When my boyfriend pressed the wrong elevator button for the 99th time—going to my friend Jade’s floor instead of mine—he looked at me accusingly. “Why didn’t you remind me? Well, since we’re already at Jade’s door, might as well help her change that light bulb.” I froze. Ever since Jade moved to the floor above mine a year ago, my boyfriend had been pressing the wrong floor button every single time. Once, when I had a high fever, he delivered medicine to Jade’s apartment instead because she had menstrual cramps. Another time, he was supposed to meet me for a movie, but he delivered the tickets to Jade’s place. Even on my birthday, he showed up at Jade’s door carrying my cake. And now, watching him walk into my best friend’s apartment without looking back, I coldly pressed the elevator close button. He had forgotten. Today was the day my lease expired. Today was the day I was moving out. Since he loved going to Jade’s place so much, he could stop coming to mine altogether. When I went downstairs, the moving company had already arrived. “Miss Winters, we’ll start moving now.” I nodded. My phone buzzed—a message from Ethan Lucas. “Where did you go? Don’t wander off.” This sudden show of concern made my fingers tremble slightly. But the moment I opened the chat, his next message popped up: “Go downstairs to the store and buy me a wrench. Jade doesn’t have one here.” I stared at his message for several seconds. So he hadn’t suddenly noticed I wasn’t following behind him. He only realized I wasn’t by his side because he needed me to do something for him. Scrolling up through our chat history, every single message was related to Jade Morgan. “Give Jade that skincare set your coworker brought you from France. I’ll buy you a different one.” “Jade mentioned wanting Japanese food last time. Let’s go after you get off work today. I already made a reservation.” Ethan’s messages to me were always declarative statements. He had already decided. He never thought to ask for my opinion. The most recent message before these was from that rainy day when I asked if he could pick me up. He said: “I’m already home. Just take a cab back yourself.” But the next second, Jade posted on her social media. A tilted umbrella sheltering her as she got into the passenger seat. “Almost got trapped in the rain. Lucky someone came to my rescue.” I recognized that car interior all too well. I used to think that since he was my boyfriend and Jade was my best friend, I should be happy they got along well. But my repeated compromises only made Ethan worse. This time, I didn’t reply. As I was packing in my room, Ethan sent another message: “Why aren’t you back yet? Jade says she wants French food. I’m taking her there first.” “Come meet us later.” This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. We’d make plans to eat together. But when I was late because of work or traffic, all that was left for me were cold leftovers. And Ethan’s response to my hurt feelings was always indifferent: “Jade has stomach problems. She ate first. The food is just a little cold, it still tastes fine. Stop making a fuss.” Stop making a fuss. When a pipe burst in my apartment and left the whole place flooded, I called him. He said the same thing: “I don’t have time to help you with that. Find a repairman yourself. Stop making a fuss.” So I washed the curtains myself, changed light bulbs myself, slowly learning not to depend on him. But with Jade, he showed a completely different face: “You don’t need to be so independent as a woman. If you need anything from now on, I’ll help you. You live so close to Vienna anyway, it’s no trouble.” I didn’t understand why the same kind of help was considered “making a fuss” when I was his girlfriend, but “no trouble” when it came to Jade. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart and messaged Ethan: “You two enjoy. I have things to do.” It took him a long time to reply: “Throwing another tantrum? Vienna Winters, how old are you? Stop being childish.” I had thrown tantrums before. Last winter, I had a fever of 102 degrees. I was shivering all over and called him to bring me medicine. But he said he was at Jade’s place. Jade had menstrual cramps and couldn’t get out of bed, so he went to rub her stomach. I said I was suffering too. He was silent for two seconds before saying: “You’ve always had a strong constitution, haven’t you? How bad could it be? Just buy some ibuprofen.” That was the first time I felt I couldn’t take it anymore. He was my boyfriend, yet I could never be his priority. I asked him for a breakup. But he didn’t say a word—just blocked me first. He knew I loved him too much. I was too dependent on him. So he let me cry for two days, let me cry myself dry. Then he had Jade invite me out to dinner. I pathetically chose to reconcile. After that, I never threw tantrums again. But this time was different. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was serious.

The movers went in and out, and the things in my apartment decreased piece by piece. Only then did I realize that after seven years of dating, there was almost nothing of Ethan’s in my home. A pair of dusty slippers, a cup he’d used once—I couldn’t find a third item. Even the slippers and cup were things I had bought. He had never given me any proper gifts. When Jade moved, he brought her a housewarming present. On Jade’s birthday, he prepared a large bouquet of her favorite white roses. But to me, he always said: “Those formalistic things are meaningless. When two people live together, it’s better to be practical.” I had questioned him, expressed my dissatisfaction. He said: “I give your best friend gifts to make you look good, don’t I?” I laughed bitterly at myself. My phone buzzed—Mom was calling. “Hello, Vienna honey, how did things go with you and Ethan discussing the wedding?” Not long ago, Ethan and I had met with both our parents. Both families were very satisfied. When it came time to set the wedding date, Ethan said his career was in an upward phase and there was no rush to get married. At the time, though disappointed, I still understood his work pressure. But now, I was only grateful. A man who couldn’t even remember where my door was—after marriage, would I have to wait alone in an empty house forever? “Mom. We’re not getting married. I’m planning to break up.” Mom’s voice immediately became tense: “Why? Did he wrong you somehow?” “No, I just suddenly feel we’re not compatible.” On the other end of the line, Mom was clearly silent for a moment. After all, everyone knew I had loved Ethan Lucas for a full seven years. How deep seven years of feelings ran. Mom knew. Jade knew too. I was the one who pursued Ethan first. To get close to him, I listened to his favorite bands, read books in his field, even secretly joined the same gym just to run into him. After graduation, he signed with a company in New York. Without a second thought, I gave up the job my professor had lined up for me and followed him with my suitcase. Mom was so angry she didn’t speak to me for three days, but I only said: “Mom, if I miss him, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Back then, Jade had chided me in frustration: “Vienna Winters, you’re going to ruin yourself over this man.” Jade and I had been best friends for ten years. She had long since become as important to me as family. But no one expected that now she would enjoy my boyfriend’s care without a second thought, completely disregarding my feelings. Looking at Jade’s newly posted romantic dinner on social media, my eyes stung. The video was tagged at that restaurant I had researched so thoroughly. Flickering candlelight, exquisite dishes, pleasant piano music in the background. But every time I invited Ethan to go there with me, he always said: “We’re about to get married. Can you be a little more frugal?” “Spending thousands on one meal. Candlelight dinner—we can have that at home.” He said it so righteously that I could only swallow my expectations again and again. But now, with one word from Jade saying she wanted it, he took her to that restaurant I had longed for. When the last item was moved, I collapsed exhausted on the sofa. The last time I moved, I called Ethan and he said he was too busy with work and told me to find someone myself. To save money, I could only grit my teeth and move everything myself. By the end, I was so exhausted that my chronic back problem flared up, forcing me to rest in bed for two days. But when Jade moved, Ethan specifically took time off work. “Moving is so exhausting. Your best friend is single—we should help her out.” I watched him bustling about, sweat soaking his hair, and felt he was utterly unfamiliar. So he wasn’t incapable of helping someone move. He just couldn’t spare a single day off for me.

While I was organizing things, my phone exploded with calls. Ethan was calling: “Vienna Winters, open the door. You even changed the password? What’s that supposed to mean?” I was silent for a moment before speaking: “It doesn’t mean anything. Ethan Lucas, let’s break up.” But the person on the other end acted as if he hadn’t heard me. His voice was suppressing anger: “Jade remembered you wanted to eat at that restaurant. You didn’t come, but she specially got takeout for you. And what do you do? You changed the password and won’t even open the door when I knock.” “Vienna Winters, stop being so unreasonable!” I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard me say we should break up, or if he was so used to dismissing my requests for a breakup as just another unreasonable tantrum. I was about to repeat myself when he had already hung up. I laughed bitterly at myself. My fault. I had loved Ethan Lucas too openly, too publicly. Even he himself didn’t believe I would leave him. The next day, when I went to the mall to buy things for my new place, I turned around a shelf and ran straight into two people. Ethan was carrying shopping bags large and small. Jade was walking beside him. The smiles on both their faces stiffened the moment they saw me. “Vienna, don’t misunderstand. Ethan is just helping me buy things, worried I couldn’t carry them alone.” Jade explained while trying to reach for my hand. But Ethan yanked her back: “Why explain to her? She hasn’t even apologized for yesterday.” “Jade, you spoil her too much. That’s why she’s so ungrateful.” Jade looked at me with concern but still obediently followed Ethan to the checkout counter. Watching their backs, my heart felt like it had a gaping hole. Ethan never accompanied me shopping. He said shopping was too tiring, too troublesome. “If you need something, just order delivery. Why go through all that trouble yourself?” But now he was carrying bags large and small for Jade without complaint. Outside the mall, Ethan loaded everything into the trunk. Jade had already gotten into the passenger seat and rolled down the window to wave at me. Ethan naturally said: “Get in. I’ll drive you both home.” Seeing my eyes land on the “Girlfriend’s Exclusive Seat” sticker on the passenger side, he frowned, somewhat impatiently: “Jade hurt her back at the gym recently. The passenger seat has more space. You sit in the back for now.” Look at that. He remembered all of Jade’s habits. He remembered her bad back. He remembered her menstrual cramps. But he couldn’t remember the old injury I got from moving heavy boxes. My nose stung. I forced myself to speak: “No thanks. It’s not on my way.” Jade reached to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Vienna, why are you being like this?” “Don’t you want me in the passenger seat? I’ll get out right now.” But Ethan pressed her hand down first and sneered: “If it’s not on your way, forget it. Let’s go.” As soon as he finished speaking, the car started and drove away from me. With me, Ethan never seemed to have much patience.

A few days later, Ethan sent me an address again. “My mom invited you to dinner to discuss the wedding.” I typed and deleted in the message box, hesitating for a long time before finally replying with a simple “okay.” Even if I had decided to break up, I should give the older generation an explanation in person. After all, after seven years together, Ethan’s mother had been relatively good to me. When I walked into the private dining room, Mrs. Lucas was already there. I exchanged pleasantries with her. Only then did Ethan arrive late with Jade. “Mom, Jade works at the company next to mine. She’s also Vienna’s good friend.” “This restaurant is close to the office, so I brought her along.” Mrs. Lucas cleared her throat lightly, her expression somewhat unpleasant. But Ethan acted as if he didn’t notice and directly picked up the menu to start ordering. Everything he ordered was Jade’s favorite dishes. He and Jade both loved spicy food, but I couldn’t handle it. Every time the three of us ate Mexican food together, they would enjoy the peppers with relish while I could barely take two bites before coughing uncontrollably. “Ethan, don’t order so many spicy dishes—” Mrs. Lucas frowned and looked at me. Only then did Ethan seem to remember, saying casually: “Then let’s get this almond pudding. Vienna likes sweet things.” Bitterness welled up in my heart. After ordering everything, he finally deigned to consider my taste as an afterthought. “Ethan,” Jade looked somewhat troubled, glancing between Ethan and me: “Vienna is allergic to nuts.” Reminded by someone else, Ethan finally showed some panic, quickly flipping through the menu: “Oh, then we’ll change it. How about—” “No need to bother.” I stood up and interrupted him. How ridiculous. Seven years, yet not enough time for him to learn my tastes. Even my dietary restrictions had to be pointed out by someone else. I looked apologetically at Mrs. Lucas and spoke softly: “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lucas. I won’t be staying for dinner.” “Ethan Lucas and I have already broken up.” After saying this, I turned and left the private room. Ethan didn’t chase after me. It wasn’t until evening that Ethan finally showed up at my old apartment door. He rang the doorbell over and over, but no one answered. Impatience had just begun to show on his face when a neighbor stuck their head out: “Stop knocking. This is an empty unit. The woman who lived here moved out last week.”

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The night before my wedding, I opened the smart security camera in our new home, but the feed accidentally connected to five years in the future. Ethan sat on the sofa. I smiled and pressed the intercom button. “Ethan, my grandfather said he’ll officially announce me as the heir to the Winchester estate at the wedding.” He suddenly looked up at the camera, his eyes filled with pity. “Lily, did you take too many hallucinogens today?” Before I could respond, my sister Rain walked into frame, her belly swollen with pregnancy. Ethan gently pulled her close. “Don’t you remember? The night we registered our marriage, I locked you in the attic. You’re just a fake occupying her place.” “Rain is the true Winchester bloodline. She’s been running Winchester Corporation for five years now. I forged your signature long ago to transfer all your shares to her.” “Don’t worry. Even if you really have gone insane, you’re still my legitimate wife. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” A bone-deep chill swept through my body as I plunged into an icy abyss. The smart camera screen emitted a harsh burst of static, then went completely black.

I collapsed onto the bed covered in rose petals, my body soaked in cold sweat. Less than ten hours remained until our wedding of the century tomorrow. No wonder for the past six months, Ethan had been forcibly interfering with my work under the pretext of letting me focus on wedding preparations. First, he’d transferred my most capable assistant away from headquarters under the excuse of expanding company operations. Then he’d sent my protective grandfather to a fully enclosed private hospital under the guise of convalescence. They wanted to completely take over my shares in Winchester Corporation! Face pale, I fumbled for my phone, wanting to call the police, wanting to contact my personal lawyer. But the upper left corner of the screen clearly displayed “No Service.” The entire mansion’s signal had been blocked. I staggered toward the door and yanked the handle, only to discover it had been locked from the outside. Just then, steady, familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway. Ethan wore the loungewear I’d personally selected for him, carrying a glass of milk, his eyes tender. “Lily, why aren’t you asleep yet?” He approached, habitually moving to kiss my forehead. “Being a bride tomorrow will be exhausting. Drink your milk and get some rest.” If this had been ten minutes ago, I would have drowned in his devotion and willingly drunk that glass of milk. But now, I only felt violently nauseated. I knocked the glass from his hand, grabbed a shard of broken glass and pressed it against my carotid artery, staring him down. “Ethan, drop the act.” “I know what you put in there. Don’t even think about taking Winchester shares from me!” Ethan sighed helplessly, his tone still gentle. “Lily, your persecution complex has been getting worse lately.” “Winchester would only destroy you. I’m taking over the company to protect our future together. Why can’t you understand my good intentions?” As he spoke, he opened his phone screen and turned it toward me. Rain’s hand was casually pinching my grandfather’s oxygen tube. “Ethan! Get her out of there!” My eyes nearly split with rage. The glass shard instantly pierced my skin. Seeing my blood, Ethan frowned, his tone displeased. “Rain is just visiting my grandfather. Why hurt yourself? It makes me worry.” He raised his hand slightly, and the bodyguard outside immediately handed him another glass of milk. “But my grandfather’s heart and lungs are so fragile. If the machines malfunction in the middle of the night, I wonder how many minutes he could survive?” I looked at my grandfather’s weakly rising chest in the video, trembling as I released the glass and drank that cup of milk. The drug took effect extremely fast. Accompanied by intense muscle weakness, I sank into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I’d been changed into an elaborate French wedding gown. My brain was abnormally clear, but my throat couldn’t produce a single sound. My limbs were completely immobile, held down by two bodyguards as they slowly wheeled me into the hotel ballroom. Ethan knelt before me, leaning close to whisper in my ear with a low laugh. “Lily, are you happy? Our wedding is about to begin.”

Ethan slowly stood up and took the microphone from the officiant. The romantic wedding photos on the big screen abruptly stopped. In their place appeared two documents stamped with embossed seals. A paternity test, and a diagnosis of severe manic-type schizophrenia. The entire venue fell deathly silent. Ethan’s eyes reddened. “Everyone, I apologize. Today, besides our wedding, I must announce something heartbreaking.” “My bride, Lily Winchester, is not of Winchester blood. The true heiress is only one person—Miss Rain.” The crowd below erupted in gasps. Ethan closed his eyes in pain. “Unable to accept the truth, Lily developed severe schizophrenia. Just last night, she even tried to self-harm to threaten her family.” The big screen flickered, playing a silent surveillance video. It showed me from just hours ago in the bridal suite, holding a glass shard against my bleeding neck! My pupils constricted sharply, blood rushing backward through my body. Everything had been within his control all along! “For Winchester’s stability, and for Lily to receive proper treatment.” Ethan stepped aside. The family attorney, who had watched me grow up, walked onto the stage. He avoided my gaze and read aloud: “Given that Miss Lily Winchester has been determined legally incapacitated, her Winchester shares shall be transferred by her husband Ethan to the true heiress, Rain.” Rain, wearing an elaborate bridesmaid dress, carried the transfer documents to me. Looking at her pale, slender hands, a painful memory flashed through my mind. Six months ago, I’d been in a car accident with a compound fracture in my right hand, desperately waiting for family consent to save the limb. But Ethan, who was almost at the hospital, turned back because Rain claimed her claustrophobia was triggered and she was going to cut her wrists. I missed the optimal surgery window, leaving my right hand barely able to hold a pen. Afterward, he’d slapped himself hard at my hospital bedside, crying as he held me tight. “Lily, it’s all my fault. Rain is your sister. I was afraid if something happened to her, you’d spiral. From now on, my hands are your hands. I’ll take care of you forever.” Now, Ethan walked over and gripped my right hand. On that document stripping me of everything, he firmly signed my name. The guests finally reacted, their contempt and disgust pelting me like hail. “No wonder she’s in a wheelchair—she’s insane!” “Mr. Fitzgerald is so unfortunate, tricked into marriage by this lunatic!” A glass of champagne was viciously thrown from below. Ethan removed his custom suit and wrapped my trembling body in it. His face was cut by glass shards. “Please don’t blame Lily. It’s not her fault—it’s the illness.” “I, Ethan Fitzgerald, swear that no matter what Lily becomes, she is my lawfully wedded wife. I will never abandon her!” The guests were moved by his loyalty and devotion. He pressed his lips to my ear, his voice tender as a love confession. “Did you hear that, Lily? The whole world knows you’re insane.” “You’ll stay by my side alone and be Mrs. Fitzgerald for the rest of your life.”

When the drugs wore off, I opened my eyes to find myself in a completely sealed room. A surveillance camera’s red light blinked overhead. The door lock clicked softly. Rain walked in, smiling triumphantly. “Lily, you’re finally awake. After being overshadowed by you for twenty years, I’ve finally taken back everything that belongs to me.” “The Winchester inheritance, and Ethan—they’re all mine now. And you can only stay locked in here like a dog forever.” I looked at her coldly and laughed. “You really think Ethan loves you? You’re just his shield for swallowing Winchester. He made you the heir because he likes how stupid you are.” Her expression changed. She grabbed my hair viciously. “Shut up! That old bastard helped you hide your fake identity for twenty years, but Ethan still found out, didn’t he?” “Ethan helped me, and you have nothing. What right do you have to sow discord now!” As if remembering something exciting, she suddenly sneered. “Lily, you don’t actually think that severe schizophrenia diagnosis at today’s banquet was just fake paperwork Ethan paid for, do you?” “I was the one who told him about your habit of drinking warm water every morning.” My brain exploded. Ice shot up my spine straight to the top of my skull. I’d thought yesterday’s milk was the first time. But all these years, the warm water he’d handed me after every good morning kiss had been drugged! She raised her hand with a smile, her sharp nails scratching across my face. Blood immediately welled up. Ethan walked in at that moment. Rain’s expression changed instantly. She collapsed weakly to the floor, tears threatening to fall. “Ethan, Lily’s manic episode is acting up. She tried to hit me…” Ethan strode over, but didn’t help her up. “Rain, the surveillance camera overhead is still on. I made you Winchester’s CEO, not gave you permission to touch Lily.” “This is the Fitzgerald house. Lily is Mrs. Fitzgerald. Know your place and get out.” Rain’s face went deathly pale. Filled with resentment and humiliation, she stormed out. Ethan took out an alcohol swab and gently cleaned the blood from my face. “Rain is just a tool to stabilize the board of directors. As long as you stay obediently in this room, I guarantee no one can hurt you.” He picked up a white pill and brought it to my lips. “Since you know I’ve been feeding you these for years, just be obedient now.” “Don’t forget—my grandfather is still in my care facility.” I looked at him without resisting, swallowing the pill with his hand. Ethan smiled with satisfaction and methodically unbuttoned his shirt. “Tonight is our wedding night, Lily.” His large frame immediately pressed down on me. Extreme panic and nausea surged in my heart! I found strength from somewhere, my nails clawing desperately into his back. But the disparity in strength between men and women meant my resistance was merely a cornered animal’s struggle in his eyes. After an eternity of suffering, he threw his soiled clothes onto my tear-stained face. “Compared to Rain’s gentle compliance, you’re utterly tasteless and disappointing.” “Next time, if you still haven’t learned how to please your husband, I’ll have Rain teach you in person.” With that, he strode away without looking back. In the darkness, I curled up my wounded body. I bit down hard on the fake death pill I’d been hiding in my cheek. I suddenly laughed silently. I laughed until my heart was torn, laughed until my mouth filled with blood. Ethan, your love is truly the most revolting thing in this world!

Excruciating pain tortured me all night as the fake death pill viciously consumed my life force. My body was ice cold, my breathing barely a thread. Ethan walked in wearing a suit. Seeing my bloodless face and weak appearance, he frowned. “Lily, you know sympathy plays don’t work on me.” He approached the bed, his tone icy. “Didn’t learn your lesson last night? Get up and take today’s medication.” As soon as he finished speaking, his phone suddenly emitted a piercing alarm. It was the dedicated app he’d specifically linked to my grandfather’s vital signs! Ethan’s expression changed. He yanked out his phone. I bit my tongue hard to stay conscious, using all my strength to lift my head and stare at his screen. In the image, Rain wore a sterile suit, her hand casually holding the oxygen tube and pacemaker cord she’d forcibly disconnected. She smiled innocently at the surveillance camera. On the heart monitor beside her, the green wave representing my grandfather’s vital signs convulsed violently twice, then instantly became a straight flatline! My grandfather was dead. The only leverage Ethan had to force my compliance for life was completely gone. “That idiot Rain!” Ethan’s eyes nearly split with rage. He shouted frantically into his communicator. “Where are the doctors! Resuscitate him now!” I stared at that flatline, unable to produce tears from my dry eyes. The last string in my heart finally snapped. At the same moment, the fake death pill reached its final eruption. I suddenly vomited a large mouthful of dark red blood, spraying it directly onto Ethan’s shirt! Then massive amounts of fresh blood poured madly from my mouth and nose. It stained a large section of pure white sheets a shocking crimson. Ethan’s roar cut off abruptly. His hands trembled as he tried to stop the blood gushing from my mouth. “Lily!!! What’s wrong?! Stop bleeding!” I used all my remaining strength to pull a blood-red smile. “Ethan, in this lifetime, I’ll never let you get what you want.” With that, my eyes completely lost focus. Ethan scooped up my blood-soaked body and crashed through the door toward downstairs like a madman. The Maybach ran through over a dozen red lights. He kicked open the emergency room door, his eyes bloodshot, roaring at all the top specialists. “Save her! If you can’t save her, you’ll all die with her!” The emergency room’s red light turned on, then off. The hospital director emerged, face ashen. “Mr. Fitzgerald… your wife experienced sudden irreversible multiple organ failure. Resuscitation was unsuccessful. Please accept our condolences.”

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Ten minutes before the product launch, I discovered my name badge had been switched. The spot that originally read “Chief Algorithm Architect” now said “Project Consultant.” And the surgical navigation algorithm I’d spent three years developing had been handed over by Adrian Knox to Nora, the newly hired product manager. He said, “It’s her first time facing investors. She can’t afford to make mistakes. You’re more experienced—provide technical support from below the stage.” I looked at the presentation slides scrolling on the backstage screen. Every page contained my data, my models, my late-night work logs. But in the credits section, Nora’s name was listed first, while mine had been squeezed into the last line. Three years ago, when the company ran out of funds and nearly went under, I mortgaged my patents to help Adrian survive until today. Now he was giving away my position and expecting me to applaud for someone else. I removed my badge and tossed it into the nearby recycling bin. “Fine.” “Since I’m just a consultant, there’s no need to deploy this core algorithm tonight either.”

Adrian’s expression changed first. He reached out to grab my wrist, his voice low. “Lena, don’t make a scene right now.” The backstage area was separated from the venue by a black curtain. Outside, the host’s voice was already warming up the crowd. Investors, hospital representatives, media—all seated in the audience. The promotional slide was still displayed on screen. “Nova Medical’s first AI surgical navigation system—official launch.” The technical lead listed in the bottom right corner was Nora. I pulled away from his hand and removed the ID badge from around my neck. “I’m the one making a scene?” Adrian frowned. “It’s just a temporary adjustment to the program. Nora handles product presentation, you handle technical support. Different divisions of labor, that’s all.” Nora stood behind him, still clutching my laser pointer. She took half a step forward, her eyes reddening right on cue. “Lena, please don’t misunderstand. Mr. Knox is just worried I’ll be nervous on stage for the first time. He’s not really trying to take your work.” “My work?” I looked at the remote control in her hand, then at the “Chief Product Officer” badge on her chest. “Miss Nora, what’s the risk threshold for the third demonstration segment tonight?” She froze. Adrian immediately spoke up. “Now’s not the time to quiz her.” I nodded. “Then let’s try something simpler. How many millimeters of intraoperative deviation will trigger an automatic system lockdown?” Nora gripped the remote tighter, her nails scraping against the plastic shell. “Those parameters—the technical department handles them.” Outside, the host called my name, then quickly corrected herself. “Next, please welcome Nova Medical project representative, Miss Nora.” Applause erupted from beyond the curtain. Adrian looked at me, his tone softening. “Lena, just get through today. After the launch, I’ll explain everything privately. Don’t you care most about whether this project gets implemented?” I pulled out my phone and opened the backend permissions page. Adrian’s voice finally changed. “What are you doing?” “Suspending tonight’s remote demonstration interface.” “You wouldn’t dare.” I turned the screen toward him. On the page, the core algorithm authorization showed only one name. Lena Sinclair. I pressed the pause button. Josh, the technical assistant beside me, gasped. “Lena, they’ve already connected to the simulated surgical table outside.” “Disconnect it.” “But Mr. Knox—” I looked at him. “The system hasn’t passed final clinical safety review. Who authorized you to connect the live demonstration port?” Josh’s face went pale. Adrian said through gritted teeth, “It’s just the simulation port.” “That’s not what the backend logs say.” I opened the access records. The timestamp showed ten minutes ago, with Nora’s account as the operator. Nora immediately stepped back. “I didn’t know. I just clicked confirm according to the procedure.” “Who gave you the permissions?” No one answered. Beyond the curtain, the host’s voice stuttered. The big screen must have gone dark. The applause stopped abruptly, like someone had choked it off. Adrian hissed at me, “Lena, do you have any idea how many people are watching today? If you sabotage this funding round, what happens to the company?” I put my phone back in my bag. “When you replaced the technical lead, you didn’t think about what would happen to the company.” His chest heaved twice. He wanted to say more. I walked past him toward the exit. Nora suddenly rushed forward, blocking my path. “Lena, I didn’t do it on purpose. How about I go on stage right now and tell everyone the technology is still yours?” She spoke softly enough for the nearby staff to hear. Like she was offering me a way out. Also like she was handing me a knife, waiting for me to lose control. I stopped and looked down at her. “Don’t worry.” “It’s not your turn to cry yet tonight.”

When I walked out of the conference hall, the applause behind me had turned into hushed discussion. Josh chased after me, still clutching the demonstration tablet. “Lena, Mr. Knox wants you to come back.” “What did he say?” “He said if you come back now, he can publicly add a technical acknowledgment.” I didn’t slow down. “Acknowledgment?” Three years of code, twenty-seven animal trials, eight months of preclinical validation—all reduced to an acknowledgment. Adrian really knew how to calculate. As the elevator doors closed, I saw Nora standing by the curtain, surrounded by people from the marketing department. She had her head down, shoulders shaking, like she’d suffered some terrible injustice. Josh lowered his voice. “Lena, everyone actually knows you built the system.” “What good does knowing do?” I pressed the button for the twelfth floor. “Credits don’t change themselves, and permissions don’t automatically migrate to other people’s accounts.” The twelfth floor housed the technical department. The launch had pulled away most of the staff, leaving the office area eerily empty except for the sound of server cooling fans. My workstation light was still on. On the desk sat the cold coffee Nora had brought me at five that afternoon. She’d said, “Lena, you’ll be so busy tonight. I got you a sugar-free latte.” I hadn’t touched that coffee. I opened my computer directly. The admin backend showed two anomaly alerts. One was for temporary elevation of demonstration port privileges. One was for modification of publication credits. Both timestamped at 6:42 PM. I opened the records. Applicant: Nora. Approver: Adrian Knox. Josh stood beside me, his face growing increasingly grim. “Lena, she shouldn’t have been able to access that permission level.” “Of course she couldn’t.” I scrolled down. “Unless someone temporarily added her to the core project team.” At the bottom of the page was an inconspicuous gray log entry. Core project member change: Nora added, Lena Sinclair’s presentation privileges removed. Operation source: Adrian Knox’s CEO account. I took screenshots, exported the logs, and packed them into an encrypted folder. My phone vibrated. Adrian sent a voice message. I played it on speaker. His voice was laced with anger. “Lena, are you satisfied now? Several investors have already left. With this stunt you pulled, you’re not just embarrassing me—you’re driving the company into the ground.” I replied with two words. “Check your inbox.” Ten seconds later, he called. “What do you mean?” “I just sent you tonight’s backend logs. If you can’t understand them, I can have legal translate for you.” I looked at the member change record on screen. “The system hasn’t passed final review, yet you let a non-technical lead access the live demonstration port. At best, it’s a management incident. At worst, it’s compliance fraud.” The line went quiet. After several seconds, he finally spoke. “Nora doesn’t understand these things. I told her to follow procedure.” That response made me pause. He’d defended her too quickly. I switched back to the data repository and opened the project filing folder. The original patent package was missing the earliest version of the algorithm documentation. In its place was a new file. Creator: Nora. Creation date: Three days ago. Josh leaned over for a look, his voice trembling. “Lena, this isn’t the original filing you submitted last year.” I slowly lifted my head. “Of course it isn’t.” “Someone doesn’t just want to steal tonight’s presenter spot.” “They want to change the ownership of this system from the source.”

Josh’s hand still rested on the desk edge. He stared at the new file, his lips moving several times. “Lena, should we back it up first?” “It’s already too late.” I opened the version history. The system displayed a string of red alerts. Original file overwritten. Historical versions migrated. Sharing permissions revoked. Every timestamp fell within two hours before the launch began. Nora hadn’t accidentally grabbed the wrong remote control. She’d walked in following a complete procedure. I exported the records one by one. Josh stood beside me, his face paler than the screen. “If this is confirmed, Mr. Knox won’t be able to escape responsibility either.” “He was never going to escape it.” I opened the company’s internal patent database and searched for “Starbridge.” The first result showed the applicant field had changed to three people. Adrian Knox, Nora, Lena Sinclair. I was listed last. Josh inhaled sharply. “They can change this too?” “Internal preliminary review allows it.” I opened the attachments. The earliest experimental records had been replaced with a product requirements document. On the first page was Nora’s name. She’d written: “I proposed the intelligent navigation system commercialization direction in the project’s early stages and drove the core algorithm implementation.” Drove. The cold wind in the lab at 3 AM, the smell of disinfectant at the animal facility entrance, the red error lights flashing beside the surgical table over and over—all erased by one line of her text. The office door suddenly flew open. Adrian stood in the doorway, his tie loosened and disheveled. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening. “Josh, get out.” Josh didn’t move. I said, “Leave. Send the backup to my personal email.” Adrian’s gaze turned cold. “Lena.” Josh lowered his head, grabbed his tablet, and quickly left. After the door closed, Adrian walked to my desk. “What exactly do you want?” “I should be asking you that.” I turned the screen toward him. “Launch credits, temporary permissions, patent preliminary review. Which one was a misunderstanding?” He pressed his hand to his brow. “Nora has product capabilities. The investors have always felt the company is too technical, lacking someone who can tell a commercial story.” “So you wrote her into the patent?” “It’s just preliminary review materials, not the final submission.” He said it too quickly. So quickly it sounded like a prepared answer. I opened the attachment modification records. “Three days ago, you replaced my experimental records with her product document.” Adrian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Lena, the company needs funding right now. Once the money comes in, we can negotiate whatever compensation you want.” “Compensation?” “Equity, bonuses, title—name your terms.” He took a step forward, his voice softening. “We struggled together to get here today. We shouldn’t tear each other apart over a credit line.” I picked up the sugar-free latte from the desk. The cup had gone completely cold. “Adrian, do you think I care about one line of credits?” He said nothing. I tossed the coffee in the trash. “Today you dare to change the credits. Tomorrow you’ll dare to change the experimental data. The day after, when this system actually has problems, who takes responsibility?” His expression finally changed. A soft knock came from outside the door. Nora stood beyond the glass door, her eyes red at just the right level. She held a document in her hands. “Mr. Knox, the board is waiting for an explanation.” Seeing me, she added softly, “Lena, I’ve already found the original filing. Should I bring it to you now?” I stared at the manila envelope in her hands. The opening had no seal. But the cover bore my authentication code. That code could only be generated by the project lead herself.

I didn’t reach out immediately. Nora held the manila envelope in midair, as if certain I would take it. Adrian frowned. “Bring it in first.” “Are you sure?” I stared at the authentication code on the envelope opening. “I only generated this code after midnight last night. It’s only visible in the project lead’s backend.” Nora’s eyes immediately reddened. “Maybe it was a system error. I found it in the archives. I brought it to you first because I was afraid you’d misunderstand.” After speaking, she pushed the envelope toward me. People had stopped outside the door. Marketing, administration, two board assistants fresh from the conference hall—all watching through the glass. She’d picked the perfect moment. If I lost my temper in front of these people, by tomorrow the company chat wouldn’t be talking about fake filings—they’d be talking about Lena Sinclair bullying the new hire. I took the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. The cover read “Starbridge Project Original Filing,” with the reference number, page count, and signature fields all complete. Even my handwritten notes were there. But the more authentic it looked, the faker it was. I flipped to the last page. The signature field only had a stamp, with ink bleeding at the edges—like it had been pressed from a scanned copy printed repeatedly. “This isn’t the original.” Adrian’s expression darkened. “Don’t make wild accusations.” I held the paper up to the light. “The real original has a security watermark. This one doesn’t.” Nora bit her lip, her voice barely a trembling whisper. “Lena, I really don’t understand these things. Mr. Knox asked me to find it, so I did. If you don’t believe me, I’ll go search again.” She’d pushed Adrian to the front again. Pushed him naturally, pushed him cleanly. But Adrian acted like he hadn’t noticed, only staring at me. “Making a scene to this point is enough. The board is already waiting for an explanation. Do you want to drag the regulatory departments down with us too?” “I’m not the one doing the dragging.” I put the document back on the desk. “You’re the ones who brought a fake document to my face.” He lowered his voice. “Lena, you’ve already sabotaged half the funding round. If we keep investigating, the company’s credibility will be completely destroyed.” “Then let it be destroyed.” I looked at him. “Before a medical system enters the operating room, credibility should pass under the knife first.” His expression finally changed. I opened my phone and called the financial audit department, pressing speakerphone. They answered quickly. “Lena?” “Cross-check the permission changes, preliminary review replacements, and filing anomalies. Investigate now.” Nora’s face went white. Adrian stared at me. “You’re calling an audit?” “Yes.” I pushed the fake envelope to the center of the desk. “From this second on, no one’s explanation matters anymore.” Keyboard sounds came through the phone. The audit manager’s voice quickly lowered. “Lena, there’s no door access record for Nora at the archives tonight.” Nora’s head snapped up. Adrian froze as well. I looked at the unnatural ink mark on the back of Nora’s hand. “Then who went in?” The line went quiet for two seconds. The audit manager said, “At 19:42, the sealed file cabinet was opened.” “The card swipe wasn’t Nora.” I tightened my grip on the phone. The next second, a door access screenshot appeared on my screen.

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After being reborn once, I still chose the wrong husband. In my past life, my fiancé James Foster broke both my legs for the fake heiress Claire Shaw and took away my position as principal dancer. After my rebirth, I married his uncle, Henry Foster. Before the principal dancer competition, someone broke my legs again. Henry Foster didn’t hesitate to offend the city’s elite and powerful figures. He personally sent Claire Shaw to prison. I mistakenly thought he truly loved me. Until five years later, I overheard him talking with our son. “Dad, back then you helped Claire destroy the evidence and gave her a new identity to escape punishment. You married Mom, that useless cripple, to cover it all up.” “Now that Claire is back, can you divorce Mom?” Henry Foster was silent for a moment. “No. Because of what I did for Claire back then, I already wronged your mother. I’ll spend my lifetime making it up to her.” “Her status as my wife will never change.” I sat in my wheelchair, nails digging into my palms. So the five years of marriage were an elaborate conspiracy. So he had always loved Claire Shaw. Even the son I nearly died giving birth to. If that’s the case, I don’t want Henry Foster anymore. And I don’t want this son either.

The door pulled open. Henry Foster stood in the doorway. The moment he saw me, his expression changed. From calm to panicked. Extremely quick, fleeting panic. Then back to normal. “Evelyn, what are you doing here?” He crouched down and held my hand. His fingers were as warm and dry as usual. But I knew these hands had helped Claire Shaw destroy evidence five years ago. Helped her get a new identity. Helped her escape legal punishment. Then married me. Spent five years putting on an act. “I came to call you for dinner.” My voice was very calm, even slightly cheerful. “Have you been waiting long? The soup’s gotten cold.” Henry Foster looked at me, seeming to judge how much I’d heard. I met his gaze without flinching. “Why are your eyes red?” He suddenly asked. “I was cutting onions in the kitchen earlier.” “Why were you cutting onions?” “Didn’t you say yesterday you wanted onion-braised ribeye steak? I figured I had nothing else to do anyway.” Henry Foster was silent for two seconds. Then he stood up, walked behind me, and gripped the handles of my wheelchair. “Let the housekeeper do this kind of thing from now on. Your legs aren’t convenient. Don’t busy yourself alone in the kitchen.” “Okay.” I responded. Just like every time in the past five years. Obedient, docile, never objecting. Dinner was very quiet. Henry Foster served me food several times, all light vegetables. “Eat more. You’ve gotten thinner lately.” “Mm.” I finished the food. Andy sat across from me, head down eating the whole time, occasionally glancing up at me before quickly looking away. His eyes looked like his father’s. His lips too. I used to think this was heaven’s compensation to me. Now I just felt they were strangers. “Andy, how was school today?” I asked him. “It was okay.” He gave a perfunctory response. “I’m full.” He jumped down from his chair and ran upstairs. “This child is getting more and more undisciplined.” Henry Foster frowned. “He’s just a kid. Let him be.” I picked up my plate and finished the last bite of rice. “Henry Foster.” “Mm?” “Tomorrow I want to go to the hospital for a checkup.” He looked at me. “Why do you suddenly want a checkup? Are your knees uncomfortable?” “No, I just haven’t been in a while. I’ll pick up some medicine while I’m there.” “I’ll go with you.” “No need. Don’t you have a board meeting tomorrow? Just have Charles drive me. It’s not a big deal.” He hesitated, then nodded. “Then be careful. Call me when you’re done with the examination.” “Okay.” I smiled at him. Just like every time in the past five years. Gentle, understanding, not needing him to worry. He also smiled and reached out to hold my hand. “Evelyn, marrying you is the greatest blessing of my life.” “Is that so?” “Yes.” I pulled my hand from his and picked up the plate from the table. “I’m going to wash the dishes.” “Let the housekeeper wash—” “It’s fine. I feel like moving around today. You go upstairs first.” He glanced at me, then got up and went upstairs. I pushed my wheelchair into the kitchen, put the plate in the sink, and turned on the faucet. The water rushed and splashed. I listened to the footsteps from upstairs gradually fade away. Then I turned off the faucet. I took out my phone and opened a conversation. Someone I hadn’t contacted in a long time. I typed a message: “Sophia, that Swiss rehabilitation center you mentioned before—can I still go?” I sent the message. Then deleted the chat history and put my phone back in my pocket. Henry Foster’s voice came from upstairs. “Evelyn, are you coming up? I drew you a bath.” I turned my wheelchair around to face the kitchen doorway. “Coming.” My voice was gentle, with a smile. Exactly the same as every evening in the past five years.

The next morning, before Henry Foster left, he kissed my forehead. “Call me when you’re done with the checkup.” “I will. Drive carefully.” “Mm.” He left. Andy was also taken to school by the driver. The entire villa became quiet. I sat in the living room, listening to the pendulum clock ticking. Then I pushed my wheelchair into the study. Henry Foster’s study was large, with bookshelves on three walls. On one wall of shelves were my physical therapy records from all these years. Each one arranged by date, with labels on the spines. He had told me before that this made it convenient to review during follow-up visits. Back then I thought he was thoughtful. Now I realized he just had a habit of filing everything away. Including me. I opened his computer. The password was my birthday. For five years, he’d always used this password. I used to think that was love. Now I just found it ironic. Every piece of evidence he processed to help Claire Shaw escape—he probably used this computer. I didn’t touch those files. I just logged into a browser, booked a plane ticket to New York for tomorrow afternoon. Then logged out and cleared the browsing history. I also checked my bank account balance. When I married into the Foster family five years ago, I had no assets to my name. Over these five years, Henry Foster deposited living expenses into my account every month. I never asked the exact amount, and I never spent recklessly. After saving for five years, it wasn’t a small amount, but not huge either. At least enough for me to start over in another city. I transferred the money to a newly opened account. That card was one I’d secretly opened last week when I went out for physical therapy and passed by a bank. It wasn’t linked to any notifications or tracking alerts. I had the card sent to my sister’s address. After finishing this, I closed the computer and pushed my wheelchair back to the living room. I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, Attorney Reed? It’s me, Evelyn Reed.” “Miss Reed? It’s been a while. What can I do for you?” “Nothing major. I just wanted to consult about child custody issues in a divorce agreement.” The other end went quiet for a second. “You’re getting divorced?” “Just consulting. Better safe than sorry. Don’t tell anyone for now, including Mr. Foster.” “Understood.” “As for custody, I don’t plan to seek it. But I want to add a clause to the agreement—the father must transfer all my personal assets to the child after the child reaches adulthood. Could you draft a plan for how to handle this?” “Miss Reed, are you certain you don’t want custody?” “Certain.” “What about property division?” “I don’t want any of his assets. Some of the living expenses I’ve saved over five years have been transferred to another account. The rest I’ll leave for Andy. As for marital property, I’m giving up all of it.” Attorney Reed was silent for a long time. “Miss Reed, has something happened?” I gripped my phone, looking at the osmanthus tree in the garden outside the window. Last autumn, Henry Foster pushed me in my wheelchair under that tree. He said he’d planted it for me. Because I’d once said I loved the fragrance of osmanthus flowers. Back then I leaned against his arm, feeling like the happiest woman in the world. “No, I just want to leave myself an escape route. Please draft it for me. When it’s ready, send it to my email. Don’t call.” “Alright.” After hanging up, I deleted the call record. Then I pushed my wheelchair to the kitchen and made spaghetti. The exact same flavor as usual. No more, no less. In the afternoon, Charles drove me to the hospital. After the checkup, I told Charles I wanted to go to the mall to buy something. At the mall, I said the wheelchair was inconvenient and told him to wait in the car. Then I exited through the mall’s side door and hailed a taxi. Went to the airport. I didn’t collect the ticket, just stood in the terminal for a while. Looking at the electronic board showing flights coming and going. Tomorrow at 2:10 PM, flying to New York. I took out my phone and sent Attorney Reed a message. “After you finish the agreement, keep it with you. Wait for my notice.” After sending it, I deleted the message. Then I returned to the mall and bought a tie. Navy blue with a subtle pattern. Exactly the same style Henry Foster usually wore. “Charles, let’s go back.” “Yes, ma’am.” Charles glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am, you look a bit pale. Were the examination results not ideal?” “No, the doctor said I’m recovering well. I’m just a bit tired.” I leaned my head against the car window and closed my eyes. My hand clutched that tie. Just like every time I’d bought him a gift over the past five years. Except this time, I knew he would never wear it.

At dinner, I gave Henry Foster the tie. “I bought this for you. At the mall today, I thought this one would really suit you.” He took it and looked at it, then smiled. “You still remembered I mentioned last week I wanted a new tie.” “Of course I remembered.” He stood up, walked over to me, and placed the tie on my lap. “Help me put it on.” I picked up the tie. He lowered his head. I wrapped the tie around the back of his neck, my fingers moving to tie a Windsor knot. I’d done this action for five years. Every morning before he left, I would help him with his tie. Sometimes when he woke up late, I’d chase him to the garage to do it. Andy used to say, “Mom is Dad’s personal tie specialist.” “Evelyn.” He called my name softly. “Mm?” “Keep helping me with my tie every morning from now on, okay?” He asked so gently, so earnestly. For a moment, I almost believed we were just an ordinary loving couple, without those secrets, without Claire Shaw, without that car accident that broke both my legs. But that thought only lasted a second. “Sure.” I responded, my voice light and sweet. He lowered his head and kissed my forehead. Just like every time before he left over the past five years. Except this time, I didn’t close my eyes. That evening, I prepared his bath, heated a glass of milk and placed it on his nightstand, and straightened his slippers. I’d done these things for five years, flawlessly. After he lay down, he held my hand. “Evelyn, good night.” “Good night.” He fell asleep quickly. His breathing steady, his expression relaxed. I’d looked at this face for five years—from unfamiliar to familiar, from moved to dependent, from love to pain. I gently pulled my hand away. He didn’t wake. I pushed my wheelchair to the study. Closed the door tightly. Didn’t turn on the light. Only the blue glow from the computer screen fell on my face. I opened a blank document and started typing. “Divorce Agreement”—four words, bolded. Then my fingers hovered above the keyboard. A wind suddenly picked up outside. The osmanthus tree in the garden rustled. Last year Henry Foster pushed me under that tree and picked a small branch of osmanthus flowers to place on my lap. He said, “Evelyn, I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” The osmanthus was very fragrant then. He spoke so earnestly. I lowered my head and typed the first line in the document. “The husband Henry Foster and the wife Evelyn Reed voluntarily dissolve their marriage.” I stopped there. Light footsteps came from the hallway—Andy’s slippers on the wooden floor. He got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Passing the study, his footsteps paused for a second, then continued. He didn’t push the door open. He probably thought I just couldn’t sleep. I continued typing. “Regarding child custody: The biological son, Andrew Foster, shall be raised by the husband. The wife voluntarily gives up custody rights. Regarding property division: The wife voluntarily gives up all marital property. The wife’s personal premarital assets and independent post-marital savings shall be managed by the husband and transferred entirely to the biological son Andrew Foster upon his reaching adulthood.” I lifted my fingers from the keyboard. Read it through from start to finish. Very fair. He wouldn’t lose anything. I wanted nothing. I wouldn’t even fight him for the child. Andy wanted Claire as his mother—let him have his wish. I clicked print. The printer hummed and spat out an A4 sheet. I picked it up, blew on it, folded it, and put it in my bag. Then returned to the bedroom. Henry Foster was still sleeping, his position unchanged. I lay back down and closed my eyes. Tomorrow, everything would be different. The next day was the weekend. Henry Foster got up later than usual. I helped him with his tie and stood at the door watching him leave for the office. After he left, I started packing. Not luggage—traces.

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After I got pregnant, my husband became obsessed with his young, sexy secretary. On New Year’s Eve, my husband was “welcoming the new year” with his secretary, who was wearing sexy lingerie, in a private room. When I caught them, the secretary lifted her snow-white neck, covered in circles of bright red kiss marks. “Rachel, don’t misunderstand! The new year is coming. I’m just helping your husband get rid of bad luck and welcome good fortune.” My husband, whose sex life had been interrupted, complained. “You can’t satisfy me since you got pregnant. I’m a normal man. I need to release my physical needs. Kelly is just kindly helping out.” Seven months pregnant, I was so upset that my water broke. But the secretary said I deliberately wet myself to embarrass my husband. My husband, disgusted by me, locked me in the bathroom. After he and his little secretary spent three days and nights together, he decided to end my punishment. But when he saw my deflated belly, he lost his mind.

On New Year’s Eve, my husband Simon and a group of his buddies had plans to celebrate together. I stayed home because of my pregnancy. As night fell, I received a message from Simon with an address attached. “Honey, I have a surprise for you.” With my seven-month belly, I hurried to the club to meet him. My excitement was doused like cold water over flames. The private room was hazy with smoke, a scene of drunken luxury. Simon’s little secretary Kelly had dazed eyes and flushed ears. She sat on Simon’s lap, looking both innocent and seductive. Simon’s right hand, veins bulging, gripped the woman’s waist tightly. Kelly had stripped down to just her sexy lingerie. That lingerie was custom-made by Simon for me on our wedding day. One of a kind. On our wedding night, I wore it, and Simon possessed me fiercely. But now Simon had secretly taken it out to seek thrills. Kelly’s exposed slender white waist stung my eyes. “Daddy~ Be gentle with me, slow down~” “You duplicitous little vixen, begging me five times a day and still playing innocent.” They kissed and embraced passionately, oblivious to others. The people around them seemed unfazed. I realized who had really sent that text message. Simon’s group of buddies each had their arms around a young girl, watching this scene with amusement. Carl teased, “Kelly, that New Year’s outfit is so hot! No wonder Simon was willing to leave Rachel behind on New Year’s Eve to come here.” Simon pulled Kelly’s waist forcefully, exhaled, and smiled with a smirk. “Some positions Rachel won’t try. So I find someone who will to release my urges. I know my priorities.” “Besides, Rachel’s gotten fat as a pig since she got pregnant, sloppy all the time. Makes me sick just looking at her. How could she compare to Kelly’s sultry charm?” Kelly’s little hand drew circles on Simon’s chest as she pouted coquettishly. “You’re terrible, treating me like that. I’m daddy’s good girl~” “Yes, yes, yes. Happy New Year to my good girl!” Simon pulled out an expensive diamond necklace from his pocket and tucked it into Kelly’s cleavage. The girl in his arms giggled continuously. Someone joked, “Simon’s going too far. Aren’t you afraid your wife will find out and divorce you?” Simon didn’t care. “So what if she finds out? She loves me so much and she’s carrying my child. Where could she go?” Then came their indecent flirting sounds. “Damn!” My stomach cramped and I felt waves of nausea. My face pale, I pushed the door open. My arrival broke the room’s cheerful atmosphere. Simon quickly grabbed the coat from the sofa and draped it over Kelly. I found it ironic. I clenched my fists in anger. “What, she dares to ride on top of you in public but you’re worried about her exposed shoulders?” “Watch your mouth. The girl’s sensitive.” Kelly, protected by him, looked at me provocatively. “Rachel, as his secretary, I’m just helping Mr. Simon. You should understand.” Everyone tried to smooth things over, giving Simon a way out. “Rachel, we were playing truth or dare. Everyone got drunk and things got out of hand. We’ll drink three cups to apologize to you. Just forgive Simon!”

I didn’t respond. Simon’s face darkened, his tone slightly reproachful. “Why did you come? Didn’t I tell you to stay home and rest?” My heart felt like it was being pierced by hundreds of needles. I couldn’t believe the man who had once excitedly helped me set up the nursery was now protecting another woman and speaking harshly to me. Tears slid down my cheeks. I pressed my lips together hard before speaking. “Simon, you said it yourself—those who betray deserve to die.” Simon’s face turned ugly. “Rachel, show some respect. Kelly and I just fool around a bit. You’ve gotten fat as a pig since you got pregnant. I’ve been forcing myself to sleep next to you in disgust—I’ve been good enough to you.” “Besides, everyone in our circle has mistresses. At least I’m planning to come back to the family after you give birth.” I touched my belly, feeling sad and angry. After getting pregnant, I inevitably gained weight and swelled up. My legs swelled like carrots. Leg cramps at midnight, tormented by morning sickness, unable to sleep night after night. My once fair and delicate skin gradually became rough and sallow. Simon went from being concerned at first to impatient, working overtime at the company every day. Especially when he saw the ugly stretch marks on my belly, though his face showed nothing, his eyes held disgust. For the child’s sake, I pretended not to see his changes. I kept thinking, things will get better after the baby is born. But how could he use my suffering—while I was carrying his child—as capital to belittle me? I shouldn’t settle for a terrible man just for the child’s sake. “Simon, let’s get divorced!” Simon’s haughty expression froze instantly. His tone was unquestionable. “You’re carrying my child. Where could you go if we divorce? As long as you two get along peacefully, you’ll always be my wife.” Seeing my devastated expression, Simon softened his tone. “Just be good and obedient. I promise the only children of the Brandy family will come from your belly.” Kelly twisted her waist, dissatisfied. “Simon, don’t make Rachel angry because of me. She’s carrying your child!” Simon pinched Kelly’s slender waist. “Every woman gives birth. Only she’s so dramatic.” Watching the shameless couple flirting in front of me, I couldn’t suppress the convulsions and nausea. “Ugh… ugh…” The contents of my stomach came up. Kelly and Simon, closest to me, bore the brunt. Especially Kelly—the coat she was wearing was covered in the sour-smelling vomit. She looked pathetic. Her eyes turned red as she threw off the coat and cursed. “Bitch, did you do that on purpose?” I was furious and slapped her across the face. “Who are you calling a bitch!” She flew into a rage and pushed me hard. “Simon, you have to stand up for me. The clothes you gave me are ruined!” A server brought hot towels to clean up the mess. Simon warned me. “Rachel, that’s enough.” The push threw me off balance. My heavy body fell hard to the floor. With my bulky figure, my struggling attempts to get up looked ridiculous. It made everyone present laugh and joke. “Doesn’t Rachel trying to get up look like a turtle?” “A fat turtle! Hahaha.” My eyes stung. Before I could feel the humiliation, my belly started cramping painfully. A warm flow gushed from below. I looked down. The carpet beneath me was soaked through a large area. Oh no… I instinctively called to Simon for help. “Honey, take me to the hospital quickly.” “My water broke…”

Simon sobered up considerably. He stood up in panic, his eyes flashing with pity and regret. “Honey, don’t be scared. I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” Kelly’s sarcastic exclamation rang in my ears. “I really envy Rachel. No matter what lies you tell, Simon believes you unconditionally.” Simon shook off Kelly’s delicate hand wrapped around his waist, his voice cold as ice. “Get lost. If anything happens to my wife, you’ll answer for it.” Kelly, pushed away, lay weakly on the sofa. Unwilling to give up, she kept rubbing Simon’s calf with her red-stockinged foot. “Simon, can’t you see? Rachel just got too excited and wet herself.” “She’s only seven months pregnant. The due date hasn’t arrived yet. How could her water break?” His buddies shook their heads beside him, their tones disgusted. “I heard pregnant women often lose control of their bladder and bowels. Turns out it’s true.” “Can’t even control her own urine. No wonder Simon’s looking for a mistress.” Simon’s movement to pick me up stopped. He let out a breath. What followed was anger and disgust at being played. He grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at me. “Disgusting! Are you willing to use any lowly trick to compete for my attention?” “It’s not that. I’m really about to give birth. My stomach hurts so much…” He watched me wailing on the floor with cold eyes, his tone sarcastic. “Good acting. If Kelly hadn’t enlightened me, you would have fooled me.” Kelly’s eyes were full of triumph as she threw herself into Simon’s arms, acting cute. “Hmph… I’m your smartest little secretary.” My voice trembled with pain. “Save me… the baby… save the baby… Please, someone call an ambulance.” Carl sneered. “Rachel really goes all out. Pissing herself everywhere and still wants to waste medical resources.” Kelly added fuel to the fire. “If outsiders find out Rachel wet herself in public, what about Simon’s reputation? Rachel, you’re so inconsiderate.” The cigarette smoke in the room made me dizzy. My heart felt cold. I couldn’t count on anyone. Ignoring the pain from my belly, I gritted my teeth and crawled toward my purse nearby. My phone was inside. I could save myself. Laughter filled my ears as they kept mocking me. “Simon, Rachel’s acting is Oscar-worthy!” “Simon, why don’t you humor Rachel? If she keeps pissing, we won’t be able to enjoy ourselves.” I was drenched in sweat from the pain, my hair at my temples soaked. Ignoring these scumbags’ mockery, I reached my phone in the bag. The moment my trembling fingers pressed the dial button, Simon stepped on my hand and kicked the phone away. “Enough! Are you sick? Making EMTs work on New Year’s Eve?” The pain made me unable to straighten up. I curled up on the floor. “I’m really going into labor. The baby’s only seven months—it’s dangerous. This is your child too. Let me go to the hospital…” An abnormal pain came from my belly. I wasn’t sure if I had compressed the baby when I fell earlier. For the sake of the baby in my belly, I put aside my dignity and grabbed his pant leg, begging humbly. “Give me my phone. I’ll call the ambulance myself. Please…” “This is your child.” Simon kicked me away, looking with disgust at the carpet soaked with amniotic fluid. I was in so much pain I had no strength left, lying on the floor like a dying dog. Simon crouched down, gripping my neck, his voice even colder. “Stop acting. Getting addicted to the performance? If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll walk all over me tomorrow.”

“Lock her in the bathroom.” “Get two servers to clean up the urine stains on the carpet. It’s disgusting to look at.” Two lower-status lackeys grabbed my arms and dragged me into one of the bathrooms in the private room. I called out loudly to everyone present for help. “Call 911! Please, someone help me call 911…” One of the escort girls looked worried and spoke up softly. “Mr. Simon, she really looks uncomfortable. Maybe let it go? She’s pregnant, after all.” Carl grabbed the girl’s hair and slapped her. “What are you? Your turn to question my buddy’s decision?” The girl didn’t dare speak again, forcing a smile on her stiff face. Several more experienced escort girls laughed. “Sweetheart, you’re still young. These are just tactics wives use to control their men. I bet if Mr. Simon took her home, she’d be jumping around immediately.” Kelly was extremely pleased, pretending to advise me. “Rachel, your husband’s doing this for your own good. Letting you stay in the bathroom to clean yourself up so you don’t embarrass yourself.” Kelly twisted her graceful waist and sat back on Simon’s lap. She looked back at me and mouthed silently. “You lose.” Outside the door, singing and dancing continued. Inside, I was left alone in misery. I leaned against the wall, sitting on the cold floor, using all my strength to pound on the door. “Help…” The door closed, isolating my already faint cries for help. Like countless iron nails driving into my body, I recalled the lessons from prenatal classes. The contractions came closer and closer together. I slowly adjusted my breathing, trying to rely on myself to deliver the baby safely. Calm down, Rachel. You can do this. The baby needs you. Tears and sweat mixed together. My throat was hoarse from shouting until I almost lost my voice. The area below my lower abdomen felt like it was being torn apart. The air was thick with the heavy smell of blood. I don’t know how much time passed, but the situation was getting worse. It hurts so much… the baby won’t come out. Panicked and frightened, I gritted my teeth and felt the blood beneath me with my hand. Trembling, I used my finger to write on the frosted glass door of the bathroom. “SOS” To attract attention, I slapped several bloody handprints on the door. Someone who had just come out of the adjacent bathroom was startled and shouted loudly. “Simon, something’s wrong!” “There’s blood all over the bathroom door. Rachel might really be giving birth.” Hearing someone notice something wrong, hope kindled in my heart. Baby, hang in there. Drunk Simon laughed mockingly. “What blood? She probably snuck a bottle of red wine in there. The baby’s only seven months. How could it be born this fast? Let her act.” The person was a bit scared and continued to persuade. “Simon, why not open the door and take a look? Better safe than sorry.” Simon didn’t care. Kelly in his arms said sweetly. “Rachel played this game before, insisting Simon fire me. You don’t know her—she’s just upset Simon didn’t celebrate New Year’s with her!” The person outside stopped insisting. The light in my eyes dimmed little by little. The cramping pain from my belly brought me back. No, I can’t give up. Baby, Mommy will save you. I took off my coat and used my finger to write a distress message on it with blood. With all my might, I struggled to climb onto the toilet and pushed open the ventilation window above, trying to throw my coat downstairs. But the severe pain made me unable to straighten up. The clothes got stuck on the window. My lips were bitten through as I finally managed to throw the clothes down. Just then, my foot slipped and I fell backward. “Bang”—a loud crash. The huge noise caught the attention of those outside. Everything went black before my eyes. I vaguely heard Simon’s voice. “Rachel…”

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I’d been secretly married to Charlie for six years, and this was the eighteenth time he’d refused to take wedding photos with me, using his busy work schedule as an excuse. As I removed my makeup and changed out of my wedding dress, preparing to leave, I unexpectedly heard Charlie’s voice. “Bring out all the most beautiful wedding dresses in your shop today. I want to take the most beautiful wedding photos with my wife.” My heart leapt with joy, and I blushed. I never expected Charlie to say such romantic words. I pulled back the curtain of the dressing room, about to call out to him, when I heard the attendant’s flattering voice. “Mr. Charlie, rest assured. Your wife is as beautiful as a celebrity. She’ll definitely be the most gorgeous bride.” The smile froze on my face. The manager wasn’t complimenting me, but another woman Charlie had his arm around. At that moment, our eyes met. His gaze shifted away guiltily. Seeing me emerge, the manager turned to me. “Miss Jenny, your husband doesn’t have time today. Should I schedule your shoot for next week instead?” I shook my head. “No need.” A flash of embarrassment crossed the manager’s face. “But we don’t refund deposits. If next week doesn’t work, how about next month? That would be fine too.” “No need. He got into a car accident today and died. He won’t have time ever again.”

The manager’s face went pale. “How could this happen so suddenly? Didn’t he just say he was too busy with work to make it?” “Miss Jenny, given your special circumstances, I can apply to see if we can refund your deposit.” I shook my head, a dense, prickling pain spreading through my chest. Charlie and I had a secret marriage. No ceremony, no wedding banquet. Even our friends and family didn’t know. That’s why I was obsessed with taking wedding photos. In six years of secret marriage, he’d refused me eighteen times, claiming he was too busy with work. But now, he was here taking wedding photos with someone else. Seeing my silence, the manager assumed I was in shock from my husband’s death and carefully supported me. “Miss Jenny, are you alright?” I suppressed the sour feeling in my throat, my voice hoarse. “I’m fine. Keep the deposit.” With that, I walked step by step toward Charlie. He took a guilty step back. A mocking smile appeared at the corner of my mouth, then I turned and walked out the door. That evening, he came home with a bouquet of red roses, his face showing a rare hint of flattery. “Jenny, you did great today. Thank you. Eve is sensitive. If you’d made a scene, I don’t know how much she would have cried.” “Didn’t you want to vacation in Hawaii? Once I get through this busy period, I’ll take you there.” A tear slid down my cheek. The scene I’d dreamed of could be realized so easily. My husband coming home from work with flowers, gently promising to take me to Hawaii. I should have been happy, if I hadn’t discovered his affair. I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked, “Why her?” Eve. My stepsister. Back then, to force my mother to divorce, she and her mother had joined forces and driven my mother to her death. She was my mother’s killer. Charlie knew full well that I hated her most. He could have cheated with anyone, but choosing her hurt me the most. Tears fell like beans as my voice began to tremble. “You know I hate her most of all. What did I do wrong that you would treat me like this?” Hearing this, Charlie frowned, his tone impatient. “Jenny, that’s all in the past. You can’t blame Eve for your mother’s death. She was just a child then.” “If you want to blame someone, blame your mother for being too weak. She couldn’t handle it, so she killed herself.” My vision gradually blurred. I stared in shock at the man who had promised to protect me for life. I never imagined he could say such things.

A slap landed across his face. I knew we could never go back. “Let’s get divorced.” After being slapped, Charlie could no longer control his temper. He looked at me furiously. “Jenny, I’ve put up with you for a long time. Why are you so stubborn? Why can’t you just let the past go?” “Your mother has been dead for ten years. All these years, you’ve been making things difficult for everyone, making yourself miserable and dragging others down with you.” “Back then, your father stopped loving your mother long ago. If she’d agreed to divorce earlier, things wouldn’t have turned out that way.” “It was all caused by her personality. She got what she deserved. You can’t blame anyone.” Hearing him insult my mother again, I completely lost control. Like an enraged lion, I rushed at him, my fists flailing wildly against his body. “Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!” “It was that pair of shameless mother and daughter who drove my mother to death! They’re shameless! Shameless!” Smack! I was violently slapped and pushed to the ground. My forehead hit the coffee table, instantly breaking the skin. Liquid slid down from my forehead. Charlie was terrified. He rushed over worriedly to support me, regret flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to. I was so angry I lost control.” “I’ll take you to the hospital right now. You’ll be fine. Don’t be scared.” Seeing him so worried about me, I felt momentarily dazed. It seemed like the man who put me first had never left. After my mother died, I lived a painful life at home. My father didn’t care about me. Eve and her mother constantly found ways to torment me. On rainy days, they’d kick me out of the house, or “accidentally” push me down the stairs. In that dark childhood, Charlie was my only light. For my sake, he’d rush into my house with a stick to confront Eve and her mother. Even when his father tied him up and beat him for it, he never made a sound. Thinking of how good he’d been to me, I suddenly wanted to give him a chance. My eyes pleaded. “Charlie, please don’t be with Eve, okay?” Charlie’s eyes flickered. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang. A familiar voice came through the receiver. “Charlie, my mom found out about us. She’s going to break my legs. Come save me, quick.” Then came a miserable scream, and the call disconnected. Charlie anxiously stood up, knocking me over again without even noticing. The worry in his eyes wounded me once more. I crawled on the floor and grabbed his pant leg. “Charlie, please don’t go.” Charlie pushed me away, his eyes full of conflicted panic. “Jenny, go to the hospital and get bandaged up yourself. Something happened to Eve. I have to go save her.” With that, he strode away without looking back. I laughed bitterly and collapsed to the floor, letting the blood from my head drip down drop by drop. Eve’s mother had stolen my mother’s husband. Now Eve was stealing mine. But I couldn’t be like my mother, ending up dead by suicide over a man. After a while, my phone received a friend request from an unfamiliar account. The profile picture showed Eve in a wedding dress kissing Charlie’s face. Both looked deeply affectionate. I wanted to see what she had to say, so I accepted. She said nothing, just sent me a video. In the footage, Charlie was kneeling on the ground, making promises to Eve’s mother. “I will never let Eve down. I’ll give her a grand wedding.”

“But I heard Jenny has been living in your villa all along. Aren’t you two already married? I won’t let my daughter be a mistress.” Facing Eve’s mother’s interrogation, Charlie raised his palm in oath. “Jenny and I have no relationship whatsoever. I only let her live at my place out of pity, to help me clean.” “If Eve doesn’t like it, I’ll make her move out immediately.” The video stopped abruptly. The wedding I’d begged for in vain, he could so easily give to someone else. Six years of secret marriage, only to be told we had no relationship at all. Charlie, you gave up on our relationship, so I don’t want you anymore either. I dialed a number. “I agree to what you asked.” The next day, Charlie brought breakfast, his expression the same as last night’s. “Jenny, I stood in line to buy you breakfast. Mango smoothie and a sandwich. Come eat.” I’m allergic to mangoes, and Eve’s favorite is mango smoothies. Later, when she found out about my allergy, she deliberately put mango in my food. I ate it without noticing, then started having an allergic reaction. My whole body broke out in rashes, and my throat swelled so I couldn’t breathe. Eve deliberately told Dad I’d eaten it out of greed. Dad was so angry he whipped me before finally sending me to the hospital. After Charlie and I got together, for my sake, he stopped eating mangoes too. There had never been a single mango in the house. Now he’d forgotten. I knocked the breakfast from his hands. Charlie suppressed his anger, looking at me impatiently. “Jenny, I already bought you breakfast as an apology. What more do you want from me?” My expression was emotionless. “I’m allergic to mangoes.” Only then did he react, a flash of guilt in his eyes. “I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot. How about this—tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go buy it.” “No need. You only need to remember what Eve likes to eat.” Seeing my sarcastic tone, his expression hardened again. “You don’t need to be so passive-aggressive. Look at everyone in our circle. Who the hell stays faithful to just one woman?” “I’ve been married to you for six years, and I’ve only had one other woman. You should be grateful.” I froze. I never imagined he could say something so shameless. Caught cheating, he felt no guilt. Instead, he acted like I should understand him. It was completely absurd. Did he think that just by giving me the title of wife, I should be grateful and tolerate his infidelity? Seeing my silence, he assumed I’d compromised. His attitude softened considerably. “Good girl. You’re a smart woman. You know what’s best for yourself.” “I already promised Eve’s mother yesterday that I’d give Eve a grand wedding. Otherwise, her mother will beat her to death. But don’t worry, you’re still my legitimate wife.” “I’ve already cleaned up the West Hill villa. It’s quiet there. While I’m preparing the wedding these next few days, move there. Don’t worry, I’ll visit you often.” He’d finally said it out loud. I looked straight at him. “No need. I—” I wanted to say divorce, but he impatiently interrupted me before I could finish. “Alright, who else can you depend on besides me? Stop being so stubborn.” “I’m going to be late for work. Move there yourself.” I shook my head and started packing my things, clearing away all traces of myself from this home. I took out my phone to order a pickup service for my old belongings, when a new message popped up.

It was a beautiful wedding photo. The two people in the photo were Charlie and Eve. I hurriedly pulled out my own marriage certificate to compare. I collapsed on the spot. Marriage certificates are supposed to have an official seal. Mine and Charlie’s didn’t. It was fake. That meant Charlie and I had never been married. His claim that I was his legitimate wife was also a joke. I laughed until tears came. I couldn’t believe the man who’d protected me since childhood had deceived me for six years. No wonder he refused to make our marriage public or take wedding photos with me. It was all fake. “Do you know why Charlie used a fake certificate to deceive you?” Eve had appeared behind me at some point. She looked at me triumphantly. “Because he thinks you’re not good enough. You’re an embarrassment. So he lied to you, kept you hidden away. He never took you to meet family or friends. When people asked, he just said he took you in out of pity to work as his housekeeper.” “Jenny, your mother couldn’t compete with my mother, and you can’t compete with me either.” She grabbed my collar, her eyes full of malice. “Didn’t you call my mother a mistress? Didn’t you hate mistresses most? Look at yourself now! You’re the mistress. You’re the mistress between Charlie and me!” I shoved her away, eyes bloodshot, shouting, “I’m not the mistress! I’m not! You’re the mistress! You’re the one who destroyed us!” Eve laughed triumphantly. “But now the marriage certificate has my name and Charlie’s. If you keep clinging to him, then you’re the mistress! The mistress!” “No, I’m not! No!” I rushed at her like a madwoman, grabbing her clothes and shouting, “I’m not! You’re lying!” But she didn’t struggle. A vicious smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Do you know how your mother really died? Let me tell you—your mother didn’t commit suicide!” I froze, stopping my movements, my whole body trembling. “What do you mean?” “My mother didn’t commit suicide?” She shook her head. “You’re just as stupid as your mother. That day, after I cursed at her, she did try to jump into the river to kill herself. But at the last moment, she regretted it. She said she couldn’t leave you behind, that she had to live for you. How could that be allowed? So I helped her along.” Eve made a pushing motion with her hands. “I just pushed her like this.” I staggered, unable to stay on my feet. “You pushed my mother? You killed her?” She nodded proudly. “Yes, I killed your mother. So what can you do about it?” I rushed at her like a madwoman. “I’m going to kill you to avenge my mother!” I exploded with tremendous strength, knocking her to the ground, pummeling and biting her wildly! Then I became more and more frenzied, eventually punching and kicking her like a beast that had lost all reason. “You killed my mother! Go to hell! Die!” But Eve suddenly flashed me a sinister smile. “You’re finished.” Then a great force struck me, and I was kicked to the ground. “Charlie, our baby! My stomach hurts so much. Quick, take me to the hospital.” Her lower body was covered in blood. She was pregnant. Charlie frantically picked up Eve and ordered the bodyguards behind him, “Lock Jenny up. I’ll deal with her when I get back.” After Charlie left, the bodyguards locked me up and directly set a fire. “Miss Jenny deliberately set a fire trying to escape, but ended up burning herself to death.” So this was Eve’s real goal—to burn me to death. The fire gradually grew. I struggled but couldn’t untie the ropes. I was choked by the smoke and gradually lost strength. A burning cabinet suddenly fell toward me. I closed my eyes in despair.

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I loved him for ten years, but I accidentally witnessed my husband Ethan and a female streamer making out in the elevator. When I confronted him with red-rimmed eyes, he said: “I still love you, but you’re old and boring now.” Ethan turned and pulled his mistress close: “Sophie is young, and… she looks a bit like you. That’s proof enough that I still love you.” I was infuriated by his absurd logic. So in his eyes, cheating was his way of showing devotion to me. I immediately posted photos of him and his mistress cheating online. But Ethan locked me in the basement and forced me to kneel and apologize to Sophie. I continued to fight back, and he continued to force me to apologize. Until the tenth time, when Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I pulled out the divorce papers and chose to compromise. Charlotte POV When Ethan once again forced me to publicly clear things up for that female streamer. I chose to compromise. His hand paused slightly while adjusting his tie. After a long moment, he smirked: “What, being so obedient this time?” “Did you finally realize that making a scene is useless, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I opened Ins and spoke calmly: “No, I just don’t want to keep entangling anymore.” After a long silence, Ethan picked up the car keys from the table. Leaning against the entrance, he said unhurriedly: “Actually, there’s no rush.” “It’s mainly because Sophie is in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection.” “You always use the title of Mrs. Walker to pressure her. It’s really annoying.” I didn’t answer. Word by word. I seriously posted the tenth clarification statement in five years on that account with only a few hundred followers. Admitting I was being unreasonable, admitting Sophie and Ethan were just a simple boss-subordinate relationship. After posting, I said: “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Ethan’s figure paused slightly, as if thinking about something. A moment later, he straightened up, his voice carrying a barely perceptible irritation: “That’s for the best.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” My body trembled involuntarily. Last time I refused to compromise and went to the TV station to confront him. I was directly mocked on Sophie’s live show as a crazy woman with extreme control issues. Afterward, her millions of fans dug up my gallery address and splashed paint on it for three whole days. When he heard about my gallery going bankrupt. Ethan was just like this, watching me break down with complete calm. Then he raised an eyebrow and dropped a line: “Charlotte, have you learned your lesson?” How strange. It was so humiliating and hopeless at the time. But thinking back on it now. My heart felt nothing. As the door closed, Ethan left. He was rushing to celebrate with his new love. I had no time for sadness. With trembling hands, I opened my phone messages. Two messages popped up on the screen. One from the bank: [Your supplementary card has been unfrozen.] The other from the emergency room ten minutes ago: [Ms. Harper, if the surgery fee isn’t paid soon, the ICU equipment will be adjusted according to procedure if further delayed.] I stared at those words, my fingertips cold. I took a deep breath and quickly transferred all the newly unfrozen money into the hospital account. Watching the successful transfer screen, I collapsed onto the cold floor. That clarification post on Ins was the only bargaining chip I had to keep Grandma alive. As long as the money arrived, the equipment wouldn’t be removed, and Grandma could hold on until surgery day. I lifted the back of my hand to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead, my gaze falling on the critical condition notice the caregiver had just sent. The red danger character stung my eyes. Only then did I realize. I could finally let go of this relationship. On the TV screen. Sophie was hosting “Metropolitan Observer,” the number one rated show nationwide, smiling with intellectual elegance. She gradually overlapped with the memory of that timid intern who used to follow me calling me Ms. Harper. Ethan had one thing right. Sophie was indeed in a critical period for the Golden Microphone Award selection. Those rumors about her being a homewrecker not only didn’t affect her. Instead, her team used them for publicity. A few lines she said on the show about daring to love and hate were clipped into short videos and spread everywhere. Fans praised her as a clear-headed, independent strong female lead. But the first time I discovered Ethan’s change of heart. It came from Sophie actively crossing boundaries. At that time, in Ethan’s study, I saw Sophie’s late-night makeup test photos she’d sent him. During that period, all the socialite wives I knew were advising me. Advising me to be magnanimous. But I hated that Ethan betrayed our vows. Hated that he forgot who stayed up late writing business proposals for him until she had a stomach bleed during his most difficult startup days. Yet he himself took a substitute who looked a bit like my younger self, thriving in high society. I was unwilling and refused to compromise. Until that time, I confronted him with the contract for the multi-million dollar mansion he’d given Sophie. The matter blew up big. To protect Sophie’s public image. Ethan decisively chose to suppress the news and locked me in the villa for a whole week. At that time, the entire finance section was praising the Walker Group CEO’s business empire. I was so provoked I went crazy, screaming at Ethan when he came home. Ethan patiently let Sophie leave first, which made me break down even more. I threw that property deed with Sophie’s name on it in his face, calling him an immoral bastard. In the end, he said coldly: “Yes! I am keeping her, so what? If you can’t take it, then get lost!” When those words landed, both he and I froze. But in the end, I was the first to speak. I became even more hysterical than before. “Why should I be the one to leave?!” “Why should I fulfill you and that bitch?!” “Ethan Walker, you owe me for life! You and her should be condemned forever!!!”

Charlotte POV After that argument, we parted on bad terms. Ethan didn’t even come home anymore. The only way I could know his whereabouts was through Sophie’s talk show previews. Under multiple blows, I made an extreme decision to drag them both to hell. I compiled evidence of Ethan’s suspected irregular operations during his startup period, as well as Sophie’s use of charity funds for money laundering. Planning to send it directly to the regulatory department. But before I could click send on the email, Ethan made his move. He not only froze all my supplementary cards. He also used his connections to cut off the imported medicine supply for my grandmother in the ICU. That was the last lifeline keeping Grandma alive. The moment I learned the news, I broke down. I didn’t even notice the provocative post Sophie made on Ins. I frantically dialed his number and screamed: “Ethan Walker, you clearly know Grandma’s surgery is this week!” “You clearly know stopping the medicine will kill her!” “How can you be so heartless?!” But Ethan remained unmoved. The sound of papers rustling came through the phone, terrifyingly calm. Only after I collapsed exhausted on the cold floor. Did he speak casually: “Charlotte, don’t expect me to go easy on you.” “You know, Sophie’s new show still needs a newsworthy guest.” “Tonight at eight, come to the station to record a clarification interview. As long as you perform well, the medicine will naturally be renewed.” In that moment, my heart suffocated like never before. I couldn’t even believe the cold-blooded man on the phone. Was once the boy who ran through half the city in a snowstorm just to buy me a cake. It was also in that moment I finally understood. The Ethan who loved me had long been dead. Dead in the decadence of fame and fortune. For Grandma, I could only wipe my tears. It was also that day, looking at my haggard self in the mirror. I finally decided to end this marriage that had made me unrecognizable. But what made me miserable was far from over. Grandma’s illness couldn’t wait. I could only choose to compromise. That night at eight, I appeared on time at the TV station’s studio. The moment the spotlight came on, I felt a moment of disorientation. Once, I was a regular here. When Ethan first took over the group’s media division, countless all-nighters were spent with me in the corner of this studio, helping him revise scripts and supervising rehearsals. Back then the staff respectfully called me Ms. Harper. But now, I sat on a cold bench at the edge of the guest seats. While Sophie sat in the main seat, wearing a pure white business suit with exquisite makeup. The live broadcast began. Sophie smiled warmly at the camera: “Today we have a special guest. She was once Mr. Walker’s capable assistant, but for various reasons, regrettably departed. Let’s welcome Ms. Charlotte Harper.” She emphasized the words “regrettably departed” heavily. Immediately after, a series of photos appeared on the big screen behind me. They were candid photos of me without makeup from the past few years when I was exhausted, contrasted with Sophie’s polished and retouched images. Sophie pretended to be shocked and covered her mouth: “I heard your mental state hasn’t been very good recently, always imagining non-existent business disputes. Actually, Mr. Walker has always been very understanding toward you, even keeping a nominal position for you at the company.” “Look, this is the mental health fund Mr. Walker set up for you. As long as you’re willing to cooperate with treatment…” She took out a document and waved it in front of the camera. That wasn’t any fund document at all—it was clearly a mental evaluation application. I jerked my head up to look at Ethan in the audience. He sat in the first row, hands folded, watching all this coldly. Tacitly agreeing that I was a lunatic. My hand holding the microphone was trembling. I wanted to refute. But a cold prompt came through my earpiece from the director: “Ms. Harper, if you don’t want the hospital to lose power, please answer according to the script.” That was Grandma’s ventilator lifeline! There absolutely couldn’t be a power outage! I closed my eyes and swallowed my hatred. Under the gaze of millions of viewers, I nodded mechanically: “Yes… my mental state isn’t good.” “I misunderstood Ms. Sophie.” “I… don’t deserve Ethan Walker.” In that moment, the comments exploded. The studio’s big screen scrolled real-time viewer comments, each one cutting to the heart: “OMG, so she’s crazy? I knew there was no way Goddess Sophie could be a homewrecker.” “This woman looks abnormal. No wonder Mr. Walker dumped her.” “A mental patient coming out to attack people? Suggest sending her straight to the asylum, don’t let her harm society!” “Crowdfunding to send her in, I’ll contribute five bucks!” “I’ll contribute ten bucks to cleanse Mr. Walker’s eyes!” That half-hour live broadcast felt like a lifetime. The moment the director called cut, Sophie immediately dropped her compassionate facade. She walked up to me and in a voice only we could hear, laughed contemptuously: “Charlotte, you see, this is how public opinion works now.” “As long as I control the narrative, I can make black seem white.” “Mr. Walker values his reputation. Your so-called past affection is worthless compared to my ratings.” I walked out of the TV station in a daze. The night wind was cold, making my bones ache. I thought this was rock bottom. As long as I could save Grandma, enduring some humiliation was nothing. At least I still had Grandma. But fate loves to torment the unfortunate.

Charlotte POV After that live broadcast, I became the despised wealthy madwoman of the entire internet. I didn’t dare look at my phone, didn’t even dare miss a single call from the hospital. I could only shut myself in my rental apartment in a daze. That villa where Ethan and I had lived for five years—I could never go back. It was now filled with Sophie’s presence. Even the lilies I’d planted were dug up and replaced with her favorite tulips. I thought hiding away would bring me peace. But I underestimated human malice and the madness of Sophie’s die-hard fans. In just one day, my address, phone number, and even the hospital room number where Grandma stayed were all dug up by Sophie’s fans. On the third morning, I was just preparing to cook and take food to the hospital. The moment I opened the door, a bucket of stinking red paint splashed toward me. Though I instinctively dodged, I was still splattered with quite a bit. Outside the door, several young girls wearing masks were frantically taking photos of me with their phones, cursing: “It’s her! That crazy woman who slandered Sophie!” “Looking so shabby, she dares to bully our goddess?” “Sisters, teach her a lesson and wake her up!” Flashlights went crazy, blinding me. Before I could explain, someone pushed me. I fell miserably onto the paint-covered ground, my knees hitting the cement floor. The pain was excruciating. But I couldn’t care about the pain. I desperately protected the thermos in my arms—the food I’d made for Grandma was still hot. “What are you doing? This is illegal!” I screamed. A mocking laugh came from the crowd: “Oh, you know about the law? Why didn’t you think about the law when you were slandering people online?” “We’re punishing you!” In the chaos, someone kicked over the thermos. I watched the mess on the ground, and tears finally couldn’t help falling. That was the last little thing I could do for Grandma, and they destroyed it. I struggled to get up, to rush out. The hospital hadn’t called me yet. I had to go check on Grandma. But this group of people surrounded me like an iron barrel, not leaving me any gap. Just as I was despairing, my phone suddenly rang. It was the emergency room at the hospital. The ringtone sounded weak yet piercing amid the noisy cursing. I frantically pushed away the person in front of me and answered with trembling hands. “Ms. Harper! Come quickly! The patient’s condition has deteriorated!” “Someone splashed paint in the hospital room. Your grandmother was frightened and is being resuscitated now!” In that instant, my world collapsed. Splashing paint in a hospital room? How dare they?! That was the ICU! A place that saves lives! I don’t know where I found the strength. I pushed away a girl blocking me and rushed out of the crowd desperately. Behind me came the girls’ screams and curses: “The crazy woman is hitting people! Call the police!” I couldn’t hear anymore. My mind was filled only with the doctor’s words. I frantically tried to hail a car on the roadside. But not a single car was willing to stop for a madwoman covered in red paint. In desperation, I dialed Ethan’s number. This was my last hope. He grew up under Grandma’s care. Grandma once sold her only jewelry to help him with tuition. He couldn’t ignore this. Even for old times’ sake, he absolutely wouldn’t stand by and watch someone die. Finally, the call connected. Just as I was about to cry out for help, a woman’s voice came through: “Ms. Harper?” “What bad timing. Ethan is taking a shower.” “You know, last night’s celebration was exhausting. He just went to sleep.” “Whatever it is, let’s talk tomorrow.” The call ended. I stood on the street holding my phone. Heavy rain poured down, washing away the paint on my body but unable to wash away the bone-deep cold in my heart.

Charlotte POV The rain kept falling. I begged a kind truck driver to take me to the hospital. But when I stumbled into the inpatient building, everything was already too late. Yellow police tape was pulled up at the elevator entrance. Several security guards stood around with serious expressions. I frantically tried to rush in but was held back firmly. “What are you doing? You can’t go in!” “Please, I’m a patient’s family member! My grandmother is being resuscitated! Let me in!” My face was covered in rainwater mixed with paint, my voice hoarse beyond recognition. The security guard frowned and was about to drive me away when a nurse happened to pass by and recognized me. She spoke a few words to the security guard in a low voice and pulled me through the staff passage. She looked at me with complex eyes—eyes filled with sympathy and pity. “Ms. Harper… there’s no need to go in.” She said softly. Those few short words were like a thunderbolt, shattering me completely. I stood frozen in place, opening my mouth but unable to make a sound. No need to go in… what did that mean? The nurse turned her head away, unable to bear looking at me: “Just now a group of people caused trouble outside the hospital room, throwing things and shining laser pointers at the patient’s eyes…” “Your grandmother already had a weak heart. She was frightened, and… and she kept calling your name. She couldn’t catch her breath.” “They tried to resuscitate her for half an hour but couldn’t save her.” I don’t know how I made it to the morgue entrance. That kind old woman who used to warm my hands in her armpits during winter now lay quietly on a cold metal bed. Covered with a white sheet. With trembling hands, I lifted a corner of the white sheet. Grandma’s eyes were still half-open, as if she died with unfinished business, or as if she was waiting for someone. “Grandma…” I knelt on the ground and pressed my face against her already cold hand. Tears burst forth but no sound came out. The caregiver who had been looking after Grandma walked over with red eyes and handed me a crumpled plastic bag. “Ms. Harper, this is what your grandmother was clutching tightly before she passed.” “She said… this is money for you, telling you not to wrong yourself.” I opened the bag with trembling hands. Inside was a stack of small bills and a credit card. The credit card had only thirty thousand dollars. That was what Grandma had saved penny by penny over these years through frugal living. She knew I wasn’t doing well at the Walker house, knew Ethan had changed. She wanted to leave me a way out. But I didn’t even see her one last time. I could even imagine her fear in the last moments of her life, surrounded by those cyber bullies. She was waiting for me. Waiting for the me she’d protected since childhood to save her. But I didn’t come. And the man she once loved was now holding the murderer who killed her, dreaming sweet dreams. I clutched that stack of bills still warm with body heat and sat on the cold morgue floor all night. The next morning, the rain stopped. I walked out of the hospital and looked at the rising sun. The sunlight was blinding, shining on me but without a trace of warmth. I took out my phone and looked at the dozens of missed calls, all from the hospital. Ethan’s chat box still stopped at last night’s message: “Sophie is timid. Don’t call and scare her.” I looked at that line of text and suddenly found it funny. Really funny. I laughed out loud, laughed until tears flowed, laughed until my stomach cramped. It was in that moment. A certain corner of my heart completely collapsed. The Charlotte who loved Ethan Walker died in last night’s rainy night.

Charlotte POV During the three days I handled Grandma’s funeral, I disappeared. There was no funeral service. I went to the crematorium alone and watched Grandma turn into a small box. Then I scattered her ashes in the river she loved most in life. After doing all this, I returned to that villa. I walked into the bedroom and started packing. My clothes, gifts Ethan gave me. Even our wedding photos—I threw everything into black garbage bags. Only keeping Grandma’s bankbook close to me. At eight in the evening, Ethan came back. He reeked of alcohol, obviously just coming from some party. Seeing me sitting in the empty living room, he paused, frowning: “Where have you been these past few days? Not answering calls either.” “Sophie said you called her that night? Didn’t I tell you she was preparing for interviews, not to disturb her?” He loosened his tie while complaining casually, his tone carrying a natural sense of reproach. I sat on the sofa, quietly watching him. Watching this face I’d loved for a full ten years. At this moment, it felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. “Ethan.” I spoke. “Let’s get divorced.” “I’ve already submitted the divorce registration. Whether you sign or not, it will go through the court process.” Ethan’s movements paused, then he laughed mockingly and threw his tie on the sofa. “This again? Charlotte, are you kidding me or what?” “Still making a fuss three days later over a stupid award? How long are you going to keep this up?” He obviously thought I was still angry about the live broadcast. I took out the divorce agreement I’d already printed from my bag and placed it on the coffee table. “I’ve already signed. I don’t have any demands regarding property division.” “As long as you sign, I’ll leave right now.” Ethan’s eyes finally turned cold. He picked up the agreement and glanced at it, as if he’d heard the funniest joke: “Leave with nothing? Charlotte, are you insane?” “Without me, where can you go?” He didn’t believe at all that I would really leave. In his eyes, without him, Ethan Walker, I, Charlotte Harper, was like a dodder vine without water—couldn’t survive three days. “That’s none of Mr. Walker’s concern.” I stood up, picked up my already packed suitcase, and walked straight toward the door. Ethan was enraged by my attitude. He strode over and grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he wanted to crush my bones. “Charlotte! Stop right there!” “I’m giving you a way out and you’re taking it! Don’t be ungrateful!” “Next week Sophie and I are going to the Maldives. You come too. Consider it my apology. Will that work?” I looked down at my wrist, now red from his grip, and suddenly smiled. “Mr. Walker, your apology is too valuable. I can’t afford it.” “Also, let go.” “Otherwise, I’ll call the police right now and report you for marital rape.” Ethan looked at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time. After a few seconds of standoff, he roughly let go of my hand, his face dark enough to drip water. “Fine, impressive.” “Walk out that door and don’t even think about coming back to beg me!” “I want to see just how long you can keep this up.” I didn’t look at him again. I pulled my suitcase and walked out the front door. Sitting in the taxi, I took out my backup phone and dialed a number. “Police?” “Regarding evidence that Walker Group is suspected of using shell companies to launder money for a certain foundation, I’ve compiled everything.” “I want to file a real-name report that Sophie incited fans to cyberbully someone to death.” “All the evidence is on that USB drive.”

Charlotte POV Early the next morning, I didn’t go to the police station. Because I knew that the moment I stepped through that door, Ethan would be notified. With his power and influence, there were ninety-nine ways I could disappear. So I went back to the villa. Ethan was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast. Seeing me return, a trace of expected mockery flashed in his eyes. “What, figured it out so quickly?” “I knew it. Without me, you can’t even afford breakfast.” He put down his coffee, his tone resuming that condescending sense of charity. I placed my suitcase in the entryway, changed into slippers, and even smiled at him: “I have figured it out, Mr. Walker.” “Yesterday I was impulsive. After all, we’re married—no need to make things too ugly.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, obviously satisfied with my sensibility. “Tear up that divorce agreement. Tonight Sophie has a gala. Come with me.” I nodded obediently, then walked into the kitchen and heated him a glass of milk as usual. Just when my back was turned to him, I crushed a sleeping pill and mixed it into the milk. Ethan drank it without suspicion. Half an hour later, he fell into a deep sleep on the study sofa. Using his fingerprint, I opened the safe that only he could access. Inside were not only Walker Group’s core secrets but also the original ledgers of Sophie’s money laundering through charity projects over the years, as well as Ethan’s stock market manipulation records done secretly to promote her. Once these things were exposed, they would be enough to bring down the entire Walker empire. I copied all the data onto a hard drive I’d prepared in advance. And set a timed send. The send time was set for the climax of Sophie’s party. After finishing all this, I restored everything to its original state and even thoughtfully covered Ethan with a blanket. Looking at his face that appeared cold even in sleep, I felt only deathly silence in my heart. At two in the afternoon, Ethan woke up. He rubbed his temples, only feeling that he’d slept unusually deeply, but didn’t think much of it. Seeing I was still home, he was in a good mood and casually tossed me a black card: “Go buy an outfit. Tonight’s gala is very important.” “Sophie is announcing her promotion to deputy director tonight. Remember to congratulate her.” He truly perfected humiliation. I took the card and responded meekly: “Okay, I’ll give her an unforgettable gift.” Ethan smiled, thinking I genuinely wanted to please Sophie. “Charlotte, as long as you’re sensible, the position of Mrs. Walker will always be yours.” With that, he got up to handle company matters. Watching his car leave the villa. I turned around, cut that black card in half, and threw it in the trash. Then, pulling my already prepared suitcase, I left without looking back. Afternoon. Terminal 3. I sat in a corner of the departure hall, watching planes take off and land through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The boarding announcement came through the speakers. My phone screen lit up. It was a video call from Ethan. I hesitated for a second, then answered anyway. I wanted one last look at him celebrating at hell’s gate. The video connected. The screen showed a magnificent ballroom. Ethan wore a perfectly tailored black suit, holding champagne, with Sophie in a red dress looking stunning on his arm. The background was full of flattering voices and camera flashes. “Charlotte, why aren’t you here yet?” Ethan frowned slightly. Even through the screen I could feel his displeasure. “Sophie’s speech is about to start. All the city’s media are here. As my ex-wife, your absence makes me look bad.” Sophie also leaned over and smiled fakely at the camera: “That’s right. Everyone’s waiting for you. Tonight is my highlight moment. It won’t be perfect without your blessing.” Looking at them, I felt like I was watching two clowns. “Ethan.” I spoke. “I’m not coming.” “But the big gift I prepared for you will arrive in ten minutes.” Ethan paused, then laughed mockingly. He obviously thought I meant an actual gift, even teasing somewhat: “Okay, looks like you really have learned to behave.” “As long as the gift is substantial enough, I’m not unwilling to forgive your previous tantrums.” “If you want to go out and clear your head, that’s fine too. When you figure things out and come back, the Walker family will still have a place for you.” Even now. He still thought my so-called leaving was just throwing a tantrum. Still thought I, Charlotte Harper, couldn’t leave him, Ethan Walker. “Ethan.” I called his name again. “Enjoy these last two minutes.” “Because after tonight, you’ll never have another chance to talk to me like this.” The smile on Ethan’s face froze. He seemed to finally sense something was wrong. “Charlotte, what do you mean?” “What are you doing?!” I didn’t answer again. I hung up directly. Then, in front of the security cameras, I pulled out my SIM card. With two fingers I snapped it in half. I casually threw both the phone and broken card into the nearby recycling bin. The announcement came through again: “The flight to London is about to depart. Passengers who have not yet boarded, please hurry…” I pulled my suitcase and turned toward the gate. On the big screen behind me, the live broadcast of Sophie’s party had just switched on.

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At a gathering with friends, someone patted my wife Lara Blanchett on the shoulder and asked: “Lara, a beauty like you must have had a first love back in school, right?” Lara smiled and reached up to adjust my shirt collar. “No, I only love my husband.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Parker, her male best friend sitting beside her, suddenly laughed out loud. “First love? No.” “But she did have a fuck buddy.” He propped his chin on his hand and looked at me, blinking smugly. “Don’t be nervous, Mason. I’m talking about back then.” “Lara was like a nymphomaniac—she dragged me to all kinds of places for sex. Nearly wore me out.” Someone cursed in surprise, and laughter instantly exploded in the private room. Parker wasn’t satisfied yet. He slowly twisted the knife deeper: “Sorry about this, but I got to sleep with your wife before you did. Three hundred and sixty-five times, to be exact.” He raised his glass and smiled at me with curved lips: “Don’t take it personally, Mason. Just joking between guys. It’s all in the past.” “If we still had something going on, we wouldn’t pick the day you announce you’re having a baby to say it, right?”

The air froze for a moment. Finally, someone reacted first, raising their glass to smooth things over. “Well, everyone did foolish things when they were young.” “It’s all in the past. Don’t dredge up old accounts.” “Besides, Lara treats Mason so well now. No matter how busy she is at work, she comes home. He can use the card however he wants. She drives him everywhere. Now that she’s pregnant, she’s arranged everything at home perfectly.” Another person chimed in: “Exactly. A woman like Lara is already rare.” “Parker has a loose tongue and loves to joke. Don’t take it to heart.” The private room became lively again, laughter and clinking glasses mixing into a cacophony. As if that previous exchange had really just been a harmless joke. I smiled too, but my fingertips were growing colder bit by bit. They weren’t wrong. Lara treated me well—proper, thoughtful, flawless. She gave me a watch for our anniversary, called a doctor when I was sick, never missed giving me gifts or clothes. But when Lara had sex with me, she was always calm, like completing a task. Always the same rhythm, the same positions, the same silence. No kissing, no flirting, no eye contact. From start to finish, she barely made a sound. Even her breathing was as controlled as if she were in a meeting. After it was over, she’d get up to shower immediately, her retreating figure efficient, without even asking how it was. At first, I thought it was because she had a reserved personality. Later, I thought it was because I wasn’t good enough. I tried many times. Changed to shirts she might like, learned those clumsy, pleasing moves from videos, and on nights when she came home from working late, I’d hold her with a flushed face. But she’d only frown and remove my hands. “Stop it. I’m tired today.” “Behave yourself.” Once, I worked up the courage, sprayed on new cologne, and changed into the suit she’d once complimented. She didn’t even look. She just draped her coat over the sofa, her tone flat. “Don’t wear that anymore. It doesn’t suit you.” Doesn’t suit me. That night, I washed the hair gel out bit by bit alone in the bathroom, suddenly feeling like the person in the mirror was a ridiculous clown. And now, Parker leaned next to her, laughing as he talked about their wild times back then. Lara said “that’s enough,” but she didn’t deny a single word. I finally understood. She wasn’t naturally cold. She just gave her passion to someone else and saved propriety for me. “Honey?” Lara suddenly called me, handing over a glass of warm water. “You don’t look well. Don’t overthink it. He’s had too much to drink and is talking nonsense.” I took the glass, my fingertip pressing against the warmth of the cup. Warm. But it couldn’t warm my heart at all. I looked up at her and asked softly: “Lara, have you ever truly loved me?” Her expression froze. She was about to speak. But Parker beside her laughed first, slowly swirling his wine glass: “Mason, that question really hurts the mood.” “For women, isn’t it enough that she’s willing to give you status and bear your child?” “After all, Lara slept in my arms for so many years and never gave me status.” I looked at him and suddenly laughed too. “You’re right.” “Status really is enough.” Except from this moment on, I don’t want it anymore.

On the drive home, the car was so quiet only the sound of the windshield wipers remained. Lara gripped the steering wheel. After a long time, she finally spoke. “Don’t take what Parker said seriously.” “It was just youthful foolishness. He can’t keep his mouth shut.” She paused, as if soothing someone being unreasonable. “I married you now. The baby is ours. Isn’t that enough?” I looked at the neon lights retreating outside the window, my nails digging into my palm bit by bit. “So you think I should be grateful?” Lara frowned. “Your emotions are running too high tonight. Go home and rest first.” When we got home, she took off her coat and, as usual, poured water, washed her hands, checked her phone. Calm, as if the humiliation in that private room had never happened. I stood at the bedroom door, my throat tight. At that moment, I suddenly wanted to know— Did she have no feelings for me, or did she simply not want me? I bit my teeth, unbuttoned my collar, and walked toward her. My fingers trembled, but I still reached out to hold her. “Lara…” “Look at me.” Her body stiffened for a moment, then she pulled away. No desire, no attraction—only exhaustion and impatience. She picked up the coat beside her and draped it back over my shoulders, her tone cold: “Stop fooling around.” My eyes immediately reddened. “You’ve been pregnant for three months. The doctor said it’s safe during the stable period…” “I’m not fooling around. I just want to know if you still want me.” Lara looked at me, her expression sinking bit by bit. “Mason, are you really this desperate?” Those words hit like a slap across my face. I froze in place, even my breathing trembling. But she had already turned around, grabbed her car keys, and headed out. The door slammed shut. The entire house was left with only me and my wretchedness. I sat on the edge of the bed, tears falling onto the back of my hand one by one. Half an hour later, my phone lit up with a notification. Parker had posted on Instagram. The photo showed a woman’s wrist in the driver’s seat, wearing the bracelet I’d given Lara. The caption read just one line: 【Someone’s mad I said too much when I was drunk. But she still came over in the middle of the night.】 Below that, he added another line: 【Back when we were poor students, we tried every place except car sex in a luxury vehicle.】 【Looks like we’re unlocking a new location tonight.】 I stared at those two lines of text and suddenly laughed. So when she said don’t overthink it, She meant for me to stay home with dignity. While she went to his place to let her true feelings run wild. I wiped away my tears, opened the family group chat, and sent a message. “Dad, Mom, please arrange a lawyer for me.” “I don’t want the baby anymore. I’m getting divorced too.” As soon as I sent the message, my father’s call came through. His voice was cold as ice. “Finally figured it out?” “Your mother and I never approved of Lara.” “The Blanchett family is good, but she’s been spoiled since childhood. Plus she keeps that unclear relationship with Parker as her male best friend.” “A woman like that has too fickle a heart. She can’t sustain a stable marriage.” “We only stepped back because you liked her.” “Now that you’ve woken up, it’s not too late.” My mother took over the phone, her tone both heartbroken and decisive: “I’ll have someone pick you up first thing tomorrow morning.” “The divorce lawyer is already on their way.” “As for the baby in her belly, Mom knows you can’t bear to give it up.” “But once this child is born, you and Lara will be entangled for life.” “This kind of marriage—cutting it off early is the real blessing.”

The next morning, I was woken by the sound of the door unlocking. Lara walked in carrying a paper bag, her expression unusually gentle. “You’re awake? I bought you a small cake.” She pushed the box in front of me, her tone coaxing like talking to a child. “Isn’t this your favorite place?” I looked down. Mango mousse. My stomach immediately churned. I’m allergic to mangoes. In severe cases, I have trouble breathing. I stared at that piece of mango mousse, suddenly remembering many small, piercing moments. Parker can’t eat onions. She remembered. Every time before ordering, she’d say first: “No onions in his portion.” Parker gets stomachaches from iced Americanos. She remembered. On rainy days, she’d order him a hot latte in advance, with a note for less sugar. Parker’s flight lands at 1 AM. She remembered that too. I’d seen the reminders on her phone more than once. 【Parker lands at 01:20, temperature drop, remind him to bring a jacket.】 These reminders were accurate down to the minute. But the fact that I’m allergic to mangoes—after three years, she still forgot. Seeing my terrible expression, Lara’s movements paused, and a flash of embarrassment crossed her face. “I… grabbed the wrong one.” She quickly pulled another box from her bag, rushing to make amends. “Then look at this. I passed by the boutique today and got this for you.” “You said you liked this watch before.” The box opened to reveal a beautiful timepiece. It really was the one I’d admired for a long time. If it were before, I probably would have forgiven her with tears in my eyes. But now, I only felt exhausted. I pushed the box back flatly. “Just leave it there.” Lara frowned: “Still sulking?” I didn’t respond. I picked up my phone. As soon as the screen lit up, group messages popped up. The group was still that familiar “Original Crew.” Parker had posted a nine-grid photo set. Men’s shirts, women’s short skirts, black lace lingerie scattered all over the floor. The group instantly exploded. “Holy shit, who was Parker with last night?” “That’s some intense action!” “Details, details! How many rounds did you go?” Parker replied leisurely: “Seven or eight, at least.” “Nearly killed me.” “Some people act all refined normally, but when they get wild, they really know what they’re doing.” A bunch of smirking emojis followed below. Then he sent another line: “@Lara Did you get home?” “Does Mason like the watch you picked for him?” I stared at that line of text, my fingers growing colder bit by bit. So even the apology gift was chosen by Parker. Beside me, Lara’s phone vibrated almost simultaneously. She glanced down, her face changing instantly, and reached out to grab my phone. I pressed the screen dark first and looked up at her. “I haven’t even asked you yet. No need to rush to explain.” Lara’s movement froze mid-air, her throat bobbing. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” “What happened between Parker and me is long in the past.” “After the baby’s born, I’ll take you on a trip. You’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland, right?” “Besides, if I still had something with him, the baby would be gone by now. Would we have made it to today?” She reached out to hold my hand, but I gently avoided it. I looked at her and suddenly smiled. “Yes, you’re right.” Lara paused, thinking I’d been pacified, and her tone relaxed. “See? That’s better. Don’t always get stuck in your head.” “Parker just loves to run his mouth. He posts whatever without thinking. Don’t stoop to his level.” I nodded, my voice flat and waveless. “For me, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Lara frowned slightly, clearly taking this as me being petulant. She glanced at the time and grabbed her car keys. “Alright, stop being moody.” “I have something this afternoon. I’ll come back later and have dinner with you.” The moment the door closed, the room became quiet again. I looked at the mango mousse on the table, slowly picked up my phone, and sent the lawyer a message: “We can proceed with the process now.”

At 3 PM, I sat in the hospital consultation room. The sunlight outside the window was blinding. The doctor finished reviewing the materials, looked up at me, and spoke in a calm tone: “Mr. Mason, terminating a pregnancy requires confirmation from the pregnant woman herself.” “As her husband, you can accompany her and sign some of the documents, but you cannot make the decision for her.” I nodded. Actually, before I came, I already knew. It was Lara’s body. Even if I hated her, even if I no longer wanted this child, I shouldn’t be the one to put her on the operating table. But I still came. Because I needed to hear a clear statement with my own ears before I could extinguish the last bit of hope in my heart. The doctor pushed the form back, his voice softening somewhat: “If you’re just having marital problems, I suggest resolving the relationship first.” “Children shouldn’t be used as bargaining chips.” I lowered my eyes, my fingertips gripping tighter bit by bit. I wasn’t being petulant. I finally understood that once this child was born, Lara and I could never cut ties cleanly. My phone vibrated once on the table. The screen lit up with a message from Lara: “Honey, I just picked out a baby stroller.” “It’s made so beautifully. He’ll definitely love it.” I stared at those two lines of text, my vision blurring. I suddenly remembered the day we found out about the pregnancy. When the test results were handed to me, Lara froze first, then tears filled her eyes the next second. She hugged me, laughing in the living room like a child. “I’m going to be a mom?” “Mason, I’m going to be a mom!” That night she leaned on my shoulder and talked about so much. Said the nursery should be painted light blue, or light yellow would be good too. Said I should choose the name. Said no matter how busy she was, she’d come home on time to be with me and the child. Back then, I really believed her. I thought this child would warm up the cold places between us again. But now, the same person was sending me baby stroller photos while leaving ambiguous traces in Parker’s social media during the night. Sincerity and betrayal could actually exist on the same face. I pressed the phone screen dark and said quietly to the doctor: “Thank you.” “I understand.” When I came out of the hospital, the lawyer was already waiting for me at the entrance. He handed over the drafted agreement. “Mr. Mason, the agreement states that if Ms. Lara insists on having the child, subsequent custody, visitation rights, child support, and property division can all enter separate clauses.” “However, whether to terminate the pregnancy cannot be unilaterally decided by you under the law.” I took the documents. The pages were light but felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. “Then let’s divorce first.” “The child’s matter will follow legal procedures.” The lawyer nodded. “Understood.” When I got home that evening, I’d just pushed open the door when I heard familiar laughter in the living room. Parker sat on the sofa while Lara poured him hot water. Seeing me, he immediately stood up, his eyes reddening, his tone sickeningly soft. “Mason, you’re back.” “I drank too much last night and talked nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” He walked forward two steps, as if sincerely apologizing. “Lara and I have just been fooling around since we were kids. I can’t keep my mouth shut.” “She’s pregnant now, and you’re emotionally sensitive. I understand.” “I’ll be more careful about boundaries from now on and won’t let you misunderstand again.” The words were apologetic, but the knife was hidden in every syllable. As if all of this was just me, the husband, making a mountain out of a molehill. Lara also spoke up, her tone certain: “I already said it was a misunderstanding.” “From now on, let’s live our lives well and raise the child properly. That’s more important than anything.” “You’re about to be a father. Stop overthinking and getting jealous all the time.” I leaned against the doorway, pale-faced, feeling exhausted even lifting my hand. Parker saw the hospital documents in my hand and exclaimed with fake surprise: “Mason, why do you look so terrible? You didn’t go to the hospital for random tests and scare yourself, did you?” “Men shouldn’t be so sensitive.” “Lara still has a baby in her belly. Don’t use the child as leverage in a fight.” I slowly raised my hand and waved it lightly. “Stop acting.” The living room fell silent. I looked at Lara and spoke word by word: “I don’t want this child anymore.” Lara’s expression instantly froze. “What did you say?” Before I could answer, the lawyer behind me stepped forward and handed over documents. The pages opened. Black text, clear and piercing. “Divorce Agreement.” The lawyer’s tone was steady: “Ms. Lara, this is the divorce agreement drafted by Mr. Mason. Please review it.” “Regarding the child, the agreement clearly states: if you insist on giving birth, Mr. Mason will fulfill his legal obligations.” “But this marriage—he has decided to terminate it.”

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Six years ago, I went to prison for Ethan’s accidental assault. Six years later, I stood at the prison gates and watched Ethan ride past in a wedding car. And his bride was the very person who had landed me in jail all those years ago. The officer escorting me out handed over my belongings and asked casually: “You got out two years early for good behavior. Didn’t you call your family to pick you up?” I looked away and took the bag, my voice hoarse: “My mom’s health isn’t good. She’s in the hospital.” “What about your husband?” the officer added. I paused, then fished out the marriage certificate from the bottom of the bag, revealing the seal that had long since faded. “This?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth in something like a smile. “It’s fake. Three bucks for a rubber stamp.” Chapter One This was the certificate she and Ethan had obtained before her imprisonment. Back then, his eyes had been calm as he promised that no matter how long it took, she would be his only wife. She had always believed what he said, until the stamp gradually faded and peeled away over these six years. The officer looked embarrassed and turned to watch the luxurious convoy disappear into the distance, changing the subject: “What a spectacle. I heard it’s a merger between the Pierce and Taylor families. The groom is the young master the Pierces found a couple years ago.” “Apparently he spent years struggling in the slums. Who would’ve thought? One day he’s nobody, the next he’s a wealthy heir.” Sophia Bridge lowered her eyes gently. Yes, who would have thought that a guy who had to deliver packages to save up for tuition a few years ago was the Pierce family’s lost heir? And who could have imagined that after returning to his birth family, he would marry Clara Taylor—the woman he once despised most? In college, Clara had used the Taylor family’s influence to pursue him relentlessly. And because she was his supposed childhood friend, she constantly made trouble for Sophia. So Ethan had hated Clara with a passion. Until Clara was publicly rejected by Ethan yet again. Humiliated and furious, she called people to corner him. When Sophia arrived, she threw herself in front of him without hesitation, blocking the blows and shoving someone away. But that person fell down the stairs and ended up in a vegetative state. Afterward, Clara sued her for intentional assault. She was sentenced to eight years in prison. At first, Ethan came almost every day. Even when he couldn’t see her, he would stubbornly stand outside the prison. Later, Ethan could only make it once every few months. On visiting days, she could only stare out the empty window, though she understood his life was difficult and his work demanding. Then for two full years, he never appeared again. And in her day-after-day waiting, she had actually been preparing herself. Seeing him get married today with her own eyes finally shattered that last sliver of hope. She picked up her bag, said goodbye to the officer, and headed toward a slum area well-known throughout River City. The alley was narrow and cramped, but it had been home for her and Ethan for several years. But when she reached the entrance, she stopped abruptly. The rows of dingy low houses had vanished, replaced by a massive shopping mall. She stood there almost dazed, not knowing where to go. The lady running a food stall by the road saw her and exclaimed: “Sophia? You’re back!” It was Mrs. Wilson, who used to live next door. Sophia’s throat felt tight as she pointed at the mall: “When… when was this demolished?” Mrs. Wilson sighed and looked up at the mall’s sign, her tone complicated: “Two years ago. Right around when that Pierce heir returned to his family.” Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. “If you ask me, your mom shouldn’t have been so soft-hearted and taken him in back then. Such a beautiful child—you could tell he wasn’t from an ordinary family.” “Look, once he grew up and went back to his wealthy parents, he thought living here was embarrassing. He bought up everything and had it demolished, said he wanted to give his fiancée a new mall.” “This place was run-down, sure, but a lot of people could only afford to live here. Even with compensation, it wasn’t enough to survive on. So plenty of folks didn’t want to leave. In the end, a construction crew came and forced everyone out. Those who refused were driven away anyway.” It was summer, but Sophia felt cold all over. Instinctively, she didn’t want to believe Ethan could do such a thing. But Mrs. Wilson’s words were crystal clear, leaving no room for disbelief. Mrs. Wilson packed up her stall, shook her head, and said wearily: “I don’t know where you’ve been these years, but take my advice—even though you two grew up together, he’s a Pierce heir now. Not someone people like us can reach anymore.” With that, she pushed her cart away, leaving Sophia standing alone. Sophia didn’t know how long she stood under the blazing sun until someone shoved a flyer into her hand, snapping her back to awareness. The glossy paper showed a photo of Ethan and Clara together. The man wore a tailored suit, his features refined and distant—nothing like the green boy in her memories. Below was a line of gold text: “Celebrating the Pierce-Taylor union. Our hotels offer three days of complimentary stays and meals.” Sophia clutched the flyer tightly. She knew she and Ethan now lived in two different worlds. She had no intention of disturbing his bright future, but she was worried about her mother. Before going to prison, she had entrusted her chronically ill mother, who had been hospitalized for years, to Ethan’s care. Following the address, she found the hotel. One glance told her it was luxurious beyond measure. And all she had was a six-year-old outfit, washed until it was nearly white, standing out awkwardly. She also saw Ethan coming downstairs. Money really did transform people. His perfectly tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs, his bearing aloof and distant. When he saw her, Ethan paused briefly, as if encountering an insignificant old acquaintance. He stepped forward and spoke unhurriedly: “Why didn’t you let me know you were getting out early? I could have arranged for someone to pick you up.” Sophia was speechless, momentarily unsure what to say. Ethan paused, then spoke again. “What happened back then—I owe you for that.” “I’ll compensate you. But I hope you won’t disrupt today’s wedding.” Sophia took a deep breath. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze directly. “No need to go to such trouble. I only came to ask which hospital my mother is in now.” As if not expecting this reaction, Ethan paused, but quickly replied: “She’s at a nursing home under the Taylor family. The environment is excellent.” “Assistant Chen will take you there.” With that, he called someone over and turned to leave. But Assistant Chen approached with an embarrassed expression, stammering: “Miss Bridge… your mother actually passed away a year ago.” “As for the body, it was donated to the medical school according to her wishes.” Chapter Two A roar, like something exploding in her head. Sophia stood frozen, her ears ringing. A year ago? She died? Then why did Ethan say her mother was still at the nursing home? Her legs went weak. She could barely stand, stumbling as she pushed through the glass door. “Miss Bridge! You can’t go up! There’s a ceremony in progress!” Assistant Chen tried to stop her but was shoved away hard. “Move!” Sophia’s mind went blank. She had only one thought: to demand answers from Ethan. From the time she could remember, her father had died of illness. Her mother raised her alone. When she was four, on a stormy night, her mother brought home six-year-old Ethan. She’d meant to hand him over to the police, but Ethan was traumatized and wouldn’t let go, so she brought him back. Unable to find his birth parents, Ethan stayed. From age six to sixteen, Ethan was treated like her mother’s own son. They shared childhood bonds and a sibling-like connection. After her mother fell ill, it was Ethan who ran back and forth handling payments and prescriptions, working with her—attending school by day, working nights to save for her mother’s medicine. No matter where things stood between her and Ethan now, she couldn’t believe he would abandon her mother. Inside the revolving door, the banquet hall door stood ajar. She could faintly hear the emcee’s passionate voice. Sophia charged forward without thinking, shoving the door open. The room fell silent. Every gaze turned toward her. Ethan on stage turned his head as well. When he recognized her, his expression darkened. He strode down and stood before her. “Sophia, I told you I would compensate you, but only if you didn’t disrupt today’s banquet.” “I thought you knew better.” Sophia stared at him, her voice raw. “Ethan, didn’t you promise to take good care of my mom?” Curious guests cast nosy glances. Ethan frowned at her appearance, his words tinged with anger. “The nursing home under the Taylor family has top-tier resources. Clara wouldn’t be petty enough to mistreat Aunt Bridge because of you. What’s wrong with her being there?” Without another glance at Sophia, he gave the security guards a cold order. “Lock her in a lounge. Don’t let her out without my say-so.” Security rushed forward and forcibly dragged Sophia out. Sophia struggled desperately but was eventually shoved into an empty room. Bang. The lock clicked. She slid down the door and sat on the floor, trembling all over. Voices came from outside—the guards talking. “Who is that woman? She looks pretty pathetic.” Another voice spoke sympathetically: “She’s the childhood friend from when Mr. Pierce was stuck in the slums! But damn, what bad luck, making a scene on his wedding day.” “Though her mom really did die horribly. She could’ve lived a few more years with proper treatment, but Miss Taylor interfered and stopped the medication.” “Even made the old lady clean to pay off medical bills. The woman could barely get out of bed—how could she survive that? In the end, even her body was put to use, donated to the medical school.” Sophia froze. The other person asked in surprise: “Mr. Pierce didn’t do anything? She raised him, didn’t she?” “Hard to say. If Mr. Pierce hadn’t gone over a year without visiting the old lady, Miss Taylor wouldn’t have just killed her off.” The rest became a buzzing roar in Sophia’s ears. Chapter Three Her mother hadn’t died of illness—she’d been driven to death by Clara Taylor. And after death, she couldn’t even keep her body intact. And Ethan, the man who once swore to protect her, either knew nothing about it or chose to turn a blind eye. Sophia curled up on the floor, tears streaming down uncontrollably, but she couldn’t make a sound. At some point, the voices outside stopped. The door cracked open quietly. An old cell phone was pushed inside. A hushed voice came through: “Miss Bridge, my condolences.” “This was your mother’s belonging. Before she died, she asked me to give it to you if I could.” Sophia thanked them shakily, her hands trembling so badly she could barely unlock the phone. Finally opening it, she saw a video file. The camera showed her mother’s gaunt, pale face. Anyone could see she was in terrible condition. But her tone was as gentle as ever. “Sophia, I might not be able to wait for you to get out.” “The doctor said I owe fifty or sixty thousand in medical bills. I thought about cleaning hospital rooms to offset some of it… but it’s nowhere near enough.” “Ethan’s been so busy he hasn’t visited in over a year. Sometimes I think I’ve been too much of a burden on you both.” “If I’m gone, the weight on your and Ethan’s shoulders will be much lighter. So I’ve decided to stop treatment.” “The young lady at this hospital told me that if I voluntarily donate my body to the medical school, she’ll write off the debt.” “Sophia, when you learn about this, don’t blame Ethan. He did his best. You two be happy together, okay?” The video ended abruptly. Sophia felt as though all the blood had been drained from her body. She was ice-cold. Her mother chose to end her own life simply because she didn’t want to burden the child she’d raised as her own. Even in death, her mother had worried about Ethan. But what was fifty or sixty thousand to Ethan after returning to the Pierce family? Less than the cost of a single meal. The phone dropped to the floor. The emotional shock was too much—her vision went dark. In the darkness, Sophia seemed to return to a rainy night many years ago. She’d just started middle school. Her mother was working the night shift. She woke up in the middle of the night with a fever, burning up. Ethan hoisted her onto his back and ran to the clinic. Rain dripped from his hair, mixing with sweat and splashing onto her face. He gasped for breath but still comforted her: “Don’t be scared, Sophia. I’m here.” Later, when she woke up, she saw him slumped over the bedside, fast asleep with dark circles under his eyes. That was their poorest time, and the time when they thought they’d always be together. When she opened her eyes again, tears had crusted in her lashes. She exhaled softly and picked up the phone again. Sophia dialed a number she knew by heart. It rang three times before an elderly voice answered: “Hello?” “Professor Lewis, it’s me.” Silence on the other end, then rapid breathing: “Sophia? You’re out?” “Good girl,” the old man’s voice trembled with emotion. “You gave up your grad school recommendation to take the fall for that Pierce boy. Such a promising student, wasted… It’s been eating at me all these years!” “That aerospace materials project proposal you submitted—I’m actually heading it up now. If you’re interested, you’re always welcome.” Chapter Four Sophia lowered her eyes, her voice gentle. “Not becoming your student back then is one of my regrets. I heard you mention this project last time, but didn’t you say the team was full? And that Clara Taylor was on it too.” The professor’s voice clearly grew heavy. “She just wants to pad her resume. I hate people who fish for glory like that. If you agree to join, I’ll have my assistant adjust the team roster immediately.” “Alright.” Sophia’s reply was soft. “Thank you, Professor Lewis.” After hanging up, Sophia closed her eyes. During her six years in prison, it was Professor Lewis who visited her monthly and updated her on the world outside. So she knew Clara had been trying to join Professor Lewis’s research team to polish her image and shed her “trophy wife” label. Well, she’d take that away from her—this was only the first step. After the wedding banquet noise died down, her door finally opened. The guard indicated she could leave. Sophia took a deep breath, grabbed the old phone, and walked out. She didn’t look at the lavish venue or at Ethan in the distance. She simply walked, step by step, back to her alma mater, waiting for next Sunday to head to South City with her research team. Over the following days, she buried herself in the library and lab, slowly recovering what she’d lost over six years. Until the university hosted an internal banquet to send off Professor Lewis’s project team. She saw Ethan and Clara again. The pair stood intimately together, radiant under the lights. Their presence wasn’t surprising—both held PhDs from River University. Sophia lowered her eyes, pretending not to see them. She stood quietly behind Professor Lewis like a dutiful shadow. Midway through the banquet, Sophia excused herself. She’d just turned a corner when she saw Ethan. He leaned against the wall, blocking her path, a thin card pinched between his fingers and held out toward her. “This is the compensation I promised you. The amount inside is enough for the rest of your life.” Ethan’s tone was indifferent. “I won’t hold what happened last time against you. But after you take this, stop appearing in front of me and Clara.” Sophia looked at the card and almost wanted to laugh. “Ethan, get this straight.” “I’m not trying to appear in front of you two. I’m just living my normal life.” She stepped back, creating distance, her voice calm: “I don’t need your compensation. I just want us to be even. Nothing more between us.” Ethan frowned, apparently not expecting this reaction. He was about to say more when Sophia sidestepped him and walked forward without looking back. After the banquet ended, the crowd gradually dispersed. Sophia remembered she still had materials Professor Lewis had hastily compiled that needed to be delivered to a team member. Following the room number from memory, she lifted her hand and knocked. The door opened quickly. The next second, a powerful force struck. Caught off guard, Sophia was yanked into the room by someone inside, her back slamming hard against the door. Only then did she realize the person in the room was Ethan! He was clearly not in his right mind—skin burning hot, eyes tinged red. He gripped her tightly, his scalding body heat seeping through and making her momentarily dazed. But that daze vanished instantly. She snapped alert and began struggling violently, shoving hard at his chest. Chapter Five But not only did Ethan not let go, he began tearing at her clothing, kisses falling on her neck. In the struggle, Sophia could bear it no longer. All the humiliation and rage she’d accumulated erupted in that moment. She raised her hand and slapped him across the face with all her strength. Ethan’s head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming rapidly on his cheek. The slap seemed to restore some of his senses. He shook his head and pressed his stinging cheek. “Sophia Bridge, what are you doing here?” His head throbbed. He looked down, and his expression darkened completely. “…You drugged me?” Before he finished speaking, Clara’s voice came from the hallway. “Sophia Bridge, what are you two doing?” She stood in the doorway, taking in the scene, and shrieked. “Have you no shame? Ethan just got drunk and came here to rest, and you take advantage to throw yourself at him?” “Even if you were childhood friends, he’s married to me now!” The commotion immediately drew nearby faculty and students. A crowd gathered outside the door, pointing and whispering like a rising tide. “So that’s the one who went to prison…” “No way, Mr. Pierce is married. How shameless is she?” “Throwing herself at him on campus—my God, I think I heard Mr. Pierce say she drugged him?” Sophia bit down hard, suppressing the metallic taste in her throat. “I didn’t.” “I didn’t do this. I only came to deliver a document.” Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes. “If not you, then who?” “You refused the money, then turned around and pulled this stunt. Sophia Bridge, what exactly do you want?” His words cut off any path for her to defend herself. The surrounding gazes became tangible needles, piercing her densely. Ethan cast Sophia a cold glance, his breathing still unsteady, then turned to face Clara: “To the hospital.” The protagonists left, and naturally the crowd dispersed too. But that very night, the incident exploded across the campus forum. Someone had recorded video. Ethan’s final words were captured clearly. The comment section fell instantly, countless anonymous IDs launching personal attacks. They dug up everything from her prison record to her background, saying she’d deluded herself into thinking she could marry into wealth just because her family took in Mr. Pierce, that money wasn’t enough and she wanted more. Someone even found Professor Lewis’s project team and mocked him for being senile, recruiting anyone into his group. The next morning, the dorm supervisor came to her door with a cold tone, telling her to pack up and leave. The reason: bad influence. Actually, she didn’t need the university to kick her out—she knew she had to leave. Professor Lewis couldn’t keep her even if he wanted to, so he moved up her flight to South City by two days and pressed some cash into her hands. Sophia first checked into a hotel near the airport, waiting for departure time. But the fallout from public opinion far exceeded her expectations. She’d just grabbed her suitcase to head downstairs when someone blocked her path. The man wore flashy designer clothes, his eyes raking over her up and down. “Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous bed-climbing Sophia? Why don’t you have a drink with me?” Sophia paused but didn’t acknowledge him, gripping her suitcase and trying to walk around him. But he grabbed her arm, his hand falling to her waist as he tried to drag her toward a nearby room. Sophia tried to shake off his grip but couldn’t break free. “Get off me!” People watched but no one intervened. The man snorted coldly and reached for her clothes. Chapter Six “Playing innocent? Aren’t you just selling yourself anyway?” “I’m not eating for free, sweetheart. I’ll pay you, okay?” Just then, a commotion came from the lobby downstairs. She instinctively looked down and saw Ethan entering. The hotel manager bowed and scraped at his side, holding a stack of documents—clearly they’d just finished a business meeting. In that moment, Sophia had only the instinct to escape. She couldn’t care about dignity or appearances anymore. Across the railing, she shouted loudly: “Help! I don’t know him! He’s harassing me, someone help me!” Ethan, who’d been speaking to the manager, paused. Then he raised his eyes, his gaze landing on her. But his eyes stayed only a moment before shifting to the man beside her. The man grinned and waved casually downstairs: “Brother-in-law! Is this the one who climbed into your bed?” “She was just throwing herself at me, but the second she saw you she started acting, claiming I’m harassing her. I’m innocent here!” Brother-in-law. Sophia’s whole body went rigid, her pupils contracting sharply. He was Clara’s brother. Ethan’s expression remained cold. He didn’t even glance at Sophia, simply speaking flatly without a trace of warmth: “You’re saying a Taylor heir is harassing you?” He paused, his gaze returning to Sophia’s ashen face, a mocking edge entering his tone: “Does he need to?” Sophia stood frozen, her face burning hot. He didn’t believe she was being harassed. Instead, he believed she was deliberately trying to latch onto someone. Seeing her silence, the subtle anger in Ethan’s eyes intensified. He continued coldly: “Can’t climb into my bed, so now you’re looking for another branch to climb?” His words were clear, each one like a slap across the face, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. Ethan stopped looking at her. He turned back to the hotel manager: “Go over the contract details one more time. I’m going to check the site.” With that, he strode away, his figure quickly disappearing through the hotel entrance. Seeing Ethan leave, the man grabbed Sophia’s wrist with a sleazy grin: “Come on, beautiful. My brother-in-law won’t help you. He only likes my sister. You might as well come with me.” Sophia’s limbs went stiff as he dragged her into the nearby guest room. She closed her eyes. The instant he pressed down on her, she grabbed the water glass beside her and smashed it hard against the back of his head. A dull thud. The man screamed, clutching his head and rolling to the floor. Sophia stumbled to her feet. Without thinking twice, she rushed to the window. Without hesitation, she pushed it open, climbed over, and jumped. Searing pain exploded from her ankle on impact. She even heard the horrible sound of bone displacement. But she didn’t dare stop. Enduring the agony, she practically crawled to the roadside. Fortunately, the airport was nearby, and a kind passerby helped her. By the time Sophia sat in the airport, her ankle was already in a cast. She took out the fake certificate she’d never gotten around to throwing away, studied it briefly, then tossed it in the trash. The plane would depart for South City in two hours. In two hours, she would begin a new life. Ethan had filled her first twenty years. He would not be in the rest of her life.

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My wife, Vivian Wright, was drugged with an aphrodisiac at a cocktail party and had sex with a male college student who looked a lot like me. I gave her three chances. The first time, to prove her loyalty, Vivian immediately sent that college student named Zachary overseas and spent three days and three nights with me in our bedroom. The second time, I ran into Zachary accompanying her to a prenatal checkup at the hospital. Vivian clutched my chest tightly, her voice trembling: “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m pregnant. The doctor said if I abort, I might never get pregnant again.” “I swear, once I give birth, I’ll send the baby to my parents’ house right away and send Zachary away too. Please don’t leave me…” But just three days later, she competed against me at an auction for my father’s belongings—because of Zachary. When she saw my bids getting more and more aggressive, Vivian directly offered the highest price. This was the third time, and the last chance I’d give her. I rushed over to confront her. But Vivian didn’t panic. She just frowned slightly: “Ethan, you know I’m about to give birth. Why are you still angry with me?” “Just endure for three more months, and we can go back to how things were.” Hearing her words, I almost laughed until I cried. I finally decided to get divorced. But Vivian brazenly brought Zachary home. 1. “Ethan, I was wrong. Please don’t leave, okay?” Seeing me decisively coming downstairs with my suitcase, Vivian’s eyes instantly turned red. She immediately abandoned Zachary, whom she’d been comforting, and rushed to me, grabbing my wrist. Her whole body was trembling. “Honey, please! Don’t leave me. Trust me one last time.” “Zach just wants to be there when the baby’s born. Once he sees the baby, he’ll go abroad immediately. Everything will go back to how it was.” Go back to how it was? During our struggle, the ring I’d worn on my finger for seven years suddenly fell off. I watched as Vivian panicked and let go, her pregnant belly making it difficult as she bent down to pick up the ring. But I was forced to remember that just this morning, eight-months-pregnant Vivian had brazenly brought Zachary through our door. He sat on the sofa, cradling my wife’s pregnant belly, soothing her in gentle tones. At that moment, my heart—which should have been beating fresh and alive—felt like someone had split it open with an axe. The pain tore through me. I watched Vivian pick up the ring, full of joy as she tried to put it back on my hand. I stepped back and suddenly laughed, tears falling. “Vivian, we can’t go back to how things were.” “…Ethan.” Vivian stood frozen in place, the ring falling from her hand again, rolling to where Zachary stood. I ignored it, pulling my suitcase to leave past Vivian. But the next second, my hand was grabbed again with desperate force. I turned back to see Vivian, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, her head turned, lips trembling. “Ethan, tell me what I need to do for you to stay…” I looked at Zachary, who was standing on my wedding ring, his face full of anxiety as he watched me. My eyes unconsciously swept to Vivian’s belly, ready to give birth any day. I was about to say it didn’t matter—whatever Vivian did couldn’t change my decision to leave. “Vivian…!” Behind me came Zachary’s alarmed cry. His face pale, he collapsed to the floor. “My heart hurts…” Vivian’s expression changed instantly. She immediately released the hand she’d refused to let go of and shoved me aside, rushing to support Zachary. The force made me lose my balance, and the back of my head hit hard against the corner of the stairs. Everything went black. “Vivian!” I called out to her, my voice shaking. But Vivian didn’t look back. I watched her frantically call for the driver, gently comforting Zachary, leaving me with only her hurried back. I was left kneeling there, laughing harder as more tears fell. Staggering to my feet, I casually wiped the blood from my forehead and called my lawyer. After drafting the divorce agreement, I went to the hospital. I stood outside the hospital room, watching Vivian anxiously guarding Zachary’s bedside, though she was the pregnant one. Even though she wasn’t carrying my child, whenever she showed even slight nausea during her pregnancy, my brow would knot in concern. But now she was serving Zachary tea and water. “Vivian, I want to eat food you cook yourself…” Zachary said pitifully. Vivian didn’t hesitate for a second, her pregnant belly protruding as she headed out: “I’ll make it for you. Wait for me.” My heart ached. After she left, I emerged from the shadows and pushed open the hospital room door. When Zachary saw me, his eyes reddened and he started his act: “Mr. Wright, I’m sorry. I really do have a heart condition. I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. Please… don’t hit me.” His shoulders trembled, his sobs continuous, like a kicked puppy. What did Vivian see in him? I had no interest in watching his performance. I handed over a document: “I have no intention of blocking your rise to power.” Seeing the word “divorce” on the document, Zachary’s tears froze on his face. “You know very well that Vivian loves me. She won’t agree to divorce. So, this document—you help me get her to sign it.” “But…” Zachary seemed conflicted. “This is a one-time opportunity, Zachary,” I emphasized. Zachary stared at the document for a long time, biting his lip, finally clutching it in his hand: “…Thank you for making our family of three complete, Mr. Wright.” Family of three. My heart seized painfully, the pain stabbing through every breath. “Then… I wish your family of three happiness.” 2 Returning to the villa, I packed up and burned everything related to Vivian. Gold and silver jewelry, luxury goods, dolls, and couple photos—I burned them all. But when I saw a drift bottle, I paused. Inside was a wish written by seventeen-year-old Vivian. I’d read it many times. But today, holding the thin letter paper, I still couldn’t resist opening it to read one last time. The paper had yellowed, but the handwriting remained clear. Seventeen-year-old Vivian’s handwriting was graceful and neat: [To Vivian Wright ten years from now: Vivian, you must be married to Ethan now, right? I’m so jealous of you. You have to love Ethan well for me! Remember to cook for him often. Ethan said he loves my cooking the most. Give him handmade gifts. He says the gift doesn’t matter, it’s the thought that counts. Make sure he stays warm. He gets cold so easily. Also, I promised to give him a baby that looks like him. A family of three would be the happiest…] At the end of the letter, I discovered a line of small text I’d never noticed before. It was written to me: Ethan, if the me ten years from now treats you badly, leave me and never forgive me. A tear fell heavily on that line of small text, accompanied by my bitter smile and nod of agreement, before I threw the letter into the fire. The flames leaped higher, bursting with sparks. By the time Vivian returned with Zachary, the sky was darkening. Zachary eagerly piled large and small luxury brand packages in front of me, saying they were gifts for me. Seeing this, Vivian looked at him with approval, but when she saw my lukewarm response, she helped Zachary try to please me: “Ethan, look, Zach is actually quite kind. He picked all these out for you. If… you don’t like them, tell me what you want and I’ll buy it for you, okay?” But before she could finish, Zachary spoke up: “Miss Wright, it’s fine. Besides these, I prepared another gift for Mr. Wright. He’ll definitely like it!” With that, Zachary handed me a document envelope. I paused. Without thinking, I knew it contained the divorce agreement. I reached out to take it, but couldn’t pull it away. Zachary hadn’t let go. In front of Vivian, he looked at me, his voice low: “Mr. Wright, don’t forget what you promised me…” “Promised what?” Vivian’s face showed doubt as she turned to me with searching eyes. Under her sharp gaze, my heart tightened. I quickly nodded and pulled the agreement away. “Fine! I promise.” Perhaps Vivian’s gaze was too probing, as she moved forward to look at the agreement. I glanced at Zachary. He smiled triumphantly, then turned to Vivian and said: “Miss Wright, Mr. Wright said that after I leave, he’ll take good care of the baby. So I specially prepared this gift. You don’t mind, do you?” “I don’t mind. Of course I don’t mind.” Hearing this, Vivian’s eyes lit up, smiling as she kissed my lips: “Ethan! That’s wonderful. You’ve finally come around. I knew you still loved me.” Vivian, delighted, kissed my lips several times, making Zachary’s eyes flash with jealousy. Perhaps the look was too obvious. Vivian released me, her eyes hesitating: “Ethan, Zach wants duck soup… You’re the best cook. Could you let him try some?” The joy of finally getting the divorce agreement was instantly dispersed by absurd, laughable mockery. So what exactly did Vivian take me for? Her lover, her husband, or Zachary’s personal chef? But thinking that I’d soon be able to leave and not wanting any complications, I nodded wearily: “I understand. I’ll make it for him.” The moment I returned to my room, I opened the envelope and saw Vivian’s signature on the agreement. I suddenly smiled. After signing the divorce agreement and hiding it, I went downstairs to the kitchen and made the soup as promised, instructing the servants to take it to Zachary. But soon after, I was startled awake by Zachary’s alarmed cry. Hearing hurried footsteps in the hallway and Vivian’s piercing scream, I quickly threw on clothes and opened the door. Then I heard Zachary’s shout: “I know now, Vivian—the soup… that soup! There’s something wrong with it!” As his words fell, I met Vivian’s disappointed, resentful gaze, then watched as Zachary carried her rushing downstairs. By the time I realized the large patch of crimson blood on her nightgown—miscarriage blood— I was completely stunned. 3 I watched Zachary carry Vivian rushing toward the door, but even at this moment, she was still gently comforting him. “Don’t be scared… I’m fine. I only had a small sip.” “Vivian.” I instinctively called out, my voice trembling. Finally Vivian looked back at me. Seeing my terrified expression as I followed behind, her eyes suddenly became conflicted and sad. “…Ethan…” She wanted to call to me, but the pain in her body made Vivian’s gaze turn from conflicted to ice-cold. “Ethan Wright, you bastard!” I still followed to the hospital. Standing outside the operating room, I watched Vivian gripping Zachary’s hand, crying out again and again. “Zach, I’m sorry. If I die, take care of the baby. We were meant to be but fate pulled us apart!” The gurney was pushed inside, and Zachary desperately clutched at the door, shouting inside, his voice trembling terribly: “Vivian! Come out alive! Do you hear me! You and the baby both have to live. I love you. I can’t live without you.” Watching their life-and-death vows, my heart quietly fell into an bottomless abyss. Fortunately, Vivian was fine and was eventually transferred to a hospital room. I breathed a sigh of relief, but unexpectedly overheard Vivian’s conversation with the doctor. “Miss Wright, you ingested an excessive amount of abortifacient medication, which caused the miscarriage. And the soup you asked us to test does contain abortifacient components.” As the words fell, the hospital room filled with suffocating silence. I could barely stand, clenching my fists tightly. Vivian lay in bed, pale and cold all over. She didn’t speak, but I only felt suffocated. But I hadn’t done anything! So who put the abortifacient in—that was obvious. I hurried away to the water room to confront Zachary. “Zachary, what’s the point of this? I said I’d leave. I never wanted to get involved in your games. Why do you still have to frame me like this?!” Looking at Zachary’s haggard face across from me, my heart filled with both anger and confusion. But when Zachary met my eyes, his gaze revealed twisted malice: “Of course I know. But… she loves you, doesn’t she?” “Even if you leave, just that love alone will crush me and my son’s future. So I had to do this…” I laughed bitterly. By his logic, wouldn’t it be more convenient to just kill me directly? With a light laugh, I suppressed my anger and spoke coldly: “Since you know that… do you think she’ll believe you?” Hearing this, Zachary’s expression froze, looking at me with clenched teeth and helplessness. Clearly, he had no confidence he could make Vivian hate me. In the standoff, Vivian appeared in the hallway in a wheelchair. Her eyes were dark, but she said nothing. She told Zachary to leave, then looked at me with longing: “Ethan, I want to go home.” As she spoke, I caught the slightest tightening of Zachary’s hand clutching his clothes. “But…” He tried to say something, but his words were stopped by Vivian’s icy gaze. Zachary immediately fell silent, not daring to say more. I looked at Vivian’s weak, exhausted face, completely devoid of anger, and pushed her wheelchair out of the hospital. Vivian’s voice was still warm, but my heart was cold. The car was deathly silent. Vivian unusually didn’t speak to me the whole way. I didn’t pay attention, focused only on going to the civil affairs bureau in the morning to process the divorce. After arriving home, she sent Zachary back to his room. I was about to leave, but Vivian’s hand holding mine still hadn’t let go. Her voice was gentle: “Ethan, come with me.” Not suspecting anything, I obediently followed her all the way to the underground wine cellar. Then I saw it—a huge golden cage. Immediately, my temples throbbed. I instinctively turned to run. But Vivian reacted faster. With a wave of her hand, bodyguards suddenly appeared and grabbed me. She had them stuff me into the cage!

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