tattoo wasn’t there when we broke up, and neither was the scar. Taking off your shirt at the gym was quite improper, but no one went to stop him. Occasionally, women’s gazes would land on him. Undeniably, Ethan’s handsome face and body were killer. In just a moment, some people had even taken out their phones. Was Ethan the type of man to take off his clothes for no reason? He wasn’t. I inwardly scoffed and headed to the changing room with my bag. Since college, I’ve always had the habit of working out, even after starting work. But I usually wore a full sports T-shirt. This time, I tied up my hair and came out wearing just a sports bra and tight leggings. My slender waist led down to a round, perky butt, and my chest wasn’t bad either. I’ve always known that my figure and looks were outstanding. Otherwise, Ethan wouldn’t have noticed me at first glance in college, and I wouldn’t have been hired as a hotel receptionist after just a 30-second interview. As soon as I came out, I felt gazes landing on me, one particularly scorching. I didn’t care at all and went straight to the squat machine to start doing squats. My long, straight legs stepped onto the machine, then slowly squatted down. The elastic pants stretched taut, perfectly showcasing my curves. When I squatted down, a bit of cleavage was also revealed. Before I could start my third rep, a T-shirt was thrown over my head. I took the shirt off and saw Ethan with tense muscles and an unhappy face. He gritted his teeth and said, “You win, Jenna Shaw.” The shirt was clean and smelled of fresh laundry detergent. I raised an eyebrow and put on the T-shirt without protest, no longer taunting him. He glanced at my legs. “Change your pants too.” I knew Ethan wasn’t some macho guy trying to control what I wear. Today, he was purely angry because I was deliberately showing off to provoke him. “This is the only pair I have.” I lied through my teeth without blushing or my heart racing. Ethan looked at me for a moment, then threw down a “wait here” before putting on his shirt and leaving. Hah, as if I’d really wait. I grabbed my bag and left, giving my perfect body a day off.

Early the next morning, I grudgingly went to work again. There was a company dinner tonight that the boss was hosting. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get out of it. The boss brought along an even sleazier-looking executive. The two of them sitting together was quite an unsightly scene. I sat to the side, quietly sipping my drink. The atmosphere was lively when suddenly I heard someone call my name. I looked up to see the boss beckoning me over. A bad feeling instinctively arose. I smiled, grabbed my purse, and sat down next to them. After toasting a glass of wine, the unfamiliar sleazy executive’s vile hand landed on my thigh, attempting to grope further inward. In my two years working at the hotel, I’d encountered this kind of thing many times, big and small. I was no longer the girl from a few years ago who would only know how to cry when scared. Just as I was considering whether to slap him directly or take out the pepper spray from my bag and spray this old creep to death, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. In the dim light, the man’s brows were slightly furrowed, his expression dark and unclear, but his aura was inexplicably intimidating. Ethan picked up a glass of wine from the table and poured it over the man’s face. The boss, probably experiencing this kind of disrespect for the first time, looked angry and was about to pour it back. Ethan let out a cold laugh. “Try it.” “If you dare move, I can’t guarantee you’ll keep that hand.” After saying this, he took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I pulled the jacket tighter, feeling a bit relieved in my heart, marveling that after four years of societal tempering, Ethan had finally learned not to stupidly smash a wine bottle on his own head. He also wouldn’t impulsively resort to violence, but rather use his intimidating presence to subdue people. Indeed, a mature man was steady and gave a sense of security. As I was thinking this, I allowed Ethan to lead me out of the restaurant and into his car. He sat silently in the car for three seconds, glanced at me, said “wait here,” and suddenly got out of the car. Before leaving, he even locked the car doors. After a while, I watched Ethan stride back, open the door, and get into the car. He unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie, his face still showing traces of anger. But for some reason, I liked seeing him lose his composure like this. I smiled and asked, “What did you go do?” Ethan’s hand gripping the steering wheel had bulging veins. He looked straight ahead and said calmly, “Taught him a lesson.” I smiled, my eyes curving. “I thought after not seeing you for a few years, you’d matured.” Ethan flashed a wicked grin and casually threw out a lewd comment. “Well, there is a part of me that’s matured. Want to try it out?” Who’s afraid of who? Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol, but I suddenly had the urge to be naughty. “Sure.” I smiled wider, my hand crawling up his suit pants. “Let’s try it out.” “Let’s see… just how mature it’s become.” Looking at his ear tip, I gently blew a breath. Thinking back to a friend’s gathering in our sophomore year, Ethan and I went to a karaoke place to meet up. When we got to the main hall, I wanted bubble tea and insisted he go buy some for me nearby. Unexpectedly, after he left, I was dragged by a group of men to their private room. I was only nineteen at the time and didn’t even dare to call the police. Later, I couldn’t remember how Ethan found me. I only remember that those men were about to force alcohol down my throat. Ethan burst in and snatched away the wine glass, smashing it on the ground. Everyone in the room stood up at once.

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I was diagnosed with endometriosis, a gynecological condition. The doctor said it could be cured if I got pregnant, otherwise, I’d need a hysterectomy. But after my husband regained his sight, he no longer wanted to touch me, only kissing my forehead and making excuses about being too tired. I understood he was exhausted from working at the massage therapy clinic all day, but then I heard him mutter as he turned his back to me: “By the way, you should go to a beauty salon and ask about laser scar removal or something. See if there’s anything they can do.” I was stunned. A long-forgotten sense of shame made my face flush red and white, but more than that, I was shocked. Was Samuel… disgusted by my face? My name is Aria Greene, and I’m twenty-eight years old. My husband, Samuel Song, is a blind massage therapist three years younger than me. We met through a matchmaking service. I had been badly burned in a fire, leaving a winding red scar from my cheek to my neck. It was quite frightening to look at. Because of this, I had put off getting married. Through my parents’ friends, I was introduced to Samuel. “It’s perfect. You have scars on your face, and he’s blind, so he won’t care about that,” my parents’ friend whispered to me. Samuel didn’t know about the scars on my face, which is why he was quite satisfied with everything else about me after our matchmaking meeting. He was kind and honest, and he played the ukulele beautifully. I happened to have a lovely singing voice, like a nightingale, and we often sang together at the clinic. Our regular customers said we were a perfect match. Fate had closed one window for each of us, but by meeting each other, we filled each other’s gaps. In anyone’s eyes, we were a pitiful yet enviable couple, because in each other’s hearts, we were the best partners in the world. Samuel hadn’t been blind since birth. He lost his sight due to light pollution in a factory accident. Although we had sought medical help for years without success, I still took him to see various specialists, hoping for some improvement. After losing his sight, Samuel taught himself the art of blind massage, and I quit my job to become the manager of the massage therapy clinic to take care of him. “Aria, I love you. I wish I could see what you look like, but that’s impossible now,” he would say, looking at me with his sightless eyes and gently touching my face, his smile tinged with sadness. Since both his parents had passed away, I knew I was the only person he could rely on in this world. I held the hand on my cheek, silently vowing to cure my husband’s eyes. However, my best friend had once quietly warned me that Samuel’s face was trouble – he was too handsome, and if he regained his sight, it might not be a good thing. Although I had worried about this point, the thought disappeared instantly when I saw the hardships and discrimination my husband endured. The life of a blind person is incredibly difficult, something only a caregiver can truly understand. I just wanted him to be happy and comfortable. Lost in thought, I habitually picked up a piece of tuna eye and placed it near his lips: “It’s okay. Of course, it would be best if you could see, but isn’t our life pretty good as it is?” Samuel nodded obediently. He was very dependent on me and always listened to what I said. We had never fought. I don’t know if it was because of our constant search for medical treatment or if those fish eyes we ate actually worked. One day, he suddenly told me he could see. It started when he picked up a toothpaste tube that had fallen on the floor without any difficulty, and he suddenly realized. I was overjoyed and waved my hand in front of his eyes to test: “Honey, can you really see now?” At the time, I was cooking in the kitchen, and because I didn’t want to contaminate the food, I was wearing a mask. He kept rubbing his eyes, letting out excited screams. Then he asked me to take off my mask, saying he could finally see what I looked like. “Aria, you don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of seeing your face. Your voice is so sweet, you must be a real beauty, I…” I froze, my hand hesitating to remove the mask. It seemed I was more afraid of my husband seeing my face than I had imagined. My facial features were naturally beautiful, but after so many years, how could I still have the delicate beauty of my youth? Most importantly, there was the crisscrossing burn scar on the side of my face. Before I could gather my thoughts, he had already impatiently removed my mask. “Honey!” The horrific scar was exposed before his eyes, and the air instantly froze. My heart sank because I clearly saw disappointment in Samuel’s newly restored, clear eyes. Little did he know, I too had once been young and beautiful… I couldn’t dwell on the slightly hurt tears, as I smelled something burning. I quickly turned back to the stove, where the fish eyes I was frying had already burned. The charred fish eyes were very sticky, burning the bottom of the pan and looking extremely unappetizing. “Don’t bother with that anymore, honey. I don’t need to eat those things now,” he said, hugging me from behind and burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I still love you, don’t worry.” Tears fell uncontrollably from my eyes as I realized I had found a good man after all. At least he hadn’t lost his conscience. I also mustered up the courage to tell him honestly about my condition. Due to years of hard work, I had developed endometriosis. The doctor said it was a common gynecological disease that could be cured by getting pregnant. If not, surgery would be the only option. The success rate was about 80-90%, but the chance of getting pregnant afterward would be almost zero. Blushing, I said, “Before, because of your blindness, we always used protection and didn’t try for a child.” The implication was clear, hinting at my excitement and joy at the prospect of becoming a mother. Originally, I had prepared myself to remain childless for life in order to take care of Samuel wholeheartedly. He just gave a noncommittal “mm” and continued to smile, but his gaze lingered on the scar on my cheek, refusing to leave. In the days that followed, he treated me even more tenderly than before. Since his eyes had recovered, he could also help with some housework. Samuel had lost his sight in his teens, but now that he had recovered, he quickly reintegrated into normal life. However, I vaguely sensed that something was off. Everything started to feel strange after we served an old customer at the massage therapy clinic. Her name was Lily Andrews, about twenty-something, very fresh and pretty, especially with her voluptuous chest. She had mentioned during casual conversation that she had breast augmentation. “In our line of work, looks and figure are essential. Otherwise, we can’t even meet clients,” she would say with a coquettish laugh, not at all mindful of mentioning this in front of me with my disfigured face. She often came to the clinic for massages due to kidney deficiency and lower back problems. Today she came again, but unlike before, my husband could now see what she looked like. That night was my ovulation period. After turning off the lights, my hand skillfully caressed his body, trying to arouse his interest. “Honey…” But he no longer wanted to touch me, only kissing my forehead and making excuses about being too tired. I understood he was exhausted from working at the clinic all day, so I nodded in agreement. But then I heard him mutter as he turned his back to me: “By the way, you should go to a beauty salon and ask about laser scar removal or something. See if there’s anything they can do.” I was stunned. A long-forgotten sense of shame made my face flush red and white, but more than that, I was shocked. Was Samuel… disgusted by my face?

After Samuel regained his sight, he quickly reintegrated into his social circle, like a fish back in water. I, on the other hand, began to isolate myself, changing from outgoing and lively to increasingly quiet and withdrawn. Additionally, I spent a considerable amount of money on an artificial skin mask, which I glued over my scars every day with special adhesive. Although putting it on and taking it off irritated the wound, causing a burning pain, I didn’t regret it if it made my husband look at me more favorably. “Aria, you’re developing a people-pleasing personality. Do you think he’ll treat you better because of this?” my best friend said angrily, accusing me of not seeing things clearly. I’ve always been good-tempered, so I gently reassured her: “It’s okay. He just regained his sight, so it’s understandable if he’s a bit excited and forgetful. As long as I get pregnant soon, everything will be solved.” At that time, I still maintained the traditional, virtuous side of a stay-at-home wife, believing that a child could tether his growing wild ambitions. However, what happened next made me heartbroken repeatedly, and the love I had stubbornly defended crumbled again and again. Samuel didn’t go to the massage therapy clinic very often anymore because he felt it was unlucky to pretend to be blind now that he had regained his sight. At home, he was used to my all-around care. After being diligent for only three days, he went back to being a hands-off boss and became addicted to online gaming. I often advised him not to play on his phone for so long since his eyes had just recovered, but he would impatiently shout at me: “Mind your own business! I mean… honey, I’ve just regained my sight. I’m curious about all the beautiful things in the world. Don’t worry about me.” Curious about all the beautiful things in the world. Including beautiful women. I pressed my lips together. He thought I didn’t know, but every night he was scrolling through videos of flirtatious beauties on his phone. Every time I caught a glimpse of this, my heart bled. His wife was lying next to him, yet he showed no interest in me at all. It was nothing but his growing disgust for me. Before heading back to the clinic in the afternoon, I casually mentioned that our regular customers, Mr. Zhang and Lily, would be coming, so I needed to go oversee things. Then I changed my shoes and left. To my surprise, as soon as he heard those two regulars were coming, Samuel seemed energized and arrived at the clinic on his electric bike even earlier than me. Faced with my surprise, he scratched his head sheepishly and said, “Mr. Zhang used to always bring us fish he caught. I wanted to ask him about fishing techniques.” I nodded, saying nothing, and went to the back room to clean the cupping equipment and other tools. Samuel was indeed discussing his eyes with Mr. Zhang, thanking him for the years of bringing fish, and chatting about fishing techniques for quite a while. Mr. Zhang left in a hurry after receiving a call about some work, and I heard the bead curtain at the door being lifted twice. Then a sweet female voice came through: “Oh my, the rain is so heavy today. I forgot to bring an umbrella and got all wet. It’s so hot and stuffy.” It was our regular customer, Lily Andrews, the PR girl who was a VIP member of our clinic. Last time she came, Samuel had continued to pretend to be blind while massaging her. This time, he chose to maintain the charade again. I didn’t understand why he could be honest with Mr. Zhang about his sight but had to continue pretending to be blind with Lily. Lily entered with a radiant smile, and even from the back room, I could smell the strong scent of her perfume. At the moment, there were no other customers in the clinic. Following a woman’s sixth sense, I secretly observed them through the door crack. Lily was attractive in every way, with a beautiful face like a bamboo shoot and unknown marital status. Just looking at the designer brands she wore, like Gucci, it was clear she held a significant position. To say she could be interested in Samuel… I didn’t believe it, but it was possible that my husband might be unilaterally attracted to her beauty. I lowered my eyes, deciding to observe quietly. Just then, my best friend called, so I said to him: “Honey, I’m going out for a bit. I’ll be back soon. You can start Lily’s massage first.” The only other female employee at the clinic had taken a day off, so it was just him. When Samuel heard my voice, his expression remained calm, but his face, unlike usual, was visibly flushed. “Okay, honey.” As I left, I deliberately closed the door and pulled the blinds, leaving no room for his little schemes. What he didn’t know was that I had already followed my friend’s advice and installed hidden cameras in the clinic to prevent theft. The reason I hadn’t told Samuel was that he was blind before, so he didn’t need to know. Shortly after leaving, I quickly went to a nearby shaved ice shop, sat in a corner without saying a word, and opened the remote surveillance on my phone. The woman had slowly removed her black stockings, lifted her jacket to reveal a perfect waistline, and lay face down on the massage bed. My heart and breath were suspended. Then they started chatting and laughing. I noticed my husband wasn’t wearing gloves but was applying massage oil directly with his hands. Generally, for hygiene reasons, our employees always wear gloves during massages. The next moment, something even more shocking happened. He had been giving her a proper massage, eyes straight ahead, only his cheeks growing increasingly flushed. The woman lying on the bed seemed very comfortable, letting out coquettish “mmm” sounds. Then she suddenly asked: “It’s so hot. Why don’t you turn on the fan in your clinic?” In my mind, I was urging Samuel to turn on the fan for the customer. Although the clinic was small, we had two ceiling fans. However, my husband blatantly lied to her, saying, “The fan is broken.” Although it wasn’t the height of summer yet, the heat was still intense. Even sitting in the ice shop with a fan, I was sweating. Lily made an “oh” sound, seemingly unable to bear the stickiness all over her body, and couldn’t help but ask: “Can you see?” Samuel shook his head in confusion. “No, I can’t see anything at all, don’t worry.” “That’s good. I’m so hot I can’t stand it anymore.” And so, to my utter disbelief, Lily casually unbuttoned her shirt. Her perfect body was directly presented in front of this “blind” masseur.

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Emmanuel was an expert in giving me the silent treatment. Whenever he got even a little upset, he’d slam the door and disappear for ten days, sometimes two weeks. I had grown used to adjusting my emotions, smiling through the pain while taking care of Oliver. Until one day, I was helping him with his homework when I saw his wish. “Wish Mom would disappear. “The way she freaks out at Dad is terrifying.” That was the moment I woke up. Sunday nights were always the hardest. Oliver was dragging his feet, crying as he tried to finish the homework due the next day, while Emmanuel, drowning me out with his headphones, was fully immersed in his game. Nobody cared about me. Oliver cried harder after I scolded him, glaring at me with frustration, while Emmanuel pretended not to notice us, clearly annoyed. I stood at the dining table, gathering up the leftover scraps, silently convincing myself that everything was my fault. But inside, my heart ached. It was late. Emmanuel had retreated to his study to sleep, Oliver had cried himself to sleep with tear stains still on his face, and I stood in the bathroom, staring at my weary reflection. This marked the third month of Emmanuel’s silent treatment. Three long months. Long enough for me to forget why our cold war had even started. Living under the same roof, he hadn’t spoken a word to me, and I had stubbornly refused to back down. He was the one in the wrong. I wasn’t going to apologize. But I couldn’t sleep. I walked to Oliver’s room to tidy up his backpack. That’s when I saw it. In his notebook—his brand-new diary that I had bought him—his wish was written in small, childish handwriting. “I wish Mom would disappear.”

I rubbed my eyes, thinking I had made a mistake. I picked up the diary and walked into the living room. I read the words again. “I wish Mom would disappear. “She’s so scary when she freaks out at Dad. She made him leave.” I collapsed onto the couch, numb from the pain. For the first time, I understood what it felt like to be so hurt that you’re beyond feeling. The light in Emmanuel’s study clicked off as he strolled out, his face cheerful—until he saw me. Immediately, he reverted to his cold, distant self. Without saying a word, he grabbed the car keys off the coffee table. As he passed by me, I smelled the familiar scent of sandalwood. That was the cologne I had picked out for him back when we were dating in college. Back then, he was just a nerdy guy with black-framed glasses, a white T-shirt, and shorts—someone who had no idea how to dress. I’d gradually updated his style, choosing my favorite cologne for him. “Wear cologne when you’re meeting girls—it’ll make them like you more,” I’d teased him. He’d said he cherished anything I chose for him. And he’d worn it ever since. The familiar scent unlocked a flood of memories, and suddenly, all the beautiful moments from our past came rushing back. I thought about our ridiculous standoff, about our son, whom I loved more than anything. The pain my son had caused me was overwhelming, and I desperately needed something to hold onto. Once again, I caved in and swallowed my pride with Emmanuel. I couldn’t stop myself from standing up and grabbing his arm. “Emmanuel, let’s talk.” I cried silently behind him. He shook my hand off. That’s when I noticed the call still active on his phone. It was late. Who was he talking to? And why had he put on cologne before going to meet them? “Emmanuel, are you on your way? I’m waiting downstairs. I’ve been craving BBQ for ages!” A girl’s playful voice came through the phone. That soft, sweet voice reminded me why we were fighting in the first place. I spun around to leave, but Emmanuel grabbed me back. He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Beg me, and I’ll stay with you and Oliver.” Emmanuel always loved seeing me bend, watching me beg for his forgiveness—especially now, with another woman vying for his attention. It felt like he was offering his presence as some sort of royal gift.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Beg you? Was I the only one responsible for having this child? Isn’t he your son too? “Is raising him my responsibility alone? Don’t you share it? “Do you even know how messed up Oliver’s mind is right now?” Emmanuel’s expression shifted. He pursed his lips, looking at me like I was some kind of crazy woman. Then he grabbed his coat and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Oliver’s diary—his wish for me to disappear—was still lying on the couch. Emmanuel hadn’t even bothered to turn off the light in the study as he left. This was his pattern. Whenever a problem needed to be addressed, he’d either throw a single careless comment to light my fuse, enjoying the sight of me going crazy, or he’d storm out without a second thought. The slamming door woke Oliver. He padded barefoot out of his room, staring at the direction his father had left. He walked over to me and picked up the diary I had thrown on the couch. Unbothered by the fact that I had seen its contents, he frowned and chastised me. “Mom, why’d you make Dad mad again?” I didn’t respond. I heard the engine start up downstairs. The car revved a few times, then drove off into the night. Guess I’ll be biking Oliver to school again tomorrow. I looked at the diary still clutched in Oliver’s hand. And at his eyes, which looked so much like his father’s. For the first time, I realized just how deeply I was trapped.

I dragged myself to bed. As soon as I closed my eyes, the words “Mom disappear” flashed across my mind. To be honest, I had never truly lost control in front of Oliver. In fact, I had done everything possible to avoid conflict, going as far as humiliating myself to keep Emmanuel happy. I’d begged him to come home, begged him to hold his own son. But I couldn’t sleep. The phone on my nightstand lit up. It was a message from Serena Cortez, my neighbor. “I heard Emmanuel storm out again. Did you guys fight? Are you okay?” I had met Serena through selling DIY projects on Craigslist. At the time, Emmanuel had cut off my allowance to force me to apologize during one of his silent treatments. Desperate for money, I had taken up whatever odd jobs I could find. That’s how we discovered we were neighbors. She had even bought some of my crafts, supporting my little side business and checking in on me. I heard Oliver’s door close behind me, so I replied: “Thanks, Serena. I’m okay.” The next morning, I woke up feeling drained, my eyes puffy and swollen. Emmanuel came home, the scent of sandalwood now mixed with alcohol. He glanced at me, his eyes barely resting on my face before turning away. This time, he wasn’t silent. He frowned, heading to the bathroom, muttering under his breath. “Don’t know who you’re trying to scare, looking like that.” I knew he was waiting for me to react, to lose it and scream so he could leave again. But I was too tired. I stayed quiet. He looked at me, surprised. Something flickered in his eyes. Then he walked into Oliver’s room with a cheerful tone. “Come on, buddy. Daddy’s taking you to school today.” Two completely different attitudes, like two different people. They left the house hand in hand, laughing and talking. No one spared me a second glance. Like two knives piercing straight into my heart.

I was throwing out the trash when I ran into Serena. She didn’t give me a choice and pulled me into her apartment. With a tender touch, she rolled an egg over my swollen eyes, her gaze soft and filled with concern. “Does it hurt?” Her care reminded me of Emmanuel when we had first gotten married. Back then, we had nothing. In a place as expensive as Savannah, Georgia, we could only afford to live in a run-down basement apartment. We shared a tiny bed, and the bathroom and kitchen were communal. The distance from the kitchen to our room felt like miles. One day, I bumped into someone while rushing back with a hot dish. I instinctively turned the tray toward myself, burning a large patch of skin on my hand. When Emmanuel got home from work, I had put on gloves to hide the burn, not wanting him to worry. But he noticed right away, and I quickly tried to laugh it off, saying it didn’t hurt. Emmanuel fussed over me, tears falling from his eyes as he applied ointment. He cried so much, like the tears would never stop. I remember laughing at him. “How can such a big guy cry so much?” He wiped his tears and said, “Vivian, I swear I’ll give you the best life anyone’s ever had!” That night, he held me and made promises until the early hours. “Vivian, I’ll never let you get hurt again.” Even now, I believe he truly loved me back then. But when did he change? Now, we’re like two ticking time bombs, tied together, ready to explode at any moment. But Emmanuel is a dud. He never makes a sound. He’s just this creeping smoke, filling every corner of the air. Suffocating me. Making me scream until I’m hoarse. When I got home, they were already gone. The kitchen was cold, and Oliver’s wet clothes were left on the bathroom floor. Dirty footprints marked the living room carpet. I sat on the couch and opened my laptop. I started drafting the divorce papers. My education was just as good as Emmanuel’s. Before I became a stay-at-home mom, I graduated from a top university, passed the bar certification, and worked as a licensed attorney for two years. I had once earned over $7,000 a month, representing clients in court and shining in my career. But then, I got pregnant. Emmanuel convinced me to quit my job to take care of Oliver. At first, he said: “Once you’ve recovered and Oliver gets a little older, we’ll hire a full-time nanny. You can go back to work then.” Later, he changed his tune: “Oliver’s so used to you now, and my career’s taking off. If you go back to work, we’ll have to hire a nanny. Her salary will be more than you’d make—it wouldn’t be worth it for us. “Let’s wait until Oliver is older.” Oliver clung to me, babbling “Mommy” in his baby voice. I caved. I should’ve held my ground. Looking back, I realize that’s when Emmanuel’s silent treatment started, little by little.

By the time I finished drafting the divorce papers, it was late afternoon. Emmanuel still hadn’t brought Oliver home. I instinctively started worrying about Oliver’s homework, but I snapped myself out of it with a harsh slap to my own face. “As a mom, you’ve got to be tough. Like his dad.” Then, I got a call from Emmanuel. Except it wasn’t him on the line—it was that girl from the other night. “Vivian, hey, it’s Lena. Emmanuel’s had too much to drink, and he can’t get home on his own. Can you come pick him up?” “You take him,” I said, “Aren’t you two close?” I glanced at the divorce papers on the table and changed my mind. “Actually, never mind. I’ll come.” Hanging up, I rushed to The Rustic Oak as fast as I could. The private lounge was filled with a mix of men and women I didn’t recognize, except for Lena, the girl who had called me. The rest were strangers. But they all stared at me, their eyes full of judgment. It was like they were blaming me for not being a proper housewife. Emmanuel sat at the head of the table, his face flushed red, still raising an empty glass as if to drink. Oliver sat right next to him. Oliver’s backpack had been carelessly tossed on the ground. A scantily dressed woman held him in her lap, chatting with him like it was no big deal. So this is how he took care of our son. No wonder a few outings with him could undo all my years of effort. I hadn’t even stepped into the room when Oliver shrieked. “Dad, I’m not going home with Mom! She’ll make me do homework!” He ran around the room as if he’d seen a ghost. Emmanuel finally pretended to wake up. “Don’t worry, buddy. Dad’s here.” Then the others chimed in, trying to “reason” with me. “Vivian, don’t be mad at Emmanuel. He’s been hiding out at my place for two months because of you.” “Same here. He’s been at my place for nearly a month. My wife’s starting to get fed up.” Even the girl sitting next to him spoke up. “Vivian, he talks about you and Oliver all the time. He really cares about you guys.” It dawned on me that this call wasn’t about me picking up Emmanuel. They wanted me to break down, cry, and beg him to come home. I laughed bitterly. “He’s full of excuses. What, he can’t walk home on his own? His legs don’t work anymore? “I’ve been raising our son by myself—does that not count as suffering? But one argument, and he walks out the door like he’s the one in pain. “If being ‘free’ is so hard, why don’t we switch places? Emmanuel, stop pretending you’re drunk. “What you’ve done—you want me to talk about it privately, or should we air it out here?” The girl clinging to his side turned pale instantly. “It’s all a misunderstanding.” A misunderstanding? You almost crossed the line in a drunken fling, and when I confronted you, you couldn’t even answer me. So you started this cold war. Emmanuel’s face hardened. He didn’t say another word. His expression darkened as he looked at Oliver. Oliver, defeated, trudged toward me, still glancing back at his dad, hoping Emmanuel would call him back. So he could continue playing, avoiding his studies. This was Emmanuel’s way of telling me to leave—to take Oliver and go—so he could keep enjoying his night. Why should I always be the one to leave? I had had enough. I stood my ground, pulling the divorce papers from my bag.

“Emmanuel, I want a divorce.” The lounge went silent. Emmanuel finally looked up at me. His eyes were surprisingly clear. Seven years of marriage, and no matter how bad things got, I had never once mentioned divorce. Emmanuel knew my personality—once I made up my mind, there was no going back. He hurried off the leather sofa and rushed over to me. “You’re serious?” For the first time in a while, he looked me in the eye and spoke to me like a normal person. He glanced down at Oliver, then let out a bitter laugh. “Vivian, if we divorce, you won’t get custody of Oliver. He’ll stay with me. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He was certain I would fight for Oliver. He wasn’t blind—he knew exactly how much I had endured for our son, how much I had sacrificed. Oliver clung to his dad, glaring at me like he was terrified I might take him away. “I don’t want you, Mom. I want Dad.” The girl from the lounge sauntered over, giving me a smug smile. “Vivian, you’re at that age, with no job and no home. You won’t win custody of him. “Just take him home. No fight between a married couple lasts forever.” I clenched my teeth, gripping the divorce papers tightly. I had known this would happen. But seeing everyone’s disdain for me, their lack of support, made me falter for a moment. But I couldn’t afford to be weak. I pinched myself hard. Reminding myself that as a woman, I had to be strong. No more tears. Tears were only magic to someone who loved you. To someone who didn’t, they were just a joke. “Emmanuel, don’t worry. “I don’t want the house. I don’t even want Oliver. Let’s divorce.”

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Here’s the translated and localized version of the passages, incorporating the confirmed character names and other details: On the first day of work, intern Luna Chase added her mom to the group chat. “We’re working,” her mom said. “Luna can’t even use the bathroom, so take good care of her.” “We’re getting takeout,” her mom said. “Luna can’t eat that junk. Aren’t you cooking? Why not make her a meal too?” “We’re working overtime,” her mom said. “Luna has a weak constitution; don’t let her do any heavy lifting.” Finally, after three grueling months of my probation period, I thought I was free. Just when I thought I was liberated, Luna and her family showed up outside the company, holding banners and surrounded by the media. They accused me of exploiting employees and claimed I had a bias against women. They even said I intentionally gave Luna black coffee to cause her to miscarry. In an instant, I was nailed to the cross of workplace bullying. To salvage its reputation, the company fired me. I ended up losing everything, having to pay her $1.3 million in emotional damages. I was chased and harassed online, fleeing to the streets in a panic. Cars whizzed by, and after a deafening crash, all that remained was a pool of blood on the pavement. When I woke up again, I found myself back on the day Luna started her job.

“Come on, everyone! I’d like to introduce our new colleague.” “This is Luna Chase, our new intern. This is Sabrina Quinn, the Marketing Manager; she’ll guide you for now.” The HR rep led the new employee into the office. When I saw Luna timidly standing at the door, my blood ran cold, and I felt like I was about to explode! Luna Chase! The killer who had caused my tragic death on the streets. I struggled to suppress my excitement and slowly composed myself. At that moment, I realized— I had been reborn! Time had reset to the day Luna started her job. I forced a smile to make my expression seem natural. “Luna, I’m Sabrina; you can sit next to me for better communication.” Luna looked nervous, her voice trembling slightly. “Y-yes, thank you, Ms. Quinn.” Watching Luna unpack her things, I found it hard to focus on work. “Ms. Quinn, could you add me to our department’s work group?” Her words jolted me back to reality. In my previous life, on her first day, I had added her to the marketing team group, which didn’t include the CEO or the Marketing Director. Because I said there were no outsiders in the group, she immediately added her mom. That was the moment I fell into a tragic path. The marketing department had two groups: one was the Marketing Work Group, which included the CEO, the director, and some leaders from other departments, although they rarely chimed in. The other was Marketing Hub, which only included marketing colleagues, and I was the highest authority there. I pondered for a moment, then opened my phone. I added Luna to the Marketing Work Group. This time, I wanted everyone to see the antics of this bizarre mother-daughter duo. Just like in my previous life, after adding her, I said, “There are no outsiders in this group; it’s mainly for arranging work.” Luna nodded obediently. I checked my phone every few minutes that morning. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the group showed, “Luna Chase added Clara Bloom to the chat.” Good! Good! Good! From today onward, I would closely observe how this heartless mother-daughter pair would create chaos.

During lunch break, I went to the break room to heat up my meal. As I was catching up on a show, I overheard two girls chatting nearby. “Did you hear? Our manager just said there’s a weirdo in the marketing department who added her mom to the work group.” “Ha! That’s gone viral! Her mom even said her kid can’t use the toilet, so everyone should take care of her.” “That’s hilarious! I’m going to stroll around the marketing department this afternoon to see who this giant baby is.” I suddenly snapped back to reality; I had turned on do not disturb for the Marketing Work Group and missed the exciting drama. Sure enough, when I opened the chat, the latest message was from Clara Bloom. “Luna can’t even use the toilet, so you all should take care of her.” But the only response was an awkward silence. Clara didn’t give up and @mentioned everyone. However, she wasn’t an admin, so she had to type “@everyone” herself. In my previous life, her mom had only acted up in our small group. This time, I wouldn’t go easy on her; if she wanted to embarrass herself, let it be in the big group. The office was buzzing with a strange atmosphere in the afternoon. Luna, however, seemed completely oblivious to her mistakes. Her qualities as a mama’s girl were evident. “My mom says women shouldn’t wear short skirts; that’s just asking for trouble.” “My mom says women who get their nails done are vain; only plain girls get noticed.” “My mom says just get by at work; women should focus on getting married—marriage is a woman’s true career.” “My mom says women who wear makeup lack confidence, unlike me; I’m naturally beautiful.” “My mom says…” So that entire afternoon, the office was overshadowed by “my mom says.” What she didn’t realize was that while we appeared calm, the Marketing Hub was already in a frenzy. “Seriously, does this person have a brain? Did HR hire her while asleep?” “Ugh, we’re so unlucky that she’s in our department during her internship.” “Well, it’s me who’s really unlucky! During lunch, she pulled me aside to teach her how to use the toilet! Even with a smart toilet, there are instructions on it! Did she really miss nine years of education?” “Just endure it; she looks like she’s struggling to get hired anyway.” I watched the lively chatter in the group and joined in the roasting. In my previous life, I thought Luna was just starting out in her career. Out of kindness, I tried to look after her. But unexpectedly, she turned around and accused me of workplace bullying. That deadly black coffee wasn’t even given to her by me. She had sneakily taken it when she heard I bought expensive black coffee while I was on leave. But no one expected that cup of coffee to cause her miscarriage, which indirectly cost me my life. I had seen Luna’s greedy nature in my previous life. She was a genuine journalism graduate. She appeared low-key, sincere, and humble in daily life. But at 3 PM, during afternoon tea time, Luna turned into a ravenous beast and rushed to the break room. In full view of everyone, she returned to her desk with a bag of snacks and yogurt. While others took a little at a time, she made a spectacle by taking a whole bag. Even the admin raised an eyebrow when passing by. As a result, that afternoon, the company group sent out a notice banning employees from taking large amounts of snacks at once. It was clear to everyone that this was aimed at Luna. But she seemed completely unfazed.

I brought my own lunch to work every day. Some colleagues ordered takeout, while others went out to eat. Just a few days into her job, Luna started complaining. “Sabrina, the takeout near our office is so expensive!” I didn’t even look up. “Well, you can go out for lunch to save on delivery fees.” “We’re in the city center, and a bowl of noodles costs over twenty bucks! Ugh.” Seeing I wasn’t engaging, Luna dropped the subject. She typed away at her computer. Not long after, Clara Bloom chimed in the Marketing Work Group again. “Luna can’t eat that junk! @Sabrina, don’t you cook? Could you make her a meal too?” Before I could respond, several notifications popped up in the small group. I opened the chat to see my colleagues brainstorming how to reply. “Sabrina, just ignore her; is she out of her mind, thinking her daughter is a princess?” “But she @mentioned you, and not responding isn’t great. Maybe just say you’re busy.” “I can’t believe Mr. Stone and the others haven’t noticed there’s such a weirdo in the group!” I looked up from my computer to see my colleagues watching me sympathetically. Then I @mentioned Clara in the work group. “Mrs. Bloom, I do cook daily, and my monthly food costs about $3,000. You can transfer the money to my account, and I’ll cook an extra portion for Luna.” After a long pause, Clara finally managed to respond. “Are you eating gold? How could it cost so much?” “Mrs. Bloom, I’m particular about my meals, so I buy high-quality ingredients. If you’re looking to save money, Luna can always eat in the company cafeteria.” “The cafeteria? Forget it! Your company is heartless; who knows if the food there is safe?” Her comment shocked everyone. Finally, the administrative director could no longer sit idle in the work group. “@Clara, I’m the administrative director here at Summit Enterprises, and I oversee the cafeteria. If you don’t have concrete evidence that the cafeteria food is problematic, I can sue you for defamation!” “Also, could @HR Director Ms. Grant look into why there’s a family member in the work group? This violates company regulations.” In the next moment, Luna’s mom was kicked out by HR. It was clear that Luna was finally realizing there were some big shots in the group. Her face flushed as she leaned close to me, questioning. “Sabrina, didn’t you say there were no outsiders in the group?” I purposely raised my voice, “Exactly, no outsiders; just our company colleagues.” Luna was at a loss for words and quietly returned to her desk. I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with her mom anymore. But then, unexpectedly, her mom tried to add me on social media. I ignored it, but she sent me ten requests throughout the day. Eventually, I got annoyed. I placed my phone in front of Luna. “What does your mom want? Why is she trying to add me?” Luna maintained her frail expression. “Mom’s just worried about me. After all, I just graduated, and she’s afraid I’ll get bullied.” I slammed the table. “If she’s worried about you getting bullied, why let you come to work? Staying home would be much safer!” Luna didn’t expect my outburst; her eyes turned red, and tears streamed down her cheeks. At that moment, a soft voice came from the corner of the office. “Isn’t her mom just showing concern? Sabrina, why are you so upset? Everyone understands what it’s like to be new; it’s just adding someone on social media, it’s not a big deal!” I turned to see it was my arch-rival, Isabella Hart from the Business Department. In my previous life, when I was being cyberbullied, she had added fuel to the fire online, claiming to be my colleague while spreading my supposed misdeeds. It was her interference that led to my unjust dismissal. She even revealed my home address to online trolls.

Thinking of this, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind. “Isabella, you’re such a kind person, so thoughtful.” I turned to Luna, grinning. “Did you see that? Isabella is so nice; she even wants to add your mom on social media!” Luna’s expression brightened as she tentatively asked Isabella. “Ms. Hart, you’re so nice! I’ll tell my mom to add you right away!” Isabella’s smile faded, and she awkwardly replied. “Uh, sure, just give her my social media info. It’s normal to look out for each other since we’re colleagues.” After a moment, I noticed Isabella was busy responding to messages. This time, the deadly black coffee fortune was on her side. Since Isabella had Luna’s mom’s contact, they started getting close. It felt eerily similar to how I had previously suffered. To show her concern for the intern, Isabella began bringing lunch for Luna every day. Even when passing by me, she couldn’t resist throwing a jab. “I’m not like some people, cold-hearted and indifferent to the struggles of interns.” A few remarks were fine, but she never seemed to tire of it. So, I dropped a few hints to Luna. “Isabella lives on Westfield Avenue too; it’s on her way home. She drives alone to work every day, so it must be pretty lonely on the road.” With my comment as a pretext, Luna’s mom told Isabella that evening to drive Luna to work every day. She justified it as needing someone to talk to for safety. Isabella wasn’t pleased, but morally, she couldn’t back down. After all, she had already made a big show of it. Luna had been working for a week, and I started assigning her some simple tasks. Like booking a hotel and coordinating with vendors, among other things. In my previous life, Luna had barely done any work during her internship. It wasn’t because I was particularly kind. It was because she had graduated without even knowing how to make a PowerPoint or properly format a Word document. But this time, I wasn’t going to spoil her. So, when the marketing and business departments had a trip planned, I handed her the task of booking the hotel. I figured that booking a hotel was something even a middle schooler could manage. Who would’ve thought that when our two departments arrived at the hotel Luna booked, we were met with embarrassment? “On a $400 travel budget, you booked a $200 room?” Isabella lost her usual softness. Luna stammered in silence. “Even if you booked a $200 room, at least pick a chain! You booked a freakin’ themed hotel for this trip?” We stood at the entrance of the room, helplessly staring at Luna. This was just the first room. A pink heart-shaped bed. Next to it hung nurse outfits, police uniforms, maid costumes, and even black latex. In the most prominent spot was a large transparent acrylic box. Inside were various suggestive toys that made everyone blush. We all stared at Luna, waiting for a reasonable explanation. Her sincere response shocked us all. “Isabella, I’ve stayed at this hotel with my boyfriend, and I thought it was pretty nice.”

I looked up to the sky in disbelief. Whatever happens, I’m no longer responsible for Luna’s workplace woes. “Luna, do you even have a brain? How could you book a place like this! Tell me how we’re supposed to stay here!” “Right now! Immediately! Go book another hotel! A chain one!” Isabella was genuinely angry this time. But Luna didn’t seem to care. Faced with Isabella’s grim face, she felt wronged. “Why are you being so mean? My mom said you promised her to take good care of me! It’s just booking a hotel; you all can do it yourselves. I’m going to find my boyfriend!” Luna pouted, shed a couple of tears, and walked away. In the end, we had to find another hotel, and it took us until 11 PM to settle down. For the next two days, Isabella wore a dark expression and didn’t smile at Luna once. I thought to myself, this was just the beginning. Some people are naturally selfish, taking your kindness for granted. When we returned to the office, the next morning, Isabella walked into the office alone. Normally, Luna would be right behind her. It looked like Isabella was really upset this time. At 10 AM, Luna still hadn’t arrived. Finally, just before noon, a middle-aged woman burst into the office. “Isabella Hart! Come out here!”

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