To cure the fake heiress’ depression, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, Ethan Graham, secretly married her despite his vows that he’d marry no one but me. So, I agreed to a family-arranged marriage with Asher Whitman, the heir to a powerful family in the capital, who had secretly loved me for years. For seven years after our wedding, Asher treated me like I was his whole world. His affection was overwhelming, almost suffocating, as if he couldn’t go a moment without touching me. If I wanted the stars in the sky, he’d find a way to bring them down for me. I thought I had finally found happiness. But then, one night after we were together, I overheard him talking to his close friend. “Serena’s now an international superstar. When are you going to break things off with Lila?” “It doesn’t matter who I’m with when she is not the one I love. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Lila to make sure she doesn’t ruin Serena’s hard-earned happiness.” I opened his study computer and found a hidden folder. It was packed with over a hundred thousand photos of Serena and a hundred unsent love letters. I’d be a fool if I still couldn’t see the truth. I bought a synthetic body and began planning a fire to fake my death. From this moment forward, I vowed never to see Asher again. ***** I turned off the screen after I placed the order for everything I needed. All I had to do was wait three days to vanish from Asher’s life forever. When I turned around, Asher was smiling at me. He had gotten rid of the scent of nicotine outside and warmed his body before daring to hug me from behind. He asked, “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” The warmth of his embrace should’ve been my haven, the safest place in the world. But now, it only left a bitter ache in my heart. Seven years of marriage, and he had spoiled me like no other. In the capital, everyone knew that Asher doted on his wife, keeping me hidden like precious. He told me he had fallen for me at first sight when we were kids, secretly loving me for 14 years. At our wedding, with tears in his eyes, he swore that marrying me felt like a dream. He knew all about my past, and when my childhood sweetheart turned his back on me, Asher used his family’s power to create a rift between them. He went so far as to sabotage Serena’s career to get back at those who had wronged me. He harbored hatred for anyone who betrayed me. His performance was so convincing that even I, an actress, couldn’t spot a flaw. I bitterly remembered how he would call my name in moments of passion, but the way he said it always sounded a little off. I thought it was just a quirk of his, but now I realized he had probably been calling me “Rina” the whole time. I lowered my head and wiped my tears, but he didn’t notice. Instead, he said, “Serena won the Best Actress award. There’s an industry gathering tomorrow, so stay home with me. I don’t want you to be upset when you see her.” I silently counted in my mind. This was at least the hundredth time Asher’d used such excuses to keep me from showing up in public. At first, I thought it was just his possessiveness, which I reluctantly tolerated, choosing to retreat while I was at my peak. Now, I realized it was all just to make way for Serena. I said, “I’m meeting with Anthony Pearce tomorrow. He wants me to star as the lead in his next film. I can’t skip it.” Asher said, “It’s fine. We don’t have to go. I’ll support you. Even if you never work again, I can take care of everything.” But fame and fortune never mattered to me. I had told him once that starring in an Anthony’s film was my dream, which I wanted to achieve with my talent. Back then, he had promised to support me in that. He hadn’t forgotten. But Serena also wanted the lead role, so my dream was doomed to be trampled for her benefit. Seeing I was silent, he gently coaxed me, “Lila, don’t be upset, okay? We can go to the party anytime, but our time together is more precious, right? The day after tomorrow marks our first seven-year itch. I promise I’ll give you an unforgettable surprise. Deal?” I forced a smile and said, “Okay, and I’ll give you my biggest gift in return.” What I didn’t say was, “Asher, we couldn’t overcome the seven-year itch. From now on, you’ll be alone. Only you. I’m letting you go.”

In the middle of the night, after Asher fell asleep holding me, I still couldn’t resist getting up and heading to the study. His words, telling me he didn’t love me, and the photo albums and love letters I found on his computer were enough to crush any hope I had left. But seven years with him weren’t an illusion. We had shared so many sweet moments, memories that refused to let me go. I walked over to the small safe on the desk. It felt like Pandora’s box, mysterious and dangerous. Back when we used to have sex in the study, I had asked Asher a few times what he kept inside that safe, something he treasured so much. He always dodged the question, refused to give me the code, and just teased me to guess. I tried everything. My birthday, his birthday, our wedding anniversary, but none of them worked. With trembling hands, I entered Serena’s birthday, and for the first time, I hoped I was wrong. The safe opened, and my heart plummeted. Inside was a pair of rings engraved with A&S. It stood for Asher and Serena. The design was old-fashioned, yet the rings were pristine and clearly cared for with great attention. All the strength drained from my body at that moment, leaving me hollow. It felt as though someone had carved the pain directly into my heart. No matter how naive I had been, I couldn’t deny the truth anymore. Asher had never loved me. The next day, I went against Asher’s wishes for the first time and decided to attend the party. Asher frowned slightly but didn’t stop me. Instead, he reminded me, “You can go, but Lila, you’re so beautiful. You must stay by my side. If Serena tries to bully you, I’ll be there to protect you.” Asher acted like a loyal little dog, eager to please. But I knew he wasn’t protecting me. He was afraid I’d escape his control or outshine Serena. I had no such intentions. With my staged death approaching, all I wanted was to say goodbye to the directors and screenwriters who had helped me along the way. The moment I entered, all eyes were drawn to Serena and me. Someone said, “The lead actress for Anthony’s next movie will surely be Lila. She’s got Asher backing her and undeniable talent.” Serena overheard this and stormed over. She snapped, “What makes you think that? That role is mine!” The crowd exchanged dismissive glances. “Compared to Lila, don’t you think you’re out of your league? You shouldn’t get too full of yourself.” “Exactly. Although you’re Mrs. Graham now, Lila is married into the Whitman family. It’s pretty obvious who has the upper hand here.” “Right. You’ve only won a minor film award. A little humility wouldn’t hurt.” Serena stomped her feet. “Just you wait! I’ll make you all eat your words!” She shot me a venomous glare. “And you, enjoy your moment while it lasts. Let’s see who ends up humiliated later! Ugh!” With that, Serena strode up and shoved me hard. I lost my balance and stumbled. My knee slammed into the corner of a table. The sharp pain brought tears to my eyes. But Asher, who had sworn to protect me tonight, stood by as if nothing had happened, allowing Serena to do as she pleased. I lowered my gaze, trying to suppress the bitter ache in my chest. Just then, the lights in the hall dimmed, leaving the room in darkness. It was time to reveal the lead actress of the highly anticipated film. “Let’s all congratulate… Serena Hayes! Special thanks to Sam Wheeler, the screenwriter whose work has grossed over ten billion dollars at the box office. This time, he not only waived his fee but also invested 300 million dollars to ensure Serena would star in his new movie. She’s his one and only muse, his true inspiration!” Serena ascended the stage, grabbing the microphone with a triumphant smirk. “Lila, after all these years, you still can’t beat me at anything. Loser!” She stood under the spotlight, surrounded by praise and admiration. I turned to look at Asher beside me. He held my hand, but his eyes glowed joyfully for Serena’s victory. My heart sank. I smiled bitterly. I accidentally came across Sam’s manuscript in the Whitman Villa’s study yesterday. The cover page read: [Dedicated to my one and only muse, Serena. From Sam Wheeler.] It was Asher’s love, hidden in plain sight yet never spoken aloud. I had expected this. But seeing it unfold before my eyes still sent a wave of pain through my chest. Anthony approached me, offering a soft reassurance. “It’s okay. You’ll always have a place as my leading lady.” I forced a weak smile and shook my head. “Thank you for your kindness, but perhaps there won’t be a next time.”

Feigning ignorance, Asher pulled me into his arms, offering comfort. “I’ll invest in a few movies for you to have fun with. How about that? I also planned a surprise for you tonight at Harborfront. My love for you is far more important than some movie role.” I forced a smile. Words that once felt sweet as honey now tasted like stale, cloying frosting. Still, to avoid arousing his suspicion, I swallowed my bitterness and replied, “Alright.” After expressing my gratitude to Anthony and other industry veterans, I excused myself, intending to leave early. Asher dismissed the driver, saying he wanted to take me for a drive instead. But just before the car started, his phone buzzed with a message. I glanced at the screen from the corner of my eye. The number was familiar. It was Serena’s. His expression shifted instantly. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face as he turned to me. “Lila, something urgent just came up at work. Can you head to Harborfront on your own?” I froze, then smiled lightly, “It’s fine. Go handle your business.” Asher kissed my forehead before retreating back to the party. I started the car, not toward Harborfront but back to the Whitman Villa. The rest of the night would be devoted to preparing for my staged death tomorrow. I collected every trace of my past with Asher. Online, I wiped every file and even deleted backups from the cloud. Offline, I gathered everything and planned to burn it all. Just as I was finishing, a notification popped up on my phone. It was an anonymous text. The message began with a photo of Asher, drunk, resting beside Serena. The accompanying words cut like a blade. [He has a stomach condition, yet he drank like his life depended on it to shield me. Lila, you won’t blame me for that, will you?] [Actually, although he openly opposes the Graham family to take my projects, he compensates me a hundredfold behind the scenes. Do you know why?] [Did you know that Asher has been my little shadow since we were kids? He’s only ever loved me. Marrying you was just a precaution to keep you in check.] [Surely you didn’t actually believe someone would fall in love with you out of the blue, did you?] [He told me that every night, he could only touch you by imagining you were me. He also said you’re just Ethan’s discarded secondhand woman because you didn’t give him your first time, and you are disgusting.] The texts kept pouring in like relentless snowflakes, but I remained unfazed. Instead, I focused on finishing what needed to be done. Once I had moved the mannequin into the bedroom and ensured the setup would burn thoroughly, I drenched the entire house in gasoline. Before leaving, I forwarded every message Serena had sent me to the most notorious tabloid team in the entertainment industry. Then, I snapped my SIM card in half and tossed it into the nearby bushes. With a press of the ignition button, the flames roared to life behind me as I walked away, my silhouette fading into the distance. The road ahead was pitch black, but it didn’t matter. I knew I would find daylight eventually. Meanwhile, Asher remained oblivious. He glanced down at Serena, his voice conveying unintentional reproach. “Serena, why are you here? Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary with Lila. If she finds out, she’ll get suspicious.” Serena’s eyes reddened as tears welled up. “Are you blaming me?” Asher was panicked, and he quickly backtracked. “No, no, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry, Serena.” Serena crossed her arms and huffed softly, barely satisfied by his apology. Meanwhile, calls from the Whitman Villa’s butler kept interrupting, Asher repeatedly silencing them with an irritated frown. After the tenth or so attempt, unease crept in. “What is it?” Asher snapped, finally picking up. The butler said frantically, “Mr. Whitman… Mrs. Whitman set fire to the house and took her own life! We tried our best to put out the flames, but it was too late. There’s nothing left to save.”

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“Ms. Hayes, are you absolutely sure you want to sign up for the first wave of cryogenic preservation? Your personal records will be completely wiped; legally, you’ll cease to exist,” the technician explained. I nodded without hesitation. “I’m sure.” “Alright then. The cryo-pod is scheduled to launch into space in seven days. You’ll be brought back and thawed only when medical technology advances enough to cure your terminal illness. We’re looking at about fifty years.” The technician was jotting down my name when he suddenly froze. “Wait… Your name is Angel Hayes?” Everyone knew about Angel, the beloved wife of Lucas Shaw, Harborcrest’s wealthiest man. Ignoring his shocked expression, I gave another cool nod. “Yes. Let’s get to the signing.” After ten years of marriage to Lucas Shaw, I thought I had it all. He treated me like a queen and showered me with affection every night, but we never had children. The day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, my perfect world shattered. I discovered he had another “family” with my sister—complete with a six-year-old son. That was when the truth came out. He’d been secretly slipping birth control into my soup every single day. All that love was just smoke and mirrors. It was time to wake up from this fairy tale. After signing those papers, there was no way he would ever find me again in this vast city. ***** I walked down the street clutching my terminal diagnosis papers while the Shaw Group’s jewelry ad glowed on the billboard overhead. “Mr. Shaw, we heard this diamond was your personal design, created to commemorate your love story with your wife. Is it true there’s only one in existence?” asked the interviewer. On screen, Lucas’ face softened with tenderness. “That’s right. I named it ‘Angel’s Heart’. It represents my wife’s name and symbolizes her unique place in my heart.” The video went viral, with everyone gushing about Lucas’ undying devotion to love. But I was the only one who knew he was lying through his teeth. I opened Twitter to see Esther Blake’s latest post. Esther: [Leon got to spend another day with Daddy at the amusement park today! The one he built just for me—I’m so blessed!] She’d posted photos of herself and her son at Moonriver, the biggest amusement park in town. There she was, beaming at the camera, wearing an Angel’s Heart ring on her finger—identical to the one on my hand. The comments were brutal. [This chick is so desperate to be Mrs. Shaw, she’s even copying the ring? Everyone knows Mr. Shaw built Moonriver for his wife, Angel. Know your place!] Esther fired back: [Angel? Please. That ring of hers is made from my leftover materials. She’s nothing.] My legs went weak. It felt like someone had their hand around my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Esther and I were half-sisters. She kept her mom’s last name, Blake. She’d only returned to the Hayes family five years ago, bringing along her eighteen-month-old son. If I hadn’t stumbled across her account a week ago, I never would have figured it out. That mysterious father of her son was actually my husband. The winter wind cut through me like a knife, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. Lucas… who was the real woman in your heart—me, or my sister Esther? When I got home, there was a small strawberry cake sitting on the table. Lucas was in the kitchen wearing an apron and cooking dinner. He smiled when he saw me come in. “Heard the girls at the office talking about this place, so I grabbed you a slice too.” After ten years of marriage, he still tried to keep the romance alive, just like when we first started dating. I stared at the slightly stale piece of cake, fighting back the bitter feeling rising in my chest. In Esther’s lovey-dovey post yesterday, there was a whole gorgeous cake. Her caption read: [Our kid is already six, but hubby still knows how to make things special. Though this cake is way too big, I can’t possibly finish it!] Even with the heat cranked up all the way, I couldn’t shake the chill that had settled into my bones. Lucas came out with the soup, looking worried, when he noticed I hadn’t touched the cake. “Angel, you feeling okay?” He carefully blew on a spoonful of soup before holding it up to my lips. “You must’ve gotten so cold on your way back. I really should’ve picked you up, but work was crazy today.” There was a cutesy pin on his collar—obviously a freebie from the amusement park. My heart clenched painfully at the sight. Looking at the bowl of soup laced with birth control, I lowered my eyes, my voice trembling. “Lucas, do I really have to drink this?” Lucas’ expression flickered with surprise, but he shut me down without missing a beat. “Of course you do. You’re not exactly in top shape. This will help get your body back on track.” He placed his hand on my flat stomach, his voice going soft. “Come on, baby. Don’t we both want a little one of our own?” I bit my lip hard. Anyone hearing this would think Lucas was the perfect, doting husband. I used to believe it, too. I thought all his running around getting me medicine was actually about improving my health. I clutched the medical report tighter in my hand as I swallowed the soup. Lucas finally looked satisfied. When his phone rang, he caught the caller ID and shot me a quick, shifty glance. “Work call. Gotta take this. Make sure you finish your medicine, okay?” He rushed to the balcony, but the glass door didn’t quite shut. His voice drifted back through the gap. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call when Angel’s home!” He paused for a beat before continuing, “Stop being so needy. I spent the last two nights at your place. Wasn’t that enough? “Fine, fine. I’ll definitely make it to Leon’s parent-child activity tomorrow.” I looked down at the poorly crafted ring on my finger and slowly pulled it off. Then, I dumped every last drop of that soup in the trash… along with any love I had left for him.

The next morning, I got a call from the hospital. “Ms. Hayes, you need to start chemotherapy as soon as possible. We can’t delay treatment any longer. Should we notify Mr. Shaw?” “No need,” I replied flatly. “I’m choosing to stop treatment. Don’t tell Lucas anything.” After hanging up, I checked my phone and saw Lucas’ message from a few hours ago: [Headed to work. Don’t forget breakfast. I’m getting off early tonight to celebrate your birthday with you.] My eyes darkened. Lucas could say whatever he wanted, but Esther’s Twitter was already flooded with photos of him at some parent-child event. Dinner time had come and gone. The food on the table was stone cold by the time Lucas finally showed up. And, of course, Esther was right behind him, carrying Leon. “Esther said it was your birthday and wanted to celebrate with you. Since we’re all family, I figured I’d bring her along.” I just stared at him silently. Back then, he used to hate having anyone else around on my birthday. He’d always wanted it to be just the two of us. But I guess after spending so much time in someone else’s arms, he couldn’t even be bothered to pretend anymore. Noticing my mood, Lucas began, “Angel…” Before he could finish, Leon squirmed out of Esther’s arms and kicked over the potted plant beside him. The potted plant shattered across the floor, dirt and broken pieces scattering everywhere. He stuck his tongue out at me with a nasty smirk. “You old hag! That’s what you get for trying to steal my daddy!” “What are you talking about?” I snapped, my voice cold. Leon’s face crumpled as he burst into loud, dramatic sobs. Esther quickly scooped him up, giving me a wounded look. “Angel, he’s just a little kid. He doesn’t know any better. Please don’t be mad. I’ll apologize to him!” She started to drop to her knees, but Lucas grabbed her arm to stop her, his brows furrowed. “Angel, come on. It’s just a plant. I’ll buy you a new one, okay? Don’t be so hard on a kid.” Was it just a plant? I stared at him in disbelief. He knew exactly what that plant meant to me. My mom had entrusted it to me on her deathbed. For ten years, I’d carefully tended to it, keeping a piece of her alive with me. “Whatever,” I said, my voice going flat. As I turned to head back to my room, I caught a flicker of panic across Lucas’ face. But he didn’t follow me. I let out a bitter laugh. What else was there to understand? Esther slipped in front of me, deliberately tugging her collar aside to reveal the trail of hickeys across her skin. “You know why Lucas missed your birthday today? He was at my son’s parent-child event instead. Still think you’re the one he loves most?” Looking at her smug face made my blood boil. “Esther, I’m not interested in your nonsense,” I said. I tried to move past her into the house, but she grabbed my wrist. “Leon is mine and Lucas’ child. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of this place right now.” My wrist hurt from her grip, but I kept my face blank. “You should tell that to Lucas. The moment he asks for a divorce, I’ll be happy to let you two be together.” Esther’s face darkened. “You’re such a pathetic woman, desperately clinging to a man who doesn’t even love you,” she hissed. “So what if you’re his wife? Leon will be his only child forever. Any baby you try to have will die if I don’t want it to exist.” She leaned in close to my ear, her voice chilling. “You want to know what really happened to your baby? Lucas gave you those pills because I told him to.” Her words hit me like a thunderbolt, making my head spin. I’d suspected she was behind the birth control pills, but I never imagined Lucas would actually kill our baby for her. Five years ago, I lost my four-month-old pregnancy without warning. I cried for days, blaming myself for not taking better care of the baby. Lucas seemed so heartbroken then. He stayed by my side constantly, taking me on trips to help me heal. But now I knew the truth—it was all just guilt. My chest felt unbearably tight like someone was squeezing my heart in a death grip. Before I could even process what was happening, Esther grabbed my hand and used it to slap herself hard across the face. Then, she burst into dramatic sobs. “Angel, please don’t hit me! I’m sorry, I was wrong!” Lucas came running into the room. When he saw the red mark on Esther’s face, he shot me an icy glare. “Angel Hayes, when did you become so petty? She’s your own sister!” He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He just wrapped his arm around Esther and walked out without looking back. As they left, Esther turned her head to give me one last look—a mix of triumph and mockery in her eyes. I tasted iron in my throat and then violently coughed up blood before everything went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying in the research facility. “Ms. Hayes, we were trying to reach you for your pre-freezing checkup. When our staff couldn’t contact you and found you unconscious at home, we took the liberty of bringing you back here.” It was ironic. On my birthday, my husband of ten years left me for dead. Yet here I was, saved by a research facility I was only connected to through a piece of paper. “Ms. Hayes, your condition is critical. We’ll need to start the cryogenic process sooner than planned.” I realized I had breathing tubes in my nose and bandages wrapped around my hands. Closing my eyes briefly, I asked in a raspy voice, “How long do I have?” “One day left.” “I have unfinished business.” I pulled off the breathing mask and got out of bed, ignoring the searing pain in my organs. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, on time.” The staff exchanged glances before nodding sympathetically. “Going to say goodbye to Mr. Shaw? You must still care about him.” “No.” My voice turned ice cold. “I’m going to divorce him.” Even if I was about to leave, I didn’t want my future life to have any connection to Lucas. I hailed a cab, and when my phone screen lit up, I realized I’d been out cold for two whole days. The real kicker was that Lucas hadn’t sent me a single message. Meanwhile, Esther was living it up on social media. One day, it was a fancy restaurant. The next it was some luxury hotel. I ignored all the notifications and headed to the law office, where they told me the divorce papers wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. When I got home, Lucas was waiting to tear into me, just like I knew he would. “Where have you been for the past two days? You couldn’t even reply to messages? Was it really that hard to just apologize to Esther?” I just stared at him, saying nothing. I’d been MIA for two days, and instead of worrying about my safety, his first words were about Esther. After ten years of marriage, I’d never felt like I was looking at a stranger until now. He glanced down, finally noticing my pale face and the bandages wrapped around my hand. Lucas’ expression flickered. “What happened to you?” I made up some excuse. “Got dizzy from low blood sugar that night, took a fall.” Guilt flashed across his face, and his tone finally softened. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Not necessary,” I said flatly. Lucas’ shoulders tensed up, but I just walked past him into the house. While searching through my room for the documents needed for tomorrow night’s cryogenic process, my eyes landed on a small box sitting on the nightstand. Inside was a necklace—Lucas’ wedding gift to me. He’d bought the naming rights to a star and had a gemstone custom-made to match its shape, meant to be our symbol of love. The memory made me space out for a moment. When they sent me up into space, I guessed that star would be my only companion. But as I picked up the box, something felt off. The weight was wrong. Opening it confirmed my suspicions—the necklace was gone. My heart went cold. It was here just days ago. There was no way it just disappeared while I was away. This wasn’t some random coincidence. Right then, Lucas knocked on the door. “Made you some soup. Come have it while it’s hot.” His expression softened when he saw me holding the box, and he moved to wrap his arms around me. I pressed my lips together and tossed the empty box onto the bed. The hollow sound made Lucas freeze. “It’s okay, Angel,” he said weakly. “I’ll get you another necklace in a few days.” I felt nothing but disgust. Pushing him away, I walked straight to the living room. Ignoring the steaming soup on the table, I grabbed some random pastries from the fridge to fill my stomach. Lucas lingered behind me, obviously wanting to say something but holding back. Then came a knock at the door. He changed course to answer it, but the moment he opened the door, he slammed it shut just as quickly, like he was trying to hide something. I pulled up my phone and checked the video doorbell feed. Sure enough, there was Esther’s face on the screen, wearing that necklace around her neck. My eyes narrowed. “I told you to stop messing with Angel’s stuff. Give that necklace back right now!” Lucas hissed. “We’ve already hooked up in her bed. Why are you getting worked up over some cheap necklace?” “Keep your voice down! What if Angel hears you?” “Wouldn’t that make it even more exciting? Hey Lucas, wanna see what I’m wearing underneath?” She let her strap fall, revealing lingerie underneath as she leaned in close to Lucas’ ear, her breath hot against his skin. Lucas’ serious expression melted away instantly. He grabbed her waist hard and kissed her. The room started spinning around me, my insides twisting with pain. But nothing could compare to the ache in my heart. I stumbled to my study and locked the door behind me, covering my ears to block out everything happening outside.   When I woke up, it was already past noon. My head felt foggy, and I could barely breathe—my condition was getting worse. The research facility wasn’t lying—my time really is running out. Lucas made me breakfast himself, probably feeling guilty after finding my room empty last night and the study door locked. He made me some oatmeal and asked, “Haven’t you been sleeping well lately? It’s not like you to sleep in this late.” My throat felt like rusty metal as I croaked out. “It’s nothing, just having some trouble sleeping.” Lucas nodded. “I’ll get you some medicine tonight.” I stayed quiet, but he kept going, his voice careful and testing the waters. “Something urgent came up at work yesterday. That’s why I got back so late.” When I didn’t react, Lucas let out a tiny breath of relief. My stomach was still in knots, so I only managed a couple of sips before trying to get up. That was when he spoke again. “Angel, I cleared my schedule today. Want to go for a drive around town?” I looked up at him, memories flooding back. Harborcrest’s weather was perfect year-round, and back when we were dating, Lucas and I loved nothing more than cruising around the city together. I was about to shake my head, but he’d already grabbed his jacket and was pulling me toward the underground parking garage, not taking no for an answer. Whatever, I might as well take one last look at the city before I go. Lucas held my hand tight as he helped me into the passenger seat, leaning down to carefully buckle my seatbelt. To anyone watching, he’d look like the perfect, attentive husband. But then I glanced down and spotted a bright red lipstick on the seat cushion. Lucas’ face went pale for a second as he quickly snatched it up and tossed it aside. “Must be Esther’s from when I drove her to the hospital the other day. I’ll have her pick it up later.” I didn’t bother arguing. I just rolled down the window to let the breeze hit my face, which actually made me feel a bit better. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lucas pushed two gift boxes toward me. “I found the necklace, and the other box is to make up for your birthday gift.” When I didn’t move, he tilted his chin. “Want to open them?” I let out a sigh, ignoring the box with the necklace and casually opening Lucas’ gift instead. Inside lay an exquisite emerald pendant, small and delicate. It was beautiful. I might have actually loved it if I hadn’t seen the exact same one hanging around Leon’s neck before. The fact he’d give such an inappropriate gift made it obvious who put him up to this. I picked up the emerald pendant, feeling its substantial weight in my hand. This definitely wasn’t cheap. His brow relaxed at this sight. “I’m glad you like it, Angel. We’ll definitely have an adorable baby together someday.” Before he could finish speaking, I raised my hand and hurled the pendant out the window. A truck roared past, crushing it to dust. Lucas’ face turned ashen. “What are you doing?” “I don’t like secondhand things,” I said coldly. And I wasn’t just talking about the pendant. Lucas caught my meaning, instantly becoming flustered. “Angel, there must be some misunderstanding.” “What misunderstanding?” I scoffed. “Lucas, you know exactly how disgusting your actions are.” Lucas pressed his lips together. “Angel, let me explain.” His phone suddenly rang, cutting him off. It was Esther. “Lucas, Leon got food poisoning. He’s throwing up everywhere. You need to take him to the hospital right now!” The woman’s voice on the other end was frantic, almost crying. Lucas’ expression changed instantly as he pulled over to the side of the road. “Angel, take a cab home. I’ll explain everything when I get back tonight.” He rushed out those words before speeding away. Night had completely fallen. I looked up at the sky and let out a bitter laugh. If he’d just driven a little further, he would’ve seen I was heading to the law firm. I picked up the divorce papers alone, signed them, and left them on the table. After forwarding Esther’s Twitter profile to Lucas, I hopped on the cab to the research facility.

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For our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband, Edward Collins, lit up the entire city with fireworks just for me. The neon lights of skyscrapers sparkled with his grand proclamation of love: [Emma, I will love you forever.] Our love was the envy of everyone—a romance so dazzling that the whole city knew our names. Every year, on my birthday, he’d charter a private yacht. On ordinary days, it was endless flowers and thoughtful gifts. To the world, I was the luckiest woman alive. But only I knew the truth. It was all for show—for her, the one who got away. Just hours ago, I found something in the inner pocket of Edward’s suit jacket—a carefully laminated photograph of him and his first love, taken ten years ago. On the back, in his unmistakable handwriting, were the words: [My one true love.] Ten years of what I thought was true love turned out to be nothing more than a cruel joke. Without a word, I left divorce papers on his desk, packed our child’s things, and walked out of the Collins villa. But after I was gone, Edward lost his mind. ***** I slid the photo back into his pocket, my fingers trembling. It was old, worn at the edges, but carefully laminated as if the owner had cherished it all these years. My chest tightened as I stared at my phone, typing the name “Amelia Moore” into the search bar. She was a travel blogger with a decent following, living abroad for years. She was also Edward’s first love. He had loved her deeply, and after she left the country, they hadn’t been in touch—or so I thought. The suit jacket where I’d found the photo? It was a custom anniversary gift we’d just ordered last week. The photo couldn’t have been placed there long ago. Scrolling through Amelia’s latest post, I saw her caption: [It’s been ten years. Don’t I deserve to chase my happiness too?] Beneath her words was a picture of a plane ticket back to the country. The date? Today. My vision blurred. My knees nearly buckled. I had married Edward, thinking that he’d let go of his past. For ten years, we lived what I thought was a perfect love—attentive, harmonious, like newlyweds. Now I realized he’d never truly moved on. Why? “Emma? What’s on your mind?” Edward’s familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see him holding a bag of desserts, tilting his head as he smiled at me, “Are you feeling lightheaded again? I stopped by the bakery and got your favorite.” He walked over and took my hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His eyes flickered to the suit in my hands. “Why are you doing this yourself? You could’ve asked one of the servants.” With a practiced nonchalance, he took the suit from me and hung it neatly on the rack. In that split second, I caught him glancing at the inner pocket. The relief on his face when he saw the photo still there was subtle but unmistakable. My heart sank deeper. Edward led me to the couch, frowning slightly. “Why are your hands so cold? Did you catch a chill last night?” I shook my head wordlessly, my mind in turmoil. Last night, Edward had orchestrated a city-wide spectacle of fireworks, declaring his love for me to the entire world. For a brief, shining moment, I’d believed I was the happiest woman alive. Now I knew the truth. Even as he proclaimed his eternal love for me, he kept a picture of his first love—right next to his heart. Overnight, I went from being on top to hitting rock bottom. Edward opened the dessert box and handed me a fork, his usual gentleness on full display. Before I could take a bite, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen and declined the call in one swift motion. The flicker of hesitation in his eyes didn’t escape me. “Who was that?” I asked softly. His response came smoothly as if he’d rehearsed it a hundred times. “Just the new manager at work—doesn’t know better than to call at this hour.” Edward smiled at me, his gaze filled with the same affection that used to make my heart flutter, “Off the clock, my priority is spending time with my wife.” Once, that smile had been my world. Now, it only made me sick. When his phone screen lit up earlier, I’d glimpsed the contact’s name—”My Love”. Edward was a man of precision—his phonebook was filled with full names, formal and exact. I’d teased him countless times to change my name to something more endearing, but he’d always refused, saying it would confuse his contacts. It wasn’t that he couldn’t. I just wasn’t special enough. How many of these sweet temptations have I fallen for? The phone rang again. Edward flinched, his fingers tightening as he ended the call. His restless gaze drifted to the window, where snow had begun to fall. He was growing impatient. Amelia was waiting for him at the airport. When the phone buzzed a third time, I finally spoke. “Eddie, if it’s urgent, you should go. Don’t keep them waiting.” He froze, studying my expression carefully. When I didn’t push further, his shoulders relaxed. Grabbing a tissue, he leaned down to gently wipe the corner of my mouth. “I’ll just pop into the office. I’ll be back soon. Don’t forget to have the nanny prepare a nutritious dinner for Harper.” Such a considerate husband. Even when leaving, he remembered to care for our child. I clenched my fists, the pain grounding me. It was this meticulous care that had blinded me for ten long years, hiding the truth that was now so clear. I watched Edward leave. His hurried steps were rare. Few things ever rattled his composure. Scooping a forkful of cake into my mouth, I let the sweetness melt on my tongue. But instead of comfort, it turned bitter. It used to be my favorite bakery, but somehow, the cake tasted bitter today. Maybe it was just me—my mood must’ve changed. I sat on the couch until it got dark, the dishes on the table left untouched and cold. My phone stayed silent the whole time. I guessed Edward really was “busy”. I walked into Harper’s room and knelt by her bed, tears falling as I gazed at her peaceful face. Upstairs, I opened the drawer where I kept our documents. The marriage certificate stared back at me, the embossed date mocking me. With trembling fingers, I picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello, I’d like to file for divorce.”

That night, I slept in Harper’s room. I didn’t know what time Edward came home. All I remembered was someone tucking the blanket over me and pressing a kiss on my forehead. The heavy scent of perfume on him was suffocating, enough to make me cough in my sleep. By morning, the snow had piled high outside. Once woken, I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I sat in the living room until dawn. My head was heavy, and though Edward sliced the breakfast toast neatly, I couldn’t bring myself to eat. Looking up, I noticed a rare smile tugging at his lips. He seemed to be in an unusually good mood. Meeting my gaze, Edward spoke, “Emma, I booked the top floor of the downtown hotel for tonight.” I frowned. Hadn’t we just held an event there two days ago? Seeing my confusion, Edward explained effortlessly, “Harper’s seventh birthday is coming up. I thought we could celebrate early.” I said nothing. I had originally planned to send Harper back to my hometown today. But hearing Edward’s words, she was so thrilled I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. So, I nodded. The downtown top-floor venue required reservations far in advance. For Edward to secure it on a whim, he must have shelled out a hefty sum. But for what purpose? When we arrived at the venue, I finally understood. The massive screens displayed photo after photo of our little family, brimming with sweetness. Every guest marveled at our perfect love story, praising us as a model couple. Listening to the familiar compliments, I looked at the corner. It was Amelia. Dressed in a simple white gown, she sat quietly in the shadows. Her eyes were swollen red as if she had spent the entire night crying. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I finally understood Edward’s intent. Two grand celebrations in quick succession, flaunting his devotion to his wife and child—It was all to provoke Amelia. Her doe-like eyes were fixed on Edward, brimming with heartbreak, making her look utterly pitiable. And yet, Edward held Harper in his arms, not sparing Amelia a single glance. Amelia’s trembling hands clutched the hem of her dress, her grief barely contained. Clearly, Edward’s plan was working. I clung to Edward’s arm, my dizziness growing. It seemed I had caught a cold after all. Tugging at his sleeve gently, I gestured to let him know I wanted to rest. Edward turned, his gaze accidentally brushing past Amelia in the corner. His broad shoulders stiffened for a fleeting moment, his calm mask slipping. But he quickly steadied himself. He gripped my hand and led me to the lounge. Seated with Harper on his lap, his eyes kept straying toward Amelia’s direction. It was only a matter of time before he lost control. I closed my eyes to rest, but it wasn’t long before the host’s voice echoed through the hall, calling for the birthday girl to cut the cake. Instinctively reaching out, I realized Edward was no longer by my side. Harper tugged at my dress, her small voice filled with curiosity. “Where’s Daddy?” I patted her head, taking her hand as we walked onto the stage. When the host asked about Edward, I simply smiled, “No need to wait. He won’t be joining us.” After cutting the cake and watching Harper run off with the other children, I felt lightheaded. The room was too stifling. Stepping out the back door into the garden, I took a deep breath, letting the cold air soothe me. But then I heard Edward’s voice. “You left me. Now you’re playing the victim—what’s the point?” A woman’s voice answered sharply, “Edward, you bastard. You promised you’d wait for me forever.” Edward laughed softly, his tone cold, “I have wealth and status, Amelia. The last thing I need is another woman. You saw tonight—I’m doing just fine without you.” There was a stunned silence, followed by a bitter laugh from Amelia. “You mean her? Emma and her daughter? Edward, be honest with yourself—do you even love them?” Silence stretched between them, heavy and unbroken. Then, without warning, Amelia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. In the falling snow, Edward didn’t pull away. Instead, he gently wrapped his arm around her waist. They embraced like lovers, reuniting after years apart. It wasn’t until snowflakes dotted my hair that I realized I had been standing there, frozen. My hands felt so cold that they were nearly numb. Slowly, I pulled out my phone and dialed Edward’s number. The ringtone echoed for a long time before he finally picked up. “Where are you?” I asked softly. Still holding Amelia, Edward’s ears were flushed red, but his tone was flawless. “I spilled some wine on my suit and went to clean up in the changing room. Emma, stay put—I’ll come find you in a bit.” My breath misted in the cold air as I stared at their entwined silhouettes. My heart felt like it was freezing solid. “Edward,” I whispered, “turn around.”

The two of them, tightly entwined, froze in place. When Edward turned and saw me, he instinctively shoved Amelia away with force. Amelia stumbled, falling to the ground, staring up at him in disbelief. Edward staggered toward me, panic etched on his face. I ended the call and turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist. “Emma, it’s not what it looks like,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “I wasn’t… She and I aren’t—” I lowered my gaze and cut him off softly. “No need to explain, Edward. I’m tired.” His desperate attempts to hold me back only deepened my exhaustion. I should’ve let go the moment I saw the photos. But I’d stubbornly dragged myself to this humiliating moment instead. “Behind us, Amelia sat on the ground, her voice trembling as she called out to him, “”Eddie…””” Hearing her utter that nickname awakened a long-buried memory in me. When we were newlyweds, Edward used to hold me close, nuzzling into my neck as he pleaded over and over, “Emma, call me Eddie from now on, won’t you?” I’d been too shy back then, refusing no matter how much he begged. I never understood why he adored such a childish name. At the time, I’d thought it was his special way of cherishing me. Now, I realized—it was Amelia who liked it. Edward turned to look at Amelia, still on the ground. Surprise flickered across his face before being replaced by an unmistakable tenderness. But his hand remained firmly on mine, torn between the two of us. After a moment, he gritted his teeth and faced me. “Emma, just listen to me—I can explain. It’s not what you think.” I stared at him silently. The more I stayed quiet, the more flustered he became. “Emma, don’t do this, okay? I… I can’t lose you.” The moment he said that, Amelia’s face turned ashen. I lifted my eyes to meet Edward’s evasive gaze. “Edward,” I said, my voice calm yet deliberate. “A lie repeated a thousand times—aren’t you afraid you’ll start believing it yourself?” Edward froze, the meaning of my words clearly sinking in. For a brief moment, his face was blank with confusion. I gently pushed his hand away and walked over to Amelia, helping her to her feet. She looked at me, her eyes filled with bewilderment. She was stunning in a way that was completely different from me. It wasn’t hard to see why Edward had held onto her in his heart for so many years. I took her hand and placed it in Edward’s. Looking up at him, I forced a faint smile. “Don’t make the wrong choice this time.” My chest ached, but I turned and staggered back through the rear door, leaving them behind. As soon as I stepped inside, my legs gave out, and I collapsed to the ground. That night, I burned with a high fever. Edward stayed by my bedside, silent and pensive. It seemed my words earlier had struck a nerve. He clasped my hand against his forehead, his voice trembling as he pleaded, “Emma, give me another chance, please. I can’t lose you.” I opened my eyes weakly, looking at him. It was like seeing the young man from ten years ago, kneeling on one knee, proposing to me. Back then, I’d thought life was long, and I had all the time in the world to make him love me. Looking back now, I realized I’d lost from the very start. When he noticed I was awake, Edward’s eyes widened in relief. “Emma, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” Even now, he was still keeping up his act of care and concern. He was so absorbed in his performance that he’d likely convinced even himself. I couldn’t summon the strength to lift my eyelids fully. My voice was hoarse as I replied, “Edward, I forgive you. I’m not leaving.” If he wanted to act, I’d play along until the very end. A flicker of joy flashed in his eyes, but before he could speak, his phone rang. The name on the screen was glaringly familiar. Edward glanced at me awkwardly before picking up the call. “Eddie, I hurt my foot and didn’t bring my ID. Can you come to the hospital?” Amelia’s voice was calm and unhurried, clearly unbothered by the supposed “emergency”. She had no doubt about her place in Edward’s heart. She must’ve known I was sick and needed care, yet she’d chosen to call now. It was deliberate. I didn’t even need to guess how Edward would respond. Sure enough, he shot up from his chair, his voice filled with urgency. “Emma, she just got back to the country. It’s hard for her to handle things alone. And she’s only hurt because of me. I’ll just go check on her quickly.” The excuse was flawless as if he’d completely forgotten I was lying there with a raging fever. I let out a soft “Mm,” too drained to argue. “Go ahead.” “After he left, I grabbed my phone and booked a flight for 2 p.m. the next day. Then, I asked the housekeeper to bring me the divorce papers that had arrived yesterday. Without hesitation, I signed my name in the bottom-right corner.”

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The night before my wedding to Kayden Crawford, I committed suicide. When news of my death broke, it sent shockwaves through everyone who knew me because I had been the adopted daughter of the Crawford family. My adoptive parents adored me, and my adoptive brother Kayden loved me even more. We got engaged when I turned 18, and soon after, my adoptive parents transferred all their shares to me. Everyone envied my good fortune. Without lifting a finger, I was already worth hundreds of billions and basked in admiration. But when my suicide note was made public, everyone went crazy. ***** On the third day after my death, Kayden finally showed up at the mental hospital to see me. He stood at the doorway of the basement, yelling, “Lainey, you’ve been trying so hard to get me to marry you, haven’t you? “Now that I’m here to pick you up for the wedding, you’re hiding away from everyone. What do you think I am?” Silence was the only answer he received. Kayden had no idea that I was standing right in front of him in the form of a soul. I had died the night before my wedding to my adoptive brother. He claimed that my love for him was a twisted obsession, a mental illness, and instructed his secretary, Sophie Porter, to have me committed to this mental hospital. The dead only added fuel to the fire, saying, “Mr. Crawford, Ms. Simpson has been refusing treatment and bullying other patients, so we have no choice but to keep her locked up.” His assistant, Jacob, couldn’t help but retort, “Mr. Crawford, you watched Ms. Simpson grow up; she has never been unreasonable…” Kayden cut him off with a sneer, “She dared to climb into my bed and force me to marry her. Isn’t that unreasonable?” Jacob fell silent, lost for words. I floated beside him, wanting to shout that he had it all wrong. I hadn’t drugged him that night. I had simply gone to pick him up as usual, and he had pushed me into the backseat of the car and taken advantage of me. But now, he couldn’t hear any of my explanations. Kayden’s expression darkened, and he barked, “Open the door!” With a loud creak, the rusty iron door swung open. The next moment, everyone froze at the sight before them. On the white wall, in blood, were scrawled words like “Save me” and “I’m not a bitch.” It was a horrifying sight. Kayden’s cold demeanor faltered for just an instant as he turned to the dean, asking, “What is this?” Panic-stricken, the dean explained, “Mr. Crawford, this is Ms. Simpson’s usual tactic. She often resorts to suicide to force us to open the door, claiming she just loves you and wants to come out and find you.” Kayden’s eyes darkened further with fury. “Lainey Simpson…” With that, he strode deeper into the basement, but the further he went, the more bloodstains appeared on the walls, and the messages grew increasingly frantic. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the entire wall was covered with the words, “I want to die.” Kayden became even more convinced that I was merely putting on an act. He scoffed, “She wants to die just over such a trivial matter? She always plays the victim!” I hovered beside him, feeling my soul tremble. Kayden, I was really dead. When I was sent to this mental hospital, he severed all my ties to the outside world, insisting I reflect on my actions. But the very next day, the hospital staff informed me that Kayden had ordered them to “correct my distorted thoughts.” So, I went from being a devoted sister to a prisoner in a facility. I was confined to the basement, shackled for 24 hours a day. I was forced to eat the leftovers discarded by the hospital staff. And my so-called attending physician was truly a monster. He would sneak into the basement every night, forcing me to kneel and crawl on the floor like a dog. He would prick me with needles, forbidding me from making a sound, or else I’d be subjected to electric therapy the next day. At first, I thought about reaching out to Kayden for help. But when I sneaked into the dean’s office to call him, he dismissed my pleas. He said, “Lainey, you need to know when to stop lying. Which doctor would dare touch the daughter of the Simpson family? Since you refuse to admit your mistakes, you should remain here.” As the busy signal echoed in my ears, despair washed over me. The doctor and the dean looking for me quickly arrived. I was electrocuted for a day and a night, and then they restrained me and tossed me into a car. Only then did I realize they intended to sell me for my kidneys. Before entering that second hell, I chose to jump from the car on the highway. As I hit the ground, a truck barreled toward me… As I resurfaced from my memories, Jacob had violently broken the lock of the basement door, and Kayden kicked it open. “Enough of the tricks, Lainey!” he shouted angrily. But then his voice trailed off, and everyone else gasped at the sight inside. The cramped space was a makeshift bathroom filled with a foul stench, and I was nowhere to be found. The floor was covered in blood, and the bathtub was filled with thick, blackened blood.

I trailed behind Kayden, following his gaze. Everything was bloody. He was usually a total neat freak, but right now, surprise was the only expression on his face. The scene before us was indeed chilling. Kayden’s pricey leather shoes crunched over blood, and the nauseating stench didn’t seem to bother him at all. He frowned at the dean, his voice icy. “She lives here? Where is she?” Sweat dripped from the dean’s forehead. “Mr. Crawford, Ms. Simpson has threatened us with this kind of stunt before, saying that if we don’t let her see you, she’ll end her life here. “But there was a power outage at the hospital last night, and Ms. Simpson might have seized that chance to escape.” My anger surged, shaking me to my very core. I drifted in front of the dean and the group of doctors, my eyes burning with rage. “Kayden, they’re lying! They’re all lying to you!” my soul screamed. It was clear they were just trying to cover up the truth about my accident. They had transported my freshly deceased body back to the hospital and harvested my organs before they could decompose. Those nightmares replayed in my mind. Even as a spirit, I still felt fear and cold. Jacob, unable to watch any longer, tentatively asked, “Mr. Crawford, has something really happened to Ms. Simpson? Should I call the police…” But Kayden believed the dean’s words and snorted coldly, “How could something happen to her? She’s such a drama queen. She cried at the slightest bump or bruise, and now, she’s pulling this stunt just for attention.” He narrowed his eyes, scanning the area with a mocking smile on his lips. “She’s really playing her cards now, thinking she can fool everyone. Too bad no one knows her better than I do.” Kayden stormed out of the basement, instructing Jacob to gather a search party. “Search thoroughly. You must bring her to me today, even if you have to turn Kingburgh upside down. “Sophie is right. Lainey didn’t show up at the wedding because she’s determined to make the Crawford family a laughingstock in Kingburgh.” His harsh words shattered my heart. He had locked me away in this hell and ignored my existence, only to look for me now out of fear that I would bring shame to his family? I had thought that no matter how cruelly he treated me, there would still be some lingering feelings for me deep down. From the time I was five until I turned 18, he had dominated my world. That was why I had fallen for him uncontrollably. I had kept my feelings hidden away, but that night, Kayden hugged me and repeated, “Lainey” and “I love you” over and over again. I finally mustered the courage to confess my love the next day. However, Kayden had scolded me, wearing a sinister expression, claiming I had a twisted mind for daring to seduce my adoptive brother. Later, Sophie had told me, “Ms. Simpson, you’re Kayden’s adoptive sister. You shouldn’t have those kinds of feelings.” What had happened that night was exposed and his parents had decided to let us get engaged. During our two years of engagement, Kayden had remained distant and repulsed by me, while growing closer to Sophie. I didn’t know what Sophie had told him, but two months before the wedding, I’d been forcibly sent to this mental hospital. Was it really so wrong to fall in love with him? Kayden waited in the dean’s office for an hour. Jacob rushed back in, reporting, “Mr. Crawford, the surveillance cameras on the nearby streets were destroyed three days ago, but someone saw a van leaving the mental hospital late at night. “Ms. Simpson may have been taken away. If we call the police and trace the vehicle, we’ll surely find her.” Kayden sneered, “It seems my lesson for Lainey wasn’t enough. She staged her own kidnapping and fooled all of you! “Freeze her assets and lock down Kingburgh. Let’s see where she thinks she can hide!” With that, he kicked a chair over in frustration and stormed out. My heart sank. I wanted to cry, but as a soul, I had no tears. Kayden, if you knew I was dead, would you still think this way?

Kayden left the mental hospital, and my soul followed beside him. As soon as we got into the car, his mother, Natalie Crawford, called. “Kayden, the wedding is about to start. Why haven’t you brought Lainey back yet?” Kayden hesitated momentarily before replying, “Something came up. We’ll be there soon.” I sat on the other side of the seat, watching as Kayden picked up his phone multiple times, only to put it down in annoyance. When we returned to the wedding venue, as soon as he stepped out of the car, a woman with long curly hair in a professional suit rushed over. “Kayden, you’re back!” Kayden’s expression softened, and he gently took her arm, saying, “Slow down. Don’t be so hasty.” Sophie pouted playfully, letting out a small snort. Seeing how intimate they were, I quickly looked away. Kayden’s tenderness had once been mine, but since Sophie had entered the picture, she had gradually taken everything from me. “Kayden, did Ms. Simpson still refuse to come back? Is she still upset that we sent her for treatment?” Sophie’s eyes glistened as she feigned guilt and annoyance. Kayden reassured her, “It’s not your fault. Lainey is simply ungrateful. When she returns, I’ll make sure she apologizes to you. I’ve sent someone to look for her, so don’t worry.” With that, he took Sophie into the venue. In front of the dressing room, Kayden casually asked, “Sophie, did Lainey ever talk about her time in the mental hospital with you over the past few months?” Sophie avoided his gaze, looking guilty. “No, I chose that hospital because I heard the staff were very responsible. Kayden, what’s going on?” Kayden replied, “Lainey was playing the victim in the basement, leaving blood everywhere. But there’s nothing a manipulative person like her wouldn’t do.” Sophie forced a smile. I clenched my fists, whispering urgently in Kayden’s ear, “She’s lying to you! She’s the one who sent me there! You can’t trust her!” But no one could hear my voice. Even if Kayden had, it was useless because he no longer believed me. When Kayden entered the reception room dressed in a suit and tie, he noticed the guests who had just expressed their congratulations now wore uneasy expressions, as if they were hesitant to speak. I sat in the front row, watching the wedding I had always dreamed of and the man I loved most. But Kayden kept checking his phone, a frown etched on his face. Suddenly, his phone rang, and I saw Jacob’s name on the screen. As soon as he answered, Jacob’s panicked voice came through. “Mr. Crawford, I found Ms. Simpson, but…” Kayden scoffed derisively, “I’ve already agreed to marry her. How long is she going to keep this charade up? “Put Lainey on the phone.” Jacob fell silent for a long moment before stammering, “Three days ago, Ms. Simpson was dismembered and dumped in the sewer.” Kayden’s expression froze. Jacob continued, “Her body was recovered yesterday, and the DNA results are in. It’s all over the news in the city. “Mr. Crawford, Ms. Simpson is dead.”

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For thirty years, I lived as James Crawford’s wife. Yet, in all that time, we never made it official. Every time I brought up getting a marriage license, he’d brush it off with a frown, saying, “We’ve been together forever. Why worry about paperwork now?” Nothing I did seemed good enough. James complained that all I knew was cooking and cleaning, while our son looked down on me for not being as “cultured” as his friends’ moms. I thought he just didn’t want to deal with the hassle of getting married again at his age. That illusion shattered when I found their marriage certificate in the study’s safe—his and his first love’s. They’d been married for thirty years. My whole marriage to him was just because his dancer wife couldn’t have kids due to her dedication to her art. But James wanted the perfect family package, and I was the solution. His parents, even my own son I’d carried for nine months—they were all in on it. Everyone knew except me for thirty whole years. I sat there all afternoon, my mind replaying my entire life. I’d given up my promising research career. Poured my heart into being the perfect wife, raised our son, and wrecked my body with pregnancy complications and postpartum issues. In the end, I couldn’t even call myself his legal wife. But before I became just another housewife, I was a researcher for classified government projects. So, I did what any trained professional would do. I signed the research institute’s Level A confidentiality agreement, left behind a fake death certificate, and walked away from that sham of a family. The rest of my life belonged to my country now. ***** “I’ll sign your agreement,” I told them, my voice steady. “If you are willing to hire me, I want to serve our country again despite my age. Let me make a real difference.” The researcher on the other end of the line couldn’t contain their excitement. “Mind? Are you kidding? Having you on board would be incredible!” After submitting my application online, I finally hung up. Then, I just sat there, staring at the marriage certificate in my hands. My fingers trembled as I held it, the pain in my chest so sharp I could barely breathe. This was the marriage certificate of my husband, James, and his first love, Lily William. Several vacation photos fell out. The pictures told their whole love story, from their youth to their silver-haired days, capturing moments of love across countless destinations. At the bottom was a yellowed photo with a note scrawled on the back: [Trip to the mountain peak with my wife, Lily. James & Lily, July 1987.] My throat tightened as tears threatened to fall. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip. That was the same year James and I had decided to build a life together. I met James during our time working in the countryside. Back then, I knew about his first love, but he promised me over and over that he’d treat me right. “That’s all in the past,” he told me. “Emma Chase, you’re the one I want to grow old with.” He was so refined, a medical professor at Altheria University. In those days, life moved at a different pace. When people loved someone, it was usually for keeps. I never complained when he didn’t throw us a wedding reception or when he’d suddenly announced business trips right when we were supposed to get our marriage certificate. But I never imagined he’d already gotten married to Lily. That was why he couldn’t marry me legally. While I was stuck in the kitchen day after day, they were traveling across the country together, seeing all its wonders. From twenty to fifty, he kept this secret from me for thirty years. Suddenly, the door creaked open. It was Ryan Crawford, my son with James, coming home with his wife, Maya Crawford. As I looked at the child I carried for nine months and raised with all my heart, my eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Ryan,” I called out. Ryan froze when he saw me standing there, his eyes landing on the marriage certificate in my hands. “Mom, why do you have Dad and Lily’s marriage certificate?” Now, it was my turn to freeze. “What did you say?” Ryan’s tone stayed casual like it was nothing. “Dad locked it away because he was worried you’d make a scene. How’d you get it open? Come on, don’t mess it up, or Dad’s gonna be mad.” Listening to his impatient warning, I suddenly realized how much of a stranger my own son had become—this child I’d carried for ten months. Even Maya seemed completely unfazed like none of this was news to her. So, everyone except me knew James had already married Lily?

Ryan kept pushing, “Dad’s working the night shift today. You should hurry and bring him dinner. You know how serious he is about his health. Don’t want him getting stomach problems.” My back ached with every movement. No one knew I’d hit menopause just as I turned fifty. I got up slowly and carefully, grabbing the lunch box as I headed for the door. Thirty years of habit didn’t break easily. Just before the door closed, I heard my son and Maya complaining again. “Can’t do anything right. If I was Lily and Dad’s real kid, I’d be doing way better in life.” The words cut through my numbness from years of domestic drudgery, piercing my heart. But it was fine. Soon enough, I wouldn’t be around to bother him anymore. I headed to James’ office. The usual ten-minute walk took me thirty minutes this time. The moment I walked in, James started complaining, “What took you so long? Getting slow in your old age?” I looked up at him. He stood there, tall and well-built, with his gold-rimmed glasses. The years had only made him look more distinguished and refined. Meanwhile, I’d never gotten my figure back after having the baby. My clothes always carried that lingering smell of cooking oil that just wouldn’t go away. This time, I didn’t apologize like I usually would. Instead, I pulled out that yellowed marriage certificate and placed it in front of him. “Got anything to say about this?” James paused, putting down his newspaper. “A marriage certificate? What about it?” His casual tone left me speechless. For a moment, I realized just how pointless these years had been. “James, after lying to me all these years, don’t you feel even a little guilty? Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?” I couldn’t keep my voice from breaking. James’ expression softened as he took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “We’ve spent most of our lives together anyway. A marriage certificate doesn’t really matter at this point. Once things slow down at work, I’ll take you somewhere nice, just the two of us.” I lowered my head to hide the pain in my eyes. Every year, I’d brought up the idea of taking a road trip together, but James always had an excuse—work was too busy, or something came up with the kids. Now, he was finally suggesting it himself, but it was too late. I would be gone soon. “Make sure you eat properly,” I said, dodging his suggestion. James froze, frowning at me suspiciously. I busied myself collecting his half-eaten lunch containers, slowly making my way out of his office. When I got home, Ryan and Maya were out for dinner, giving me some quiet time to myself. After washing the containers, I started packing my suitcase. But then it hit me—after thirty-five years, everything I owned couldn’t even fill one small suitcase. A wave of emptiness washed over me, and my nose started stinging with tears. I roughly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and hauled the locked suitcase into the bedroom, my back aching with the effort. The next morning at five, I found myself preparing breakfast for everyone, like always. Sometimes, I wondered if being tired my whole life had just become a habit. Besides that, I made sure to clean up the kitchen and organize everything that needed storing. I even washed and ironed all the winter clothes. I hoped they’d find some use for all of this after I was gone. The sun was high in the sky when I heard the front door open. James was back, with Lily looking stunning by his side. When he saw the breakfast I’d laid out, he casually announced, like it was the most natural thing in the world, “Lily’s going to live with us from now on. This way, someone can look after her, and I won’t have to worry all the time.”

I looked over at Lily. She was wearing an expensive-looking dress with a fur coat that made my simple clothes look downright shabby in comparison. Ryan took a bite of his sandwich, his face lighting up. “Dad, that’s a great idea. I’ve been thinking Lily should move in with us for ages.” Everyone instantly agreed without bothering to ask what I thought about it. My fingers twisted into my apron. “James, we should break…” The word “break up” just wouldn’t come out of my mouth. It felt too embarrassing to say outright. So I pressed my lips together and tried again. “I should leave.” The whole living room went dead silent. Ryan jumped straight to accusations, his voice dripping with irritation. “Mom, what’s your problem now? Aren’t you way too old for this divorce drama?” Maya stood up and tried to guide me to a seat. “Emma, you must be tired. Come on. Sit down and eat something. We can talk this out, right?” But James just sat there on the couch, lit up a cigarette, and looked at me with cold eyes. “Emma, I’ve been too nice to you. What, you think you’ll still live like a rich housewife after leaving me?” Each comment felt like a knife to my heart. Rich housewife? Really? All these years, I’d had it worse than a housekeeper. At least they got paid for their work. What did I get? There was no respect from my family, not even a shred of honesty. Lily wrinkled her brow and pretended to wipe away the tears that didn’t exist. “I guess I shouldn’t have come. Looks like I’m just causing you all to fight.” She made a show of getting ready to leave. James put out his cigarette and stood up, grabbing her hand. “Going where? When I say you can stay, you stay, no questions asked.” Ryan chimed in with a reassuring smile, “Yeah, Lily, make yourself at home. Let’s go out and grab something nice to eat today.” They looked so cozy together, chatting and laughing like a perfect little family. Meanwhile, there I was, separated from them by an invisible wall that might as well have been a mile wide. They left in high spirits, their laughter trailing behind them. Just then, my phone pinged with a notification—my application to return to the research institute had been approved. A smile spread across my face. Just like that, all my worries seemed to melt away. Right on cue, someone from the institute called. After the usual congratulations, they got serious. “Ms. Chase, once you start researching here, you might not be able to go home much. Have you discussed this with your family?” I pressed my lips together, hesitating. They were still my family after all—thirty years of shared history, even if they barely cared about me. “I’ll get back to you tonight,” I said finally. After hanging up, I tried to stand, but a sudden spasm shot through my back, leaving me doubled over in pain. Years of running myself ragged without rest had caught up with me in the form of a herniated disc. I dragged myself out of the house after a long while, moving slowly. After picking up some medicated patches at the pharmacy, I was heading back to my apartment when I heard someone call out. “Hey, Emma!” I turned to see the head of OB-GYN from James’ hospital. “How are you feeling? Any better?” Back when I had Ryan, I hadn’t gotten proper postpartum care, which left me with all sorts of health issues. By the time I hit my late forties, I ended up with uterine prolapse and had to get a hysterectomy. During my hospital stay, James never once visited. The only calls I got from him were asking when I’d be discharged because no one was around to cook his meals or do his laundry. The memory still stung, but I managed a nod. “Much better. Thanks for asking.” I hurried home after our brief chat, my body aching with each step. After slapping on the patches, I crashed into bed. When I woke up, it was already dusk, and there was a commotion outside my room. As the door opened, I caught snippets about “wedding photos” and “honeymoon”. I froze. “Dad, you and Lily have been married for years,” Ryan was saying, sounding excited. “It’s about time you guys finally got those wedding photos done. Now you won’t have any regrets!” A massive wedding portrait dominated the living room. There was James in a black suit and Lily in a wedding dress, both beaming with joy. I stared at it, feeling the tears well up in my eyes as my heart shattered all over again. “Mom, perfect timing. Help us get these photos up to the bedroom,” Ryan called out to me. I stood frozen in place. For years, I’d dreamed of taking wedding photos with James, trying to make up for what we missed when we were young. But every time I brought it up, he’d brush it off like I was being ridiculous. It turned out I was just living in a fantasy world. James stubbed out his cigarette and jerked his chin toward the table. “There’s takeout and health supplements for you there. Don’t say nobody in this family cares about you.” He poked at the medicine bags on the coffee table with obvious disgust. “All you do is waste money. If you can’t earn any, at least learn to save some. How are you gonna help with the grandkids at this rate?” I felt pathetic. The bank notifications were still sitting in my phone, undeleted. All their expenses today—the wedding photos, meals, and entertainment—came from my retirement benefits. No one had ever bothered to ask where I got the money from. They just assumed I’d pocketed the living expenses James provided. The wedding photo hung above their bed in the master bedroom, both of them beaming with joy. Their happiness felt like a mockery of my misery, a cruel reminder that I was destined to be their servant forever. In the living room, they were still chatting about vacation plans, deliberately leaving me out of the conversation. I was done holding onto false hopes. So I opened the text from the research institute and replied: [No need to tell them. I’ll report in soon.]   I quietly went to my room and started packing my belongings into a woven bag. The noise caught their attention. Ryan’s lips curled in annoyance as he looked at me. “Mom, aren’t you tired of acting like the victim all the time? You’re making it seem like we’re abusing you or something.” I ignored him and kept packing. Suddenly, Ryan snatched the bag and hurled it against the wall, scattering clothes all over the floor. “Can’t you read the room?” he shouted. “Why are you trying to butt in on our vacation? Haven’t you caused enough drama already?” The living room went dead silent. I stared at Ryan through a haze, tears blurring my vision. I’d raised him and devoted decades of my life to him without a moment’s rest. And this was what I got in return—a son I’d have been better off never having. James cleared his throat and pulled out his phone. “Whatever. I’ll get you a ticket. You can head out early and meet us at the airport.” He made a show of booking me a train ticket to Emerald Island. My whole body went rigid. There was no way James didn’t know what a nightmare that journey would be—the train ride, then having to take a ferry across the water. They’d be flying first class while sticking me with a thirty-six-hour train ride. His message was crystal clear—he wanted me to be their free vacation nanny. A wave of bitterness and hurt washed over me. I snatched the phone and smashed it against the floor. “James, how much longer are you going to play me for a fool? We were never really married. I don’t owe you or your family anything.” I spun around and pointed at Ryan, fury burning in my chest. “And you. Did I carry you for nine months just to hear you call someone else Mom? You keep saying I’m obsessed with that marriage certificate, but you don’t get it. Without it, you’re nothing but an illegitimate child.” Ryan’s face dropped as the words hit him, his mind struggling to process what he’d just heard. All the emotions I’d been bottling up finally exploded. At that moment, I just needed to get everything off my chest. But before I could say another word, a hand cracked across my face. The force sent me sprawling to the ground. I slowly turned my head to look up. James loomed over me, breathing hard, his face dark with rage. “If you want to lose it, get the hell out of here. You know you’re nothing but an outsider without that marriage certificate, so just go. You’ve got no right to judge my wife and son.” I stared at him, unblinking. Our eyes locked, and there was nothing left but pure hatred between us. “Oh dear,” Lily chirped, rushing forward to guide James back to his seat. “James, calm down. Emma’s just upset. It’s normal for her to be a little emotional.” She turned to me with a condescending look on her face. “Emma, I hate to say this, but why are you making such a huge deal over a marriage certificate? It’s just a piece of paper. “You don’t need to worry about me stealing James away. We’ve lived most of our lives already—we can still have a good life without all this drama.” She patted my shoulder as she spoke. That was when I noticed the diamond bracelet on her wrist. My heart stopped. It was the expensive piece of jewelry I’d bought for Maya when Ryan got married. I’d spent every penny of my savings on it. Maya had always been stingy, never giving away her things easily. Yet here it was, wrapped around Lily’s wrist. If that wasn’t proof that Maya and Ryan had accepted Lily, I didn’t know what was. I looked up at Maya, but she quickly averted her eyes when our gazes met. I let out a bitter laugh and struggled to get up. Everyone just stood there, watching me coldly. God, I felt pathetic. It took until the end of my life to realize that everything I’d done for them—all those years of sacrifice—had gotten me absolutely nothing in return. I guess this was karma. And honestly, I probably deserved it. It was time I lived for myself. I turned around and walked straight out the door, not even bothering to grab my luggage. Behind me, James’ irritated voice rang out. “Hurry up and pack. Change the tickets to tonight. I’m sick of dealing with all this drama at home.” I didn’t break my stride. Once I got outside the complex, I immediately dialed the research institute. “Hello, I’ll be coming to the institute tonight.” Thirty minutes later, I was in a military vehicle, passing right by James’ car and going the other way.

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“Ms. Chase, are you sure you want to erase all traces of yourself in the country? Once erased, neither your friends here nor Mr. Whitman will be able to find you,” a young man said respectfully. Yvonne Chase fell silent for a moment before nodding softly, responding with her habitual gesture, “Yeah, I’m sure. Just do it.” As her hand fell, she remembered that she had regained her hearing just that day. After suffering a high fever as a child that left her deaf, Yvonne had spent years undergoing treatment. Just yesterday, she had undergone her final surgery, and now her hearing was back, and she could speak in broken phrases. “Alright, Ms. Chase. It’ll take about a week to handle everything. Please be patient.” “Okay, I want a car ready at the back door at 1 AM, seven days from now,” she instructed. “Understood.” “Tell my grandfather I agree to the marriage with the Kingsley family. I’ll get married as soon as I get home,” Yvonne spoke slowly, her voice soft. Despite her upbeat tone, there was a heaviness in the air that made it feel far from cheerful. The young man hesitated. “Ms. Chase…” “Just do it.” “Understood.” The live stream on her phone continued to roll. Carl sat in front of the camera, dressed impeccably in a suit. “The Whitman Group’s suburban amusement park project, Yvonne’s Evergreen Wonderland, is officially underway.” “Yvonne’s Evergreen Wonderland covers an area twice the size of Cloudia City’s Disneyland. It features not only entertainment options for the general public but also includes activities designed for people with disabilities, all supported by top-tier facilities developed by leading teams.” “Yvonne’s Evergreen Wonderland is specifically designed for the hearing impaired. This is my engagement gift to my fiancée, Yvonne Chase.” Flashes from cameras lit up the room. Everyone watching the livestream, men and women alike, burned with jealousy. Yvonne Chase had it all. “Mr. Whitman and Ms. Chase truly embody a fairy-tale romance.” “I heard Ms. Chase is hearing impaired, and the Whitman family disapproved of the marriage, but Mr. Whitman insisted. He even gave up his inheritance to strike out on his own.” “Mr. Whitman’s love is truly inspiring.” “Absolutely! Congratulations to Mr. Whitman on his engagement!” “Thank you for your well wishes.” Carl caught the gaze of a female reporter in the front row, standing up as he did. The smile on the reporter’s face deepened a bit. Yvonne watched as the camera froze on Carl’s face, a face that had once captivated her. But she then took off the engagement ring and tossed it into a gift box. Pulling out her phone, she snapped a picture of the box and sent it to Carl. She typed: [This is a gift for you—our seventeen-year anniversary.] Carl replied instantly: [Yvonne, you’re the best! I’ll check it as soon as I get home.] [Nope, you have to wait until the anniversary day, seven days from now!!!!] Yvonne added a flurry of exclamation marks. [Okay, I’ll do as you say. I’ll wait to open it in seven days.] The seventeenth anniversary was a day they had long anticipated, the day they planned to get their marriage license. Carl had dreamed of this moment, and to convince his mother, he had camped out in front of Whitman Manor for an entire day and night, falling ill with a fever before his mother finally relented. Yvonne set her phone down and turned to look at the gifts piled on her floor-to-ceiling cabinet. There were a thousand origami cranes Carl had folded for her, a childhood teddy bear, raw gemstones he had mined himself, and millions of dollars worth of jewelry. In the center was Carl’s ID. Yvonne was the kind of person who took her time to warm up to things; she didn’t really believe in slow-burning love stories. Her parents had once been an enviable couple, marrying out of love. But things took a dark turn when her father plotted against her mother for the sake of his mistress. In a fit of rage, her mother struck back, leading to a tragic end. Ultimately, her mother died in prison, and on her deathbed, she told Yvonne, “Sweetheart, the most untrustworthy beings in this world are men.” After her parents’ deaths, Yvonne was sent to live with her father’s friend, Oliver Whitman, during a time when her grandfather’s power was shaky. It was there that she met Carl, Oliver’s only son. For a long time, Yvonne believed she would never trust in love. The trauma of her parents’ relationship, combined with her disabilities, made her reluctant to engage with the outside world. But Carl offered her so much, showering her with love and attention. After a particularly tough period in her childhood, where she struggled with her health and could barely keep food down, Carl dedicated himself to helping her regain her strength. He sought out an elderly doctor and learned the art of medicinal cuisine, mastering 108 recipes over the course of a year. His hands were calloused from the effort, but he became a master in the kitchen, preparing a different dish for Yvonne each day. In response to Yvonne’s wish to have her name written in the highest place near heaven, Carl, who had a fear of heights, signed up for a global extreme challenge. It was a live-streamed event where participants had to complete twelve extreme sports to finish the challenge. Those who succeeded would have the chance to choose a piece of ancient fossil on an island closest to the sun and carve their names alongside their loved ones. Carl persevered through the grueling competition, even facing his fear of heights to complete a bungee jump. As he leaped into the void, he shouted with all his might, “Yvonne, I love you!” His passionate declaration resonated with countless viewers around the world. In the end, he etched their names into the fossil, solidifying their bond in a way that felt almost eternal. Yvonne’s heart finally stirred with emotion. At twenty-one, she agreed to be with Carl, and now, at twenty-four, she remembered the day they held hands for the first time, tears streaming down Carl’s face as he said, “Holding your hand means a lifetime together.” A lifetime. That was a word Yvonne had never dared to think about. Yet her mother had been right. She mused, “Why is love in this world so fragile?” A single tear slipped down her cheek. Yvonne quickly wiped it away. Yesterday, when her hearing finally came back, she rushed to find Carl – only to discover his dirty little secret: he had taken a young intern reporter under his wing. Today, Yvonne had someone dig up all the information on the intern reporter. Felicity Simons, gorgeous and ambitious, shamelessly threw herself at Carl every chance she got. After fourteen years of companionship and three years of romance, they were about to get married. And this was what she got instead. It was all so absurd.

As dusk fell, Carl stepped through the door. Yvonne lay draped on the sofa, her demeanor languid and tired. Carl strode over to her; concern etched on his face. “What’s wrong, Yvonne? Are you feeling unwell?” Yvonne could read his lips. She shook her head, lifting her hands to sign. She didn’t want him to know she could hear now. At that moment, Carl’s phone rang abruptly. He glanced at the screen, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Just a second, I need to take this call.” He answered, turning slightly away from Yvonne. Without her focus on his lips, he thought Yvonne couldn’t decipher what he was saying. “Mr. Whitman?” a sultry voice chimed from the other end, dripping with sweetness, enough to melt anyone’s resolve. Carl tugged at his tie. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you have enough?” Yvonne felt a shiver run through her. Her fists clenched at her sides to keep the tears at bay. She fixed her gaze on the side of Carl’s face, noting the smug expression he wore as if he were imagining something delightfully improper. She saw his Adam’s apple bob slightly. “Yeah, Mr. Whitman. I’m waiting in your car downstairs, wearing that outfit you said you liked… Want to join me?” The woman’s laughter was teasing. Carl muttered under his breath, “Just wait, you vixen.” He shot up, turning to find Yvonne’s eyes, which were now glistening with suppressed emotion. He tried to soften his tone. “What’s wrong, Yvonne? Are you really not feeling well?” Yvonne lifted her hand and slowly signed. “Just a little stomachache.” “I’ll get you something for that.” Carl hurried to the medicine cabinet, taking two stomach tablets and gently placing them in her palm. “Take these first,” he urged softly, pouring her a glass of warm water. As Carl watched her take the medication, he rested his hand carefully on her stomach, his expression tender, as if he were caring for the most precious treasure. Noticing Yvonne’s demeanor easing, Carl carefully lifted her and set her down on the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll make you some soothing soup, and you can have it when you wake up.” Yvonne nodded obediently, curling up beside him like a cat—graceful and sweet. Carl adored her in this state. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her lips, his eyes brimming with affection. Yvonne closed her eyes as Carl quietly slipped away. He headed to the kitchen to prepare the ingredients for the soup, then made his way to the underground parking garage. Yvonne, roused by a sense of urgency, switched on the garage’s surveillance monitor. In the footage, Carl arrived, and Yvonne saw Felicity standing there, her attire barely concealing her figure. The moment she laid eyes on Carl, she giggled flirtatiously. “Mr. Whitman! What took you so long?” Carl wasted no time rushing toward her and pushing her into the car. “Yvonne’s not feeling well, and I need to take care of her before I do anything else.” “Oh, Mr. Whitman, you… you’re so good to that… little mute.” Felicity’s words dripped with mockery as they spilled out. “She’s my wife. If I don’t take care of her, should I take care of you, you little tramp?” Carl snapped, his movement harsh, betraying no concern for Felicity’s feelings. He loved Yvonne, but he also craved the wild abandon that came from his sex with women like Felicity. Yvonne was exquisite, and he wanted to keep her purity for their wedding night; to him, Felicity was nothing more than an outlet for his desires. The car shook violently, the motion intense and prolonged. The surveillance feed was silent, leaving Yvonne unaware of Carl’s words. But she clearly saw the man who had promised her the world, passionately lost with another woman in the garage. What did his promises mean now? What did her own feelings mean in the face of this betrayal? Yvonne suddenly burst into laughter, a sound tinged with bitter tears. She cried for her unreciprocated love, for the heart she had laid bare before him. She wept over the hard-won peace she had finally found after her parents’ tragic deaths. She cried for her broken heart. Yvonne gasped for breath, her body curled on the floor. Just before slipping into darkness, a primal instinct drove her to dial Carl’s number. The phone rang, and it didn’t take long for someone to pick up. In the haze of unconsciousness, she heard the mingling of a man’s and a woman’s heavy groan. Carl asked, “What are you doing answering my call?” Felicity’s voice chimed through the line, playful and teasing. “Oh, Mr. Whitman, why be afraid? She can’t hear us. Isn’t this a little exciting?” Carl’s low groans blended with the sound of bodies colliding, and the reality of betrayal crashed over Yvonne like a wave.

When Yvonne finally regained consciousness, the first thing she saw was Carl’s anxious gaze. “Yvonne, I’m so sorry. We need to get you to the hospital,” he said, reaching out to scoop her up in his arms. Yvonne gently pushed him away, shaking her head. “You fainted! We’re going to the hospital, okay?” Carl insisted, his voice laced with urgency. Yvonne mused, “Yeah, I’ve fainted while you were busy enjoying yourself with Felicity in the car.” “What a buzzkill I am?” With great effort, Yvonne struggled to sit up, continuing to shake her head. Carl reached out again, but she dodged his grasp. “Yvonne, what’s going on?” Carl asked, panic rising in his chest as if he were about to lose something incredibly precious. A dull ache throbbed in Yvonne’s heart. She slowly signed, “I’m fine; I just didn’t eat lunch.” “Why didn’t you have lunch? The soup will be ready soon. Just have a little something while I finish the meal,” Carl said patiently, heading toward the kitchen. He still cared for her, still worried about her well-being. But the clear hickeys on his neck and the smudged lipstick on his disheveled shirt were a cruel reminder. It was as if they were mocking her, “Yvonne, look at what you thought love would be. This is the man you love.” Yvonne took out her tablet. She was a comic artist, and when she was with Carl, she used the pen name Joyvonne to create a serialized comic. The comic captured their daily lives, filled with tender and romantic details, showcasing her artistic talent and winning the hearts of many fans. She typed out an announcement: [The final chapter drops 1 AM next week. After that, the series ends for good.] The news sent shockwaves through the comic community. [Is Joyvonne retiring to get married?] [Of course! Even I, a skeptic of love, have started to believe.] [Though I’m sad, I wish Joyvonne all the best.] [Can’t we get a post-wedding series?] [Please, we want a post-wedding story!] [Pretty please!] Reading through the comments, Yvonne felt a wry smile creep onto her face. The fairytale romance she had envisioned was far from reality. In the end, lies only brought decay and pain. “Yvonne, why are you stopping the comic?” Carl asked, returning with the meal just as he noticed the announcement. When she started the series, Yvonne had told Carl it was a reflection of their love. The moment their love faded, so would her art. “Just want to change the theme,” she signed, looking up at Carl as she gestured. Carl’s heart slowly settled. He thought, “What was I just thinking? How could Yvonne ever find out about my affair? She hardly leaves the villa; when she does, it’s always with friends I’ve arranged for her. She doesn’t see the world beyond me.” “True, we’re engaged now. It’s time to think about a post-wedding series,” Carl said, wrapping his arms around Yvonne’s soft body. He swallowed hard, longing for her body. But they both felt it was right to save their complete surrender for their perfect wedding night. Carl had been holding back for a long time, so when Felicity made her bold move, he couldn’t resist and fell for her. He reasoned with himself that he was just a normal wealthy man; sleeping with a few women wasn’t a big deal. After they were married, he would only be with Yvonne, cleaning up any messes outside. This time before the wedding was just a bit of indulgence. Thinking of Felicity’s alluring figure made his palms sweat. “Yvonne, I want to…”

Yvonne gazed at Carl with clear, innocent eyes. Carl swallowed hard; the words he wanted to say caught in his throat. “Maybe you should eat something first,” he finally said. Yvonne nodded and followed him to the dining room. She took small bites of her meal while Carl’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the screen, irritation flickering across his face before he abruptly hung up. The phone rang again. “Laird and Aiden want me to join them for drinks,” Carl said with a half-hearted smile, but he answered the call. Carl looked at Yvonne, his smile softening as he said into the phone, “No, I’m not going. Yvonne isn’t feeling well, and I’m staying home with her.” “Carl, come on! Felicity’s here, too.” Carl’s expression darkened. “I said no! If you call me again tonight, we’re done.” He hung up, frustration evident on his face. Yvonne watched him, her eyes clear and innocent. Feeling a bit guilty, Carl rubbed his nose. “I’m not going anywhere. You finish eating, and I’ll stay here and watch you sleep.” Yvonne nodded, finishing her meal. Though they lived together in the same villa, they hadn’t crossed that line yet. It was Yvonne’s choice, her way of maintaining a sense of security. At that moment, Yvonne felt a wave of relief wash over her. Thank goodness she hadn’t given everything to Carl; otherwise, she would be in a much worse position right now. Yvonne closed her eyes, her breathing steady. Thinking she had fallen asleep, Carl quietly rose, tucked her in, and turned to leave. Soon, the sound of the car engine echoed in the driveway. She knew he was off to find Felicity again. Yvonne got up, changed into a pair of understated workout clothes, and headed downstairs to follow him. She was aware she was seeking out pain, but she needed to see for herself. What were those people around him really like behind closed doors? Inside the opulent private room, the atmosphere was electric. Men and women were reveling, laughter and shouts filling the air. Clothes were strewn everywhere, a chaotic scene of indulgence. As Carl entered, he spotted Felicity, who had just taken a sip of red wine. Her shoulders were revealed, and Carl’s marks were still visible on her delicate skin, glowing enticingly under the lights. Felicity sauntered over and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Carl pushed her away slightly, but her lips landed on his neck, leaving a sultry red mark on both of them. “Ooh!” The crowd erupted, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. “Carl, you’re a stud! You didn’t even kiss her, and Felicity’s already weak in the knees!” “Who can blame her?” “Carl, Carl, you’re the man!” Carl’s hand roamed around Felicity’s waist as he pulled her into the center of the sofa. “Felicity, no kissing on the lips. I’m serious; I only kiss Yvonne. You’re not worthy,” he said firmly. Felicity’s face flickered with embarrassment, but she quickly regained her composure, straddling his lap with a coy smile. “Mr. Whitman, I get it. I won’t do it again. Can I have that article about the movie star?” “Sure,” Carl replied, giving her a playful pat. Felicity let out a soft sigh. “Hey, Carl, who’s hotter? Felicity or Yvonne?” someone shouted from the crowd. “Felicity can’t hold a candle to my Yvonne,” Carl snapped, his demeanor shifting instantly. He grabbed a nearby glass and smashed it over the man’s head. Felicity was knocked over in the chaos. The room fell silent. The man quickly apologized, slapping himself in the face, “Sorry, Carl! I messed up. I shouldn’t have said that.” “I warned you—if any of this nonsense gets back to Yvonne, you’ll all be in deep trouble!” Carl lost interest, pushing away Felicity, who was trying to cling to his leg. “And you, don’t even think about it. If you do, you won’t have a whole corpse left.” With that, Carl strode out of the room.

After Carl left, it was a while before anyone in the room dared to speak. “Laird, you’ve got some nerve comparing Yvonne to that kind of woman,” one of the guests muttered. Felicity felt her face flush with embarrassment. She thought, “I graduated from a prestigious university. I have a respectable job. I’m just using my looks to secure a few resources—how did that make me ‘that kind of woman’? It’s as if they see me as nothing but a prostitute.” “Right? You begged Carl for that project, and it was Yvonne who helped you get the contract,” another chimed in. “Ha! And you’re all accusing me? Carl is out chasing women behind Yvonne’s back. Have any of you ever spilled the beans?!” Laird shot back, clearly agitated from their barrage. “We’re only trying to protect Yvonne. She’s such a naive girl; what would she do if she knew about all this dirty business?” someone argued. “She’s just a beautiful mute girl. Without Carl, who knows what would happen to her?” “Look, Yvonne depends on Carl. We’re keeping things from her for her own good. Better she stays in her fairy tale than face this nightmare,” another voice added. “Exactly! She’s living happily in her castle, provided by Carl. It’s better that way.” “Come on, Carl can play around. When he’s done, he can just toss those women away.” Feeling unsettled, Felicity stood up, adjusting her clothes as she swiftly made her way out of the room to catch up with Carl. She mused, “I can give him the thrill Yvonne doesn’t. I know he’s not done with me yet. Those people inside? Just a bunch of hypocrites!” “They act like they care for Yvonne, but they’re the ones stabbing her in the back!” A fierce glint sparkled in Felicity’s eyes. “I will make sure Carl can’t live without me. I’m up for anything he desires, no limits.” “I’m way more fun than that little mute.” “I’ll push Yvonne out of the picture; I’ll become Mrs. Whitman in all her glory, and those snobs will rue the day they underestimated me!” “Once I’m done, I’ll make sure that little mute ends up at some club. With her face and history with Carl, she’ll have a prime market!” Felicity spotted Carl up ahead and quickened her pace to catch him. Meanwhile, the room began to empty out quickly. Once everyone left, Yvonne emerged from the adjacent room. She heard every last word. She thought, “How ironic. To them, Carl’s love is rare when he’s the kind of man who plays around but still comes home. They all lied to me, but it’s for my own good?” “Ugh, that’s revolting.” Yvonne drove aimlessly, eventually stopping at a mountaintop campsite. She sat in her car, staring into the inky darkness of the night sky as hints of dawn began to creep in. Gradually, the horizon unfolded, revealing a sliver of light that expanded until the whole sky radiated with brightness. It felt symbolic, like her own life. After enduring the darkness of night, the dawn would inevitably arrive. In six days, she would be free. Setting a countdown alarm on her phone, Yvonne leaned back in her seat and drifted off to sleep. Despite the cramped space of the car, she found comfort in the moment. At two in the afternoon, her phone vibrated, rousing her from slumber. It was a message from Carl. [Yvonne? Not at home?] [Yvonne, where are you?] [I’m coming to get you.] Yvonne stared at the screen, the concern in his words feeling bitterly ironic. After leaving last night, he hadn’t come home at all—he must have been found by Felicity, and who knew what else they’d been up to? With a sharp pain in her chest, Yvonne squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear cascading down her cheek. She wiped it fiercely, vowing that this would be her last tear for him. She typed a reply: [Just decided to check out the Central Mall, no need to pick me up.] She wanted to buy a couple of clothes for herself. Everything in her closet was handpicked by Carl, and she wasn’t taking any of it with her. Carl texted back: [I’ll come find you.] Knowing she could refuse him no longer, Yvonne chose not to reply. Instead, she drove toward the mall. As she stepped out of the car and took a few steps, she collided right into Felicity.

“Ouch, I’m so sorry.” Felicity smiled as she spoke, her sultry eyes gleaming with delight as they locked onto Yvonne’s. Yvonne waved her hand dismissively, not wanting to engage. Yet Felicity blocked her path, leaning in slightly, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Miss, you’re awfully quiet. Have you forgiven me already?” “I just found out I’m pregnant and was rushing to find my husband when I bumped into you. Please don’t take it the wrong way.” Yvonne regarded her with a cool expression, managing a faint smile. It was striking, a perfect blend of beauty and aloofness. In stark contrast, Felicity exuded a vulgar, jaded aura. “Yvonne, do you know whose child I’m carrying?” Felicity’s tone turned provocative. “Felicity, are you asking for trouble?” Carl’s icy voice cut through the tension. Felicity immediately shifted to a pitiful demeanor, her eyes wide and pleading. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Whitman! I accidentally bumped into Ms. Chase on my way down; I didn’t mean…” Carl shoved Felicity aside, sending her crashing to the floor, her face paling in shock. Yvonne grabbed Carl’s arm and signed, “I’m okay. She claimed she’s pregnant and asked if I knew who the father was. I don’t know her. Do you?” Carl’s face drained of color for a moment, but he quickly regained composure. “I don’t know her either. She looks like a total nutcase. Just ignore her; I’ll get a bodyguard to handle this.” He studied Yvonne closely, relieved to see her surprise was just that—surprise, nothing more. His heart settled a little. “Yvonne, Don’t let her get to you. Come on, let’s go buy you some clothes,” Carl said, wrapping an arm around her as they moved away. Felicity scrambled to her feet, desperation evident. “Mr. Whitman, I’m pregnant with your child!” Carl pressed the elevator button without breaking stride, not even glancing back. “Mr. Whitman…” Felicity called after him, her voice rising in pitch. He didn’t respond; his focus remained solely on Yvonne. Yet Yvonne could sense Carl’s restrained anger and frustration. While shopping, Carl’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. He glanced down, and a series of images filled the screen. His breath hitched, eyes burning with desire, just as Yvonne exited the fitting room. “I think I’ll try on this menswear,” Carl said, striding toward the farthest fitting room with purpose. Yvonne handed her chosen outfits to the sales associate, ready to check out. She was aware of Carl’s preference for tailored suits, and she knew what he was likely doing in there. It was impossible not to notice Felicity had entered. In the fitting room, Felicity knelt on the floor, watching as Carl’s demeanor flipped from collected to volatile, and triumph surged through her. She mused, “No matter what it takes, he’s pulled away from Yvonne.” “That’s the first step. A plain, voiceless girl like her can’t compete with me.” After a tense moment, Carl shoved Felicity against the cold wall, his expression fierce. “I’ll see you tonight, you little tramp.” Felicity’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Mr. Whitman, I’m carrying your baby…” “Not for long,” Carl said. “Mr. Whitman, don’t you want to see what it’s like to sleep with a pregnant woman? I’ve heard it can be quite…” Felicity leaned in closer, whispering suggestively in his ear. Carl’s eyes flickered with interest. “You’re not worried about your health. That’s your choice. I don’t care; I’ll make sure you get plenty of cash.” A chill crept down Felicity’s spine. It took her a moment to grasp how he felt. Carl had no intention of claiming her child—no, he simply wanted to play with her. And then she would have to terminate the pregnancy. Felicity felt uneasy at Carl’s cold yet calculated response. When Carl finally re-emerged to join Yvonne, he was back to being the gentle, refined man she loved.

As night fell, Carl quietly slipped out after making sure Yvonne was sound asleep. She slept peacefully, undisturbed until morning. When Yvonne finally woke up, she found breakfast waiting for her. But it wasn’t Carl who had cooked; he had ordered it. “Sorry for the late start. I had someone bring breakfast for you,” Carl said softly, his gaze warm as he looked at her. Yvonne nodded, appreciating the gesture. “I’ll be away on a business trip for five days. Don’t worry; it won’t delay our plans to get the marriage license. I’ll bring you back a little something,” Carl added, taking her hand gently. Yvonne pulled her hand back lightly and nodded again. She mused, “How ironic that I would be leaving this place in just five days.” “Amanda will come by to check on you while I’m gone,” Carl said. Yvonne shook her head and signed to say, “I don’t like having anyone in the house. I can take care of myself.” “Alright, you stubborn girl. But leaving you alone at home makes me a bit uneasy. Just promise me you’ll text me every day, okay?” Yvonne nodded again, though she knew she wouldn’t actually send any messages. Before heading out, Carl stocked up on fresh fruits, vegetables, and meat. When Aiden Parker arrived to pick Carl up, he chuckled. “Yvonne, look at how good Carl is to you! He’s worried you might get anxious while he’s away, so he sent me to check in.” Yvonne met Aiden’s gaze, recalling what he had said that night. Aiden had said that he kept things from her, but all for her sake. She smiled, though it felt a bit distant. Aiden didn’t think much of it; he could see how Yvonne’s eyes only lit up when she looked at Carl. “Yvonne, we’re off!” Carl called, wheeling his suitcase toward the door. Yvonne nodded, watching them leave. Aiden suddenly felt a twinge of realization—Yvonne looked at Carl the same way she looked at him. As he glanced back, Yvonne waved goodbye and turned to head back into the house. “Carl, are you sure it’s okay for Yvonne to be home alone?” Aiden asked, starting the car. “It’s just a few days for the business trip. I’ll be back before you know it,” Carl reassured him. But just as he was finishing his sentence, a delicate hand slipped up from the back seat. Carl turned slightly to see Felicity climbing up from the rear. “Mr. Whitman, can I join you on the trip? It’ll be so boring with just a bunch of guys,” Felicity chimed in, her hand sliding under Carl’s jacket. Carl scoffed, but the heat radiating from his body told Felicity everything she needed to know. “Mr. Whitman, I shouldn’t have joked with Ms. Chase that day. You explained it to her, right? She’s such a naive girl; of course, she would believe you,” Felicity said, her tone brazen, completely disregarding Aiden’s presence. She was sure Yvonne knew about her and Carl by now. Maybe by the time they returned, Yvonne would have left on her own. That kind of girl was innocent yet stubborn—she wouldn’t compromise her dignity. If Yvonne left, with her skills, she could easily find a way to rise up. “Yvonne trusts me completely. She won’t overthink it,” Carl said, a hint of pride in his voice. In his mind, Yvonne believed in him above all else. Back at the villa, Yvonne began to pack her things. On the first day, she burned all the gifts Carl had made for her and every photo they had taken together. Meanwhile, Carl had just arrived at his business destination, spending the night with Felicity at a hot springs resort. Carl was having too much fun to remember to check in with Yvonne, and he didn’t even notice that she hadn’t texted him to ask if he had arrived safely. The next day, Yvonne sold all the clothes and luxury items Carl had bought for her at a second-hand store. On the third day, she donated the money to a rural elementary school. After wrapping up with a client, Carl took Felicity for a wild ride, speeding up to the mountaintop where they let loose, basking in the glow of the sunset and the dawn. It was pure indulgence. Felicity was a whirlwind of excitement, her suitcase stuffed with all sorts of supplies that kept Carl on his toes. In the thrill of the moment, he completely forgot about Yvonne. On the third day, Yvonne went into the rose garden and uprooted every single rose, and on a whim, she chopped down the cherry tree that had just begun to bear fruit. Those were all plants Carl had lovingly tended for her. Meanwhile, Carl and Felicity had flown abroad, and he was sprawled out on a private beach, enjoying the attentive care Felicity provided. It was then that he finally thought of Yvonne. Three days had gone by without a word from her. He pushed Felicity away and reached for his phone, ready to call Yvonne. But it was nighttime back home. Carl hesitated, putting the phone down. He imagined Yvonne was upset with him for not reaching out sooner. He mused, “Yvonne has a temper, after all.” He gazed at her photo on his phone, a warm, affectionate grin spreading across his face.

On the fourth day, Yvonne signed over the rights to her and Carl’s romantic comic to a multinational film company. From now on, this story would no longer belong to her and Carl; it was just a product. In the dead of night on his end, Carl decided to video call Yvonne during her daytime. But she hung up immediately. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Carl knew Yvonne was upset. The girl he held so dear had a way of making even her anger seem adorable. He started texting her. [Yvonne, babe, I’m sorry! I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather since I got here and completely forgot to check in.] [Yvonne, please don’t be mad. I’ll book a flight right now and be back tomorrow. I promise it won’t delay our plans to get the marriage license.] [Yvonne, just wait for me. I’ve got a gift for you!] [Yvonne, I love you. Don’t ignore me.] He sent dozens of messages, but they all fell on deaf ears. Panic began to set in. He quickly instructed his assistant to book a flight back, but the earliest he could get home was at 1 AM the day after tomorrow. Carl sent Yvonne his flight details. [Yvonne, I’ll be back tomorrow night.] [Yvonne, I can’t wait to register our marriage and bring you home. That’s when I’ll finally feel at ease.] Yvonne read Carl’s messages, feeling a bitter irony wash over her. His landing time coincided perfectly with her departure. Yvonne finally typed out before silencing her phone: [Don’t forget to check out the comic’s grand finale and the gift.] She tossed her phone into the box where she had once kept her engagement ring. Inside the box were photos of Carl and Felicity together—intimate moments captured in the car, in the great outdoors, at Yvonne’s Evergreen Wonderland before it opened, and during this very trip, and more. Felicity sent her sex photos every day. There were all sorts of poses with Carl. Each image spoke volumes without a single word. They starkly obliterated every fond memory and ounce of love Yvonne had once felt. With a steady hand, Yvonne picked up a pen and wrote: [We are breaking up.] Meanwhile, Carl was on the plane, feeling his heart race as if something precious was slipping away from him—something he desperately tried to grasp but couldn’t. Felicity had initially thought about doing something thrilling at a high altitude, but for the first time, Carl firmly turned her down. A sense of panic washed over Felicity as her right eye twitched. “Mr. Whitman, I think I’d like to stay with a friend for a while. Once my belly gets bigger, I’ll come back to you,” Felicity said with a playful smile. “Do whatever you want,” Carl replied, tossing her a credit card. Felicity accepted it with a grin. She thought to herself, “Money is all that matters. With enough cash, I can disappear whenever I want. If there’s trouble, they won’t find me. If nothing happens, I can come back with Carl’s child and maybe even secure my position.” On the fifth day, Yvonne hired a professional moving company and cleaning crew. Every personal item she owned was packed up and taken away, leaving no trace of her in the house. As night fell, Yvonne double-checked the timeline for the comic launch, confirming everything was in order. She also arranged for two boxes of cash to be delivered. After three years with Carl, the gifts he had given her were all converted into this amount of money. Yvonne wanted to cut ties with Carl completely; she didn’t want a single cent from him. Just like his cheap love, she didn’t want any part of it. At 1 AM, as the comic’s grand finale was released, Yvonne slipped into a car through the back entrance, the vehicle gliding smoothly into the night. She mused, “Carl, I don’t want to see you anymore.”

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“Dean, I accept the assignment. I’ll go to Sheania in two weeks.” Ophelia Hegseth stood by the office window, holding a pregnancy test report. The Dean’s voice came through the phone. “What changed your mind? I’ve been trying to convince you for years.” Ophelia smiled, “Just thought a change might be good. I need to get back to work now, bye.” Fighting back tears, Ophelia looked down at the pregnancy test report again. She had been an outstanding OB-GYN with multiple awards and a promising future. But instead of climbing the ladder, she chose to be a regular doctor just so she could spend more time with Jayden Romano. Three years ago, the Dean had offered her a career-advancing opportunity abroad, but Ophelia turned it down, unwilling to maintain a long-distance relationship with Jayden. Then, just thirty minutes ago, Jayden’s secretary came in for a pregnancy check-up. But it wasn’t really about the check-up. The secretary was marking her territory. Jayden had always doted on Ophelia, loving her to his core. He would’ve given her the moon if she’d asked for it. Their relationship was legendary in business circles. Everyone knew how Ophelia had supported Jayden when he was building his empire from scratch, staying by his side through thick and thin. People often said that when men got wealthy, they couldn’t resist temptation and ended up leaving their wives. But with Jayden, that wasn’t quite the story. Ophelia had believed she and Jayden would spend their lives together, deeply in love. Growing up without parents, she’d always been self-reliant until meeting Jayden. His love and protection had made her give him her whole heart. But things had started to change recently. For the past month, Jayden had been “busy”, and their time together kept shrinking. At first, Ophelia thought he was wrapped up in a new project. Her heart ached for him, and no matter how exhausted she was, she’d come home every day to cook dinner and wait up for him. But today, she learned the truth. Jayden hadn’t been busy with work this past month—he’d been busy with another woman. Ariel Meyer told Ophelia that she and Jayden had been together for a year, starting when she first joined the company as an intern fresh out of college. Suddenly, it all made sense—how she’d gotten fast-tracked from intern to executive assistant before her probation period was even up. When Jayden had claimed Ariel was hired for her “exceptional skills”, he clearly wasn’t talking about her office abilities. It was about how good she was in bed. Ophelia carefully folded the prenatal test results and slipped them into her pocket. Seven years with Jayden, and she’d been hoping to bring up marriage this year. Well, looked like that conversation wouldn’t be necessary now. As she stepped out of the hospital after her shift, she spotted Jayden waiting for her. The black Bentley was hard to miss, as always. “Look who’s here – your devoted CEO boyfriend again!” Her coworker gushed. “God, I’m so jealous. Seven years together, and he still picks you up from work. You two are crazy for each other!” “But aren’t you heading to Sheania for that three-year assignment in two weeks?” her colleague added. “How’s he going to handle that long-distance thing?” “As long as I can handle it, that’s all that matters,” Ophelia replied curtly, already walking toward the Bentley. It was no mystery why women fell for Jayden. Over six feet tall, movie-star handsome, and now a powerful CEO—who wouldn’t be drawn to that package? So Ophelia didn’t blame Ariel. If anyone was at fault, it was her own man who couldn’t keep it in his pants! As Ophelia approached, Jayden pulled a bouquet of blue roses from his car and held them out to her. “Rough day at work, baby?” For the past year, Jayden had brought flowers every time he picked her up. Ophelia had never been into flowers, but she’d always accepted them with a bright smile. Now it clicked. Ariel must have been the type of girl who went crazy for flowers, and Jayden had just assumed Ophelia was the same. “Only little girls need flowers like these. I don’t.” This time, Ophelia didn’t accept the bouquet. In a way, she was grateful to Ariel. Without her, Ophelia would have kept living in denial. She knew with absolute certainty that Jayden would never have ended things with her on his own. But Ophelia didn’t want a love that was tainted.

Back in the car, Jayden must have sensed something was off. He reached for her hand. “What’s wrong, babe? Rough day at the hospital with a difficult patient?” Ophelia had always worn her heart on her sleeve, often taking her patients’ struggles to heart. “Yeah,” she said softly, looking at Jayden. “Today, I had a patient come in for a pregnancy check-up. I found out later she was the other woman in an affair. “Why do people cheat? Is the grass really always greener on the other side?” At Ophelia’s question, panic flickered across Jayden’s eyes for a split second before he masked it with a casual smile. He pulled her close and said, “You’re just too empathetic, always taking everyone’s problems as your own. “But you know how people are. Sometimes, they just can’t help themselves, always chasing after something new and exciting.” Ophelia looked up at him, a strange feeling settling in her stomach. Earlier that day, she’d been devastated. Seven years of pouring her heart and soul into a relationship—anyone would be heartbroken by such betrayal. But after spending the afternoon processing everything, Ophelia had gained some clarity. So when she heard Jayden’s calculated analysis, she felt no pain, only irony. “You want to try something new?” Ophelia asked, her voice steady. Jayden’s fingers trembled slightly on her shoulder as he answered with practiced tenderness, “You’re all I need. What we have is irreplaceable. I don’t need anything new.” “Yeah, right,” she thought with a bitter smile. If Ophelia hadn’t met Ariel today, she might have believed him. Just then, his phone rang. Jayden instinctively glanced at Ophelia when he saw the caller ID, only answering after confirming she wasn’t paying attention. Jayden instinctively edged toward the car door, trying to put some distance between himself and Ophelia—probably afraid she might overhear. What he didn’t realize was that his Bluetooth earbuds were right next to her, still connected and broadcasting every word of Ariel’s side of the conversation. Ophelia dug her nails into her palms, fighting to keep her composure. After hanging up, Jayden turned to her with a guilty look. “Baby, I’m so sorry, but there’s an emergency at work. I need to head there right away. Let me get you a cab, okay?” But Ophelia had heard it all crystal clear. Ariel was having morning sickness and wanted him to come over for dinner. She’d even bought a new roleplay outfit she knew he’d love. At that moment, Ophelia felt physically sick to her stomach. Looking at Jayden, she put on a sweet voice. “Why don’t I come to the office with you? I don’t have anything planned after work anyway.” Jayden’s face immediately tensed up at her suggestion. “Baby, you’ve had such a long day already. I might be stuck there till late tonight. There’s no point in you waiting around. Just head home and get some rest, okay? I’ll try to wrap things up as quickly as I can.” He sounded so caring, so concerned about her wellbeing. If only he knew that she already knew everything. But Ophelia didn’t push it any further. What was the point? She was just tired of it all. Ophelia asked the driver to pull over and got out of the car alone. Standing on the sidewalk, she watched Jayden’s car disappear into the distance. At that moment, she felt the last warmth in her heart turn to ice. Ophelia walked aimlessly through the autumn night, memories of her life with Jayden playing like a movie in her head. Back then, when Jayden had announced he wanted to start his own business and quit his job, she’d stood by him without hesitation. She’d supported them both on her modest salary, never complaining once. She could still remember those winter mornings, biking to work in the freezing cold instead of taking a cab just so she could put better food on their table. “I promise I’ll make it big,” he’d told her. “We’ll have our dream house someday, Ophelia. Just trust me.” “I’ll cherish you forever,” he’d said. “You’re my forever and always.” A bitter smile crossed her face. He had delivered on part of his promise—the luxury mansion, the successful business. But “forever” hadn’t lasted nearly as long as she’d thought it would.

Back home, Ophelia took a hot shower to shake off the winter chill and then began packing for her departure. She filled her suitcases with clothes and essentials, arranging for an international courier service to pick them up. The housekeeper noticed her bustling around and asked curiously, “Mrs. Romano, are you going on a business trip?” “No,” Ophelia replied. She had no intention of telling anyone, especially not Jayden’s staff. Instead, she made up an excuse. “Just clearing out my old clothes for donation.” “Mrs. Romano, you’re so thoughtful. I have prepared something to eat for you. Mr. Wilson just called to make sure we’d take good care of you.” “Just called?” Ophelia scoffed inwardly. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Jayden was quite a player—wanting to have his cake and eat it too, refusing to let go of Ophelia while sweet-talking Ariel on the side. He’d even managed to call and check on her while he was busy tending to his pregnant mistress. No wonder everyone still saw Jayden as the perfect husband. All her years of devotion had been forgotten, and now Ophelia finally understood why—Jayden was one hell of an actor. Staring at the food on the table, Ophelia couldn’t bring herself to take a single bite. Her stomach churned, though she wasn’t sure if it was from thinking about Jayden’s disgusting two-faced act or realizing she’d been nursing a snake in her bosom all this time. She barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gripped the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Something clicked in her mind, and she reached for the pregnancy test she kept in the bathroom cabinet. A chill ran down Ophelia’s spine as she waited for the results. Her period was late by a few days this month, but she hadn’t thought much of it until the morning sickness hit. She’d written off the irregularity as stress from her hectic schedule. Ten minutes felt like an eternity. When the two lines appeared, Ophelia’s hands trembled. There wasn’t a shred of joy in her heart. Instead, it felt like a boulder was crushing her chest, making it hard to breathe. Just yesterday, news of this pregnancy would have sent her running to Jayden, excitedly planning their wedding. But knowing Jayden was at Ariel’s place right now, she couldn’t find any joy in the moment. Coming out of the bathroom, Ophelia sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought for what felt like hours, wrestling with what to do about the baby. She’d always loved children and had spent countless nights imagining what it would be like to start a family with Jayden. But this was the last thing Ophelia had seen coming. While she was still reeling from the revelation, Jayden called. He told her he had to go on a last-minute business trip for a week, asking her to take care of herself and stay safe during her commute. Then, she heard a faint voice in the background, a travel agent confirming two tickets to Crystal Island. “Alright, take care of yourself too,” Ophelia replied with her usual warmth. Her familiar concern put Jayden completely at ease. After hanging up, Ophelia smiled. Minutes ago, she hadn’t known what to do about the baby. Now she did. Ophelia called in sick to work and then made appointments for the medical check-up and termination. She couldn’t keep this baby. Ophelia lay awake all night before heading to the hospital early the next morning. After the examination, she followed the doctor to the procedure room. Lying on the cold surgical table, she felt a chill that went bone-deep. The coldness pierced through to her core, like shards of ice stabbing at her heart. At this moment, the last thread connecting her to Jayden was about to be severed forever. From now on, they would truly be separate people living separate lives. When Ophelia woke up, she was hooked up to an IV drip. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach. “It was over?” she thought, a bitter smile crossing her face.

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In the year Percival Hopkins was at his lowest, I broke up with him. Later, when he became successful and famous, my father tied me down and sent me straight to his bed. He gave up his wealthy fiancée to reunite with me. Our friends all said he was my savior. But only I knew the truth, that this was just Percival’s delayed revenge. He confined me to a secluded villa on a mountaintop, controlling me with an iron fist. Meanwhile, he openly attended various parties with his former fiancée, Evelyn Leach, and the world only knew of her, never of me. On my birthday, I called Percival. “It’s raining again tonight, Percival. Are you coming back?” Meanwhile, he was busy cutting cake for Evelyn, and his impatient voice came through the phone. “Can you stop going on about the rain? Just deal with it yourself. What, you think you’re going to die from it?” Later, I really did die. He couldn’t help but ask me over and over again in his dreams. “Yolanda Beasley, do you really not want me anymore?” On Christmas Eve, when everyone else was gathering with their loved ones, I wandered the streets like a lost soul. It had been so long since I’d been out, and everything felt new to me. Honestly, this opportunity came only after I begged Percival for a long time. After we got married, it was as if he feared I would run away. He set up curfews for me. Whenever I came home late, he would mock me. “Out running around again? Don’t tell me you’ve found some old client to entertain?” I can still remember the cold gleam in his eyes at that moment. Eventually, he must have tired of being angry, so he just locked me inside the house. If I really needed to go somewhere, I had to ask for permission. I thought, “Looking back, I once ruled the world, but now I’ve ended up like this. It’s pretty pathetic.” The cold winter wind pierced through my collar, making my bones ache with the chill. I hunched my shoulders and wandered along under the eaves, not noticing a white dog almost tripping me. I stepped back, studying it closely. It was a Samoyed, thin and frail, lying stiffly in a filthy pile of garbage. It was clear it had been neglected, likely starving and unloved for some time. Its once-white fur was now yellowed, covered in childish scribbles. Anyone who saw their beloved pet in such a state would surely feel heartbroken. If it were my dog, Carl… I sighed and was about to step over it when a clear, jingling sound caught my ear. The bell around the dog’s neck had fallen off and lightly clinked against its metal ID tag. That ID tag… I took a few steps forward, crouched down, and flipped the tag over. In bold letters, it read: [Carl.] Behind me, the street was busy with people and lights, but in the dark alley, only the cold wind howled through, echoing its mournful cry. I thought, “This damn world really doesn’t leave me any room for sentiment…” I stood there in silence for a long while before finally letting out a deep sigh and a stiff smile. I wrapped my arms around Carl and joked. “Carl, where have you been playing? Covered in dirt… Don’t worry. I’ll get you all cleaned up.” Carl was an adult Samoyed, and back in the day, I could barely catch him when he jumped on me. Now, I could easily lift him up. I struggled to pull out my phone and looked at the balance page, relieved to see I still had a few thousand dollars left. I carried Carl all the way to the nearest pet shop and begged the owner to give him a bath. The kind shopkeeper even recommended a reliable pet funeral service. I held Carl’s ashes and went to a cemetery on the outskirts of town. I found the familiar grave without much trouble and placed Carl’s urn inside. The small urn didn’t take up much space. It was just enough to hold a piece of me. “Carl, sleep now, don’t be afraid, baby. “You’ll be right next to me. It won’t be long before I join you. Sorry, I was useless.” I struggled to lift the heavy concrete slab and place it back into position. Brushing the dust off my clothes, I waved at the tombs on my way out of the cemetery. It was getting late now, and I held my dead phone tightly, hunching my shoulders as I stepped into the house. Before I could even set my shoes down, I heard Percival’s angry voice echoing from the distance. “You’re finally back, huh?” A storm was clearly brewing.

I hesitated, dragging my feet as I made my way to the living room. I had planned to soften things up with a few kind words to calm Percival down. But when I looked up, I saw him sitting on the couch with Evelyn in his arms. Evelyn was always a thorn in my side back in school. Whatever I liked, she liked. The pretty pens I had, the new dress my parents bought me, and even the guy I had a crush on, she had to chase after those things, too. In college, when I was trying to win Percival’s heart, she was always finding ways to get close to him. Even after Percival and I got together, she still found reasons to show up, always in my way, making my blood boil. By the time I returned home after my time abroad, she had already become Percival’s fiancée. She was just one step away from becoming his wife. But in the end, through a twist of fate, it was me who married him. She hated me very much. And I didn’t feel like about her, either. The smile I had almost formed on my face vanished, and in an instant, I was back to wearing my usual blank expression. “Percival, why did you bring her here?” Before Percival could speak, Evelyn said. “Percival wants a divorce, so he brought me here to see what it’s like to be the lady of the house!” Her hand slid over Percival’s shoulder, and the sleeve of her shirt shifted, revealing a jade bracelet. That was a family heirloom from the Hopkins family, which Percival’s mother had once shown to me when she was still alive. I fixed my gaze on Percival, my eyes sharp. “Is it true?” Percival said nothing, his expression a mix of curiosity as he watched me closely. Evelyn leaned in, planting a kiss on his cheek. He didn’t pull away. I knew exactly what he was doing. This was his way of getting back at me for leaving and going abroad. Even though this little drama had played out repeatedly over the past year and more since we got married, it still stabbed at my heart. Evelyn nestled into Percival’s arms, her eyes glittering mischievously. Suddenly, they brightened. She jumped up and rushed over, grabbing a small pet collar. “Isn’t this Carl’s collar? It’s been missing for so long! “When it disappeared, Percival and I were both so worried. Who would’ve thought you would find it now!” Percival noticed the collar, sitting up slowly. A flash of guilt crossed his face. “Why didn’t you bring it back, and then?” “How could I? Carl’s been rotting in the trash.” Percival pressed his lips tightly together as if holding back something, the guilt in his eyes deepening. Then, Evelyn’s expression shifted. She leaned closer to me, her voice calm but venomous. “It’s good that it can’t come back. After you left, I thought I could get close to it, but it really was just like you, always glaring at me. So, I intentionally let it go and had people chase it far away. Well, it’ll never come back. “Yolanda, see? This is its fate.” I forced myself to calm down, struggling to keep the breakdown inside from breaking through. Evelyn was about to say more, but I slapped her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor. I shook with anger, grabbing her collar. “Carl’s a lucky one! Don’t curse it!” Before I could say another word, tears started to fall. I wanted to keep going, but then I felt a sharp pain in my hand. Percival had grabbed my wrist, forcing me to release my grip on Evelyn’s collar. He stood above me, looking down coldly. The guilt on his face had long been replaced by indifference. “How dare you hit her? You stole her fiancé. You’ll never be able to make it up to her. “Yolanda, remember your place. You’re just a toy I bought.”

As Percival said, I stole her fiancé. Three years after breaking up with Percival and going abroad, I couldn’t resist sneaking back into the country. To my surprise, as soon as I walked out of the airport, my father, drowning in debt, caught me. He said he would sell me to the big boss of Gerelden, claiming it would not only pay off his debts but also give his gambling-addicted son some money to squander. I refused with all my might, but he slapped me hard enough that stars appeared before my eyes and tied me up tightly before sending me to a room. Before leaving, he reminded me not to end up like my ungrateful mother, who had been of no use and died in vain. The woman he so contemptuously spoke of had given him her entire life. In her final stages of cancer, she was forced to deal with his creditors, suffering humiliation before she died. That rainy night, her resolute figure, and the pool of blood on the floor were memories I could never forget. I struggled with everything I had, but all I could do was watch him disappear behind the door. I never would have imagined that in my darkest moment, the person who opened the door for me was Percival. He bought me from my father and became my employer… The sound of the door closing snapped me out of my chaotic thoughts. I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was already past midnight. Percival, who had been so nervous while holding Evelyn earlier, was now standing in front of me, drunk. He reached out to pull me up from the floor, holding me tightly. His head rested in the crook of my neck as he pouted to me like he did five years ago. “Honey, why do you always want to leave me? Am I not good enough? “I’ve got money now. I can buy you back.” The hand I had placed on his back froze slightly. I bitterly smiled. When Percival was drunk, everything he said felt like an insult to me. We held each other like lovers who were inseparable. I almost leaned in to kiss him, but then I met his gradually clearing eyes. I watched as the deep affection in his eyes was replaced with disgust. He shoved me away suddenly, and the familiar mockery followed. “Yolanda, how much do you love me? Even after I’ve grown to hate you, you still want to kiss me? “Are you planning to sell yourself again?” I didn’t know if it was because I’d gotten used to it, but the pain no longer struck me sharply. I awkwardly smiled and replied calmly, as if I were talking about something trivial. “Why do you think I’m short on money? You know me so well.” I clung to his legs and stood up, grinning in a way that begged for his favor. “Not much, just a million dollars will do!” Maybe it was my expression, or maybe it was my words, but I seemed to have triggered Percival even more. He looked at me with fury, his teeth clenched. “Are you really doing this for money? Did the Hopkins family starve you or what? “Look at you now. You’re all disheveled, and your face is as pale as a ghost!” He paused, his eyes flashing with a brief look of concern, but in the end, he didn’t say a word of it. “Look at you now. You’re worth far less than a million dollars. I’m not even asking for your room fee!” With that, he slammed the door and stormed off. I stared at my reflection in the glass, feeling like all my life had been drained from me. I barely resembled the vibrant person I once was. I wasn’t pretty, and I was close to death. The medical report in my pocket crinkled under my grip, and the doctor’s words still echoed in my mind. “Ms. Beasley, your condition is more severe than the last check-up. I’m sure you can feel it, and things will only get worse. I still recommend you try the new medicine if possible. It’s expensive, one million dollars per three doses, but at least it will ease your pain.” I looked down and let out a soft, mocking laugh, suddenly feeling a strange curiosity. I wondered, “Percival, what kind of expression would you have if you knew what this money was for?”

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The night before the wedding, Jonathan Kelley’s first love, Yolanda Maxwell, sent over her medical report. She said she wanted to see the world one last time before going blind. In order to avoid leaving any regrets with his first love, he decided to cancel our wedding to take care of her. When I confronted him, he grew impatient. “Can you stop being so petty? She can’t see anymore. Can’t you just be a little understanding?” He even tied me to a chair and forcibly hypnotized me to make me forget about him, for a while, at least. Later, I went ahead and married his archrival. With red eyes, he asked me, “How could you marry someone else?” Raymond Baldwin wrapped his arms around me. “Why are you so upset? It’s just a new groom. Don’t be so petty.” Looking at the photo on my phone, I suddenly felt like I didn’t want to get married anymore. An hour ago, Jonathan’s first love, Yolanda, had posted something on Instagram. [I just casually mentioned I wanted a snack, and he dropped everything and rushed to bring it to me.] The post was accompanied by a photo of the two of them eating together closely. In the photo, my fiancé, Jonathan, was lovingly feeding Yolanda. That gentle look was something I had never seen from him. At that moment, I felt like a joke. I remembered how he had come with me to pick out rings in the afternoon and said there was something urgent at the hospital he had to take care of. His “urgent matter” was running off to buy snacks for his first love. Just then, the door opened. Jonathan had returned. He walked into the bedroom and saw that I was still awake. He came over and hugged me. “We had a lot of patients today, so I’m a bit late home.” His voice was soft, and the faint scent of gardenias filled my nostrils. That was Yolanda’s favorite scent. Suddenly, I felt a wave of nausea. I pushed him away and couldn’t help but mock him. “Really? Did you bring her snacks and still find time to see patients? You really are working hard.” “You… you know?” His eyes flashed with panic, and he immediately took out the medical report. “Yolanda’s having trouble with her eyesight. She could go blind at any time.” When I heard him say that, I just found it laughable. She had posted a picture on Instagram not long ago, and now she was supposedly going blind? It seemed like a joke to me. She had used similar tactics to manipulate Jonathan before. Anyone with common sense could tell she was playing him, but Jonathan still believed her wholeheartedly. Seeing that I didn’t say anything, he went on. “You know, Yolanda lost both her parents when she was young. Now, with this illness, she’s struggling with even the basics of daily life. It’s really pitiful.” I sighed deeply and cut straight to the point. “So, you want to go take care of her?” Jonathan fell silent, not answering, but I could already tell his position. It hit me hard soon. We were supposed to be getting married, yet he couldn’t let go of his first love. I suddenly felt empty inside. “Jonathan, if you can’t let her go, I can call off the wedding and set you two free!” I turned around to start packing my things, but he suddenly grabbed my wrist. He pinned me to the chair and took out some rope he had prepared in advance, tying me up. I screamed, “Are you crazy? What are you doing?” A wave of fear washed over me, and I struggled desperately, trying to break free, but I couldn’t move an inch. He looked at me with a trace of guilt in his eyes. “Wanda Norman, don’t be angry. I know you don’t like her, but right now, she really needs me. “I’m going to take care of her for a few days, and I’ll hypnotize you so you can forget about me temporarily.” He took out a golden pocket watch. I stared at him in disbelief. He actually hypnotized me to forget about him just so he could meet his first love! This watch was something I had specially ordered for him as a birthday gift, and never in my wildest dreams did I think it would end up being used on me. A wave of bitterness hit my chest, and I looked at him with eyes full of disappointment. “Jonathan, I’m your fiancée. Have you ever thought about my feelings?” He turned his head, avoiding my gaze, his voice dripping with impatience. “I’ve already said it’s just a few days to take care of her. Can you stop being so petty?” Petty? In an instant, my heart shattered, and I completely lost control. I shouted at him. “Go ahead then. Once you’re gone, don’t bother coming back!” He held the pocket watch up in front of me, playing with it absentmindedly as he spoke softly to calm me. “Wanda, don’t say such things. How could I not come back? I still have to marry you. Now, be a good girl and get some sleep.” I didn’t know where his confidence came from, thinking I would still end up with him. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me, and I realized he had started the hypnosis. I wanted to fight it, but my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Soon, my consciousness sank into darkness.

I felt like I had just woken from a long dream, my head pounding. In that dream, I was back to the first time I met Jonathan. He was wearing a black tailcoat and standing on stage playing the violin. Under the lights, he looked angelic, his features sharp and clear, like he had fallen from heaven. I stood below the stage, excitedly shouting his name. That day, Jonathan’s name was carved deeply into my heart. Then, the scene changed. Yolanda walked towards me, holding Jonathan’s arm. “Jonathan only loves me. You’ve lost!” Fragments of broken memories pulled and twisted inside my head, and my brain felt like it was about to explode with pain. With a sharp scream, I woke up. I lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, tears soaking my pillow. It then hit me. I hadn’t lost my memory. I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel. The thought of revenge surged in my mind. Why should he be allowed to leave me for another woman when I couldn’t do the same? The wedding had already been planned, and the invitations were sent out. If I showed up on the wedding day with a different groom, Jonathan would become the laughingstock of the entire city. With that thought in mind, I put on some makeup, picked out a mermaid-style dress from the wardrobe, and took a taxi to the nightclub. The deafening music in the bar made me feel a little disoriented. This was my first time at a place like this, and after searching for a while, I finally spotted Raymond. He was wearing a white shirt, his legs crossed on the table, his hands resting on the sofa, his eyes half-closed. “Mr. Baldwin, why are you drinking alone? How about I join you?” When Raymond heard my voice, he slowly opened his eyes. When he saw me, his expression was full of surprise. “Aren’t you busy preparing for your wedding? What brings you to a place like this?” I took the drink from the table and finished it in one go, replying, “I broke up with him.” Raymond raised an eyebrow at the word “break up” and then teased, “Oh? Did he and Yolanda get back together and dump you?” “I dumped him.” Raymond’s gaze sharpened. “So, what’s your plan now? What do you want from me?” “My wedding still needs a groom. Want to consider marrying me?” “Ms. Norman, you’re something else. Everyone knows there’s bad blood between Jonathan and me. If I take the woman he doesn’t want, it’ll be the biggest joke in the city!” Raymond built his empire from the ground up, while Jonathan was the classic rich second generation. The two of them had always been at odds, never liking each other. I had already guessed he would refuse, but I still wanted to take a gamble. I leaned forward, placing my hands on the couch, giving him a seductive look, my voice dripping with charm. “I’m still engaged to him. He’s been hypnotizing me while secretly seeking out his first love, planning to come back and continue our wedding. “If the groom is switched on the wedding day, Jonathan will definitely become the laughingstock of the entire city. Don’t you find that interesting, Mr. Baldwin?” His eyes were locked on me, full of anger. “You want to use me to get back at him? “Wanda Norman, what do you take me for?” Seeing his anger, I pushed his buttons even more. “I heard that the Baldwin Group lost a major deal to the Kelley family last week. Doesn’t that piss you off? “Seems like you are nothing but a coward who swallows his frustration, Mr. Baldwin. If that’s the case, then I’ll just leave.” After saying that, I noticed he didn’t respond, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed, realizing I had overestimated myself. I turned to leave, but he suddenly grabbed me and pulled me back into his arms, his fingers tilting my chin to look into my eyes. “Are you that impatient?” I was a little taken aback. Did he just agree? Before I could ask him what he meant, he whispered in my ear. “Wanda, in my dictionary, there’s no such thing as divorce, only widowhood. “We can get married, but we have to get the certificate. Think it through carefully.” I froze for a moment, recalling what my best friend had said before. She told me Raymond was a notorious workaholic, uninterested in emotional matters, and had no rumors about him at all. Some even wondered if he was into men. Now that he was saying this, I was a bit lost. I had only wanted to use him to humiliate Jonathan, but he was taking it seriously. Seeing I hadn’t responded, he sneered. “What? Are you scared?” There was already a fire burning inside me, and his words only stoked it further. The alcohol made my feelings bubble up even more. Looking at his sharply defined face, I leaned in and kissed him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His lips were cool and soft. “Wanda, you’re the one who came on to me.”

He lifted me up and walked toward the door, opening it and gently placing me inside the car. The car sped along and soon stopped in front of a villa. Once we were inside, he laid me on the bed and immediately hovered over me. To be honest, I was a little nervous. I had been with Jonathan for so long, but we had never crossed any boundaries. This was the first time I had been this close to a man, and my whole body was tense. Raymond seemed to sense my unease. He leaned in, whispering in my ear. “Relax, don’t be nervous. I’ll teach you how to do this.” His warm breath tickled my neck, sending electric shivers down my spine. Then, he kissed me. At first, I was uncomfortable. But with his lead, I slowly began to lose myself in the moment. He didn’t stop until morning. I was completely exhausted, and in my dazed state, I thought I heard him say something. “Wanda, I’ve finally got you.” When I woke up, my body felt like it had been shattered. The scattered clothes around us were a clear sign of just how intense the night had been. While I was lost in thought, the door suddenly opened. Raymond walked in, carrying a glass of milk. I reached out to take it. But I noticed his gaze was fixed on my wrist. Looking down, I saw the marks from where he had gripped me. He held my hand, his eyes red, his voice full of concern. “What happened? Did he hurt you?” When I saw his worried expression, a warm feeling washed over me. I smiled, trying to sound casual. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” But when Raymond heard me say that, his gaze grew darker, and his face slowly turned serious. He let go of my hand and walked out of the room. I stood there, unsure of what had just happened or where I’d gone wrong. But before long, I saw him walk back in with a first aid kit. He knelt down in front of me, dipped a cotton swab in alcohol, and gently started disinfecting the wound. When I saw how serious he looked, my heart suddenly softened. I hadn’t felt cared for in such a way for a long time. When I had severe cramps during my period a while back, I called Jonathan, hoping he would bring me some painkillers. He’d told me, “All women have cramps. Why are you being so dramatic?” Since then, I have never expected his care again. Tears started to well up in my eyes, and they fell one by one. When Raymond saw me crying, he seemed a bit lost. “Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?” I shook my head, choking up as I asked. “Do you think I’m being dramatic right now?” “No.” He pulled me into his arms, cupped my face gently, and kissed away my tears. With a serious look, he said. “Wanda, you have every right to be dramatic with me. My shoulder will always be here for you to lean on, and I won’t let you shed a single tear.” I looked at him through tearful eyes, whispering, “Okay.” We went to City Hall and quickly completed the paperwork. Holding the marriage license in my hand, I still felt a bit dazed… I had actually married Jonathan’s sworn enemy. Raymond waved his hand in front of my face, concern in his voice. “Wanda, what’s wrong? What are you thinking about?” My thoughts snapped back, and I sighed a little. “It just feels… so sudden. Like I’m dreaming.” Raymond pulled me into his arms and kissed me passionately. He didn’t let go until I could barely breathe. Looking at me with a possessive expression, he said. “Do you regret it? Regret won’t change anything. From now on, you’re mine and only mine.” After we left City Hall, he took me to a newly opened exotic restaurant. We entered the dining hall, and he called the waiter over to order a platter of grilled shrimp, sweet-glazed ribs, and beef cheese rolls. Then he turned to the waiter and added, “Oh, and no spices, please.” I looked at him in confusion. “How did you know I like these dishes and that I don’t like spices?” He smiled faintly. “It is just some things I need to pay attention to really understand.” Tears gathered in my eyes again as I thought about how, when I was with Jonathan, he never cared about my food preferences. I liked exotic dishes, while he preferred local cuisine. I was always the one adjusting to him. But in just a few short days with Raymond, he had already become so thoughtful and attentive. So, this was what it felt like to be cared for. After dinner, we returned home. He went to his study to work while I took a shower and lay down on the bed. Just then, a video from a friend popped up on my phone.   In the video, Jonathan was kneeling on one knee, holding out a ring to propose to Yolanda. The people around them cheered, “Say yes, say yes!” Yolanda, blushing, nodded shyly, and he slid the ring onto her finger. The two of them shared a passionate kiss. As I watched this, my heart didn’t stir at all. I was about to close my phone when Raymond walked in. He saw the video on my screen, and his face immediately darkened. He tilted my chin up, his voice low and firm as he warned me. “I won’t allow my wife to have feelings for another man.” His possessive, yet slightly hurt, gaze melted my heart. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, gazing back into his eyes. “The moment we registered our marriage, I completely let go of him,” I said softly. “I’m just grateful. If it weren’t for him, I might never have woken up. Otherwise, I would never have met someone as wonderful as you.” Before I could finish, he leaned down and kissed me passionately, our fingers intertwining as if he wanted to pull me into his very being, claiming me completely. In the haze of the kiss, all I could hear was him repeatedly whispering in my ear. “You’re mine. You belong to me and only me.” The next few days, Raymond and I went to choose the wedding dress and rings, preparing everything for the ceremony. We lived like newlyweds, sharing a life together. Raymond treated me so well that I suddenly felt like maybe my impulsive decision back then wasn’t such a bad thing. Soon enough, the big day arrived. I sat in front of the mirror, looking at myself in the wedding dress with delicate makeup, still in disbelief that I was about to get married. I had imagined so many times what it would be like to wear a beautiful wedding dress and say, “I do” to Jonathan. But I never imagined that just a few days later, everything would change so completely. It was Jonathan’s coldness that had snapped me out of it. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have ended up with Raymond so soon. Lost in thought, I barely noticed when the host outside the door called out for the ceremony to start. With the sound of music playing, I stood up, lifted my dress, and walked towards the wedding stage. The past was now just a distant memory. The things that once mattered would eventually fade. One had to look ahead. I truly believed that the future would only get better. Just then, the doors to the hall opened, and Jonathan hurriedly entered, dressed in a black suit. He stood at the door, panting, clearly having rushed over from Yolanda’s place. One of his friends stepped forward, anxious. “Why are you only just getting here? If you’re any later, it’ll be too late.” Jonathan gave a careless smile. “What’s there to worry about? Even if I’m a few minutes late, Wanda will wait for me. I’ve stood her up so many times before, and didn’t she always come back and cheer me up?” “Right, you really have her under control.” “Alright, keep this conversation between us. Don’t go spreading it around!” “Of course, don’t worry. I’ve got your back, bro.” At that moment, the host took the microphone and announced, “Now, let’s welcome the groom to the stage.” Jonathan adjusted his bow tie, smiling as he took his first step. Just then, Raymond, dressed in a tuxedo, passed by him, walking directly onto the stage and taking my hand.

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From the instant we exchanged our wedding vows, my husband, Julian Smith, embarked on a fervent mission to knit me seamlessly into his family, dedicating himself to having sex with me to make me pregnant. But after three years, my belly remained flat. Gradually, his patience began to wear thin. Eventually, he abandoned me in a fire, leaving me with his new lover. Yet, I wasn’t shattered. After being rescued, I did three things. First, I secretly hid my pregnancy test report. Second, I moved out of the home we’d shared for three years. Third, on our wedding anniversary, I filed for divorce. Julian remained indifferent. His new lover came to me to apologize, tears streaming down her face. “Judy, Mr. Smith didn’t mean to hurt you. If you’re angry, blame me.” I didn’t blame her. I simply told her to leave. Julian wrapped his arms around her, murmuring soothing words, but the moment he turned to me, his demeanor shifted. With a voice as cold as ice, he declared and tossed a divorce agreement my way, “Don’t regret it.” With not a single regret in my heart, I departed in silence, hiding the secret of my pregnancy. But later, when he stumbled upon my pregnancy test report, his eyes flared red with fury, and he seemed to lose all sense of reason. ***** In the aftermath of the fire, I lay in the hospital for three long days, but Julian never visited. Upon my discharge from the hospital, I found myself perched alone on the sofa, lost in contemplation over the doctor’s words. The doctor had said, “Ms. White, you’re pregnant, but the pregnancy isn’t stable. You must take care to avoid any intense emotions or excitement.” Remembering my past miscarriages, I silently vowed, “Baby, this time, I will bring you into the world.” Julian returned late that night. He was engaged in a phone conversation, a tender glow softening his gaze. A woman’s voice drifted through the line. It was none other than Linda Green, the rising starlet he had heroically pulled from the fire just recently. Once, this would have driven me mad with jealousy. Now, it left me numb. Only after hanging up did he notice me on the sofa. Surprise flickered across his face, followed by irritation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were discharged?” he yelled. I almost laughed. I’d texted him long before leaving the hospital. He just hadn’t cared enough to notice. When I didn’t respond, he sat beside me. After a brief pause, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black credit card. With a calm directive, he said, “Take this, and keep preparing for the pregnancy.” My hand rested on my belly, where life was already growing. I kept the existence of our child a secret, leaving the card untouched where he had placed it. Instead, I handed him a contract. “Julian, let’s get divorced.” The words on the divorce agreement stunned him. His brow creased into a frown, and his voice was laced with the same impatience as always. “Divorce? Did you not just go through a fire before? And besides, you’re here, safe and sound, aren’t you? Now, you want to divorce me over this?” he snapped. I thought, “Go through a fire? Safe and sound?” My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my emotions in check. Yes, I’d survived the fire. But the fire had always been my shadow. It had killed my mother and nearly claimed me, too. Julian had saved me back then, pulling me from the abyss. So, shouldn’t he, of all people, know how terrified I was of fire? How could he just abandon me in the midst of flames and walk away, hand in hand with another woman? As I held my silence, he continued, “Come on, be sensible. I’ve had my hands full. That’s why I couldn’t make it to the hospital.” With my patience worn thin, I let out a derisive sneer and retort. “If being ‘sensible’ means I should overlook how you left me for dead at the fire and walked out with another woman, only to expect me to act like nothing happened, then yes, I guess I’m not sensible at all.” I took a deep breath and declared, “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” He fell silent, his expression darkening as he sat there for a moment, brooding. Finally, he left the card on the table. “Don’t be rash. Keep trying for a baby.” With that, he walked upstairs without looking back. I knew he was trying to appease me. He’d done this before whenever I’d been jealous of Linda. There was a time when he would at least conjure up surprises for me, but now, all that remained was a credit card devoid of any real sentiment. He thought I’d give in like I always had. But this time, I wouldn’t.

Watching Julian’s back as he walked away, I sneered. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my lower abdomen, yanking me from my thoughts. My hand instinctively flew to my stomach as I rushed to the guest bedroom, taking a folic acid pill. I softly placed my hand on my belly, whispering words of silent solace to the delicate life blossoming within. That night marked the beginning of another cold war between Julian and me. This had become his go-to tactic, coercing me into conceding my supposed faults ever since we tied the knot. Once upon a time, I had bowed my head because I loved him. But now? Now that the love was gone, there was no reason to give in anymore. I packed my things and moved out. That night, he made no effort to find me, which I welcomed as a chance for some freedom. I seized the opportunity to make plans with my best friend, Rachel Gray, for dinner and a movie. As we drove home afterward, Rachel finally broke the silence. “Are you really going through with the divorce? Are you prepared to let go of everything you’ve worked so hard for?” Within the car, my hand tenderly caressed my pregnant belly. The lights beyond the window cast a dim glow, yet a serene calm enveloped me. Her question didn’t stir up any anxiety in me. Maybe I was just too disappointed to feel anything anymore. “I’m planning to take a job at Joyvo Group,” I said softly. Rachel’s eyes widened in surprise. “If you go to Joyvo Group, Julian will lose it,” she exclaimed. I thought about it for a second and chuckled, “Now that you mention it, I think I want to go even more.” After a restorative night, I composed an email to Julian, formally tendering my resignation. He offered no response, so I took his silence as tacit agreement. The very next day, I turned on my heel and aligned myself with his competitor, Joyvo Group. Consequently, on my first day at the new company, Julian sought me out. In front of everyone, he grabbed my arm and pulled me away. He looked livid. I stumbled after him, my free hand instinctively covering my belly to protect the baby inside me. “Julian! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?” I yanked my arm, trying to break free. “I think you’re the one who’s lost it!” he snapped. “You want to work at Joyvo Group? Did I give you permission to resign?” His face loomed mere inches from mine as he pulled me close. Our gaze met when his eyes burned with anger. “Do you even remember how Joyvo Group tried to destroy us in the beginning?” he demanded. Of course, I remembered. How could I forget the humiliation Julian endured when Joyvo Group had tried to suppress us? It was a wound he had carried for so long, a constant source of pain. But that pain didn’t justify the way he treated me, did it? He never cared about my hurts, so why should I care about his? “Have you said everything you needed to say?” I asked. “Because if you have, then let me go. I have work to do.” I tried to pull away again, but his grip was like iron. His fingers dug into my wrist, and I winced. His eyes were red with rage. “You will not work for Joyvo Group,” he growled. “Name any condition. Anything but this.” Any condition? I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. In his mind, we were still haggling, still negotiating like this was some business deal. When had our relationship become so transactional? When had love turned into a series of demands and conditions? I met his gaze, his eyes brimming with a tempest of anger. His eyes, which I had once loved so deeply, now gazed back at me with an unsettling unfamiliarity. I took a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me again. “Fine,” I said firmly. “My condition is divorce.”

After a brief pause, I lifted my head again, meeting Julian’s red-rimmed eyes head-on. I repeated my words. “As long as you agree to a divorce, I won’t take the job at Joyvo Group.” I could see the anger in his eyes bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to spill over. My wrist felt as though it might snap under his vice-like grip. Just when I braced myself for his inevitable rejection, he laughed. “Fine,” he said, his tone dripping with malice. “Since you want a divorce so badly, I’ll grant your wish. But don’t regret it.” Our journey to the courthouse was swift, yet I had overlooked the mandatory 30-day cooling-off period before the divorce could proceed. The divorce was stalled, and we were now tethered to an agonizing wait of another 30 days. I stood on the steps, waiting for the taxi, feeling a growing sense of impatience. Julian stood beside me, unmoving. He exuded an air of confidence as if victory was already within his grasp. “Judy White,” he began. “I admit that I’ve neglected you lately, but you’ve been too willful. If you come back now, we can work through everything. As for Linda, there’s nothing between us. We’re just cooperating for the company’s marketing. That’s all.” It was the first time he’d ever explained so much to me. Yet, there remained one thing he never clarified—why he abandoned me to the flames that day, choosing instead to rush to Linda’s rescue. I turned to look at him. His expression was calmer now, but his eyes were deep, reflecting my own image back at me like a mirror. He still thought this was just a spat, something that could be smoothed over with a few words. And then, just like before, he started to coax me again. “Let’s prepare for pregnancy. Once we have a child, everything will go back to how it was. My family will accept you once we have a baby.” I had heard him say this before. But this time, something inside me had changed. The expectations I once had were gone, burned away like ash. What did it matter whether his family accepted me or not? I was the daughter of a murderer, after all. Our marriage was over. It had been over for a long time. A flutter of movement in my abdomen, the baby kicking, reminded me of the life growing inside me. Suddenly, I was reminded of the day Julian and I went to get our marriage certificate. Back then, he had been young and full of passion and sincerity. He held our marriage certificate like it was the most precious thing in the world, his face splitting into an ear-to-ear grin. “Honey,” he had said, “We’ll never divorce!” How wrong he had been! At 22, Julian had only me in his heart and eyes. At 30, Julian had more than just me in his eyes and heart. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt cold all over. “Julian,” I confessed, “I really don’t want to go on with you.” With those words, I climbed into the car and l As the car pulled away, my phone buzzed with a message from Julian. His words were filled with rage. Julian: [I’ll give you one last chance. Come back and prepare for the pregnancy!] Rather than respond to his message, I blocked his number, erased it from my contacts, and tossed my phone aside.   That evening, after taking my folic acid tablet, I planned to settle into bed. But then I felt a dull ache in my abdomen. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind. “Ms. White, you’re pregnant, but the pregnancy isn’t stable. You must take care to avoid any intense emotions or excitement.” I gently rested my hand on my belly, which was just beginning to show the faintest curve. Whispering to the life growing inside me, I said, “Baby, no matter what, I will protect you. I’ll bring you into this world and make sure you grow up happy and safe…” With that, I drifted into a peaceful sleep. During the cooling-off period before the divorce, all I wanted was to live quietly. I yearned to erase it all from my memory and forget Julian entirely. Then, I planned to find a place where I was a stranger to give birth and raise my child in solitude. No longer would I have to wait in solitude at home each day, uncertain if Julian would return or not. I would no longer have to stew in jealousy over him and those female celebrities he claimed were merely business targets. I would no longer fret over his family rejecting me because I was the daughter of a murderer. But the next day, my phone rang. It was Rachel. Anxiously, she urged me over the phone, “Judy, please, check the trending searches on Twitter.” I opened the app, and my mind went blank instantly. The trending topics were filled with explosive revelations. [Golden Agent Judy White Revealed as the Daughter of a Murderer] [The Nation-Shaking Murder Case from Twelve Years Ago, Judy White’s Mother Found Guilty] The hashtags quickly climbed to the top of the list, dominating the hot search rankings. The comment section was a cesspool of venomous speculation and vile insults. My hands trembled as I held the phone. On the other end of the line, Rachel spoke with a voice laced with urgency, “Judy, you won’t believe this, but Julian’s company just released a statement confirming it’s all true…” Her words faded into the distance, drowned out by the roaring in my ears. In a trance, my mind drifted back to that fateful night, a night soaked in the stark hues of blood and the fierce glow of flames. I was catapulted back to the time when I lost everyone dear to me. Each day and night, I faced the relentless cruelty of my classmates. Their bullying, oppression, and mockery became the dark shroud of my existence. Everywhere I went, they’d point and whisper, “Look, that’s Judy, the murderer’s daughter.” Even when I hid, their voices followed me. “Judy’s father was a rapist, and her mother’s a murderer.” The first time I visited Julian’s house, his mother looked at me with icy disdain and asked, “Are you the Judy who was almost raped by her own father?” These memories crashed over me like waves, sharp and unrelenting. It was as if a knife was slicing through me, cutting me into pieces again and again. I couldn’t tell how many moments slipped by in that haze. Then, the door burst open, and Rachel’s voice pierced through the haze. “Judy! You’re bleeding!”

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