My wife was in a car accident, and as a doctor, I examined her and discovered she had a malignant brain tumor. Worried about upsetting her, I planned to tell her later and hid the test results in my bag. Unexpectedly, she stumbled upon the report but mistakenly thought I was the one with the brain tumor. One day, I went to her office and overheard her telling her friends, “My husband, who has neither talent nor looks, just money, has a brain tumor…” “If Sebastian Scott hadn’t gone abroad back then, I would never have settled for him… I’m just so unlucky!” “At least I never agreed to have children with him. Once he dies, all his money will be mine.” Later, she claimed to have amnesia from the car accident, pretending not to remember who I was. She even moved her male secretary Sebastian into our home, treating him as her husband. I smiled at her and said, “Evelyn Yves, let’s get divorced.” … Standing outside Evelyn’s office door, listening to her conversation with her friends, I could barely breathe, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. Not only was she convinced I had a brain tumor, but she was also full of contempt and disgust toward me. I almost pushed the door open to burst in and demand why she would treat me this way. But just then, she called her first love Sebastian, and her tender voice instantly froze me in place. She said, “Sebastian, have you left yet? I’ll pick you up later, and we’ll go to our favorite restaurant.” “Don’t worry, I’m feeling much better now. You’re so thoughtful, knowing I was in a car accident. Unlike him, who doesn’t care about me at all. I really regret it.” I looked down at the chicken soup I had spent hours making, and a chill ran through me. Yes, I regretted it too. Seeing she had ended the call, I quickly left. Passing the trash can downstairs, I threw the chicken soup away. Before I’d gone far, I received a message from Evelyn: [In a meeting, will be home late.] I turned off my phone screen, feeling like a complete joke. It had been pouring rain on my way there, and in my rush to bring Evelyn the soup, I’d gotten soaked without realizing it. As soon as I got home, I developed a high fever. After taking medicine, I passed out on the couch, only to be awakened by Evelyn’s irritated voice. She demanded, “Harrison Fairchild, why didn’t you answer any of my calls?!” “Is your phone just for show? Why do you always do this?” I opened my eyes weakly, noticing the missed calls flashing on my phone, and said faintly, “My head hurts. I wanted to sleep for a while.” “Headaches are normal,” she blurted out without thinking, then, as if realizing something, quickly explained, “That’s what happens when you overthink everything until your brain is fried!” I knew she probably thought it was a symptom of my supposed brain cancer. Seeing I didn’t respond, she pushed me further into the couch and pretended to casually adjust her collar, saying, “I had dinner with a client tonight and heard something that made sense to me.” “This client has a friend whose husband got cancer, and he eventually refused treatment. He said it was to reduce the burden on his wife’s family afterward, since cancer is incurable anyway.” I was stunned. I had thought her words on the phone with her friends were just jokes, but she was serious. Between the lines, she clearly didn’t want me to survive. I forced a bitter smile and said, “That’s exactly how I feel. When one person gets cancer, the whole family suffers.” Her eyes flashed with excitement as she asked, “Really? You think so too?” I nodded, thinking to myself, yes, if you gave up treatment, I could save a fortune too. Early the next morning, I called the hospital and calmly requested an extended leave, saying, “I have some family matters to deal with recently.” On the other end, my colleague Dr. Silas hesitated before carefully asking, “Harrison, do you know about your wife’s test results from our hospital?” “You’re a doctor too. Please convince your wife to return to the hospital for active treatment.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth in a half-smile and said, “I tried, but she says cancer is incurable and doesn’t want treatment.” Dr. Silas was silent for a long while before finally sighing, “I… called her, asking her to come to the hospital, and she… she got very angry, saying no one in your family has cancer…” “She also… asked me not to tell you, saying you should just rest at home. I… I don’t understand what this means…” As I listened, a wave of desolation washed over me. I understood—Evelyn simply didn’t want me, whom she believed had cancer, to seek treatment. I almost laughed out loud, but the laugh caught in my throat and turned bitter. “If the hospital can’t convince her, what can I do?” After hanging up, I began packing my things. This place where I had spent eight Christmases now seemed so foreign to me. This home, and Evelyn—I wanted neither of them anymore.

Halfway through packing, my gaze fell on the dark green box in the cabinet—the one Evelyn had always forbidden me to touch. But now, what did I have left to care about? I opened the box and, as expected, a wave of excruciating pain washed over me, nearly drowning me. Inside were 99 things Evelyn planned to do with Sebastian. On the top card, a sentence was clearly written: [I want to have a beautiful baby with Sebastian in this lifetime.] On the back of the card was her “guilt” toward Sebastian: [Last time I accidentally got pregnant, it was all my fault. In this life, I’ll only have children with Sebastian! Thankfully, I miscarried in the end.] That was the baby I had longed for so desperately… I never imagined Evelyn hated the idea of its arrival so much. So she had never forgotten her first love. Not only had she boldly hired Sebastian as her personal secretary, but she had also made him so many promises behind my back. Looking at it this way, she probably only stayed with me for the money. I wiped away my tears, took a few photos, and put the box back in its place. Suddenly, I heard the electronic lock at the front door. Peering through the crack, I saw Evelyn returning with Sebastian. Evelyn’s face was lit with excitement as she grabbed Sebastian’s hand. “Sebastian, I might have post-accident syndrome. My head is buzzing. I’m so glad you’re willing to take care of me.” I pushed the door open with a grim expression, just in time to witness Sebastian responding with tender affection: “I’m your secretary, aren’t I? Taking care of you is my duty.” As he spoke, his arm deliberately brushed against Evelyn’s body. Upon seeing me, Sebastian was the first to react. Feigning surprise, he said, “Oh… Harrison is home…” He jumped away from Evelyn in pretend panic, avoiding my gaze. Evelyn, however, pulled him back and shielded him behind her. Looking at me, her voice filled with reproach: “Were you eavesdropping on my calls with Sebastian again last night?” “What are you trying to do? Sebastian came specially to take care of me, and you’re being so paranoid and unreasonable!” I frowned. The pain in my heart was far more agonizing than the suffering from my high fever. Fighting back nausea, the rage inside me threatened to consume me. “Evelyn, I’m not dead yet, and you’re already bringing him to ‘take care’ of you, is that it?” Sebastian’s face twisted into a sneer as he moved closer to Evelyn. “Harrison, you’re misunderstanding us… Evelyn and I…” Before he could finish, Evelyn suddenly clutched her head, acting as if she was in unbearable pain. Sebastian embraced her in panic. “Evelyn, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me!” Evelyn struggled for a few moments, then looked at Sebastian with confused eyes. Suddenly, she hugged him tightly and called out tenderly: “Husband…” Then, she turned to me with fury. “Who are you? Why are you in my house? Get out!” … At this stage of her brain cancer, memory loss wasn’t even a symptom. She was putting on an act in front of me. I leaned against the doorframe and asked, “Have you looked at our wedding photo on the wall? And you’re asking who I am?” Evelyn clung to Sebastian and shouted at me, “How would I know when you hung that up? I only love my husband Sebastian!” She continued her performance, acting as if she was in such agony that she might as well roll on the floor. Seeing this, Sebastian looked at me and said, “I think Evelyn has temporary amnesia from the accident. Please, Harrison, don’t upset her further.” “Since she only remembers me now, let me stay and take care of her. You should move out for a while.” I turned back to the bedroom and said, “No need to beg. I was planning to move out anyway.” Then I emerged with a small box of belongings and placed the divorce papers I’d prepared that morning on the table. Coldly, I said, “Evelyn, let’s get divorced.”

When I mentioned divorce, Evelyn’s face changed instantly. She grabbed the divorce agreement from the table and tore it to shreds. “Divorce? Do you think I’m stupid? You’re not even my husband, why would I sign anything?” She gritted her teeth, each word forced through clenched jaws. “You’re just trying to scam me out of money! I’m telling you, it’s not happening!” I had anticipated this reaction and no longer felt the need to be courteous. “You refuse to divorce me because you’re waiting for me to die so you can seize all my assets, isn’t that right?” Evelyn’s eyes darted away nervously. She glared at me viciously, grabbed my luggage and hurled it outside the door, shouting, “What nonsense are you talking about? Get out! Now!” Sebastian, pretending to be concerned, took my hand and urged, “Harrison, you should leave. Don’t upset Evelyn anymore—she’s already suffering enough!” I let out a cold laugh. Suffering? Once she’s without me, then she’ll truly know what suffering means. After leaving home, I thought long and hard before deciding to resign from the hospital. I wasn’t running away. I had finally made up my mind to accept my mentor’s invitation to participate in an important medical research project abroad, with plans to bring the results back to our country later. Before, I always felt I couldn’t leave Evelyn and remained indecisive, but now I realized how meaningful this research was—something I had always cared deeply about. That afternoon, I changed into casual clothes and returned to the hospital. Dr. Silas approached me with concern written all over his face. “Dr. Fairchild, are you really sure about this? Losing talent like you is such a shame…” Dr. Silas and I had become doctors around the same time, and we’d always maintained a good relationship. I told him about Evelyn. After hearing the whole story, he was so shocked he couldn’t speak for a while. Finally, he managed to say, “That’s… that’s absolutely despicable!” Suddenly, his expression tightened as he gestured behind me. I turned around to see Evelyn and Sebastian walking toward us. Evelyn smirked and deliberately raised her voice, “I’ve already told you I don’t know you. How long are you going to pretend to be my husband?!” “I kicked you out this morning, and now you’re stalking me at the hospital? Don’t you ever quit?!” The patients around us turned to look, whispering among themselves: “Isn’t that Dr. Fairchild? So he’s a homewrecker!” “He looks so proper, I never would have guessed he’d interfere in someone else’s marriage!” Though these comments seemed directed at me, Sebastian kept his head down, not daring to make a sound. He gripped Evelyn’s arm tightly and said, “Evelyn, didn’t you say your headache was getting worse? Let’s go see a doctor quickly.” I stepped in front of them, blocking their path, and said coldly, “Evelyn, you should take a good look at the name on that brain cancer report.” Evelyn jerked her head up, her eyes reddening. “Harrison! What does your cancer have to do with me?!” Dr. Silas, furious, pointed at Evelyn and demanded, “Weren’t you supposed to have amnesia?! How do you remember Dr. Fairchild’s name?! Stop pretending!” Evelyn stammered, still stubbornly defending herself: “I have intermittent amnesia!” I smiled slightly, opened the report, and pointed at the name, pronouncing each word distinctly: “Then surely you haven’t forgotten your own name?! Evelyn Yves!” She snatched the report from me, her eyes fixed on the name. Her face instantly turned ashen, her pupils constricting as her body swayed. “No… impossible! This… this must be fake! You forged it! You photoshopped it to scare me! You’re the one with cancer!” I crossed my arms over my chest, my gaze piercing, my tone laced with mockery: “The one with cancer has always been you, Evelyn.”

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The company was hosting its Christmas party when my wife, Ivy Clarke, announced in front of everyone that she was gifting her assistant, Zachary Locke, a private jet worth twenty million dollars. Zachary smugly wrapped his arm around her waist and said, “Thank you, Ms. Clarke, for valuing me so highly. I’ll definitely find ways to repay your generosity.” I didn’t make a scene. I simply turned and walked away. Ivy chased after me, berating me: “What are you jealous about? What’s wrong with me giving a jet to my top assistant? You can’t do anything right, and you have the nerve to be upset with me?” I smiled bitterly, not bothering to explain. I did all the work, nevertheless Zachary got all the credit, and she acted completely blind to it. It was time to end this utterly miserable relationship. As soon as I left, I heard Zachary’s grating voice behind me. “Ms. Clarke, perhaps I should return the gift. Your husband seems upset by how much you value me.” Ivy dismissed his concern: “Ignore him! I have nothing but contempt for such a narrow-minded, incompetent man!” She was still the same, always trampling me underfoot. My heart had grown numb; I no longer felt sadness or anger. After leaving the office, I returned to my place and ordered takeout, chewing flavorless stir-fried rice noodles while the company group chat livestreamed the festivities—a lavish dinner and spectacular performances. The irony struck me. I had founded this company with my own hands, however now it belonged to Ivy. All because she once claimed she “lacked security,” I transferred the company to her. Just three Christmases later, she had completely forgotten. Fine. Someone this ungrateful deserved to be put back in her place! After finishing my meal, I prepared for bed. I habitually checked my phone and came across Zachary’s Facebook post: “Ms. Clarke looks so adorable when drunk.” Below was a photo of Zachary carrying Ivy in his arms, walking into a hotel room. Ivy had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her gaze seductive. I felt nothing—I’d expected this all along. As my finger quickly scrolled past the photo, I accidentally liked it. I didn’t bother to unlike it and simply turned off my screen before going to sleep. As expected, Ivy didn’t come home that night. Early the next morning, as soon as I walked into the office, Ivy launched into a tirade. “Marcus Shaw, what are you jealous about? I was just drunk last night. What’s with that passive-aggressive like with all that masculine/feminine energy talk? What’s that supposed to mean?” I shook my head wearily, my tone flat: “It meant nothing. My finger slipped.” Seeing my calm demeanor, Ivy paused momentarily before resuming her accusations about my pettiness. Zachary stood nearby, offering insincere explanations: “Assistant Shaw, please don’t misunderstand. I was merely taking care of Ms. Clarke when she was intoxicated. Nothing else happened.” I ignored him and printed out divorce papers, tossing them to Ivy with a reminder: “Just sign these. We’re getting divorced anyway, so I really don’t care what you two do.” Ivy glanced at the papers before throwing them in the trash with a scoff: “You claim you’re not jealous, still you’re pushing for divorce! You’re the same spineless self as always!” I looked at her coldly, my expression serious: “I’m not being dramatic. If you don’t agree to the divorce, I’ll file a lawsuit.” Ivy’s face darkened immediately. After studying me carefully and realizing I wasn’t joking, her tone grew even more hostile: “Fine, we can divorce, but you won’t get a penny!” I shook my head. How could that be possible? She was the one who cheated, and she expected me to walk away with nothing? She was dreaming! I stated my demands directly—I wanted half of our assets. The company was originally mine, so taking half the shares was perfectly reasonable. Ivy hurled her folder at my head, her attitude utterly arrogant: “Bottom line, you just want money! I won’t let you get away with this. The company is in my name—you can’t take it!” I touched my bleeding forehead, my resolve unwavering: “Then we’ll go to court!” Ivy laughed coldly, her words dripping with sarcasm: “Go ahead! The company has an entire legal team on my side. What do you have?” I smiled mockingly. She’d apparently forgotten that everyone in the company was loyal to me. Even that so-called legal team had been hired with my money.

“What are you smiling at?” Ivy asked with contempt. I reminded her, “Don’t forget, the company was originally mine. You’re just managing it for me.” Ivy was furious, clenching her fists! “Marcus, have you no shame? For three years, I’ve worked tirelessly to build this company!” “If you were managing the company, it would have gone bankrupt long ago!” I couldn’t be bothered arguing with her and simply said, “See you in court!” Then I started packing up the things on my desk. Just then, the office phone rang. Zachary rushed to answer it. After a brief exchange, his brow furrowed. He looked at me angrily and said, “Mr. Hayes is asking for you!” Mr. Hayes was the company’s biggest client and also my junior from school. Half of the company’s orders came from his company, mainly out of respect for me. I picked up the phone and told Mr. Hayes: “I won’t be handling this company’s affairs anymore. I’m planning to resign.” Mr. Hayes paused for a moment, then understood my meaning. “I see. My cooperation with your company should end as well.” The phone was on speaker, and Ivy heard everything clearly. She quickly grabbed the phone and explained to the client: “Mr. Hayes, please don’t do this! Assistant Shaw is being difficult and unprofessional. I’ll fire him!” The client became angry upon hearing this: “What? You want to fire Mr. Shaw?” Ivy was completely confused. “What do you mean, Mr. Shaw? Marcus may be my husband, but he’s just a minor assistant.” “There’s no need to show such respect to this useless person!” The client laughed in anger, no longer willing to be polite, and snapped: “Ivy, who do you think you are? Without Mr. Shaw, do you think I would work with you?” Ivy’s face turned red with anger, but she didn’t dare offend this major client. She could only apologize repeatedly, pleading with him not to terminate their business relationship. Mr. Hayes hung up without showing her any respect. Ivy panicked and kept calling him back. But he had already blocked her. She glared at me with a dark expression. “You useless thing! You’ve offended our biggest client!” “If you don’t get Mr. Hayes’s business back, I’ll fire you!” I had watched and endured her bossy attitude for three years. All because I owed her. Before our marriage, my mother fell seriously ill. She took meticulous care of my mother for a period of time. When my mother was near the end, she agreed to marry me, allowing my mother to die in peace, fulfilling her greatest wish. Because of this debt of gratitude, I transferred the company to her name. I even tolerated her bad temper and all her affairs. But my indulgence made her completely forget who she was. Now, it was time to get life back on track. Holding my packed belongings, I smiled at her sarcastically. “I’ve wanted to quit for a long time. Fire me if you want!” “Even if you don’t fire me, I’m resigning anyway.” With that, I walked out carrying the box. Behind me, Ivy’s shouts echoed. “Marcus, you’ve got some nerve! Walking out just like that?” “This is abandonment of duty! I can withhold all your wages!” I ignored her and quickly left. If I didn’t even want the company anymore, why would I care about those wages? Back at our marital home, I started packing my things. Before our wedding, I had already bought several villas that Ivy knew nothing about. I had planned to surprise her with them after she had our child. But for three years, she always said she was too busy with work and refused to have children. Now, I would be keeping this valuable gift to myself. Just as I finished packing, Ivy returned. Her arrogance from earlier had vanished as she tossed me a prenatal checkup report. “I’m pregnant. What do you think we should do?”

I held the medical report, my face filled with surprise. It bore the official seal of the City Hospital, and the signing doctor was a junior colleague from my medical school. I knew her character well—she wouldn’t falsify examination results. Looking at Ivy’s stomach again, though not very obvious, it was already slightly swollen. Ivy had indeed gained some weight recently. She usually cared so much about her figure; if not for pregnancy, she definitely wouldn’t have allowed herself to gain weight. My mind was full of questions, but I still couldn’t help reaching out to touch her belly. “When did this happen?” Before my mother passed away, she had hoped that Ivy and I would have children soon. I had promised her that we would have our own child as soon as possible. My father died in an accident when I was just a few years old. My mother raised me alone, overworking herself until she passed away before she could enjoy the fruits of her labor. Precisely because both my parents were gone, I especially wanted to have a child soon. Ivy had agreed readily when we got married, but after the wedding, she became a workaholic. Once, she accidentally got pregnant but secretly had an abortion. When I found out, I asked her why she did it without discussing it with me. She said she was still too young, not wanting to be tied down by children so early. She pleaded with me to wait three years, promising she would definitely give me a child then. Since then, I stopped pressuring her about having children. Now, exactly three years later, she had fulfilled her promise. I had planned to tell her about a villa I bought before our marriage, as a gift for her pregnancy. After she gave birth, I would give her two more properties—one for her parents and one for her and the child. As for her affair, for the sake of our child, I could forgive her. But Ivy’s attitude toward the baby was very strange, and her behavior toward me was even more peculiar. She dodged my hand, tightly protecting her stomach. “The baby is already three months along. I’ve been careless and didn’t notice until now.” “Three months?” My voice changed instantly. The idea of giving her the villa vanished from my mind. Three months ago was exactly when Zachary had just joined the company. They had been very close back then, often traveling together for business. She rarely came home and always made excuses to avoid intimacy. At first, I thought she was just too tired. I felt sorry for her and would take cold showers when I couldn’t bear it anymore. Later, I realized she had changed her heart. Her thoughts were all on her new love—how could she still care about her old one? So I endured for three months, hoping to see if things would change, waiting for her to come to her senses. I reminded her repeatedly to turn back before it was too late. But not only did she not listen, she grew to despise me even more. She often belittled me to please Zachary. Three years of marriage couldn’t compete with an assistant who had only been employed for three months. This relationship was far too fragile! “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to acknowledge this child?” “Besides you, I haven’t been with any other man!” Ivy looked flustered, desperately trying to prove the child was mine. Her reaction only confirmed my suspicions! We were husband and wife; her carrying my child should have been the most natural thing. Yet she asked such a question. No wonder she was nervous. During these three months, she had barely spent any nights at home. She was either on business trips or sleeping at the company. I recalled that the only time we were intimate was over two months ago, on the anniversary of my mother’s death, when I got drunk. She rarely came home, but that night she had stayed with me. When I woke up in the morning, we were lying in the same bed with our clothes somewhat disheveled. She complained that I had been too rough the night before and hurt her. But I had no memory of what happened, so I could only let her complain. In the end, I gave her a luxury watch as compensation. Thinking of this, I quickly said: “Of course I believe the child is mine. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you and the baby.” After saying this, I coaxed Ivy into the bedroom to rest. Then I went into the bathroom, closed the door, and called my junior colleague. “Could you help me with something? I need to check if there’s any issue with the baby in Ivy’s womb.”

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My wife’s best friend of forty Christmases died of cancer. At the memorial service, my wife suddenly announced that she was going to remarry her best friend’s husband. Tearfully, she confessed they had truly loved each other for many Christmases and wished to spend the rest of their lives together. Our children wailed, relatives pleaded, and I begged desperately, but she remained silent to it all. Watching them holding hands tightly in the pouring rain, I felt all my strength drain away. It seemed I had never truly won her heart, so what was the point of keeping her physically by my side now? I walked out the door and handed my wife the signed divorce agreement: “Fine, I agree to the divorce.” …… Yvonne Langley stared at me, her eyes filled with disbelief. Then, with trembling hands, she took the divorce papers, carefully shielding them with her clothes to protect them from the rain. As if they were her lifeline. My heart couldn’t help but ache with a sharp pain. This freedom to pursue true love—she had probably been yearning for it for forty Christmases. And the man whose fingers were intertwined with hers, though wrinkles had formed at the corners of his eyes, still carried himself with elegance. Jensen Chandler gently pulled Yvonne into his arms and sincerely said to me: “Joel Garrison, thank you for understanding. I’ll take good care of Yvonne from now on.” As their silhouettes disappeared into the rain-shrouded night, two cars hurriedly pulled up in front of the house. My son Xavier Garrison and daughter Shay Garrison quickly brought me inside. Seeing another copy of the divorce agreement on the table, they exchanged glances before asking me: “Dad, what’s going on? You actually agreed to divorce Mom?” I felt utterly exhausted. Rubbing my forehead and taking a deep breath to ease my pounding headache, I finally spoke: “You can’t force love. At our age, we don’t have many Christmases left. If your mother is determined to do this, we should respect her decision.” Yvonne and Rosalie Shaw had been close friends for forty Christmases. They met because of Jensen and me, but developed an exceptionally deep friendship over time. For all these Christmases, our two families were practically one. Rosalie fought cancer for ten Christmases before finally leaving this world. Who could have imagined that at her memorial service, Yvonne would do something that shocked everyone—she announced she was going to marry her best friend’s husband, Jensen. It was only then that I learned the truth. Apparently, she and Jensen had privately committed to each other over forty Christmases ago while volunteering in the western regions, but they were forced apart by the government’s return-to-city policy that relocated urban youth back from rural areas. Later, Yvonne and I had an arranged marriage through matchmaking. On our wedding day, she saw her first love Jensen among the guests I had invited. But by then, it was too late. In her hesitation, the years slipped away. Yvonne, concerned about the frail Rosalie, had suppressed her feelings all this time. Finally, after Rosalie’s passing, she declared her true feelings without reservation. The room fell silent. My daughter poured a glass of warm water and placed it in my hand. After a while, she softly asked: “Dad… after the divorce, how will you divide the family assets?” I felt a pang of shock, then realized the children had a right to know, as it would affect their future responsibilities toward both parents. So I answered honestly: “Your mother wanted to leave with nothing, but I stipulated in the agreement that we’d split everything equally.” Xavier sighed with relief and said: “That’s good. Dad, you know, the Chandler family doesn’t have much money left after all these Christmases paying for Aunt Rosalie’s medical bills.” Why did his tone sound like he was worried that his mother would have a difficult life after marrying Jensen? Shay glared at her brother. Realizing his mistake, Xavier quickly added: “I mean, Dad, you’ll be living alone now, so you should keep more money for yourself.” My eyes grew moist as I looked at my children, now grown and established, capable of standing on their own feet: “It’s alright. I still have you both.”

The next day, after Yvonne and I received our divorce certificate, we returned home. She packed her things in silence, preparing to move out. She moved quickly because there wasn’t much she wanted to take. She didn’t even take a single photo of our children. The Yvonne before me, though weathered by time and looking somewhat tired, now moved with the lightness of a young girl, her heart full of joy. My throat tightened as I broke the silence: “I heard… you’re going to Glasgow soon.” “The air there is dry. With your lung condition, you should take all the wild honey from the house.” Yvonne turned to look at me, hesitated for just a second, then refused: “No need. It’s not something I can’t live without.” “Since we’re separating, we should make a clean break. Let’s both move on with our lives.” I lowered my head with a bitter smile, my lips curled in self-mockery. Yvonne had a lung condition, an old ailment she developed while volunteering in the border regions. Many renowned doctors couldn’t cure it. During one of my field surveys, I’d discovered wild honey from a mountain farmer that could ease her discomfort. This honey was extremely precious, and the farmer wouldn’t sell it commercially. So every year, I would drive thousands of miles to convince the farmer to sell me a few bottles. All this time, I thought my efforts were sweet gestures of love, but to her, they meant nothing. Just like our forty-year marriage that I had always cherished was worthless in her eyes. Soon, Yvonne emerged with a small, light suitcase. She walked up to me, smiling as she said goodbye: “Thank you for everything, Joel.” “As for the other things in the house, do whatever you want with them. I don’t need anything else.” “Oh, and one last thing. You should have this back.” She placed a gold ring on the coffee table. It was the engagement ring I had given her, with a unique mortise and tenon structure I had crafted myself. Yet, apart from our wedding day, she never wore it again. When I asked why she didn’t wear it, she would casually dismiss the question, saying it was inconvenient. I thought she had lost it and was too embarrassed to tell me. Now I realized she probably saw the little ring as a shackle, restraining her. The golden gleam hurt my eyes. I stood up abruptly, struggling to breathe. It felt as if that tiny ring was choking me. The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Finally, I picked up her lightweight suitcase and walked toward the door: “Let me drive you to the airport. This will be the last time.” Yvonne was about to refuse when I opened the door and saw a car waiting outside. Xavier and Shay were already there. Our children told me to go home and rest; they would take their mother. The sound of the car engine was shut out by the closing door and soon faded away. I collapsed onto the sofa, watching as the sunlight on the floor gradually changed from white to yellow. The last rays of the setting sun illuminated an old vase in the corner of the living room. It was a wedding gift from Jensen and his then-girlfriend Rosalie forty years ago. Back then, it was an expensive and elegant present. I remember how Yvonne cried while holding the vase after unwrapping it the day after our wedding. At the time, I felt terrible, thinking I wasn’t capable enough to buy my wife something nice to maintain appearances. Now I understood her tears were for reuniting with an old flame, yet missing out on true love. No wonder Yvonne was never jealous of Rosalie’s wealthy background and deliberately grew close to her. After meeting at our wedding, they quickly became best friends—a friendship that lasted forty years. Even Xavier and Shay considered Rosalie and her husband as their godparents, maintaining an exceptionally close relationship. Those hazy memories filled every corner of this house. I spent several days in this depressed state, not saying a word. In my daze, I found my phone but couldn’t turn it on. With the broken phone in hand, I left the house for the first time in days. The familiar repair shop owner at the corner skillfully examined my phone while making small talk: “Teacher Garrison, what brings you here? Didn’t your whole family go to Glasgow together?” “The videos your wife posted on Facebook look amazing!”

I was lost in thought when my phone’s startup ringtone suddenly sounded. The repair shop owner handed my phone back, saying it was just a minor issue and wouldn’t charge me. I forgot even to say thank you as I hurried home. After plugging my phone in to charge, I immediately opened Yvonne’s Facebook and discovered she had posted numerous photos of Glasgow over the past few days. Clicking through them, I saw that every video featured her, Jensen, and our children Xavier and Shay. The four of them looked so harmonious together, just like a real family connected by blood. With trembling hands, I dialed Xavier’s number. I called a full ten times, but not once did he answer. I then tried calling my daughter Shay instead. After ringing for what felt like forever, she finally picked up, responding with an impatient “Hello.” I took a deep breath, struggling to stay calm, and asked: “Why are you all in Glasgow?” Shay’s voice instantly turned ice-cold: “Mom’s already divorced you, and my brother and I are grown up now. Where we go is absolutely none of your business.” “Mom suffered so much before, sacrificing everything for us. She deserves to enjoy life now, for once!” “You were always obsessed with work and never properly spent time with her. Now that she’s finally found her happiness, can’t you just shut up and be happy for her?” Her words were like knives stabbing straight into my heart. Hadn’t I worked tirelessly day and night for this family, for my two children? More than my wife’s departure, the coldness from the children I’d raised with such effort hurt me deeply. When Xavier was six, he was stung by a poisonous wasp while playing. I didn’t even have time to put on shoes before carrying him on my back for ten miles to the clinic. The blisters that wore into my feet took a full six months to heal. When Shay was ten and participating in a violin competition, her string broke the night before. I rode my bicycle around midnight, visiting every music store in the city, and finally had to knock on a craftsman’s door to get her violin fixed. Apparently, I was the only one who still remembered these things. My voice hoarse, I began to say: “I’m not…” Before I could finish, Jensen’s voice came through from the other end: “Joel, don’t be angry with the kids.” “Yvonne and I came to Glasgow because we wanted to visit places we’d been before, perhaps for the last time. The children are being filial, wanting to see where their mother once spent time.” “We’ve been Christmas brothers for so many years—you know, our special brotherhood. I know you’re magnanimous enough not to overthink this.” His voice remained as composed and gentle as ever, yet those light words somehow placed all the blame on me. I didn’t respond, almost losing control as I violently threw my phone. The call disconnected as the phone landed on the sofa. The already old screen immediately cracked. Yet this broken phone proved surprisingly “resilient.” Through the spider web of cracks, I caught sight of a comment on Yvonne’s Facebook post: “The two kids have called Jensen their ‘Christmas godfather’ for so long, he might as well be their real father now!” My vision blurred. I couldn’t help but think about Yvonne’s two pregnancies—both times she had initiated it and insisted we not use protection. I had thought it was a natural progression then, but now thinking back… A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. An editor from the publishing house stood outside, holding a document, and said: “Teacher Garrison, we’ve been unable to reach you by phone for days, so I took the liberty of visiting you in person.” “Regarding your upcoming book on ancient architecture, we need your signature to confirm adding Jensen as a co-author.” “Wait,” my voice came out dry and raspy, as if squeezed from my throat. “Adding Jensen as a co-author?” The editor paused momentarily, then quickly nodded and said: “Your wife has been handling all communication with us about the publication. She repeatedly assured us that you knew and agreed to this.” “But a couple of days ago, the editorial board issued a new requirement that we must obtain your personal signature before publication.” I shook uncontrollably, clutching those few thin pages of consent forms, feeling as if all the blood in my body had suddenly rushed to my head. But before I could speak, my vision suddenly went dark, and I passed out. Three days after being hospitalized, Yvonne and the two children finally showed up, taking their time as if in no hurry. When they saw I was awake, they showed no concern whatsoever. Yvonne immediately said: “Jensen contributed quite a few ideas to your book. Adding his name as a co-author is perfectly reasonable.” Looking at her self-righteous expression, my throat tightened as I replied: “Absolutely not.” That book was the culmination of nearly ten years of my work, climbing mountains and traversing valleys for research. Every word was infused with my heart and soul. As for Jensen, he had merely offered some suggestions on formatting. What right did he have to claim my authorship? Yvonne had clearly anticipated my objection. She gave a cold laugh and said: “If you don’t want to share, that’s fine. But I suggest you think about the children.” “If you refuse to give Jensen co-authorship, don’t blame the children for being unfilial, leaving you all alone and abandoned in your old age.” Hearing this, my heart completely sank to rock bottom. She was actually using the children to threaten me! I turned my gaze toward Xavier and Shay. Their expressions were somewhat uncomfortable, but they still sided with Yvonne: “Come on, Dad. You’ve published so many books already. What’s the big deal about adding Jensen’s name to this one? We’re all family!” “You always say you love Mom and us, but you can’t even do this small favor.” I laughed out of sheer anger, looking at them coldly, and said: “Don’t call me Dad. It makes me sick.” “I’ve raised someone else’s children for decades, and now I have to share my life’s work with him too? I’m not an idiot!” Yvonne’s face transformed instantly with shock as she said: “What nonsense are you talking about?” With trembling hands, I pulled out the paternity test results from the drawer and threw them heavily in front of her, saying: “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Yvonne!” Yvonne stared blankly at the document, her face turning deathly pale. Xavier and Shay’s eyes widened in shock, and they instinctively said: “Dad, how… how did you find out?” Their reaction made it clear they had known all along they weren’t my biological children. That explained their sudden coldness toward me. I smiled bitterly, my eyes filled with frost, and said: “They say the love of nurturing is greater than the love of birth, but blood is thicker than water after all. I never expected to raise two ungrateful children who bite the hand that fed them.” “…My entire life has been nothing but a joke!” Shay lowered her head, unable to meet my eyes. Xavier, however, looked at me with contempt and said arrogantly: “Dad, we’re still willing to call you ‘Dad.’ Why make such a fuss about it?” “Just agree to share the authorship, and out of consideration for all these years together, when you die, we’ll still be there to break pottery at your funeral as tradition demands!” “Xavier, you—!” My anger could no longer be contained. I struggled to stand up when suddenly a sharp pain shot through my chest. The next second, I felt a warm sensation in my throat, and blood spattered onto the pristine white bedsheets. As their panicked voices faded around me, my consciousness gradually blurred and dissipated. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself standing in a festively decorated wedding chamber, filled with red ornaments. The brilliant morning sunlight streamed through the windows, and the sound of firecrackers echoed from a distance. I pushed open the door to see my parents, still in their prime years, looking at me with tears of joy in their eyes. Yvonne stood among the crowd wearing red attire, but her face was unusually pale. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside—a scene I knew all too well: More than a dozen colleagues from work crowded into the newlywed’s room with gifts, congratulating me on my marriage. I stared intently at Yvonne, and sure enough, her gaze remained fixed on the tallest figure in the crowd. Jensen and Rosalie entered arm in arm, smiling as they presented an elegantly wrapped vase, saying: “Joel, congratulations on your marriage. May you and Mrs. Garrison have a hundred years of harmony and children soon!” Jensen’s hand, extended toward me for a handshake, felt warm to the touch. This wasn’t a dream—I had been reborn! Still dazed, I mechanically reached out to accept the gift. The next moment, Yvonne suddenly pushed through the crowd, rushed forward, and smashed the vase on the floor. Everyone gasped in shock, but only I saw the determination in her eyes. Yvonne—she had been reborn too. Then, with fingers white from tension, she forcefully pulled Jensen away from Rosalie and unhesitatingly took his hand. “I’m not going through with this wedding!” “I’m going to marry the man I truly love!”

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When I returned from my business trip, my girlfriend was taking a shower. As soon as I entered our home, I heard the rushing water and saw a woman’s silhouette against the frosted glass. Overwhelmed with excitement after our time apart, I couldn’t help myself—I burst into the bathroom, embraced her, and started kissing her passionately. She desperately tried to push me away, but my lips sealed hers, preventing her from speaking. Strangely, after just two weeks apart, her figure seemed different somehow… While I was still puzzled, she managed to break free from my embrace and screamed, “Look carefully, it’s me!” Through the thick steam, I finally realized that the person before me was actually my girlfriend’s sister, Serena Sheridan. …… My girlfriend Bianca Sheridan and her sister Serena are two completely different types of beauties. Bianca is a dance instructor with a slender, graceful figure, an innocent pretty face, and a vivacious personality. Her sister Serena, on the other hand, is a print model with a voluptuous, sensually attractive figure. I shouldn’t have mistaken them today. After being away for almost two weeks—as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder—I rushed home straight from the airport. I didn’t call my girlfriend beforehand because I wanted to surprise her. Upon entering, I only heard the running water from the bathroom and saw a woman’s silhouette against the frosted glass. Unable to contain myself, I rushed in, never expecting such an embarrassing mix-up. While I was lost in these thoughts, Serena emerged from the bathroom, instantly making the atmosphere awkward. “Serena, when did you arrive? Where’s Bianca?” After my earlier blunder, she was both embarrassed and angry, though she managed to control her temper. “Just got here. Bianca went out but she’ll be back soon.” Forcing myself to continue, I said, “Just now, I mistook you for Bianca. I’m really sorry. Could you possibly not mention this to Bianca…?” She was wearing Bianca’s bathrobe, which was clearly a size too small, clinging tightly to her body and accentuating her impressive figure. I found myself starting to stammer. She glanced at me, noticed I was still staring at her body, and stomped her foot in frustration before huffing and retreating to the guest room. My mind was racing. When Bianca returned, I had no idea what Serena might say. If she embellished the story, I’d never be able to explain myself, no matter how hard I tried. While I was still anxious, Bianca returned with several grocery bags. Surprised to see me, she put down the bags and asked, “You’re back? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home early? I haven’t prepared lunch for you. Where’s my sister?” “In… in the room,” I stammered, pointing toward the guest room. She examined me for a moment, then asked, “Why are you so wet?” I was at a loss for words, unsure how to explain, so I made up a lie: “I… just accidentally splashed myself while washing my face.” “How did you manage that? Go dry yourself and get ready for spaghetti.” My heart leaped into my throat. But she simply called out to the guest room, and Serena emerged without saying much. I felt slightly relieved, silently vowing to never be so impulsive again and to always make sure I knew who I was approaching. During our spaghetti lunch, the atmosphere was tense, with neither Serena nor I saying much. Bianca glanced at me, then at Serena, and asked, “Sis, why are your eyes red?” “It’s nothing!” Serena replied, keeping her head down, but her eyes were already rimmed with red. Soon after, glistening tears formed in the corners of her eyes and slowly rolled down her cheeks. My heart sank, nearly jumping out of my throat. Bianca put down her fork and said gently, “Sis, you can tell me anything.” At that moment, Serena collapsed onto the table, sobbing audibly, her shoulders trembling slightly. “Sis, what happened? Please tell me,” Bianca urged anxiously. “I was mistreated by a disgusting man!”

“Clack!” My fork dropped to the floor with a loud clang. My face instantly turned pale as I silently panicked: “I’m in deep trouble now. How am I going to explain this to Bianca? I’ll have to insist I mistook someone else for her.” I spoke softly, “Bianca, actually I…” “Don’t interrupt!” Bianca glared at me, then turned back to Serena. “Sis, go on.” Serena lifted her head, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. “He really does have other women on the side, more than one.” “Huh?” I froze. Bianca gritted her teeth angrily. “I knew he was no good. I told you so many times, but you never listened to me.” Confused, I couldn’t help but let out a puzzled “What?” Serena cried even harder, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Bianca, I regret not listening to you sooner. He seemed so well-mannered and knew how to make me happy. I never thought he’d turn out to be such a jerk.” So she wasn’t talking about me. I patted my chest in relief as my heart, which had nearly jumped out of my throat, finally settled back down. Serena’s boyfriend was a rich kid, but Bianca always thought he was too frivolous and definitely a player. She had tried to convince Serena to break up with him several times, but Serena refused, causing quite a rift between the sisters. Serena continued listing all the terrible things that jerk had done, making Bianca grit her teeth in anger while repeatedly tapping my thigh. By this point, I was feeling hungry and had lost interest in their conversation, focusing instead on devouring my food. “Sis, this afternoon Carter can drive us to his place to get all your things. You can stay with us for now. What do you think, Carter?” “Sure,” I mumbled with my mouth full of food, forcing a smile and nodding. Having one more person in the house wasn’t a problem, but if she moved in, what would happen to the private world Bianca and I shared? “Maybe in a couple of days,” Serena said, her face flushing as she glanced at me. “I slipped in the shower earlier and twisted my back. It’s a bit painful, so I should rest for a few days before moving.” “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, just need some rest.” “Why don’t…” Bianca looked at me, “Carter give you a massage? He could fix it quickly.” As a therapist at the Practitioner Institute, treating sprains and injuries was my specialty. Serena glanced at me, her face turning even redder as she shook her head. “I’ll try some medicated oil first. If it doesn’t get better, I’ll ask Carter.” After lunch, I wanted to take a nap, but every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the steam-filled bathroom. The memory of how she felt and that subtle fragrance lingered in my mind—it was truly something else. I had to admit, Serena had an incredible figure. She wasn’t necessarily more beautiful than the pure and lovely Bianca, just a completely different type. In daily life, she was introverted and quiet, appearing to be a shy, reserved girl. But once in the spotlight—talk about a transformation! She’d instantly become this sensual, passionate creature. The bookworm turns bombshell—that kind of dramatic contrast is impossible to ignore. As these thoughts continued, I felt my body heating up. “What are you grinning about?” Bianca frowned at me. “You’re acting strange today! Are you hiding something from me?” My expression instantly stiffened. “No! I wasn’t grinning. What could I possibly be hiding from you?” “Then why is your face so red?” “Well… the spaghetti at lunch was a bit spicy.” “Spicy enough to make you sweat like that?” “Yeah, exactly!” “And why are you stammering? You’re definitely hiding something.” She looked me up and down, making me increasingly nervous. I quickly made up an excuse: “My colleagues invited me out for drinks tonight. Since I just got back, I should socialize a bit.” “Don’t come home too late.” “I won’t. I’ll be back early. We haven’t been intimate for a while, you know,” I chuckled. She paused, giving me a reproachful look. “Hmph, I knew that was what you had in mind. Tonight I’ll have to make sure this insatiable beast gets his fill!”

I was at a business dinner until after seven when I got a call from my girlfriend urging me to come home early. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I eagerly left the dinner ahead of schedule and stopped by the supermarket to buy a bottle of red wine, thinking I’d set the mood tonight and then… hehe, you know what I mean! I was humming a tune as I arrived home, only to find Bianca wearing her coat and carrying her bag, clearly about to head out. “You’re going somewhere?” Hearing the disappointment in my voice, she smiled softly and reached out to touch my face. “I’m helping my sister with something. I’ll just be out for a bit. Be good and wait for me here.” “Oh, and sis mentioned her back is still hurting. Since you’re home early tonight, could you give her a therapy session? I told her you’d definitely make it better.” Watching her leave, I felt a bit deflated but couldn’t really complain. After all, if I hadn’t barged into the bathroom this morning, Serena wouldn’t have strained her back. The guest room was dimly lit when I pushed my equipment cart inside. I could smell the faint aroma of incense coming from a burner in the corner. Serena was lying face down on the bed, her curvaceous figure immediately making my heart race. She looked incredibly alluring. I couldn’t understand how her boyfriend could cheat when he had someone so sexy and beautiful. “Serena, try to relax. Let me examine you to see exactly where the strain is.” She shyly replied, “I… you… please be gentle…” I smiled at her reassuringly. “Don’t be nervous. I’m a professional therapist. I won’t hurt you.” Her strain wasn’t actually serious. As I massaged several corresponding acupressure points, her body gradually relaxed from its tense state. “How does it feel? Still painful?” “Much better. It feels really good.” We were speaking in normal tones, but somehow when she said “feels really good,” her voice quivered slightly, taking on a seductive quality that was different from her usual manner. “Bianca says you often give her massages and that you’re really skilled.” I chuckled to myself. Those were intimate games between lovers. I actually had ulterior motives, often starting with therapy that eventually turned into pleasurable moments that strengthened my relationship with Bianca. I increased the pressure slightly, and Serena’s face flushed bright red, like a ripe apple. “Right there. It hurts. Rub it more. Gently… no, harder.” As a therapist, I should have been clear about my role. But somehow, watching her squirming on the bed, making the bed frame creak and groan, I remembered the bathroom mishap from earlier today and my mind began to wander. Even stranger, my usually steady hands were now trembling slightly, as if burning with an uncontrollable fire. She seemed to notice this too, and the atmosphere suddenly became charged. I tried to calm myself down, repeating in my mind: I’m a therapist, she’s a patient. I continued the massage with my eyes closed, trying not to look at her body. “Right there. It hurts. A little lower.” Why was her voice so enticing? She was usually quiet and reserved, never speaking like this. What had gotten into her today? My mouth felt dry, and every part of me from my hands to each pore felt electrified. My heartbeat accelerated. She twisted slightly, biting her lip hard to suppress any sounds, but her body was getting hotter. Yet my hands seemed to deliberately work against her, moving away from each spot just as she was starting to feel relief. “What… what are you touching? You’re… you’re so bad…” she whispered weakly. Hearing that, I quickly opened my eyes. Good heavens, my hands had betrayed me—where had they wandered to? A tingling sensation spread throughout my body, and the tightly wound string in my mind snapped. I could no longer control myself and pressed my body against hers. She turned her head in alarm, and our eyes met. I held her tightly, but instead of struggling, she closed her eyes, her pretty face flushed with an irresistible blush, her posture utterly seductive. It was over. My rational defenses had been completely overwhelmed by an enormous force.

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On Singles’ Day, my wife listed me for sale on her online store: “Worthless Husband Clearance Sale: $998 for a dinner date, $9,998 for overnight, $99,998 for a month. No returns or exchanges.” When I asked her what was going on, she was busy drinking with her first love and snapped at me impatiently: “It’s just a joke! What are you so worked up about? Do you really think anyone would buy you?” “As if! Such a useless man—whoever buys you would be getting ripped off. I’d actually love it if someone bought you so I could cash in!” But then a wealthy woman actually placed an order, offering five million dollars to buy me for life. My wife panicked, willing to pay an exorbitant penalty fee, crying and refusing to let me go. … I froze when I accidentally came across Molly Hayes’ online store. She had listed me for sale with clearly marked prices. “Worthless Husband Clearance Sale: $998 for a dinner date, $9,998 for overnight, $99,998 for a month. No returns or exchanges.” The product page featured all my most unflattering photos. The description read: “Ugly, lazy, incompetent, can’t make money. He begged me on his knees before I agreed to be with him. This must be karma punishing me for something terrible I did in a past life. If any kind-hearted blind person could save me from this misery, I’d appreciate it~” My heart sank. After eight years of marriage, I never imagined this was how she saw me! Just then, my phone received a location pin from Molly, with her usual commanding tone: “Come pick me up. Be here within 30 minutes or you’re sleeping in the doghouse tonight.” She’d always treated me this way, without an ounce of respect. At this point, I wasn’t even angry anymore—just utterly exhausted. While driving, I noticed people were actually placing orders on that product link. Worried about misunderstandings, I hurriedly sped toward the bar. Molly was having a great time with her friends. Just as I was about to speak, I heard her excitedly shout: “You lost! Pay up! Click the link! Make that loser take you out for spaghetti, hahaha!” Her friend reluctantly pulled out her phone, and moments later, another order appeared on the link. In that moment, my heart felt like it had plunged into an icy abyss. My wife thought so little of me that she was treating me like a plaything to be passed around among her friends! Another round of their game began, and Molly lost. She pouted in disgust and said: “I’m already sick of looking at him every day, and now I have to spend money to eat spaghetti with him?!” That’s when Sean Murphy, sitting beside her, put his arm around her shoulders and declared: “Don’t place an order if you don’t want to. You’re my woman, not Nathan Shaw’s. I’ll cover your loss—drinks are on me tonight, everyone!” Molly looked at him adoringly and planted a kiss on him. Amid her friends’ cheers, I quietly approached them. All eyes turned to me—the legitimate husband. They knew I had seen and heard everything. Yet not one of them felt awkward or embarrassed. Instead, they laughed carelessly: “Well, well, if it isn’t Molly’s pathetic pushover of a husband showing up right on cue! Better go home with him before he gets down on his knees begging again!” In everyone’s mind, Molly had always loved Sean since childhood. I had fallen for her at first sight and pursued her relentlessly. I even supposedly begged her on my knees to be with me. That’s why she gave up Sean and married me instead. Molly never respected me, and everyone looked down on me as a pathetic fool. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore their contemptuous looks, and said in a hoarse voice: “Take down the listing. Stop misleading people. This isn’t funny at all.” Molly remained silent, not even bothering to look at me. Sean licked his lips and said smugly: “What’s the rush? Molly can post whatever she wants. Or are you actually worried someone might buy you?” As soon as he finished speaking, everyone burst into laughter. Molly laughed the hardest, clutching her stomach, barely able to straighten up. Suddenly, she grabbed her phone and started typing furiously. Moments later, my phone began vibrating non-stop. In a flash, Molly had blasted the product link across multiple group chats and even posted it on Facebook! Her caption read: “Just playing a joke on my husband, and he’s actually worried someone might buy him! This man is so stupid, hahaha! Take a look, everyone—would any of you buy him?” Some friends urged her to take it down. But more people joined in mocking me. “Too ordinary yet so confident. Dreaming too big. Next!” “With that face, you think you’re worth money? Better eat something nutritious first!” Even Molly’s father chimed in: “He’s not worth a damn! Instead of worrying about this nonsense, he should be out making more money to give my daughter a better life!” Sean read these comments aloud while Molly and her friends laughed hysterically. Perhaps in their eyes, I was no different from a monkey in a zoo—just a joke. I watched disappointedly as tears of laughter streamed down Molly’s face, feeling completely numb inside. I once loved her with all my heart, enduring whatever treatment she gave me. But at this moment, I couldn’t help remembering what my parents had said: “Molly doesn’t love you that much. If you’re not happy, just get a divorce!” While lost in thought, Molly’s phone suddenly pinged. Someone had placed an order—500 units at once. Nearly five million dollars to buy me for forty years!

Everyone’s smiles suddenly froze as they began whispering among themselves: “Someone actually bought him? Could they be trafficking him overseas, or involved in illegal organ harvesting?” Molly’s expression grew panicked. Perhaps I was mistaken, but in her eyes, there seemed to be a hint of concern and reluctance. Her voice trembled as she said, “Don’t scare yourselves! I’ll just explain to the buyer and arrange a refund right away.” Sean stopped her. “Why refund? It’s five million dollars! Baby, have you forgotten our dream? With this money, we could buy a nice car and travel the world together!” At the mention of their past, Molly’s expression filled with nostalgia and yearning. But remembering her friends’ speculations, she still hesitated. Sean then put on a sorrowful face and said, “Someone once knelt down and forced you to reject me. You’ve already abandoned me once. Are you going to disappoint me a second time?” Molly seemed struck by some secret memory, her eyes flooding with guilt as she looked at Sean. I was shocked by Sean’s shamelessness and fixed him with an icy stare. “You know perfectly well in your heart who really disappointed whom, don’t you?” A flash of guilt crossed Sean’s face before he gave Molly a wounded look. Molly immediately shielded him protectively behind her, her eyes nothing but cold indifference when she turned to me. She shouted furiously, “You constantly claim to love me, so what’s wrong with sacrificing something for me? You’re so utterly useless—you should feel honored to finally have a chance to earn money for me! Besides, if it weren’t for you, I would have been with Sean long ago. I wouldn’t feel this regret now! This is what you owe us! You need to pay up!” With that, she transferred the money directly to Sean. I stared at Molly, utterly incredulous, my voice hollow with desperation: “Even if I’m trafficked overseas and have my organs harvested, you truly don’t care?” Her eyes flickered momentarily, but she remained firm beside Sean, silently nodding. This scene was like a razor-sharp sword piercing straight through my heart, then twisting violently inside, shredding my soul until I could barely breathe through the agony. When the pain reached its unbearable peak, a strange clarity washed over me. I didn’t want to explain anything anymore and just said with a bitter smile, “Since you both harbor such regret, let’s get divorced. I’ll set you free.” Her response was a stinging slap across my face. Despite her being the one who didn’t love me, her eyes were rimmed with red. The people around us burst into mocking laughter: “Stop the act! Everyone knows you love Molly more than your own life. As if you’d actually divorce her! You’re just pretending to want a divorce for attention!” Seeing their reaction, Molly finally relaxed. She looked at me with utter disgust, pointing at my face as she scolded, “How did I never notice how pathetic you are, trying to manipulate me by playing hard to get? If you pull this stunt again, I really will leave you!” There wouldn’t be a next time. Because this time, it wasn’t her leaving me—I was leaving her. I got divorce papers from a lawyer and packed my luggage. Molly finally panicked. She snatched back my suitcase with tears streaming down her face, desperately apologizing. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I just realized that you’re the one I truly love. I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t live without you. I’ll contact the buyer for a refund immediately. Please, I’m begging you, don’t divorce me, okay?” My heart, wounded countless times, betrayed me again, softening at the sight of her tears. I wanted to push her away firmly and walk out with dignity. But after loving her for ten Christmases—ten years of holidays spent together, building memories—I simply couldn’t let go. Molly and I reconciled, and her attitude toward me improved significantly. We increasingly resembled a normal, loving couple. One day, she asked me to pick something up for her at a certain café. After waiting for quite some time, a pair of high heels finally stopped in front of me. A gentle, pleasant female voice spoke above me: “Are you Nathan? Hello, I’m the person who bought you.”

In that moment, despair flooded over me completely, drowning me in its depths. When pain reached its peak, I found myself laughing—laughing at what a complete fool I’d been! To actually believe Molly would fall in love with me! I raised my head, intending to explain to the buyer. But the moment I saw her face clearly, I froze. She brushed back her slightly curled hair, her almond-shaped eyes curving into a smile as she sat across from me in her modest heels. That familiar feeling rushed back all at once. It was Vivian Coleman! She was my college classmate and also my colleague when I worked at Cornwall. Unfortunately, I later gave up my promising career for Molly and moved to this small city. Years had passed—Vivian must be doing quite well for herself now. She nodded with a bright smile and said, “I’m still at the same company, now as Vice President.” “What a shame. If you had stayed with me back then, with your talent, you would certainly be…” I quickly changed the subject: “Let’s not dwell on the past.” “Anyway, that online store listing was just my wife’s joke. You actually placed an order? Do you have too much money to spend? I’ll go back and have her refund you right away!” Vivian shook her head, saying very seriously: “No refund. From today on, your next forty years belong to me.” “I want you back at the company to help me. I believe the value you’ll create will far exceed five million.” At this point, she suddenly smiled mischievously and started counting on her fingers. “Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. I used all kinds of coupons, so it was quite a bargain. “Besides, I only bought you for forty years, with the contract ending when you’re 67. “By then you’ll be close to retirement. If your wife still wants you back, I can return you to her!” Looking at her serious expression, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Vivian had even brought a labor contract with her. The position was Project Manager with a very tempting salary. She told me to think it over carefully. Not long after she left, a new comment appeared on the online store listing. “Excellent person, worth every penny.” This comment stood out starkly among all the others belittling me. I suddenly felt my eyes stinging, and realized: since I gave up everything to come to this small city, no one had ever praised me. When I got home, just as I stepped out of the elevator, I saw my luggage carelessly thrown in the hallway. Molly’s unrestrained laughter came from inside. “That idiot—I just cried a little, and he completely fell for it. “You should have seen how touched he was! “He didn’t even think about it—how could I possibly love a useless man like him? “I’ve already arranged with the buyer. That fool will follow her to Cornwall, and Sean can move in.” I took a deep breath. The pain of slow torture probably feels something like this. I took out my key to open the door, only to discover Sean and Molly’s parents were all there. They looked more like a family, sitting closely together, all looking at me with contempt and mockery. Sean even exaggerated his expression, saying: “Well, look who’s back—the guy bought by a rich woman. How well did you serve her? Did you sleep with her yet?” At the words “sleep with,” Molly frowned, her expression suddenly darkening. Molly’s mother glanced at me with disgust and said: “The buyer must be blind. Are you blind too? Can’t you see we have guests? Hurry up and boil water, make coffee!” Seeing me standing motionless, Molly’s father grew more impatient, pointing at the various gifts nearby: “Look at Sean, bringing ginseng and fine wine when he visits! He even promised to take me to France for treatment! “And look at you—you can’t even make money during Christmas, never brought anything good when visiting, and you couldn’t even find someone to help with my illness!” “If you hadn’t desperately begged on your knees for my daughter to be with you back then, she would have married Sean long ago, and my illness might have been cured by now!” I looked at them silently, feeling an intense coldness in my heart. Eight years ago, Molly’s father suddenly fell ill. I gave up my promising career in Cornwall and took an ordinary job in this small city. I accompanied him to doctor appointments while taking care of the entire Hayes family. His condition meant he couldn’t touch alcohol or eat overly nourishing food, so I carefully planned his diet. I never expected that in the end, this would be twisted into me being incompetent! But what about their precious son-in-law Sean? What did he do back then? I laughed coldly and said: “You think I came between Molly and Sean? When you got sick, Sean quickly distanced himself from Molly to pursue a wealthy heiress. He even threatened to have Molly beaten to death if she kept pursuing him!” I only pursued Molly to spare her from heartbreak. At that time, her attitude toward me gradually changed, becoming increasingly intimate. She said she wanted to see how much I loved her and asked me to kneel before her. I gritted my teeth and did it. Later we dated and married. She always thought she was the one who gave up Sean, never knowing she was actually the one who got dumped. After hearing what I said, Sean’s face was filled with guilt. Molly, however, scoffed contemptuously: “You think you can drive a wedge between Sean and me that easily? Don’t think I’m that stupid! “I know exactly what kind of person he is, and I know what kind of person you are too! “You claim he abandoned me? Where’s your proof? Without evidence, get out of our house right now!” Sean finally found his courage and said smugly: “Exactly! What evidence do you have to falsely accuse me? “My love for Molly is as true as heaven and earth! This is our home, and you’re not welcome here!” Everyone stared at me with hostile eyes. I didn’t argue further, just silently dragged my luggage and left. Seeing this, Sean became even more smug. Even as I reached the ground floor, he was still leaning out the window, calling me a cheap liar and all sorts of names. But who said I had no evidence? Back then, Sean was afraid Molly would cling to him, and to prove his loyalty to his new girlfriend, he wrote a breakup letter with particularly hurtful words. I managed to intercept the letter before Molly could see it. That letter had been stuffed in the storage room, collecting dust for years. Now, I dusted it off and mailed it to Molly along with the divorce agreement. She loved Sean so much, surely she would recognize his handwriting immediately, wouldn’t she? Dawn was breaking. Just as the mail would be arriving in Molly’s hands, Vivian and I met at the airport, preparing to go to Cornwall. Suddenly, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID displaying “Beloved Wife” and smiled sarcastically before hanging up and changing the contact name to simply “Molly.” But she kept calling back, so I had to answer. The moment I connected, Molly’s trembling, rage-filled voice came through: “Nathan, what do you mean by this?!” In the past, Molly held a rope that controlled my emotions—my happiness, anger, sorrow, and joy were all tied to her every move. I had worked so hard, endured so much pain, to finally take back control of that rope. Now, I could face her calmly. I replied evenly: “Isn’t it obvious from what you’ve seen? “My intention is clear—you wanted evidence, so I gave you evidence. “And I want a divorce.” Molly let out a cold laugh. “Keep dreaming! I’ll never agree to a divorce. Even if I sold you, you’re still mine! “And you think forging a letter will drive a wedge between Sean and me? Even if I don’t like him, I would never like a loser like you!” Hearing such hurtful words, I just smiled. Molly didn’t realize that her voice was shaking as she spoke, completely lacking conviction. I didn’t bother arguing with her and sighed: “Deep down, you know that letter was written by Sean. You’re just in denial. “Molly, you don’t need to answer me. Just search your conscience and think about it. “You’ve always said I broke you and Sean up, but when I confessed to you back then, you were free to choose. “And you chose to be with me. Doesn’t that mean…” Doesn’t that mean that back then, she had already fallen for me? Only her habit of clinging to the past made her think she still loved Sean, causing her to increasingly resent me and even blame me. As soon as I finished speaking, there was a noticeable catch in her breath on the other end. It seemed Molly already had her answer. I was about to hang up when she suddenly said in a trembling voice: “Is that buyer next to you? “Put her on the phone. I want to talk to her.” I instinctively glanced at Vivian. Not sure about Molly’s current mental state and whether she might say something extreme, I was planning to ignore her request. But just as I was about to end the call, Vivian suddenly took the phone from my hand. She smiled slightly and said into the receiver: “Hello, I’m Nathan’s buyer. What can I do for you?”

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At the family recognition banquet, the fake young master jumped from upstairs. From then on, my sister harbored resentment toward me for a full decade, and my fiancée Sophie Sheridan went even further, treating me as her mortal enemy. She pretended to marry me, but on our wedding night, she had people break my limbs and locked me in the basement. For ten long years, I lived like a dog begging for mercy, struggling desperately to survive, unable to die. Finally, when I found a chance to escape and return to the Clarke family for help, my parents refused to open the door. “The Clarke family has only one son, and that’s Quentin Clarke.” When my fiancée came looking for me, my sister dragged me before her like a dead dog. Everyone regretted recognizing me as part of the Clarke family, and I felt the same way. In the end, I jumped from the rooftop, only to find myself back a decade earlier. This time, I decided to return the title of Clarke family heir to Quentin, to satisfy them all. … “Tell Quentin to stop being childish. Even if Gavin Clarke has returned to the Clarke family, he’ll still be the second young master of the Clarke family.” That cold voice rang out again, cutting through my ears like a blade. I snapped back to reality, staring intently at myself in the mirror. A younger face, a burgundy suit, and features not yet ravaged by time. I really had returned to a decade ago. Back to the recognition banquet that altered my fate forever. In my previous life, Quentin threatened suicide at this banquet, forcing the Clarke family to choose between us. Everyone thought he was merely throwing a tantrum, even Vanessa Clarke was coldly dismissive toward him. Only after he actually died did they feel bitter remorse. And I, I became the target of their guilt, cast out of the Clarke family with nowhere to turn. When I was living on the streets, Sophie, who had returned from studying abroad, took me in. She said that even though the recognition ceremony hadn’t been completed, she still acknowledged me as her fiancé, and we should get married. Deeply moved by her seeming devotion, I accepted her proposal. Little did I know that she tricked me into marriage solely to torture me, to avenge Quentin. On our wedding night, when I was full of anticipation, she broke my limbs and locked me in the basement, forcing me to live like a dog begging for mercy. Ten years. For a full decade, I struggled desperately to survive in that dark basement, unable to find release in death. Whenever I felt close to liberation, she would send people to heal me, only to continue the torture afterward. Until one time, I managed to escape and returned to the Clarke family for help. I believed they would save me because of our blood ties, but instead, they heartlessly shut me out. Yet they were the ones who posted missing person notices everywhere, insisting on recognizing me as their son. What crime had I committed? I gazed at my reflection with icy contempt, making a solemn vow in my heart. This time around, I would never acknowledge this family or these people—not ever! I forcefully suppressed the raging fury within me and smiled at Vanessa, “Vanessa, please cancel the recognition banquet and go comfort Quentin first.” Vanessa frowned, clearly surprised by my suggestion. “Gavin, the guests have all arrived. If we cancel now, what will people think of you? Of our Clarke family’s reputation?” I took a deep breath, keeping my tone deliberately gentle: “Compared to a human life, what does reputation matter? Besides, as long as you recognize me, I don’t care what others think of me.” Vanessa seemed touched by my “understanding,” a flash of appreciation crossing her eyes. She nodded and said, “Alright, I’ll check on Quentin first. You accompany Mom and Dad to appease the guests.” I smiled slightly, watching her leave, while inwardly sneering with contempt. After Vanessa left, I accompanied my parents in the banquet hall, apologizing to the guests. Though everyone looked at me with strange, scrutinizing gazes, I maintained a polite smile throughout. Just as the guests were preparing to leave, the doors to the banquet hall suddenly burst open. Quentin, wearing the same burgundy suit as mine, slowly walked in. The moment he appeared, all eyes turned to him. Guests whispered among themselves, their gazes shifting between him and me. Quentin lifted his chin, his eyes filled with challenge: “Everyone, today’s banquet will continue, but it’s not a recognition banquet—it’s my birthday celebration.” I fixed him with an icy stare, my heart as calm as still water. In my previous life, I might have felt angry or wronged, but now, I no longer cared about any of this—not in the slightest. Vanessa approached at that moment, her tone brooking no refusal. “Gavin, let Quentin have his birthday celebration first. We’ll hold your recognition banquet afterward.”

Mom and Dad didn’t look pleased. Clearly, they were unhappy with Vanessa’s last-minute change of plans. Just as Mom was about to intervene, Quentin stepped forward, his voice dripping with feigned hurt. “Mom, it’s my birthday today. Don’t you want to celebrate with me? Gavin won’t mind, right?” As he spoke, he shot me a challenging look, a smug smile playing at the corners of his lips. Dad frowned, seemingly wanting to say something, but Quentin wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Dad, please say yes, won’t you?” Dad sighed and ultimately remained silent. Mom shook her head resignedly, gently patting Quentin’s hand. “Alright, alright, whatever you want.” Watching this scene unfold, I laughed bitterly to myself. Of course, Quentin would always be their precious darling, while I was nothing more than an insignificant outsider. The guests in the banquet hall awkwardly returned to their seats, their gazes darting between Quentin and me. Sophie’s parents sat at the main table, their expressions dark with disapproval, clearly dissatisfied with my standing in the Clarke family. Mrs. Sheridan whispered to Mr. Sheridan, “What use is marrying a man like him? He can’t even control a simple banquet. How embarrassing.” I stood among the guests with a faint smile, letting their pointing and whispering wash over me. I’d already decided to leave, so their opinions and gossip meant nothing to me anymore. After the banquet, I voluntarily escorted Sophie’s parents to their car. Mrs. Sheridan gave me a cold glance, making no effort to hide her disdain. I smiled slightly and said calmly, “Auntie, I think we should cancel my engagement to Sophie. Why not let her be with Quentin instead? What do you think?” Mrs. Sheridan froze for a moment before her eyes lit up with delight. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Of course. Quentin and Sophie are perfect for each other.” Mr. Sheridan’s face broke into a satisfied smile. “Gavin, it’s very considerate of you to think this way. The Sheridan family will remember your kindness.” I smiled faintly without saying more. As I watched their car drive away and turned to head home, a black Maybach blocked my path. The door opened, and Sophie stepped out, marching toward me with a dark expression. She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, nearly crushing my bones. “Gavin, what are you plotting now?” I frowned, trying to break free from her grip, but she held on tightly. Looking up at her, I said with a hint of mockery, “Sophie, what do you mean? I’m just trying to help you and Quentin be together. Aren’t you happy about that?” Sophie paused, seemingly caught off guard by my response. A complex emotion flashed in her eyes as her voice softened. “Why would you…” Before she could finish, a voice calling “Sophie” interrupted her. Quentin had appeared out of nowhere. Seeing Sophie holding my hand, his eyes immediately reddened. “Sophie… how could you do this to me?” With that, he turned to leave. Sophie instantly released my hand and chased after him without a second thought, not even sparing me another glance. Standing alone, I rubbed my reddened wrist and smirked coldly. Whether in my past life or this one, Sophie only had eyes for Quentin. That night, I began packing my bags. Since there was no place for me in the Clarke family anymore, why should I stay? Halfway through packing, my door suddenly burst open. Vanessa rushed in, her face ashen. “Gavin, Quentin’s condition has relapsed. He’s collapsed!” I looked up at her coldly. “And? What does that have to do with me?” “If you hadn’t been messing around with Sophie, Quentin wouldn’t have gotten so upset and fallen ill!” Vanessa’s voice trembled with suppressed rage. “The doctor says Quentin’s liver is failing. He needs an immediate transplant. And you’re the only compatible donor.” I paused, then let out a cold laugh. “So, you want me to donate part of my liver to him?” Vanessa didn’t answer, but her eyes said it all. I stood up, looking directly into her eyes. “Vanessa, what makes you think I would agree to this?” Her expression darkened further as she stepped forward, her words laced with threat. “Don’t make me force you, Gavin. Quentin is our brother. You can’t just let him die!” I stepped back, my heart turning to ice. Mom and Dad arrived at that moment. I turned to them, trembling. “Dad, Mom, is this what you want too?” Mom lowered her head, avoiding my gaze. “Gavin, we love both of you equally. Quentin is our child too. Please save him. The doctor said most donors can regenerate their liver after partial removal. You’ll be fine.” I laughed bitterly, my eyes filled with despair. “What if I’m in that small minority? What if I die? Would you even care?” Dad remained silent for a moment before sighing. “Gavin, stop being difficult. This is for Quentin, and for the Clarke family.” My heart shattered completely. I closed my eyes. Even in this second life, hearing such words from my birth parents still cut deep. Vanessa didn’t give me a chance to resist. She pulled out a syringe and unhesitatingly plunged it into my arm. A cold liquid flowed into my veins as my consciousness began to fade.

When I woke up again, I was lying in a pristine hospital room, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant. The harsh masculine energy of sunlight pierced through the curtains, making my eyes sting painfully. I turned my head slightly and saw Sophie sitting by my bed, her head propped up, eyes closed as if pretending to sleep. Her delicate features remained strikingly beautiful, but I felt nothing but nausea. Seemingly sensing my movement, she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze falling on my face. “Gavin, you’re awake.” I didn’t speak, just stared at her coldly. She continued talking as if to herself: “You saved Quentin, so I’ll honor our engagement and marry you officially, letting you be my husband in name. But before that, I want to give Quentin a grand wedding, so everyone knows he’s the one I truly love.” I let out a cold laugh, my voice hoarse and mocking: “Don’t bother. Just marry Quentin directly.” Sophie frowned, grabbing my hand with a hint of urgency in her voice: “Gavin, don’t be stubborn. I know you both love and fear me, but since Quentin is fine now, I’ll treat you well too.” A shock ran through my entire body as I violently yanked my hand away from hers. So she had been reborn too. My emotions completely exploded: “Sophie, don’t flatter yourself! I feel nothing but hatred for you, not love!” Sophie’s face instantly turned deathly pale, she opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but was interrupted by a sudden shout from outside. Vanessa burst in, her face excited: “Sophie, Quentin is awake!” Sophie immediately stood up and rushed out without a moment’s hesitation. She moved so hastily that she ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand, causing blood to gush out immediately. Vanessa glanced at me, her tone cold and dismissive: “Gavin, stop being difficult. Quentin just woke up and needs care.” With that, she followed Sophie out of the room. The door slammed shut heavily, but it couldn’t block out the sounds of joy and laughter from outside. I lay alone in bed, my heart filled with nothing but endless grief. Perhaps out of guilt, they arranged the most expensive VIP room for me. Within seven days, I was discharged. Meanwhile, Quentin and Sophie’s wedding was already being planned. They decided to hold a grand beach wedding at the Clarke family’s seaside villa. On the wedding day, the beach was bustling with activity. Guests in elegant attire moved about, smiling and congratulating the couple. I stood on a distant rock, turned, and jumped into the churning sea. Quentin, dressed in a white suit, walked in holding Sophie’s hand. He looked around deliberately and asked, “Where’s Brother Gavin? Why isn’t he here yet? He’s not still upset with me, is he?” My parents joined in the criticism: “That boy Gavin is so inconsiderate. Today is Quentin’s big day, how can he be so selfish?” Vanessa frowned impatiently: “I’ll go find him.” Just then, someone suddenly shouted: “Something’s wrong! Someone jumped into the sea!” Sophie and Vanessa both paled instantly and rushed toward the shore. On the rocks by the sea lay a black diamond brooch, starkly visible against the white stone. Sophie picked up the brooch with trembling hands, her voice hoarse and desperate: “It’s Gavin… this is Gavin’s brooch!” She rushed to the water’s edge, staggering as waves crashed against her, shouting toward the vast expanse of the sea: “Gavin! Gavin!” Quentin followed, his face filled with panic: “Sophie, Gavin… how could he…” Sophie ignored him, just staring fixedly at the turbulent waters, her eyes full of regret and pain. Vanessa stood nearby, her face ashen: “How… how could this happen…”

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My cousin Owen lost his job in the mass layoffs before Christmas and immediately set his sights on working at my wife’s company. At our family gathering, he first tried to guilt-trip me with an entitled attitude: “Cousin, I noticed your wife’s company needs a secretary, right? I’ll reluctantly help you solve this problem. Those spaghetti interviews or whatever—no need for that. I’m your cousin, after all. As for salary, I won’t ask for much. Ten thousand after taxes would be fine.” Then he mocked me with that passive-aggressive tone mixing fake sweetness with toxic masculinity, accusing me of cheating and getting plastic surgery. In the past, I might have softened and agreed, even becoming flustered by his false accusations. But this time was different. I’ve been reborn. I looked at him and sneered, “We wouldn’t hire someone who didn’t even finish high school as a secretary. You want ten grand for sleeping your way through the job? Sure, the massage parlor downstairs seems perfect for you.” Hearing this, Owen Chambers first froze momentarily before his face turned crimson. He put on a pitiful act and said, “Julian Winslow, I was just trying to help your wife’s company since she can’t find anyone. How could you say such things to me?” My aunt also frowned, her voice full of reproach: “Julian, after all I’ve done for you, I never thought you’d be such an ungrateful brat. You’re breaking my heart!” I glared at Owen with undisguised hatred, wishing I could tear him apart. In my previous life, out of family obligation, I had agreed to Owen’s request and let him become my wife’s secretary. He then abused this family connection, misappropriating company funds for luxury items and committing business fraud using my name. When everything came to light, I became the target of everyone’s anger, eventually committing suicide from depression. Back in the present, I kicked the chair in front of me and said bluntly, “With your qualifications, you’re not even worthy of being my wife’s secretary. You should go work in a factory instead.” “Julian!” Owen jumped up, pointing at me furiously. “I’m your cousin! How dare you refuse to help me?” I found his reaction amusing and countered, “Weren’t you saying you were helping me earlier? How did it suddenly become me refusing to help you?” Owen was instantly speechless, stammering without forming a coherent response. Seeing this, other relatives began criticizing me: “Julian, how can you talk like that? Your cousin has always been well-behaved in our village. I think this job is perfect for him.” “Exactly! Are you jealous that your cousin is better-looking and afraid he’ll steal your spotlight?” “Owen this child, I’ve watched him grow up since he was little. He’s reliable.” Hearing these comments, my heart grew cold. Thinking about it carefully, since marrying Mia Hayes and moving to the city over many holidays, I’ve never been stingy with them. During festive seasons like Chinese New Year, out of respect for my deceased parents, I always gave them generous red envelopes as a sign of filial piety, and occasionally invited them to dinner at our home. But why? I had no obligation to do what they were asking today, yet they were all ganging up with Owen to manipulate me. Was it because Owen’s grandfather was the village head, and they wanted to curry favor with his family? I put down my chopsticks and plate, saying coldly, “Is that so? If he’s so great, why don’t you give him your own jobs?” Everyone’s faces turned ashen upon hearing this. Just then, my wife Mia returned from work. Seeing her, Owen casually flashed the expensive watch on his wrist and approached her: “Sister-in-law! Didn’t you promise me on the phone that I could be your secretary? Why is Julian disagreeing now?” Mia looked at me in confusion, then after a moment asked, “Honey, what’s going on? I thought you’d agree too, since he’s your cousin…” I cut her off without hesitation: “I disagree.” Hearing this, Mia quickly withdrew her hand from Owen’s vicinity and said, “I always listen to my husband. If he disagrees, then it’s off.” My aunt’s face darkened as she remarked with that toxic mix of fake sweetness and passive-aggression: “Some CEO you are, still afraid of your husband at home. What a shame, especially when your husband is such a nobody.” As Mia was about to retort, I jumped in: “Aunt, if your family is so capable, why haven’t I seen you doing well? By the way, didn’t Uncle marry into your family? Yet I heard he’s disappeared after racking up gambling debts!” Furious and embarrassed, my aunt smashed her coffee cup violently on the floor: “Julian! I only came to see you out of kindness because your parents died young. Do you think I really wanted to come? If you weren’t lucky enough to marry Mia, this rich heiress, you’d be living far worse than my Owen!” Hearing this, everyone nodded thoughtfully: “That’s right. Becoming a rich family’s son-in-law has made him arrogant. He’s forgotten gratitude and filial piety…” “Refusing to help his own cousin with such a small favor is simply unconscionable!” Rich family’s son-in-law… Why do so many people think Mia is some rich heiress? Do they truly not know that Mia’s success today is entirely because of me?

Seeing the displeasure on my face, Mia’s expression darkened as well. “The hiring standards at my company have always been my husband’s call. Let’s end this discussion here. If he says no hiring, then no hiring.” Owen refused to back down, glaring at me fiercely while putting on an air of nonchalance. “What standards? Anything he can do, I can do too! I can do so much more!” As he spoke, he deliberately tugged at his collar and twirled his finger around a strand of Mia’s hair, his eyes fixed intently on her as his tone grew increasingly flirtatious. “Sister-in-law, how would you know I’m not capable unless you give me a chance?” Owen’s intentions were obvious to anyone with eyes. I just hadn’t expected that in this lifetime, having failed to secure the secretary position at Mia’s company, he would already be setting his sights on seducing her. The audacity to flirt with a married woman right in front of me—he was certainly bold. I didn’t get angry, though. I simply leaned back in my chair and said with a cold smile, “Cousin, if you’re looking for quick money, try a hair salon with ‘special services.’ This is my home, not a place for you to flaunt yourself.” Seeing the situation, Mia rubbed her temples and said, “My company really isn’t hiring. You should leave.” To my surprise, Owen’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears, his voice trembling, “It’s precisely because I’m good-looking that my previous boss grew jealous and fired me. With the New Year holiday approaching, losing my job so suddenly has me desperate, which is why I came to you for help.” My aunt quickly grabbed Owen’s hand, her face full of sympathy. She cast a sidelong glance at me and said with a deliberately spiteful tone, switching between submissive and aggressive energies, “Our Owen has always been handsome since childhood. It’s normal for some people to be jealous—it just shows how insecure they are!” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “You keep saying I’m jealous of you, but who came asking for my help today? Wasn’t it you?” Feeling increasingly irritated, I stood up and announced to everyone, “That’s enough for today. Please see yourselves out.” Some of the older relatives mumbled under their breath, others grabbed takeout containers and started packing up food, while one angrily threw his fork to the ground, exclaiming, “This is outrageous! How could George Sterling have raised such an ungrateful wolf-hearted son! He has absolutely no respect for his elders!” “It must be because George died early that he turned out so ill-mannered!” Trembling with anger, I pointed at the speaker and shouted, “Is that so? Then from now on, I won’t be sending any of you holiday gifts! You can all just consider me the ungrateful wolf you think I am!” At the mention of no more gifts, everyone exchanged glances before quickly putting on smiles. “Julian, we didn’t mean it that way. We only speak to you like this because we consider you our own son!” I couldn’t be bothered with their explanations and directly ordered the bodyguard standing outside, “Show them out!” The bodyguard, seeing me this angry for the first time, looked somewhat shocked. The relatives were escorted out rather unceremoniously. Only my aunt and Owen remained standing there, motionless, but I had no desire to engage with them further. As I turned to go upstairs, my aunt grabbed my arm. “Julian, you’re just leaving like this? Aren’t you going to arrange a room for us?” Only then did I remember that before their arrival, they had mentioned wanting to stay at my place temporarily. Back then, before my rebirth, I had indeed agreed. Taking a deep breath, I pointed toward the kitchen area and said, “Mrs. Liang and Driver Song are on holiday for the Spring Festival, so you can stay in the staff quarters for now. I’m giving you two days to find a new place and move out.” Owen’s eyes widened in disgust. “In a mansion this big, you’re making us stay in the housekeepers’ rooms? Julian, we’re your relatives, not your servants! You’re humiliating us!” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him. “So, you don’t want to stay? That’s fine then. Don’t let me keep you.” Owen cursed under his breath, then picked up his various bags and stomped off toward the staff quarters in a huff.

A moment later, Mia handed me a glass of warm water, gently massaging my shoulders while comforting me softly, “Let it go, honey. It’s not a big deal, no need to get so upset. Don’t make yourself sick over this.” I nodded, patting the back of her hand lightly, about to tell her that our embryos at the hospital were ready for implantation. Suddenly, Owen stormed out with a sullen face, grabbing Mia’s arm without hesitation. “Sister-in-law, why isn’t there any hot water in the bathroom?” Mia glanced at me uncomfortably, gently pulling her arm away. “That can’t be right. Why don’t you try again?” Owen persisted, shaking her arm while completely ignoring my presence. “I can handle the cold, but my mother is getting on in years. What if she catches a chill?” I felt sick with anger and was about to tell him to get out if he didn’t like it here, but Mia stood up and said, “Honey, I’ll go check. I’ll be right back.” Mia had always been gentle with everyone, including my relatives. I didn’t think much of it, but something felt off, so I quietly followed her. Through the crack in the door, I saw Owen—who had been wearing a shirt moments ago—now bare-chested, showing off his abs, with his face pressed close to Mia’s. “I really envy Julian for having such a wonderful wife after dating so many women. You know, Julian didn’t always look like this. I used to tell him to stop getting cosmetic surgery, but he never listened…” Rage instantly boiled inside me as I prepared to burst in and confront him about his lies. Then I noticed Mia staring at Owen’s exposed chest, her eyes unblinking. Owen fiddled with the water heater switch while gazing at her tenderly. “Sister-in-law, I’m not lying about Julian. All the girls in the village said so—that he used to play around with girls, you know… that kind of thing. I don’t mean anything by it, just wanted to warn you to keep an eye out. Wouldn’t want you to be cheated on without even knowing it.” I couldn’t take it anymore and shoved the door open. Mia jumped, her eyes darting away from mine guiltily. Owen put on a show of being “startled” as he looked at me. “Julian, what are you doing? You scared me half to death!” I didn’t bother arguing with him. I walked straight to his suitcase, grabbed it, and slammed it onto the floor. A loud crash echoed as the contents scattered everywhere. Pointing at the door, I roared, “No need for a shower now. Get out!” My aunt, hearing the commotion, rushed in with fury written all over her face. “Julian! What did you just say?! I’m your aunt—how dare you throw us out?!” Owen defended himself, neck stiff with defiance. “Mom, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, he suddenly just…” Seeing the situation escalate, Mia stammered, “Um, honey, it’s too late now. Maybe we should just let it go.” I shot her a fierce glare, and she immediately fell silent. Pointing at Owen, I shouted, “Let it go? He comes into my home and slanders me, and you want me to let it go?” Owen’s eyes reddened as he stepped forward to explain, accidentally hitting the hot water switch. Hot water suddenly drenched Mia. Mia screamed and fell into Owen’s arms. He seized the opportunity to hold her while continuing his explanation. “Sister-in-law, everything I said is true! If you don’t believe me, ask anyone in the village! It’s all in the past, but Julian seems to still be sensitive about it.” Mia looked at me, quickly breaking free from Owen’s embrace to stand behind me, then coldly said, “You should leave.” Owen’s face filled with disbelief. “Sister-in-law… you…” My aunt cursed under her breath while gathering their scattered belongings, forcefully pulling Owen up. “Fine, we’ll go! When we get back to the village, I’ll tell everyone how Julian treated us!” After they left, I finally had a moment of peace. I thought that by refusing Owen’s request after my rebirth, I’d avoid all those heartbreaking events. But a few days later, while at the hospital consulting about embryo implantation, I ran into Oliver, the HR manager from Mia’s company. Oliver looked exhausted, complaining to someone on the phone. “I’m telling you, our Ms. Hayes is unbelievable! She hired some secretary from who knows where, lazy as hell, making me pick up his medical report!” I deliberately bumped into him, causing the medical reports to scatter on the floor. One name immediately caught my eye—Owen…

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After my third premature delivery, I gave birth to a stillborn baby. My emotional distress triggered severe hemorrhaging. Andrew Lawson, for my sake, performed the traditional kowtow ritual at the temple, kneeling and bowing nine times for blessings. Post-surgery, I lay in the hospital bed. I had just opened my eyes and was about to press the call button for a nurse when I inadvertently overheard Andrew and the doctor talking outside my door. “Andrew, this is the third child you and Scarlett Sheridan have lost. Even the strongest woman would struggle to bear the pain of losing three children in succession!” “Lillian Hayes says she needs medicine made from infant hearts, and you’re killing your own children for her? You’ve truly lost your mind.” “I promised Lillian I would cure her illness. Once she recovers, Scarlett and I will have a healthy child. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to Scarlett, treating her well…” My hand, poised to press the call button, began to tremble. So in his eyes, my children’s lives were merely “medicinal ingredients” to be sacrificed for Lillian’s treatment. Since fate had allowed me to discover this truth, I refused to be deceived and used by Andrew any longer. “These three medically induced stillbirths have already caused serious damage to Scarlett’s body. If you want her to continue getting pregnant, aren’t you worried her body won’t withstand it?” “After all, Scarlett is your wife. What you’re doing to her is too cruel. Have you considered how she’ll emotionally cope with the loss of those children in the future?” Andrew impatiently cut off the doctor: “Enough! I consider you a brother, that’s why I asked for your help. This is my family matter, and I don’t need you meddling in my affairs. Remember to prescribe the best medicine for Scarlett so she can recover quickly and get pregnant again.” The doctor sighed deeply, full of reluctance: “Scarlett has been pregnant three years in a row, and now with this hemorrhage, her body needs at least a year to recover before she can conceive again.” “Lillian can’t wait a year. I don’t care what methods you use—once Scarlett is discharged, I want her pregnant immediately!” Andrew’s gaze was determined, his tone brooking no argument. As the doctor left, he glanced at my medical chart, a flash of sympathy crossing his face: “Andrew, Scarlett has sacrificed so much for you over these years. We all see it as your friends. How can you do this to her… Never mind, think about it yourself. Don’t regret it later.” “Alright, go prepare the medicine now.” Andrew pushed open the door and entered my room. I quickly closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. He placed one hand over my IV tube, trying to warm the cold medicine with his body heat. With his other hand, he took out his phone and sent a voice message to Lillian: “Lillian, the medicine should have reached you by now, right? Take good care of yourself and don’t worry about the medicine. I promised to cure your illness, and I won’t break my word.” I fought hard to hold back my tears. What I had believed was love turned out to be a lie from beginning to end. Andrew’s sudden proposal was only because Lillian had fallen ill and needed medication. After our marriage, we quickly conceived. Everything seemed normal during the prenatal checkups, but in the seventh month, I suddenly went into premature labor and delivered a stillborn baby. I was both guilt-ridden and heartbroken. Andrew held me in his arms, kissing me and comforting me: “Honey, it’s okay. We’re still young. This child will return to us. The most important thing is for you to rest well and recover.” With his support, I pulled myself together and gradually emerged from my emotional darkness. But the following year, I delivered another stillborn in my eighth month. The doctor said it was just bad luck. Andrew pretended to console me, saying we would definitely have a healthy baby next time. This time, the result was the same. For three years, I had been consumed by guilt, self-blame, and fear—all part of a scheme designed to cure Lillian. I slowly opened my eyes to see Andrew’s seemingly concerned gaze. “Honey, you’re awake? Are you uncomfortable anywhere? Should I call the doctor? Does your wound still hurt?” This scene had played out three times now. Andrew’s acting skills had become increasingly refined. If I hadn’t accidentally heard the truth, I would have been deceived again. I placed my hand on my flat abdomen and said, “We lost this baby too, Andrew. Let’s not try for another child.” Andrew’s expression turned panicked. He quickly pulled a protective talisman from his pocket and placed it in my hand. “Honey, this is a safety amulet I prayed for this morning, performing the kowtow ritual at the temple for your sake. It will surely protect you and our child. Let’s not give up, okay? Our next baby will be healthy for sure.” I stared directly into his eyes and said, “Andrew, my body can’t take it anymore.”

Andrew’s expression froze on his face. I fought back my grief and anger, pretending to ask casually, “What did the doctor say?” Andrew suddenly cupped my face in his hands, looking serious. “The doctor said you’re in good health. Once you’re discharged, we can try for another baby. Don’t worry, I’ll go right now and have the doctor give you the best medication. Just focus on getting better—don’t worry about the baby.” With that, he immediately stood up and left the room. He didn’t notice how my body instantly stiffened, nor did he see the disappointment in my eyes. As soon as he stepped outside, he eagerly made a phone call. His voice carried through the wall: “Didn’t I tell you to switch Scarlett to the special medication? Why hasn’t it been done yet? We’ve used this drug before, so why won’t it work this time? She’s extremely weak right now. I don’t care about the side effects—I want her to recover immediately, preferably discharged within a week.” I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling as tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. Was this the result of his proposal, when he promised to love me forever and always treat me well? In the end, there was nothing but deception and pain. I turned to my side and noticed another safety charm on the floor—identical to the one he had given me. Except this charm had Lillian’s name written on the back. So when Andrew performed the solemn ritual of kneeling three times and kowtowing nine times at the mountain temple, was he praying for my safety and our children’s, or for Lillian’s health? Andrew quickly returned with the doctor to change my medication. He thoughtfully helped me sit up, placed a pillow behind my back, and gently kissed my forehead. “Honey, this medicine is imported from abroad. You’ll get better soon.” He watched as those drugs—full of side effects—were injected into my body, all while wearing what appeared to be a tender, caring smile. I had to admit, he was truly ruthless toward me, showing not even a hint of mercy. When he left, I took out my phone and booked an international flight, also applying to cancel my identity information. Over the next few days, he stayed with me at the hospital, personally wiping my body, feeding me meals and soup, doing everything possible to cheer me up. Even the doctors and nurses at the hospital envied me for having such a good husband. His performance never seemed to exhaust him, and I saw no point in exposing his charade. On the day of my discharge, he prepared 999 roses to celebrate my homecoming. That night, just as I finished showering, he eagerly approached and kissed my lips. As he was about to take things further, I shoved him away. “I just got out of the hospital. I need more time to rest.” After my rejection, a flash of displeasure crossed his eyes, but he patiently comforted me: “Honey, I asked the doctor today. He said you’re completely fine now.” With that, he moved closer again. I pushed him forcefully, catching him off guard and knocking him to the floor. This time, his expression turned cold. “If you’re not feeling well, fine. I have work at the company anyway. I won’t be coming home tonight.” He slammed the door on his way out. I put on a coat and went to the study, searching the drawers for my documents. After finding my passport and ID card, I was about to leave when I noticed a black book on the dusty bookshelf that looked unusually clean. Curious, I reached out to grab it. When I pulled, the book didn’t budge, but I heard a “click” from the wall on the other side, revealing a hidden door. I pushed the door open and entered. In the center of the room stood a table covered with red cloth. Three glass jars sat on the table. As I looked closer, I nearly screamed, cold sweat instantly soaking my back. The jars contained three infant corpses—all missing their hearts. Were these my three lost children? With my heart still pounding in terror, I forced myself to examine the jars more carefully. I noticed red symbols painted on all three glass jars that I couldn’t understand. I took pictures, blurred out the infant parts, and posted them online asking for information. Soon, several users commented on my post: “These look like suppression talismans, usually used to trap the souls of heinous criminals, preventing them from finding peace or reincarnating.” “I just asked a Taoist priest I know. He says these are spells to trap departed souls. People who have harmed others sometimes use these to prevent revenge from beyond.” … Reading the responses, I trembled with rage. Andrew had gone so far as to curse his own children—truly the height of evil. Was he afraid for himself, or was he protecting Lillian from retribution?

Early the next morning, Andrew finally returned home. Someone was following behind him. “Scarlett, long time no see.” Lillian peeked out from behind Andrew, giving me a playful smile. Andrew hurriedly explained to me, “My parents said they haven’t seen Lillian in ages. They’re hosting a family dinner today, and since we’re heading back anyway, I thought I’d bring her along.” As if afraid I might misunderstand, he added, “I was working late at the office last night. I only picked her up this morning.” Lillian and Andrew were childhood sweethearts who grew up together. It made sense that the Lawson parents would want to see her. “Don’t worry, I’m not overthinking it. It’s getting late, let’s head out.” Seeing that I wasn’t angry, Andrew quietly sighed in relief. Andrew opened the passenger door for me, but Lillian rushed in and sat down first. “Scarlett, my health is poor and I get carsick easily. I can’t sit in the back.” After saying this, she shot me a challenging smile. Seeing that Andrew had no intention of intervening, I turned and took a seat in the back. Throughout the journey, I kept my eyes closed, pretending to rest. In the front, Lillian and Andrew chatted about childhood memories, completely ignoring me. When we arrived at the Lawson residence, during dinner, the Lawson couple showed me nothing but cold faces after I had lost my third baby. The resentment I had been holding back suddenly erupted. I made an excuse about being full, left the table, and walked toward the garden. I removed the wedding ring from my finger and threw it forcefully into the pond. Just then, Lillian suddenly appeared beside me, standing next to me. “Scarlett, it must be devastating not being able to give Andrew a child after three pregnancies. You know, premature babies aren’t always stillborn. I once saw one that was alive—he had beautiful eyes, just like yours. Such a pity he died without ever seeing his mother…” “Enough!” I had just raised my hand, without even touching her clothes, when she suddenly fell into the pond. Before I could react, Andrew had already jumped in and pulled her out. Andrew shouted at me furiously, “Scarlett, have you lost your mind? Why would you attack Lillian? You know her health is fragile—are you trying to kill her?” Lillian curled up in Andrew’s arms, saying in a weak voice, “I just saw that Scarlett had lost another child and was afraid she’d be heartbroken. I was only trying to comfort her. I never thought she’d push me into the pond… Don’t blame her, she’s grieving the loss of her child.” Andrew turned to me with a cold face, “Scarlett, apologize to Lillian right now!” I looked at Andrew and smiled sarcastically, “Apologize? I think you two are the ones who should be apologizing! Don’t you KNOW exactly what happened to my babies? How dare you pretend?” A flash of panic crossed Andrew’s eyes, “The doctor said it was just bad luck, didn’t he? You can’t blame innocent people just because you lost your babies.” The Lawson couple rushed over, having heard the commotion. “Why bother with a woman who can’t continue the Lawson bloodline? We should never have stopped you from being with Lillian. Who would have thought her body would be even weaker than yours? Quickly, take Lillian to her room to change clothes. We can’t let her catch a cold.” Watching them walk away, I gritted my teeth, seething with hatred. I walked out of the Lawson mansion and took a taxi home. Not long after, Andrew texted me: “Don’t take today’s incident to heart. What I said was just for show. Lillian has caught a slight cold and needs to stay here to recover. I’ll stay for a few days too, to keep my parents company. My parents aren’t really angry with you—they just want a grandson. In a few days, buy them some gifts and they’ll come around.” They want a grandson, do they? Well, I have a gift that will surely touch their hearts. For the next three days, Andrew didn’t come home. I threw away everything in the house that was related to me. Before boarding my flight, I called Andrew. When the call connected, it was Lillian who answered. She deliberately lowered her voice and said, “Scarlett, Andrew is busy making spaghetti for me and can’t take your call. It seems you already know the truth, but what you might not know is that my illness was cured long ago. I fed all three babies’ hearts to dogs. There was never any special medicine that needed hearts—it was just a joke I made up, and he actually believed it.” Before I could react, the phone was handed to Andrew. “Honey, I was busy just now. Why did you call?” With the taste of blood filling my mouth from rage, I said, “Andrew, I’ve prepared a gift for your parents. It will be delivered soon.” “Honey, you’re the best.” After hanging up, I removed my SIM card, threw it away, and boarded the plane. Andrew continued to watch over the nutritious spaghetti he was cooking for Lillian, not forgetting to instruct the servant to make sure my gift was delivered to Mr. and Mrs. Lawson. Shortly after, the Lawson couple screamed in horror, “What is this? Andrew, get over here! Look at what Scarlett sent us!”

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“Aargh… Yes Baby…” The head of my alpha mate’s manhood popped from the rogue’s mouth. I covered my mouth, tears brimming in my eyes. The one I’d loved for 10 years was now cheating on me… So I rejected him and mated to the Lycan King, instantly becoming the powerful Luna Queen. *** My wolf recognized Alpha Darren as mate many years ago, and today was supposed to be our marking ceremony—the day I would officially become the Luna of the Duskwood Pack. With a nervous yet graceful smile, I carefully lifted the hem of my dress and stepped onto the stage. Looking around, I felt the gaze of the entire pack settle on me. I took a deep breath to calm myself and took a glance at my watch—Darren should’ve been here before. Whispers began to ripple through the pack below. I anxiously scanned the hall, only to realize that Beta Landon, who was always by Darren’s side, was also nowhere to be seen. Just then, the elder walked in and announced in a booming voice, “Alpha Darren has gone to the border on important business. Today’s marking ceremony is canceled.” Border? Was it the enemy coming to invade? I hurried over to the elder, desperate to confirm their safety, “Elder, what happened? Do they need me there?” The elder glanced at me and said, “they’re just going to pick someone up. There’s no need to be so anxious.” With that, he left, leaving me alone to face the entire pack. My heart sank, and a chill crawled up my spine. The “someone” who could make Darren and Landon so eager to pick up, even abandoning me all alone, could only be her. Xandra Young—the rogue they took in three years ago. When they brought her back, Darren had just become the Alpha of the Duskwood Pack with the secret support of my family, and as his mate, I was supposed to soon become the rightful Luna of the pack. But Xandra’s arrival ruined everything. Xandra never hid her desire for Darren and was almost always by his side. Even Landon seemed enchanted by her, constantly fawning over her. Meanwhile, I, who had grown up with them, was slowly pushed aside. I kept giving in, but all I got in return was her pressing harder—because what she wanted was never just Darren. She wanted to take MY place. On the day Darren went into mate heat, she set it all up—had Landon hold me back while she deliberately got my scent on herself to lure Darren into losing control. By the time I realized something was wrong and broke free from Landon, they were already tangled together, both naked, about to complete the final bond. That was the first time I let my wolf take over—raw, furious, and out of control, nothing like the docile Hannah they were used to. In an instant, I shifted into a massive white wolf and pounced on Xandra, pinning her down with my fangs against her throat. But the next second, Darren and Landon’s wolves came out, growling and forcefully throwing me off. When I regained my senses and looked up, all I saw was them surrounding Xandra with concern, not even sparing me a glance. After that day, Xandra “left the pack.” No one knew where she had gone, but they said she had “left to recover from her injuries.” But I hadn’t even touched a hair on her. They all believed that I had driven Xandra away, and after that day, for three years, Darren didn’t touch me. Landon became distant towards me as well. When three days ago Darren suddenly arranged this marking ceremony for me, I almost thought he changed his mind. I spent those three days preparing for it, carefully selecting every piece of jewelry, every vow, even wore the perfume he once said he liked. But today, Xandra returned, and without hesitation, Darren and Landon abandoned me once more. Malicious whispers from the crowd instantly rushed toward me like a wave. “Hannah’s just an orphan. Does she really think growing up with the Alpha means she can be the Luna?” “It’s all just her wishful thinking. Alpha Darren never loved her.” The silver moon gown I had carefully chosen made my skin look as pale as snow. Moonstone earrings—my mother’s gift—hung delicately by my ears, radiating the ancient grace of royal blood. And yet, I stood there like a discarded clown. Everyone in the pack knew what the Alpha’s absence from the marking ceremony meant—he was rejecting me as his Luna. Unable to face the mix of pity and ridicule in their eyes any longer, I turned and ran away in disgrace. I finally stumbled into an empty clearing, away from the pack. I could no longer pretend to be composed—tears streamed down my face, ruining the carefully applied makeup I had spent hours perfecting. I ripped off one of the moonstone earrings my mother had given me. A teardrop landed on the cold gem, and it shimmered faintly with moonlight, as if trying to comfort me. I whispered, “Mom… I regret it. I want to go home. I will marry the Lycan King of the Nightshade Kingdom.”

Three years ago, Mrs. Greene—the Luna Queen of the Moonflame Kingdom, and my biological mother—found me. She told me I was not just an ordinary she-wolf, but the long-lost princess of the Moonflame Kingdom, blessed with the pure blood of the Moon Goddess. “Will you come back with us, to the kingdom that is rightfully yours?” I was staying silent for a long time. That time, I had just turned eighteen. I had grown up in the Duskwood Pack, never knowing the so-called glory of kingdom. And what kingdom brought wasn’t just power and responsibility—it also meant an arranged marriage. When a daughter is born in the Moonflame Kingdom, she must marry into the Nightshade Kingdom to fulfill the ancient alliance. Nightshade—one of the most powerful kingdom in our world. Becoming their Luna Queen would mean having a status second only to the Lycan King himself. But back then, I rejected it without hesitation. I didn’t want to be a pawn traded for power. I didn’t want to be confined by fate. And most of all, I didn’t want to be apart from the two who meant everything to me—Darren and Landon. Mrs. Greene didn’t force me. Sadness flickered in her eyes, but she smiled gently and said, “we respect your decision, my princess.” Before she left, she added softly, “whenever you want to return home, the gates of Moonflame will always be open to you.” I thought I would never change my mind. Until today— I finally realized how foolish my choice was: The “love” I had fought so hard to protect… had never truly belonged to me. Darren didn’t choose me. Landon betrayed me. And somewhere along the way, I had forgotten who I really was. I’m not some pathetic orphan to be trampled on. I am the daughter of the Moonflame Kingdom. I’m the true princess, blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. I lowered my gaze to the moonstone earring resting in my palm, my fingers trembling as they curled around it, feeling something long-dormant within me begin to stir. Mrs. Greene had given it to me three years ago—an earring crafted from a rare communication stone. As long as I held it, it would form a direct link to the Lycan King of the Moonflame family. I drew in a shaky breath. “I accept the marriage alliance.” “I’m ready to return to the Moonflame Kingdom.” The stone shimmered with a soft lunar glow and let out a crisp chime. Silence followed for a few seconds. Then, a familiar voice—deeper and rougher than I remembered—echoed through. “Hannah… is that you?” It was my brother—Aaron Greene. Three years ago, he had still been a prince. Now, he had ascended the throne and become the new Lycan King of Moonflame Kingdom. “I heard what happened,” he said. His voice turned cold, sharp like a blade, each word laced with fury. “They dared to humiliate you at the marking ceremony?” His anger was almost tangible. “I’ll destroy that damned Duskwood Pack.” His protectiveness shattered the composure I had tried so hard to maintain. Tears welled up again, and I hurried to whisper, “they’re not worth your time, brother. I just need to pack my things tonight.” He went silent for a moment, as if he was struggling to contain his rage. Then, finally, his voice returned from the other side—low and steady. “Fine, I’ll bring you back tomorrow. The Moonflame family will always welcome you home, little princess.” Night fell, and I wandered back alone. With each step I took toward the Alpha House, my thoughts churned. What would I find when I walked through that door? How could I face Darren and Landon after everything? The path seemed longer tonight, the shadows around me darker. But I had no choice. I had made my decision. The house was dimly lit, the familiar shadows of the Alpha House casting eerie shapes along the walls. And then, a faint scent—struck my senses, and my wolf let out a warning growl. It wasn’t mine. Another she-wolf was here.

I strode into the living room, but froze instantly. It was Xandra. She was weakly leaning against Darren, her face pale, yet a faint, almost imperceptible smirk lingered on her lips. Darren, on the other hand, was gazing down at her with a tenderness I had never seen before, his fingers gently combing through her disheveled hair. He looked up and saw me, his gaze instantly turning cold. “You’re finally back.” His tone was like scolding a subordinate. “Because you drove Xandra out of the pack three years ago, she’s been left with chronic illness. As the future Luna, aren’t you supposed to show some basic care?” “Future Luna?” I scoffed, my nails digging deep into my palm. “When you abandoned me in front of the whole pack to take care of this sickly thing, I thought the title had already been given away.” Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Landon, carrying a vial of potion, rushed in and froze when he saw me. His gaze darted rapidly between me and Xandra, before finally settling on Darren. “The potion is ready,” he said, his voice tight. “The doctor said this will help.” Xandra suddenly broke into a violent cough, her delicate fingers clutching Darren’s shirt. Landon immediately stepped forward, expertly supporting her neck and bringing the vial of potion to her lips. Their careful movements were as if they were cradling something fragile and priceless. “Her ‘illness’ is so well-timed,” I said sarcastically. “Of course, it flares up on the very day of our marking ceremony.” “Enough!” Darren roared, cutting me off. “A marking ceremony being delayed for a few days is no big deal. Why are you still being so relentless? How could you be so heartless? Don’t you care about Xandra’s condition at all?” Before I could defend myself, he immediately issued an order, “she needs to rest now. From now on, you’ll sleep in the study.” “This is our room!” I heard my voice tremble. “You want me to give it up for such a…?” “Watch your words.” Darren suddenly unleashed his Alpha aura, and the air became thick with pressure. “It’s just a room. If you can’t even manage that…” He paused, and in that moment, Landon restrained my wrist. He had always stood by my side, but now looked at me with almost disgust in his eyes, “stop causing a scene, Hannah! Xandra isn’t well.” I felt dizzy. Three years ago, they had done the same thing, stepping in front of Xandra just as I was about to tear her throat out. “…Then I’ll have to reject you,” Darren finally said. Reject. That word felt like a blunt knife stabbing deep into my heart. Didn’t he know what kind of pain an Alpha’s rejection would cause to his mate? Of course he knew. He just didn’t care at all. We hadn’t even completed the marking ceremony yet, and just a threat from Darren had already caused excruciating pain. My wolf whimpered inside me, unable to understand why our mate would now abandon us. He seemed to sense it too. He raised his head and looked at me, but his expression remained cold. “You better not test my limits, Hannah. You’re just an orphan. If it weren’t for that stupid wolf of yours binding me to you, I wouldn’t want you as my mate at all.” My wolf howled inside me. How laughable. The two who had sworn to protect me forever—one was now threatening to sever our bond in the cruelest way possible, and the other didn’t even want to look at my eyes. In the years my biological parents couldn’t find me, I had stayed by Darren’s side. When I was fourteen, I protected him from other wolves’ attacks, and he cried, promising never to leave me. During his first heat at eighteen, he swore he would love only me for the rest of his life. I had stood by him as he grew from a little wolf into an Alpha, but I never imagined that those sweet words would now be twisted into blades aimed at me. “Fine.” I suddenly laughed, slowly backing away. “Then I wish your ‘patient’ a speedy recovery.” My abrupt change in attitude made Darren’s expression shift. He stood up from Xandra’s side, “I’ll bring you a blanket to the study. If you need anything else, just let me know.” I let out a cold laugh and silently thought to myself, I don’t need anything from you. Neither you nor your cheap sympathy. Without a word, I turned and walked into the study, unwilling to waste any more words with him. “I’m talking to you.” Darren furrowed his brow and followed me into the room. “Are you still sulking because of Xandra?” “No,” I quickly answered, not looking at him. “Can you stop making a scene?” Darren shoved me against the wall, growling, forcing me to look at him. “Ah!” Suddenly, Xandra’s gasp echoed from the living room. Darren froze for a moment, then immediately let me go and rushed out like a summoned dog. I let out a bitter laugh and collapsed onto the cold, hard sofa. All these years of silent devotion, and yet they meant less than a single whimper from that bitch. There was no need for me to stay here any longer. *** Just before dawn, I had already packed up all my belongings. To call it luggage would be generous—it was merely a few changes of clothes, the moonstone earrings my mother had given me, and the silver moon dress I hadn’t changed out of last night. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. My eyes were still swollen, but there were no more tears. I splashed cold water on my face and forced a smile. As I opened the study door, the entire house was silent. Darren and Landon were probably still asleep, and Xandra—no doubt comfortably curled up in my bed, under my blanket, dreaming sweet dreams of replacing me. I moved quietly down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone. Not because I was afraid to face them, but because I refused to waste another drop of emotion on any of the three. But just as I reached the middle of the staircase, a sickly sweet voice called out behind me, “Leaving so early, Sis Hannah?” I spun around sharply. Xandra stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at me. She wore a sheer nightgown, her golden hair loose, her cheeks glowing—there was no trace of last night’s supposed sickness. “What’s wrong? Not pretending to be sick anymore?” I sneered. “Or does your ‘illness’ only flare up in front of Darren and Landon?” Xandra descended the stairs slowly, the corners of her lips curved into a victorious smile. “I just came to check on the abandoned future Luna.” She emphasized “future Luna” with a smug glint in her eyes, and it took everything in me to stop my wolf from clawing them out. I drew a deep breath to suppressed the urge, “that Luna title? I don’t care for it anymore.” “Really?” She stopped one step above me. “Then why do you reek of jealousy? I could smell it from all the way up there.” Her fingers lightly touched my wrist, but her grip was vice-like. “Just admit it, Hannah. You’re jealous. Jealous that Darren chose me over you—his childhood sweetheart.” I yanked my hand free. “Don’t touch me!” In that instant, a cunning glint flashed in Xandra’s eyes. She suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the edge of the staircase! My footing slipped. I lost balance and tumbled down the stairs, taking her with me. The floor below was cold and unforgiving. A sharp pain shot through my left arm, radiating throughout my body. Ouch! A muffled cry escaped my lips as I struggled to sit up. My right arm hung at an odd angle—clearly broken. Xandra lay not far from me, hair a little tousled, nightgown slightly askew, but her expression was calm, not even breathing hard. “What happened?!” Darren’s voice boomed from upstairs, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Xandra immediately began moaning in pain, while I bit down hard on my lower lip, refusing to make a sound. Darren and Landon appeared at the top of the stairs, their expressions changing the moment they saw us. “Xandra!” Darren rushed down and scooped her into his arms. “Are you alright?” Xandra nestled weakly against his chest, eyes brimming with tears. “I—I just wanted to make sure if Sis Hannah is okay… I didn’t think she hated me this much…” “That’s not what happened!” I tried to get up, but the pain in my arm left me helpless. “She fell on her own!” “Enough!” Darren roared, eyes blazing. “Xandra is still recovering, how dare you push her down the stairs?!” “I didn’t—” Smack! A sharp slap cut off my words. My head snapped to the side, pain blooming across my cheek like fire. The blow was so hard I tasted blood. I slowly turned back to face him, disbelief in my eyes. He… slapped me? For a bitch who was obviously acting, he actually slap me? Darren looked briefly shocked by his own action. He glanced at his hand, then at my swelling face, his brows furrowing. “Darren…” Landon spoke up from behind him, face full of conflicting emotions. “I’m fine…” Xandra coughed delicately, immediately drawing their attention back to her. “Don’t blame Sis Hannah, she must be sad for giving up her room for me yesterday…” Her timely interruption really did work. They rushed to comfort her, fussing over her as if she were made of glass. I sat just a few feet away—my arm broken, my cheek burning—not a single glance spared for me. It wasn’t until Xandra “weakly” announced she needed to rest that Landon finally noticed my injured arm. “Her arm…” his voice trembled. “Darren, her arm’s broken.” Darren’s face shifted. He finally looked down at me seriously, brows drawing tight. “Are you alright?” What a ridiculous question. My arm was obviously broken—and only now he noticed? I gritted my teeth and used my left hand to push myself up against the wall. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through me, but it was nothing compared to what I felt inside. “Darren,” I stared into his eyes, my voice shaking from both pain and fury, “I reject you as my mate.” The words struck like thunder. Darren and Landon froze, and even Xandra, who was halfway pretending to go upstairs, stopped in her tracks. “What did you say?” Darren’s voice was low and dangerous. “You heard me,” I said, each word sharp and steady. “I, Hannah Greene, officially reject you, Darren Shaw, as my mate.”

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The pain rising in my belly radiates through my entire body as I fall. Tears flood my eyes — from the pain of betrayal from my only sister, who stabbed my unborn child and then pushed us both off the penthouse balcony. And from the wind tearing past our bodies as we plummet toward the pavement below. Moon Goddess, save me! I try to scream the words, but nothing comes out. Jocelyn has her fingers wrapped around my throat. Her teeth snap scant inches from my face, and her hot breath reeks of fury. She’s half-changed from terror and rage, and her claws rake my skin, bringing more agony that I can only pray will be over soon… The moment I die. *** “Yvonne!” My mother snaps her fingers in front of me until I focus on her face. She’s frowning at me, her disappointment spreading across her features like melting candle wax. “Get yourself together, or I swear by the Moon, I will shackle you with silver myself!” My wrists burn with the memories of silver cuffs that had kept me from reaching my wolf. My stomach lurches. The floor feels like it’s spinning right out from underneath me…like I’m falling from the top of a skyscraper. Again, I clutch my stomach. My fingers slide across lace and brocade, and I stare in horror at my flat belly. I know this white dress. I know this bouquet of golden flowers I’m holding. What I don’t know is…what happened to me? Blinking, I look around the small room and try not to give away that I’m holding back a scream. I press my hand to my belly and swallow the burning taste of bile. My pup…gone. My previous life, also gone. Stolen by my sister, who stands across the room in an identical white gown. Oh, Goddess. It’s our wedding day. Again. Jocelyn smirks at me from where she stands. She and Father are posing for photo after photo. His face is alight with pride — something he never shows when looking at me. Mother’s lip curls into a deeper sneer as she sees me watching my sister and father. “Stand up straight. You may never be as beautiful or as accomplished as your sister, but you still have a duty to represent the River Gorge Pack. Believe me, none of us are happy about you having any piece of your sister’s glorious day, but it can’t be helped. The Forest Green Pack is the most prestigious and wealthy pack in the entire wolven world, and I won’t allow you to ruin it for Jocelyn!” “I wouldn’t —” In a flash, Mother’s red-tipped nails slash toward my face. She pulls the slap at the very last second. Even she would be too embarrassed to have her daughter show up to the joint wedding bearing the marks of a beating. Instead, she straightens her shoulders and puts on a forced smile as she smooths her simple, navy-blue gown. In my memories, the hem of it glittered with sapphires and rubies that had been sewn into the fabric to represent the swirling waters of the Red River from which our pack takes its name. In this reality, the bottom of Mother’s dress flutters with golden fringes, instead. This reality… I think as she grabs me by the elbow, pinching my flesh in a place no bruises will show. What does “this reality” mean? I send up another plea to the Moon Goddess. Not that I expect an answer or anything. She’s never bothered much with me, the second-born and less desirable child. I try anyway, desperate to understand why my head is filling and swimming with these visions of my sister holding her razor-sharp claws to my throat, then slashing my pregnant belly, and finally, shoving me over the edge of the balcony. Her sleeve had snagged on my bracelet, yanking her along with me, and so we’d both fallen…fallen… I jerk upright as Mother pinches me again. I’m not losing my mind. Those visions aren’t my imagination. I know it. I feel it. I was forced into this marriage of convenience and tempted with the promise of millions if I was the first to deliver a pup to fulfill Nathan Hunter’s wishes for his bloodline to continue through his grandsons. Hector and Oliver had agreed to marry me and my sister, and neither one of them had been any happier about the mating than I was. Joceyln, on the other hand, had been overjoyed. At least until she— “Yvonne, when will you learn? You’re only fit to be beneath my feet.” Jocelyn says this with the same smug nastiness she’s used to speak to me for most of my life. My sister’s hateful attitude doesn’t surprise me, but I am shocked when she reaches over and yanks the golden bouquet out of my numb fingers. She clutches it to herself, and her beautiful face goes dark with grim determination. Her eyes bore into mine, flashing faintly green as her wolf rises to threaten mine. “Girls, girls,” Father says. “You can have your little tiff later. Your mates will be here any minute —” “Father, I want to marry Oliver. Not Hector.” Jocelyn lifts her chin and stares down her nose at me with a sly grin. Mother and Father share a look, but I already know they’ll give her anything she wants, the same way they always have. For our entire lives, no matter what I had, if my sister wanted it, I had to give it up. This won’t be any different. “Jocie, sweetheart… Hector is the more suitable —” “I want. To marry. Oliver,” my sister says with a flash of sharpening teeth. That’s when I see it. That’s when I understand. My body runs cold, and my wolf paces, whining, trying to protect me…but she can’t this time any more than she could the last… Because Jocelyn has been reborn, too.

In my previous life, the one that keeps battering my mind, I had been the one to marry Oliver. The younger brother, the one who’d been injured in an attack during a pack war. Jocelyn had, of course, been given to the Forest Green Pack’s Alpha heir, Hector. In the eyes of my parents, and the elders of both packs, the delicate and beloved Jocelyn had been the perfect match for the heir, while the second daughter, the leftover, had been fit enough for their second son. That hadn’t gone as well as they’d all hoped. Oliver and I had not loved each other — but we had become a surprisingly strong match. And I’d been the first to get pregnant. My pup would have been the coveted heir to the bloodline… Until my sister, driven to madness with her jealousy, had ended us. But how had we gotten to that point? More importantly, why was I being forced to relive this? My belly aches with the phantom pains from where her claws had torn me open. Every muscle in my body tenses as my bones recall being shattered. “Yvonne won’t mind. Will you, dear sister?” Jocelyn’s sickly sweet tone brings me back to myself. Staring in her cold gaze, I realize that she has no intention of reliving anything the way it had been the first time. Her goal is to change our outcomes. “If Jocelyn would rather marry Oliver, than who am I to stand in her way?” I reply calmly. “After all, it’s not like the Forest Green Pack elders really care, so long as both packs honor the treaty. And, of course, so long as Nathan Hunter gets the grandson he desires.” “Which will be mine,” my sister says through a clenched jaw. “I will be the one to have the pup Grandfather Hunter wants.” The only reason why we’ve been chosen to carry the Hunter bloodline pups is because Father saved Nathan Hunter’s life in a freak accident. As his reward, Father negotiated this double wedding, securing our positions. My sister’s nostrils flare, and her lip curls back to show the hint of her sharp teeth. She thinks she looks fierce, the fit mate to an Alpha, but I know that a true Luna never needs to use force to get her way. True Luna? My own thought shocks me. Marrying Oliver had meant I was never going to be the Luna, not unless Hector died, and his brother stepped into his place. If I marry Hector in this timeline, I will become the Luna of Forest Green Pack. I can’t believe my sister would give up the chance at that… I look into her dark-brown eyes, so different in shape and color from mine. There’s nothing about us that hints that the two of us are sisters, less than a year apart. I was the mistake, the pup born out of a night of passion my parents, to this day, would probably prefer to forget. Father had been scorned by his mistress. Mother had been out for revenge. The result? A daughter no better than a spare, a reminder that their union might be unbreakable, but that even being mated couldn’t turn hate into love. We both know why my sister’s forcing this change. Why she’s willing to forgo becoming the Luna of Forest Green Pack by marrying the “lesser” brother. And it has everything to do with the money that Nathan Hunter has promised to the she-wolf who bears the bloodline heir. With that much money, it won’t matter to Jocelyn if she’s not the Luna…it won’t even matter to her if I am. Slowly, I bend to pick up the gardenia bouquet Hector had sent for his bride. My sister had thrown it to the floor, and I was lucky she hadn’t ground it into mush beneath her shoe. The flowers tremble a little in my grip as I lift them to my nose, breathing in their delicate floral scent. “The cars are waiting outside,” Father says. Mother scurries to the window and flutters her fingertips against her chest. “Oh, Jocelyn! Oliver has sent a Rolls-Royce!” I look out the window. The car Hector sent is an ordinary sports car, no more special than the simple bouquet. He’s the Alpha heir. Of course he doesn’t feel the need to show off his wealth. I’m sure he doesn’t feel at all that he has to do anything special to convince his bride that becoming his mate is a privilege. Not the way Oliver does. “I’m marrying Oliver,” Jocelyn grits out. For a moment, my sister and I lock our gazes again. She’s stealing Oliver the way she’s stolen everything else in my life. Our parents’ love and attention, to start. Any chance I had of being well-liked in school, since she’d started horrific rumors about me that had everyone turning away. And now, my intended mate. “If that’s what you wish, dear sister, then I hope you get everything you deserve.” I feel the serenity in my tight smile, and for second, my sister’s cruel smile falters. Her eyes narrow as she studies me. In our other life, she wasn’t able to get pregnant with Hector. We both know why. But what my sister doesn’t know about that golden bouquet she’s clutching so triumphantly, is that it’s a trap…one she’s going to fall into, headfirst.

As I settle into the front passenger seat of the sports coupe, I carefully examine the bouquet of gardenias. To my relief, there’s nothing out of the ordinary about them. Simple flowers, tied with a neat but unornamented ribbon. The bouquet of premium roses dipped in 14-carat gold, on the other hand, is a beautiful but deadly gift. For my entire life, I’d dreamed of being mated to a man who’d love me, care for me, protect me and our pups. I’d always assumed that my sister would be married off to someone to secure the alignment between our pack and another, more powerful one, but when it became clear that Nathan Hunter was insisting that both his eligible grandsons needed mates, my parents had gladly sold me off without a single care about what I wanted. Oliver Hunter, like me, must have had his own dreams about who he’d be mated with…or that he’d never wanted to be mated at all. Since he wasn’t the Alpha heir, he’d wanted to live the playboy life, spending his money on travel, drugs, women… There was even a rumor he’d taken up with human women, just so there’d be no chance that he’d ever have any pups of his own and couldn’t be forced into serving the Forest Green Pack and his brother as its Alpha. Like me and my sister, the Hunter brothers didn’t get along. When Nathan Hunter, their grandfather, threatened to cut him out of the family money and even expel him from the pack, Oliver had quickly stepped into line. At least on the surface. He’d agreed to marry me and take me as his bonded mate. He’d sent the impressive wedding gifts — the fancy car. The golden bouquet. The poison. He’d mixed a special perfume into the golden-dipped flowers — one designed to inflame. Arouse. But not so our wedding night would be full of passion. No, he’d intended the bride who sniffed that aphrodisiac to be so aroused that she—as in me—couldn’t control herself. He’d also arranged for me to be taken immediately to a small, private room before the ceremony, where he’d also sent someone to seduce me. Oliver hadn’t cared if my reputation was ruined. He had only wanted a legitimate reason to break off our engagement. To his dismay, my strong allergic reaction to the perfume had kept me from fully breathing it all in. Not even a powerful aphrodisiac could counteract the way my lungs had squeezed, my throat closing, as I sneezed and sneezed away the horrible perfume. I’d fought off the seducer. Oliver had pretended that it had been a test of my loyalty. Now, though, my sister is the one with the golden flowers and the perfume. And she doesn’t have the same allergies that I have. I watch out the window as the world passes by, faster and faster as the car drives me toward the place where I’ll have to take Hector Hunter as my husband and mate. I can’t hold back the laughter as I picture Jocelyn being caught in the compromising position, but the giggles fade into sad sighs as I realize that no matter how awful she’s always been to me, I can’t even wish the upcoming humiliation on her. Nobody deserves to be treated so poorly by someone who’s supposed to love them. If there’s anyone in the world who knows that, it’s me. The car pulls up in front of the Forest Green Packhouse. I have to open my own door, help myself out. My intended mate hasn’t even bothered to greet me. Well, I can’t let that bother me, can I? It’s not like I have any illusions about what all of this is. A show, a pact, a treaty. The first time, I’d accepted everything, and look where it had ended up? I’m not going to be that naive this time. I’m ready for whatever happens next — Except the enormous wolf that appears out of nowhere, snarling and snapping its jaws. My own wolf rises to my defense, but I hold her back. First of all, there’s no way I could ever fight this beast and win. Second, I won’t risk ruining my wedding dress with my transformation, so that I’ll end up naked and humiliated in front of everyone, showing that I can’t be trusted to control myself. And finally, the wolf is only herding me away from the car and into the house. It nips at my heels, speeding me along. It forces me into an expensively furnished den— Oh, Goddess protect me. Is Hector trying to do the same thing his brother did to me the first time around? The wolf transforms quickly into a huge, brawny man. A naked man. He puts his hands on his hips and grins at me lewdly as I do my best to back away without tripping on the hem of my long gown. I turn away. The gardenia bouquet falls to the ground. I brace myself for the hands on my body, tearing at my gown, but all I feel is hot, wet breath on the back of my neck. Rough hands then grip my hips, sliding upward to cup my breasts through the satin and lace. “What a pretty little present my Alpha has presented me with,” the man growls. His tongue slides against my ear, and I shudder. Twisting, my claws out, I rake his cheek. Blood spatters, and he almost backhands me — but a voice stops him. “Enough!” The man in the white suit steps out from his hiding place. He sweeps me with his assessing glare, then smiles grimly. It’s Hector. It’s too much to hope that he’s there to save me. He dismisses his Beta with a wave of his hand and takes a seat on the sofa. He crosses one leg neatly, making sure to tug his white trousers to keep them from snagging. My heart pounds. I can smell him — the woodsy, sharp scent of Alpha male. My nipples peak despite myself. We might not be mate bonded yet, but my body is reacting as though we are. Goddess, I pray. Does this mean that in this life, I might actually find a mate to love, one who will love me? Looking at Hector’s sneer, I can’t imagine us ever being in love. He gestures to draw me toward him. I take a few small steps but keep myself out of his reach. “Quite ruthless, aren’t you?” he asks calmly. With equal calm, I let my gaze meet his. “I could say the same about you.” He laughs a short, sharp bark. He runs his tongue over his teeth and looks me over again. “I thought I was marrying the other one.” “The prettier one,” I say. His eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t say that. You’re the healer, aren’t you? “I am.” Not that I expect I’ll be allowed to continue practicing the healing arts. Everyone needs a healer at least once in their lives, but it’s not considered an occupation worthy of a Luna. Anyway, once Hector becomes the Alpha and I’m the Luna, I’ll have too much taking up my time to continue with my healing work. “I like a smart she-wolf,” Hector says with another slide of his tongue, this time over his lips. “And you’re fierce. I thought for sure Joshua would have been able to have his way with you. I guess you’re not the eager little whore the rumors about you have said. Tell me, something…you can’t truly be a virgin, can you?” I flinch at the reminder of the stories my sister spread about me. It doesn’t matter that everyone had to know they couldn’t really be true…Jocelyn had been so insistent that nobody dared go against her. Anything she ever said was meant to make me look bad and her look better. “I am.” I lift my chin and meet his gaze, daring him to say he doesn’t believe me. Hector studies me, then stands and comes closer. He draws his nose along my bared shoulder and throat. Pressing his teeth to my skin, he touches the tip of his tongue to my neck, but he doesn’t bite. He’ll do that later. “By the Moon, you are,” he says and pushes me back just far enough to look at my face. His fingers still grip my arms so tightly, I’d have to yank hard to get away. “Why would you want someone else to take my virginity? And on our wedding day?” I hate the tremor in my voice and the way I take another step toward him, but I can’t help myself. I’m desperate to know, to understand. The Moon Goddess has to be teaching me something. I just can’t figure out what it is. There’s a flicker in Hector’s gaze, and I suddenly understand why he’d send his Beta in to take me that way. It is a gift of knowledge straight from the Moon Goddess herself, and my jaw drops. The moment he sees the understanding dawn on my face, Hector leaps from the couch to grab me by the upper arms. His fingers dig deep into my flesh. I’ll be bruised tomorrow, but he won’t care. If anything, a man like this will take pride in leaving such marks. Not so different from the mark he’ll give me later, after the ceremony, when he gives me the mating bite that will bond us together for eternity. I don’t know why, but I’ve been given the chance to live a new life. Make new choices, such as they are with the restrictions I’m still facing. But I know one truth for certain — whether I’m forced to marry Oliver or Hector, I refuse to live under someone’s control anymore. When I slide my hand down his rock-hard stomach, his gaze flickers. When I cup between his legs, he scowls and grips my wrist. More bruises. He even grinds the bones together. It hurts bad enough for me to draw in a hissing breath — but I don’t let go. I stroke him, and it’s not my clumsy efforts that leave him unaroused. No wonder my sister hadn’t been able to get with pup. No wonder she’d been ranting and raving to the point where Hector had had her hospitalized. No wonder she was so desperate to marry Oliver this time, instead. “I can help you with this,” I murmur, holding his gaze with mine. “I’m a healer, remember?” I try to release him, but his grip on my wrist gets even tighter. I stagger a little but manage to keep my balance at the last second. My palm feels very hot nestled between his thighs, and I want to pull it away… But at the same time, I don’t. His grin is hideous, full of malice. “I should kill you right now.”   In an instant, his hand is around my throat. I gasp for breath, batting without success at his curling fingers. He squeezes harder as his features ripple with his wolf, just beneath the surface. I can practically hear him thinking — better to silence me forever with this secret he’s managed to keep for so long. Hector’s reputation as a playboy with multiple mistresses has never been questioned. The only reason I even know it is because I’ve lived through a different timeline in the past and been reincarnated. “If you kill me,” I manage to gasp out, “you’ll set off another pack war. Not to mention, your grandfather will probably kill you.” “Not if I make it seem like an accident.” One last time, his fingers squeeze, stopping just short of choking me. Again, he slides his nose along my skin, breathing me in. When I shiver, is it distaste or something else? I’m not sure, but apparently neither is Hector, because he backs away from me with another scowl. He turns his back to me. “You don’t seem to know your place, Yvonne,” he says with a bitter tone. “Know it?” I laugh with equal bitterness. “I know it, all right. I simply refuse to keep accepting it!” For a second, I think he’s going to hit me, but at the last moment, he stops himself. His fists clench. His wolf flashes in his eyes — a vivid violet rimmed with green. I’ve never seen a wolf with eyes like that. His tongue, ruby red, slides along the points of his canines as he snarls. “I’ll never tell anyone!” I shout before he can fully transform. That would ruin this wedding day, and suddenly, I’m more eager to go through with it than I thought I’d be. Whatever the Moon Goddess has planned for me, it’s not for me to try and fight her wishes. If she wants me to live my life over again, it has to be so I can make different choices, right? To give me another chance at happiness? No matter how unreasonable that expectation might be? A knock at the door has us both turning. It’s the enormous Beta. At least he’s got all his clothes on, now. Joshua, that’s his name. I expect him to look me over with that same lewd glare, but apparently, he only tries to brutalize women when he’s ordered to. “They’re waiting for you both so the ceremony can start,” Joshua says. “Is my sister throwing a fit?” He gives me a small, tight, reluctant smile and a sharp nod. “She says she’ll start without you, if you don’t stop trying to ruin her special day. And your grandfather.” He nods at Hector but doesn’t finish because Hector holds up a hand. “I know all about my grandfather.” Hector turns to me and dismisses Joshua, who leaves at once. Hector eyes me, still frowning. “I’ve been to healers.” “None who have been your true and bonded mate,” I tell him with more confidence than I feel. The truth is, I have no idea if I can solve his “little problem” as I recall my sister’s describing it the first time we went through this life. But I’m willing to try, if it means getting Hector on my side. Finally, he nods. “Fine. We’ll get married. I’ll go through with the mate bond.” “And if my healing works,” I say quietly, “I’ll carry your pup and please your grandfather.” “And spend his money,” Hector says with a rude twist of his lips, although there’s something like admiration in his gaze. Quick as the flash of his wolf, then gone just as fast. “Won’t the price be worth it?” I drop my gaze to his crotch again, then up to meet his. I’ve infuriated him, but I don’t really care. I spent my former life bowing and scraping to please my parents, and it never worked. I’d done everything I could to be a good sister, no matter how many times Jocelyn slapped me back to the ground. Now that I have the chance to change my destiny, I’m going to take it. And that starts now. In my previous life, married to Oliver, I’d been able to heal his leg over the timespan of a few months. In fact, Oliver had also suffered the same “little problem” as Hector, but I’d always assumed it was more from the pain of his injuries than something else. Whatever is causing Hector’s inability to get an erection is something deeper. Carefully, I draw in a breath and call upon the healing powers the Moon Goddess blessed me with from the time of my first transformation. I feel her energy cycling through me, pulsing every place my heart beats. It starts to draw something dark out of Hector. A deep poison he’s allowed to build up for years. Distrust, anger, jealousy. He’s woven himself into a web of inadequacy he can’t untangle on his own. But I can. “Sir?” Joshua peeks in the door again. “They’re really getting anxious —” “How long?” Hector grits out to me, his wolfish gaze boring into mine. “Three days,” I promise. The healing pulse retreats. Hector nods. “Fine. Let’s get married.”   Three days later, as promised, Hector is healed. He’s not grateful. Doesn’t even say thank you. He simply leaves me in our shared bed without a word. I don’t care, though. The less I have to deal with him, the better. Still, I had expected him to go with me for the traditional post-wedding visit to my parents, where we’re meant to make an offering to the Moon Goddess and also give them gifts. When it’s clear that he’s not planning to hold up his end of the bargain, I hurriedly get ready and call for the driver to take me to the house that I’m glad I no longer have to call “home.” I don’t even care that I arrive empty-handed. I’ve spent my life with these people doing their best to shame me for things I didn’t do. At least now I’m married to a man powerful and rich enough that they can shame me for the mistakes I actually make. The moment I enter the living room, Jocelyn is checking out my clothes, comparing them to hers. Looking at her, I think the old saying is true—money can’t buy taste. Yes, her outfit is exorbitantly expensive. Designer everything from top to toe. Mine’s more understated, but the colors and styles suit me, and I can see my mother eyeing the two of us and wishing she could find fault with me. But she can’t, and I hold back the burst of my self-satisfied laughter. “Yvonne, your mate didn’t attend with you?” Jocelyn lets out a snide huff and rolls her eyes. “And no gifts? My mate sent along this exquisite coffee collection and espresso maker for Father, since we all know how much he adores his morning drink. And for Mother, we chose that gorgeous jade pendant and earrings set.” “I love it,” Mother declares, preening, while Father beams from his chair. “Your husband isn’t with you, either,” I reply nonchalantly. My sister waves the enormous diamond ring on her left hand. “Oliver is the CEO of the Hunter Group. He was busy with important things, but he sent his regards, at least. What’s your husband’s excuse? We all know he’s not the CEO.” “No. He’s just the rising Alpha,” I say with a wave of my own hand in return to show that I don’t give a damn about Oliver’s business position. Of course, when I was married to him, I fully understood how busy he was. Many nights he didn’t even bother to come home, and when he did, the pain from his injuries left him with such an evil temper that he beat me out of spite. Even after I healed him, he could be undeniably cruel. Thinking of this, I pay close attention the long sleeves on my sister’s dress. Now I see why she chose such an unflattering outfit. It’s hiding the bruises Oliver must have left on her arms. Now’s the moment when I could take my sister aside and tell her I know the truth about her suffering, and that she doesn’t have to allow it. If we went together to Nathan Hunter and told him about how awful his grandsons are, he might listen to us. He might care enough to reprimand them. But I don’t say anything to her, I just excuse myself to return to my childhood bedroom. I doubt there’s anything in there I’d really like to keep, especially that can’t be replaced, but I need to get out of that room. Watching my parents fawn all over my sister brings back too many bad memories. Before I can even get more than a few feet beyond the doorway, Jocelyn follows and pounces on me like a wolf hunting a rabbit. “Rising Alpha, maybe, but mannerless son-in-law, for sure,” she says with a haughty sniff. I don’t even bother to pause. Infuriated that I’m ignoring her, my sister lunges at me. She throws the red wine from her goblet to stain my cream blouse, but as I step out of her reach, she teeters on her expensive stilettos and loses her balance. When she crashes to the floor, Jocelyn screams like her head’s being cut off. Her shriek brings our parents running in from the living room. Mother helps my sister to her feet, cooing and hushing her, while Father turns on me. He raises a hand to slap my face. In the past, I would have cowered, but now I stand up straight and dare him to take the blow. He hesitates, probably thinking about the fact that my mate might not be the Alpha yet, but once he is, he will be the most powerful wolf in the entire territory. The Forest Green Pack has outranked the River Gorge Pack for a century. Even my father doesn’t dare risk hurting the rising Luna of Forest Green. “Yvonne pushed me!” Jocelyn screams the lie, which my parents both immediately believe. “She wanted to hurt me so bad that I won’t be able to carry the Hunter family heir!” “Not only did you come without your mate and didn’t bring us the gifts and the respect we deserve as your parents, or even the offering for the Moon Goddess…now you want to hurt your sister?” Father snarls. “You bring shame to this pack! No wonder your husband refused to honor us!” A figure steps from the shadows near the front door. A voice, low and growling, sets my father back. It’s Hector. “Who dares to say that I’d bring shame to my mate by not honoring her parents or the Moon Goddess?”

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