When I was born, my father asked someone to give me the name Mia. The fortune teller said that with this name, I would surely become rich and prosperous in the future. But unexpectedly, my Second Uncle overheard and stole the name, giving it to my cousin instead. What Second Uncle didn’t know was that my cousin couldn’t use this name. Because the fortune teller told me with certainty: “You were born with the protagonist’s halo. What belongs to you, no one can take away.” “If she uses your name, she’ll have to bear the misfortune meant for you instead, and live an unfortunate life.” “Fortune teller, can you look at the names we’ve chosen and see which one is better?” My dad took out a piece of paper with several names written neatly on it. Mia, Claire, Olivia, Sophia. The fortune teller looked at me in my father’s arms. I gave the fortune teller an innocent smile. I was too young to remember this myself—my dad told me about it later. When I smiled, the fortune teller couldn’t help but smile along with me. He pointed his finger at the name Mia on the paper. “Choose this name. Your daughter suits this name. With it, I guarantee your daughter will have a life of great wealth and prosperity, with smooth fortune.” My dad got the guidance and wanted to register my name, but before he could move, he heard a sound at the door. My dad asked, “Who’s there?” He handed me to the fortune teller to hold and went to the door himself, only to see Second Uncle’s hurried retreating figure. For some reason, my dad had a bad feeling, and unease gripped his heart. When he returned to the room, he saw the fortune teller playing with me. Just as Dad was about to take me from the fortune teller’s arms, he heard the fortune teller speak: “Your daughter is blessed. She has a connection with me—why not let her recognize me as her godfather? In the future, she can learn my skills too.” My dad was overjoyed to hear this. Because the fortune teller—no, my godfather—was famously accurate in this area. So that day, my dad didn’t immediately take me to register my name. Instead, he bought some gifts and took me to formally recognize my godfather. Before leaving, the fortune teller put a crystal necklace around my neck and wrote a small note on paper for my dad. “Daniel, if the name Mia becomes unavailable, give my goddaughter the name Olivia instead.” My dad scratched his head awkwardly. “How could I not be able to register a name? It’s just a name.” My godfather smiled mysteriously and shook his head. “Not so, not so.” “When the time comes, I’ll return to teach my goddaughter myself. If you can’t register the name Mia, open the note I left you.” With that, he got up and left. My dad stood there for a few seconds before holding me and chasing out the door, but there was no trace of my godfather outside. Unable to find him, Dad carried me—still playing with the crystal necklace around my neck—back inside. My mom, who had been busy in the kitchen, just brought out the last dish. She casually wiped her hands on her apron and told Dad to invite my godfather to eat. Dad shook his head, saying godfather had vanished in the blink of an eye. During the meal, my mom fed me milk while marveling at how skilled my godfather was. Early the next morning, just as my parents were about to take me to register my name, Second Uncle called us to the old family house. When we arrived, quite a few people had gathered. Second Uncle stood among the crowd, proudly raising his head as he held three-year-old cousin Mia by the hand, announcing: “I did some calculations for my kid and changed her name to Mia—M-I-A.” My dad, holding me, widened his eyes. When Second Uncle looked over at Dad with triumphant eyes, Dad immediately understood—Second Uncle had heard everything that day. Other family members complained: “Making such a big deal out of nothing, calling the whole family together for this.” Second Uncle said smugly: “My daughter’s name isn’t simple—it’s very lucky!” He pulled a lottery ticket from his pocket: “After changing her name, I bought this lottery ticket. Guess what? I won ten thousand dollars!” The impatient looks on everyone’s faces instantly turned to surprise and flattery. Second Uncle basked in everyone’s praise, while my dad took me home to find godfather’s note. My mom took me from Dad’s arms, and watched as Dad carefully opened the note godfather had left. As soon as he opened it, Dad’s furrowed brow immediately relaxed, and he even laughed out loud. The note read: 【Name stolen, name stolen. The one who stole the name will bear disasters for my goddaughter. When I return, everything owed to little Olivia will be returned.】

My dad touched my little head and laughed heartily: “My daughter is blessed. When your godfather comes back, we’ll enjoy great fortune.” I thought Dad was playing with me. Seeing him laugh, I giggled along. That afternoon, my parents registered my name as Olivia. At my hundred-day celebration, Dad held me and teased: “Little Olivia, little Olivia, choose one.” In front of me were various ceremony items—a little abacus, a brush, books, Mom’s gold ring… I giggled and kept clutching the little crystal necklace godfather gave me, refusing to let go. Dad had no choice. Holding me, he tapped my little nose. “You just love your godfather, don’t you?” But he said this very quietly, so no one else could hear. After the choosing ceremony, friends and relatives attending the hundred-day celebration began giving gifts. Others gave small presents or dolls to amuse me. When Second Uncle arrived, he wore an ill-fitting suit with a thin gold chain around his neck. My cousin Mia wore a princess dress, holding her head high like a proud swan. My dad looked at Second Uncle with some hostility. Second Uncle pretended not to notice. Having made a little money, he was no different from a nouveau riche. Second Uncle clutched a briefcase, pulling out a small stack of money and handing it to my dad. “This is just a little something to celebrate my niece. After all, I owe my current success entirely to my little niece. So I wish my niece great wealth and prosperity, peace and smooth fortune.” Those eight words of blessing—Second Uncle emphasized each syllable heavily, his expression of petty triumph utterly punchable. But the note godfather left gave my dad tremendous confidence. Dad shot back without hesitation: “Of course! My daughter is blessed. She’ll definitely have great wealth and prosperity, peace and smooth fortune in this life. Thank you for your blessing.” But having already tasted success, Second Uncle just thought Dad was being stubborn. He smiled indifferently and left with Mia. “This place is a bit shabby. Don’t bother inviting me next time.” Second Uncle’s voice reached everyone’s ears without restraint, making some people look embarrassed. Dad just pretended not to hear, warmly greeting friends and relatives to eat and drink well, all smiles. From that day on, Second Uncle’s family got better and better, as if truly fulfilling godfather’s words. Second Uncle won quite a bit of money buying lottery tickets. Though he never won first prize, all those small prizes added up enough to allow his originally poor family to achieve a major turnaround. Later, Second Uncle’s house was demolished for development, and every project he invested in became explosively popular without exception. Our family remained lukewarm, not much different from before. Until I skipped grades and entered seventh grade, Mia—only three years older than me—had become a school bully thanks to Second Uncle’s success. Because I was good at school, at family gatherings Mia and I—close in age—were always compared. One had average family circumstances but excellent grades; the other had great family circumstances but a brain that wouldn’t open up. Gossipy relatives would always say that even though Second Uncle’s family had money, if the child wasn’t good it was useless—maybe Olivia would get into an Ivy League school and lead the whole family to prosperity? This caused Second Uncle’s family, who had looked down on us, to develop other thoughts. On the first day of school, Mia wore her uniform loose and sloppy, with earrings and heavy makeup, looking disdainful. Several similarly dressed female students followed behind her. They surrounded me and pressed me to the ground. Mia crossed her arms, stepped on my shoulder with one foot, and leaned down close to me. “Well, well, if it isn’t my academically excellent little cousin who skipped grades to my territory?” Mia finished speaking and laughed to herself, her laughter unrestrained. Her little followers laughed along. Others who saw this scene were briefed by those who knew the situation, their gazes falling on me—some sympathetic, some enjoying the show. Mia enjoyed the attention. After all, her dad had become someone with status and influence in South City these past two years, and most people didn’t want to offend her. So when Mia stepped on my shoulder and said, “This person has a grudge against me. Whoever befriends her will…” All threats remained unspoken, but combined with Mia’s standard mean-girl image, everyone dispersed. Mia looked at all this with satisfaction, but seeing my completely unmoved expression, she found it boring. I brushed the dust off my shoulder and watched Mia’s retreating back. “It’s fine. Everything will end soon.”

No one was willing to go against Mia’s wishes to approach me. But there were plenty of people who insulted and toyed with me to please Mia. My notebook was drawn on with ghost faces, my chair had various colored drinks spilled on it, and bugs would be pulled out from time to time. This was actually a novel experience. I kept a straight face, wiped away the water, and crushed the bugs to death with tissue paper. Holding the corpses, I walked toward the boys laughing the hardest. “Is this yours?” My innocent voice and words combined with my cold face—they stopped laughing, their eyes evasive. After that, fewer people bullied me, but the isolation became more severe. I sat alone by the back door. Because every one of my deskmates had been threatened or bribed by Mia. At the end of the first semester of seventh grade, during the New Year family gathering, my first-place ranking for the whole grade was praised by relatives one after another. Only I was paying attention to Mia. She had originally been praised as noble as a little princess, but my first place stole all the compliments. Mia was only thirteen, but her malicious gaze stared at me like a venomous snake. I met her gaze without evasion. This move was tantamount to provoking her. So Mia’s abrupt voice rang out. “Olivia’s studies are quite good, but she’s not really a good person. I heard that Olivia offended the entire class by herself, and no one wants to sit with her.” Every word revealed undisguised malice toward me. My dad had a bad temper and his face already showed anger. I patted Dad’s hand soothingly. “Dad, it’s New Year’s. Don’t get angry just because a stray dog barks a few times. It doesn’t look good.” Hearing me call her a stray dog, if looks could kill, I probably would have died under her knife-like gaze long ago. “As for cousin, I think you know the reason behind why I’m isolated better than I do.” The tension between us and Second Uncle’s family was palpable. A few relatives tried to smooth things over: “It’s New Year’s, let’s not talk about these things. Come, have some candy.” As soon as the New Year’s dinner was over, Mia and Second Uncle got in their private car, gave us a disdainful look, and drove off. Back home, my hot-tempered dad criticized Second Uncle’s family’s current attitude. My mom tried to calm Dad down on the side. I touched the somewhat hot crystal necklace, lost in thought. The next second, the doorbell suddenly rang. As if sensing something, I quickly got up to open the door.

I opened the door to a man covered in snow. I tilted my head and looked at the person before me, asking with confusion: “Who are you?” Though I didn’t yet know who this person was, the increasingly hot crystal necklace revealed his identity. Before the person could speak, my dad and mom, who had heard the door open and come over, saw him. Dad reached past me and grabbed the man’s hand. “Fortune teller, you’re finally back.” It really was my godfather. I held the crystal necklace and poked Dad with my other hand: “Dad, quickly bring godfather inside. He’s covered in snow and must be cold.” Dad came to his senses and hurried to lead godfather inside. Hearing me so tactfully call him godfather, godfather ruffled my head hard as he passed me. After everyone sat down, godfather—who had seemed mysterious and like a big boss behind the scenes—suddenly hugged me and started wailing. “My poor goddaughter, you’ve suffered these ten years. Wuwuwu, it’s all godfather’s fault for being useless.” I froze. Dad hadn’t told me godfather was like this. I looked pleadingly at Dad and Mom, but they were as bewildered as I was, indicating they couldn’t help. I raised my hand with difficulty and patted godfather’s back. “Godfather, *cough cough*, let go of me. *Cough cough* You’re holding too tight.” Hearing my strained voice, godfather quickly released me. Only then could I see his appearance clearly. Quite handsome—sword-like brows and starry eyes, with tears on his face he hadn’t wiped away. His thin lips parted as the whole family’s attention focused on him. Then godfather loudly blew his nose and said awkwardly to my dad: “Could you give me two tissues? I need to blow my nose.” The whole family was stunned by this awkwardness. Though tissues were clearly on the table, Dad pretended not to see them. “Oh my, we’re out of tissues. I remember there are new ones in the bedroom. Wait, I’ll go get them for you right away.” Dad escaped into his and Mom’s bedroom like fleeing. Mom awkwardly picked at her fingers on the spot, then suddenly remembered something and pulled me up to scold me. “Who told you to say that unlucky word just now? It’s New Year’s, how inauspicious. Quick, spit it out, spit it out.” I numbly thought this must all be an illusion, following Mom’s instructions and spitting repeatedly… After godfather blew his nose and went to the bathroom to wash his face, the four of us sat together. I felt that if shoes weren’t blocking us, our three-bedroom, one-living-room home could instantly become fifteen bedrooms and five living rooms. After all, everyone gets their own fantasy three-bedroom apartment. Finally, godfather broke the silence, touching my head. “Oh my, you’ve grown so big. I still came back too late, missing so many years of my precious daughter’s life, letting my daughter suffer.” My dad also said politely: “Not at all, not at all. We’ve been doing well.” Then the two men looked at each other and laughed awkwardly. Just then, Dad’s phone rang, breaking the atmosphere. Dad glanced at the caller ID, and his expression immediately changed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “397555”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

One day during my pregnancy, my best friend suddenly sent me a link to a Reddit thread. The title was: [Final year of grad school. Engaged to my long-term girlfriend, but I’ve been sleeping with an undergrad.] I clicked on it, only to find the entire history of my husband’s infidelity documented right there on the screen. 1 When my best friend, Sarah, forwarded me the link, I was in the middle of editing a video for my channel. Immediately, her texts started popping up, one after another: [I think you need to see this.] [Maybe I’m just overthinking it…] [But you should probably double-check.] [Whether it’s him or not, please don’t freak out.] [Ugh, never mind. Don’t read it. I’m unsending it.] […Crap, too late to unsend.] Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the link. The main title read: [Final year of grad school. Engaged to my long-term girlfriend, but I’ve been sleeping with an undergrad.] I couldn’t see the whole post on my mobile browser; it prompted me to download the Reddit app. It felt like a hassle, and Sarah had just told me not to look. I thought about closing the tab, but my subconscious had already hit “Download.” I installed it, made a throwaway account, and logged in. The Original Poster (OP) went by the username ED_Throwaway. My heart skipped a beat. Ethan Davies. I quickly told myself that those initials were incredibly common. It had to be a coincidence. I scrolled down. At the very top of the post was a picture of a man and a woman holding hands, their fingers intertwined. The man’s hand looked awfully familiar. The first comment was OP’s own backstory: [I’m finishing up my Ph.D. at Columbia. Lately, I’ve been feeling lost. I just got engaged to my girlfriend of seven years, so she’s officially my fiancée now, but I recently started sleeping with an undergrad from my department.] [I feel terrible for my fiancée, but I just can’t bring myself to let the undergrad go.] [My fiancée is very traditional and safe. The undergrad is wild and open-minded. She actually loves climbing all over me while I’m on the phone with my fiancée. I don’t know if you guys can understand that kind of thrilling rush.] [We basically sleep in the same bed every night now. Explored a lot of new things together.] [She’s a sweet girl. I told her I was engaged, and she was devastated, but we agreed to break up as soon as I graduate.] The replies beneath it were ruthless: [Holy shit, dude, you’ve got a death wish.] [Having your cake and eating it too, huh?] [OP is absolute trash. I feel so bad for the fiancée.] [That undergrad is no angel either. She knows he’s taken and still plays the homewrecker.] [Aren’t you terrified your fiancée will see this?] [OP, we need updates!] … After a dozen or so comments, OP replied: [Long time no see, guys. My fiancée doesn’t use Reddit. She’ll never see this.] [I read the comments. A lot of you are tearing me apart, and I know what I’m doing is messed up. Some of you told me to just let my fiancée go. But you don’t understand our seven-year history. You can’t just throw that away.] [I remember when I was studying for my grad school entrance exams, living in a crappy off-campus apartment. She was there every day. She cooked for me. When I wanted to puke from staring at calculus equations all night, she’d warm up a mug of milk for me and organize my messy desk. That was the moment I swore I’d marry her.] [And please don’t bash the undergrad. She really is amazing. If my fiancée is a calming harbor, this girl is a wildfire. She’s brilliant, has that Ivy League glow, and her charm is intoxicating. She gives me an intense romantic experience my fiancée just can’t provide.] [I just got a hand-knitted scarf from my fiancée in the mail. It’s warm and looks great. Here’s a picture. Honestly, my guilt is eating me alive.] The comments multiplied. I skimmed them. Almost all of them were insults. [Cheating scumbag. Go to hell.] [You are such a hypocrite.] [God, I hope his fiancée finds out!] [Can some hacker dox this guy? Pure trash!] But there were also people cheering him on: [Legend. Teach me your ways, bro.] [W.] [Lol, who has the better body though, the fiancée or the college girl?] 2 The photo of the scarf was sandwiched between the comments. People were actually complimenting the knitting pattern. I tapped the photo to enlarge it. Staring at the familiar gray yarn, my ears started ringing with a high-pitched whine. When I decided to knit him a scarf, I spent hours on YouTube looking up patterns before choosing this thick, durable cable-knit style. I didn’t have time during the day, so I stayed up late after work every night for nearly ten days to finish it. I dug my nails into my palms and kept scrolling. OP wrote: [A lot of you are defending my fiancée. I admit, if she knew, it would destroy her. But she wouldn’t be able to let go of our seven years together either. We’re childhood sweethearts, and she’s been obsessed with me forever. She has this thick journal filled with drawings and writings just about me. Her love is incredibly pure, which is why she moves me so much.] [Besides, she can’t leave me. She’s getting older, she only went to an average state school, and her salary is pretty low. If we broke up, she’d have to rely on dating apps, and let’s be real, her prospects wouldn’t be great.] [I can give her a very comfortable life. Our families love each other. You guys don’t know the whole picture, so stop playing God and judging other people’s relationships.] … [The semester is almost over. Before winter break, I took the undergrad out to the mountains, drove down to the beach, and watched the sunrise.] [On our last night, we went absolutely crazy until dawn. I think I’ll be looking back on the taste of that night when I’m an old man.] … [I’m back in Boston now. The undergrad and I are officially broken up. Before I left, I bought her a designer bag, paid for a year’s lease on an apartment near her campus, and set up a grocery delivery subscription for her. I just want her to be okay and find a good guy someday.] … [Probably won’t update anymore. Not much left to say. I’ll graduate, start my career, get married, and have kids.] My hands were shaking as I swiped down. OP hadn’t updated for a long time. The comments were full of people begging for an update, wanting to know what happened. I did the math. During the two or three years he stopped posting, we had gotten married. And just this year, we successfully started trying for a baby. I was currently three months pregnant. But then, a month ago, the updates resumed. [Three years later, I’m back. I see some of the old commenters are still here. Even though you’re just here to roast me, it feels strangely comforting. I’m facing a massive dilemma right now and need some advice.] [I married my fiancée two years ago. My career is taking off, my home life is perfect, and I’m going to be a dad soon.] [But I never expected the undergrad to reach out to me again. She’s been in the workforce for a year, and recently, she got transferred to Boston. She lives just thirty minutes from my office. Since she didn’t know anyone in the city, I helped her find an apartment and move her stuff. I really only meant to be friends. But we had drinks at her new place to celebrate, got drunk, and slept together again.] [She hugged me and said she’s still in love with me. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Honestly? Being confessed to like that… of course my heart skipped a beat. But I’m not a college kid anymore. I can’t just recklessly chase romance.] … [I thought about it all week. I’ve decided to keep seeing her. I really just can’t let her go. And she doesn’t even care that I have a wife and a kid on the way. How could any guy resist a girl like that?] [Even though I’m seeing her, I won’t neglect my wife. I’ll just treat her even better.] [I’ve spent the last few nights at her place. I feel that intense, heart-pounding passion all over again.] [Late at night, the guilt hits me. I lied to my wife, told her I had to travel for business. Not only did she buy it, but she even texted to make sure I was eating well and getting enough sleep on the road.] [Pregnancy is hard on my wife. I’ll spend some quality time with her when I get back. I’ll hold off on seeing my girl for a bit.] … [Stop trying to dox me. Even if you find my wife and tell her the truth, she’ll just cry for a while. She can’t leave me. She quit her job to be a stay-at-home mom, and she’s carrying my child. How is she supposed to survive without me?] [If you guys actually pity my wife, back off. She’s had terrible morning sickness for three months, and she’s finally keeping food down. Do not harass her with this.] 3 Having read the whole thing, my mind was entirely blank. I had no idea how to react. I just sat there, staring blankly at my phone. This morning, Ethan had told me he was working late and not to wait up. He was a project manager now, so overtime was a daily routine. I had never once suspected a thing. But now… I hit the FaceTime button on his contact. It rang for a full minute. He didn’t answer. A few seconds later, he called me back on a regular voice call. “Hey babe, why aren’t you asleep yet?” Ethan’s voice was low and gravelly. Usually, I would assume he was just exhausted from work. Suddenly, Ethan let out a muffled groan. The words of concern died on my lips. I remembered the line from the Reddit post: The undergrad loves climbing all over me while I’m on the phone with my fiancée. I gripped my phone tightly, forcing my voice to sound perfectly calm. “Honey, is there someone else there with you?” “…What? No, of course not. I’m just swamped with work.” “When are you coming home?” “I’m not sure. You should get some sleep. It’s good for the baby. Night, babe.” Ethan hastily hung up. I stared at the call duration. Less than a minute. I felt completely numb. Suddenly, my stomach violently churned. An overwhelming wave of nausea climbed up my throat. I sprinted to the bathroom, hugging the toilet, and threw up until I was dry-heaving. After rinsing my mouth, I curled up on my side in bed. Tears slipped out of the corners of my eyes, dropping onto the back of my hand. I rested my hand on my slightly rounded stomach, feeling more lost than I ever had in my entire life. “Baby, what is Mommy supposed to do?” … A little while later, Sarah called. “Chloe, are you okay?” Hearing her voice broke whatever dam I had left. I started sobbing. “Sarah…” “Chloe, is the thread real?” I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t know for sure, but there are way too many details that line up perfectly.” Sarah gritted her teeth through the phone. “That piece of shit! Ethan is definitely guilty! Do you want me to come over and stay with you tonight?” I sniffled. “No, you have work in the morning. Let me just be alone and think.” “Okay, but you have to hold it together. We are figuring this out. You cannot let him keep you in the dark,” Sarah said, her voice burning with righteous anger. “I know.” 4 For the sake of the baby in my belly, I forced myself to suppress the spiraling negative emotions and eventually drifted off to sleep. I didn’t even hear Ethan come home. When I opened my eyes the next morning, I looked at the man sleeping soundly next to me. My chest physically ached. Ethan’s eyelashes fluttered, and he woke up groggily. I pretended I had just woken up too. He pulled me into a hug, burying his face in the crook of my neck, mumbling, “Let’s sleep a little longer.” “What time did you get in last night?” I asked casually. His voice was muffled against my skin. “I don’t remember. Why?” I tested the waters. “Are you hiding anything from me?” A long silence passed. Finally, he replied, “No.” I didn’t say anything else. A few minutes later, Ethan was fully awake. He looked at me intently. “Babe, what could I possibly be hiding from you? Are your pregnancy hormones making you sensitive? Why are you being so paranoid?” He studied my face, looking genuinely concerned. “You look pale. Is the baby giving you a hard time again?” “No, I’m fine. Probably just didn’t sleep well,” I answered quietly, looking down. But there was a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. Ethan didn’t press the issue. He got up to shower. When he came out, he said, “Pregnant women need their rest. Go back to sleep. I ordered you some breakfast on UberEats, it’ll be here soon. I’m going to grab something near the office.” As he reached the front door, I called out, “Do you have time this weekend? To come with me to my ultrasound appointment?” Ethan paused, looking torn. “Babe, you know that new project is at a critical stage. I can’t guarantee I’ll be free this weekend, but I’ll try my absolute best to leave early and go with you.” When the weekend arrived, Ethan still couldn’t “make time,” so I had to ask Sarah to go with me. Seeing my pale face, Sarah cut right to the chase. “Where are we at with the situation? What did Ethan say?” I felt a flash of embarrassment. “I haven’t figured out how to confront him yet.” Sarah looked exasperated. “What’s there to figure out? You throw the Reddit thread in his face and ask him if it’s him! Or demand to see his phone!” “If you can’t do it, I’ll do it for you. I’m coming over to your place tonight and sitting him down!” My mind was a chaotic mess. “No! I’ll handle it,” I quickly shot down her idea. Sarah sighed heavily. “Chloe, please, whatever you do, do not go soft on him. Do not let him manipulate you.” After that, by unspoken agreement, neither of us brought it up again. Following the ultrasound, we had plenty of time to kill, so Sarah and I went to the shopping mall next to the clinic. The mall was full of designer boutiques. On the second floor was Sarah’s favorite clothing brand, so we headed straight there. While Sarah was in the fitting room, I went to use the restroom. As soon as I walked in, I saw a very young, pretty girl touching up her makeup while on the phone. She was talking to who I assumed was her boyfriend, her voice sickly sweet and whining. “What time do you get off for lunch?” “It’s my birthday today! You belong to me for the whole afternoon and evening!” Whoever was on the other end said something, and her eyes crinkled into a delighted smile. I caught a quick glimpse of her in the mirror from the corner of my eye. The mirror reflected a face as fresh and vibrant as a blooming flower. 5 After leaving the boutique, Sarah was thrilled with her haul. But before we even made it out the mall doors, her boss called, demanding she revise a proposal immediately. Sarah groaned, cursing her boss under her breath. She looked at me apologetically. “Chloe, I have to rush back to the office. I can’t do lunch. Will you be okay by yourself?” I nodded. “Of course. Go.” Once Sarah left, I completely lost the mood to shop. I bought some groceries on the lower level and decided to head home. I hailed a cab outside the mall. Just as I settled into the back seat, I saw her. The young girl from the restroom was sprinting toward a specific direction. My eyes followed her path, and I was completely blindsided when I saw Ethan. The girl threw herself into his arms, looping her arms around his neck, completely ignoring the people walking by, and kissed him deeply and passionately. In that instant, it felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath. Every last shred of hope I had been clinging to vanished. Ethan quickly ushered her into his car, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. I just sat there, staring blankly. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Where to, miss?” I snapped back to reality. “Follow that car.” For the rest of the afternoon, my brain shut down. I acted like a stalker, following them to a high-end restaurant, watching them share a birthday cake, trailing them to a movie theater, and finally, watching them check into a hotel. I don’t even know how I got home. I curled up on the sofa, completely numb. Ethan and I had grown up together. Our parents were close friends who spent a lot of time together. He was my first crush when I was just a kid, and it had always been him ever since. With our parents’ eager encouragement, we officially started dating right after high school. We went to different colleges, but we stayed in the same city. For four years, our relationship was rock solid. We rarely fought, except for one incident during our junior year, when he started wavering over a girl in his class. I knew him too well. It was obvious he treated that girl differently. He talked about her constantly, and suddenly there were cute stickers on his phone case that I had never seen before. We had our first explosive argument. Our first cold war. I didn’t want to lose him. I couldn’t throw away years of love, so I was the first to apologize and back down. He eventually cut ties with the girl. Later, when he was studying for grad school, he complained about the distractions on campus. I immediately used the money from my internship to rent him an apartment off-campus, working during the day and taking care of him at night. When he finally got his acceptance letter to Columbia, he held me and sobbed, saying he could never have made it without me. Ethan moved to New York for his Ph.D., and I stayed working in Boston. We became long-distance. I was the one making the commute most of the time. Partly because I missed him, and partly because I was terrified his eyes would wander again. Thankfully, my fears never materialized. Looking back now, it wasn’t that they didn’t materialize. He just got better at hiding it. We got engaged during his final year, and a year after he graduated and secured a solid job, we got married. This year, he got a huge promotion. We had built up a nice savings account, so we decided it was time to start a family. When he asked me to quit my job and focus entirely on the home and the baby, I barely hesitated before saying yes. I gave him my complete, unconditional trust, only to be rewarded with the most blatant betrayal. 6 The living room was pitch black and terrifyingly quiet. I stared blankly at the rug. Hours later, I heard footsteps at the door. The next second, the living room lights flicked on. The brightness stung my eyes. Ethan frowned for a second, then his face softened. “Babe, why aren’t you sleeping in bed?” I just stared at him. He dropped his briefcase, walked over with long strides, and scooped me up in his arms. My arm brushed against the hair at the back of his neck. It was damp. He had showered. “What’s wrong? Why are your eyes so red?” “Did everything go okay at the doctor today?” He fired off a string of questions. I didn’t answer a single one. He looked at me in confusion, then suddenly looked like he understood. “Are you mad I couldn’t make the appointment?” Before I could speak, he kept going. “I told you, this project is make-or-break for me. If I crush this, I’m next in line for Director. You want me to get that promotion, right?” Looking at this man—a man whose mouth was currently overflowing with lies—I just felt an bone-deep exhaustion. “I saw you. With her,” I took a deep breath and punctured his illusion. Ethan froze. His eyes darted around the room as he desperately tried to maintain the lie. “Babe, what are you talking about?” “Do I need to spell it out? I followed you. The kissing. The birthday cake. The hotel!” I lost control, screaming at him and pounding my fists against his chest. All the color drained from Ethan’s face. He grabbed my wrists, panic in his voice. “Just listen to me, I can explain—” He stopped. He couldn’t find a single excuse. Tears were streaming down my face, but I laughed, goading him. “Go ahead! Explain! Let’s hear it!” He slumped forward, hanging his head. A moment later, he looked up, his eyes pleading. “Chloe, I messed up. I’ll cut her off right now. Please, just give me one more chance. Please?” I shook my head violently. “No. I don’t believe a word you say anymore. I want a divorce.” Ethan’s eyes rimmed with red. He gripped my hands tighter, his voice choking up. “Chloe, I don’t want a divorce. We have a baby on the way. Do you really want our child to grow up without a dad? Let’s just calm down, okay?” His eyes were filled with such profound, agonizing regret. It looked so genuine it was almost impossible to reject. After a long time, my expression softened just a fraction. Ethan saw the opening and doubled down. He pulled out his phone, and right there in front of me, he blocked the college girl on every single app and platform. He was putting on a masterclass in repentance. I didn’t bring up divorce again that night, but I couldn’t stand being in the same room as him. I packed a bag and went to my parents’ house. Ethan texted me constantly, asking how I was, asking about the baby, begging to know when I was coming home. But he never actually came to visit me. While I was at my parents’, Sarah called. She spent twenty minutes cursing Ethan and his entire bloodline. Her stance was uncompromising: Divorce him. No hesitation. But I was still trapped in a fog of indecision. Sarah was furious with my hesitation. A few days later, she texted me the Reddit link again with just two words: “He updated.” I clicked the link. Sure enough, there was a new post. I hadn’t told Ethan that I knew about his Reddit diary. And now, this thread had become the ultimate lie detector. It burned away the last of his fake remorse, and along with it, the very last drop of love and trust I had for him. Ethan wrote: [My wife found out about the undergrad. It’s a mess. She had a hysterical breakdown crying, and honestly, it broke my heart to see her like that.] [I promised my wife I’d cut ties with the girl. I blocked all her numbers and socials right in front of my wife.] [I haven’t contacted the undergrad in days. I wonder if she’s freaking out because she can’t reach me.] Someone commented: [The scumbag finally got caught. Your wife is definitely divorcing you, right?] Ethan replied to him: [She was screaming for a divorce at first. But like I said before, she relies on me financially and emotionally. I’ve already smoothed things over. She absolutely will not bring up divorce again.] His arrogant, chauvinistic response triggered another wave of internet outrage. Ethan didn’t care about the insults. In his mind, netizens were just venting. Their words couldn’t touch him in the real world. Over the next few weeks, I spent my days drawing, updating my social media accounts, and checking Ethan’s Reddit thread. Thanks to his little diary, I finally saw the real Ethan. The one he kept hidden from me. Arrogant. Two-faced. Disgusting. One night, right after Ethan sent his daily text checking on me and the baby, he updated the thread. [It’s been almost half a month without talking to the undergrad. I was too worried about her, so I finally went to see her. She’s so understanding. I iced her out for two weeks, and she didn’t throw a tantrum or cry. It just makes me care about her even more.] [And guys… she’s pregnant! I’m thrilled! I really want her to keep it. But it feels unfair to her. The kid would technically be illegitimate.] [I took her to a private clinic for a full check-up today. Everything looks perfect. Illegitimate or not, whatever. I’ll make sure she and the kid are taken care of financially. They won’t suffer.]

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The stage scaffolding collapsed. Nate completely lost his mind, rushing straight to Vivian’s side without a fraction of a second of hesitation. Trapped beneath the heavy, iron ruins of the stage, I watched him from the dark. He was panicked, entirely stripped of his usual composure, desperately performing CPR on her. Vivian looked up at him, her voice fragile and trembling: “Nate… do you still love me?” Nate didn’t say a word, but his eyes violently flushed red with tears. He was a man who was always so stoic, yet in that moment, his hands shook with pure, unadulterated terror. I closed my eyes as a single tear slipped down my cheek. Earlier today, I had sent him a text, asking if he could come to my piano performance tonight. He told me he was stuck in an emergency surgery and couldn’t make it. Nate Sterling. We’re done. 01 When I was finally wheeled out of the operating room, the attending physician glanced down at my heavily bandaged leg and asked: “Do you play the piano, or do you dance?” I replied softly: “Piano.” The tense, frantic expression on his face instantly relaxed. “Good. Your leg is going to need a significant amount of physical therapy to recover, but at least your hands are fine.” I lowered my eyes, looking at my completely intact hands. Then I tried to move my leg, only to find that my right leg had lost all sensation. While the nurse was changing my IV drip, I accidentally overheard the staff gossiping right outside my curtain: “Sigh, Dr. Sterling and that ballerina in the next private wing look exactly like star-crossed lovers.” “Oh my god, you should have seen his face when he carried Vivian into the ER. He’s usually so icy to everyone, but yesterday he was completely frantic with panic.” “A bunch of paparazzi blocked the corridor, and he literally roared at them to get the hell out of his way.” Nate was naturally cold and aloof. He treated everything in life with absolute, clinical indifference. I rarely saw him smile, and I had never seen him lose his temper. The nurse administered my medication, her movements incredibly gentle and precise. She thoughtfully tucked a warm gel pack under my arm. She offered a warm, comforting smile: “The IV fluid is cold, and running it too fast can cause a sharp pain. This warm pack will make it feel much better.” “If you notice any redness or swelling, just page me.” I nodded, forcing a polite smile back at her. Right before she stepped out, she couldn’t help but let out another sigh: “This is the first time Dr. Sterling has ever taken a formal leave of absence. All just to stay in the hospital and care for Vivian.” Left completely alone in the silent room, I pulled out my phone and dialed Nate’s number. The line rang for a very long time before he finally answered. Before I could even open my mouth, his flat, indifferent voice cut through the speaker: “Wynne, I won’t be home for lunch today.” “I have an emergency surgery to perform.” This was the first time in our entire three-year marriage that Nate had ever proactively called me to report his schedule. But he was only doing it to feed me a lie. In the past, I was always the clingy, annoying wife. I would spam his phone with hundreds of text messages, constantly babbling in his ear about my day. The nurse said he took a month of leave. Married for three years, he practically lived at the hospital, working around the clock. Unlike other doctors, his overtime was entirely voluntary. Every Thanksgiving holiday, he would voluntarily cancel his leave and reschedule his time off for Christmas. His colleagues were always ecstatic to swap shifts with him. We never had a real wedding ceremony, let alone a romantic honeymoon. The internet was currently flooded with viral rumors and paparazzi articles about Vivian and Nate. Staring at Vivian’s flawless face on my phone screen, everything suddenly clicked. I finally understood why Nate had run to her without a single second of hesitation. I spent half a month in that private room. For those fifteen days, Nate called me at the exact same time every single day, his voice flat and detached: “Working overtime tonight. Not coming home.” And I replied every single time: “Okay. Got it.” According to the nurses, Nate had taken a full month of leave, spending every single waking second guarding Vivian’s bed. I listened to their gossip from my hospital bed day after day. My leg was broken, leaving me completely trapped. Aside from the occasional private caregiver helping me wash up, I spent my entire existence on that mattress. So, I actually found the nurses’ gossip quite entertaining. If the tragic male lead of this grand romance wasn’t the exact husband listed on my marriage certificate, I probably would have ordered an iced boba tea and some popcorn, enjoying the drama like a juicy piece of reality TV. But in this heartbreaking tale of star-crossed lovers, Nate was my husband, and I was merely the bitter, villainess wife standing in the way of true love. I couldn’t bring myself to smile. 02 Vivian posted a selfie on Instagram wearing her hospital gown. The photo subtly, intentionally captured a man’s tall silhouette in the background, focusing on his long, elegant fingers. On his wrist was a Rolex Submariner with a slightly faded, worn strap. The caption read: [Don’t worry. He’s taking excellent care of me.] The comment section, instantly sniffing out the celebrity drama, exploded with thousands of fans: [Vivian, is that your boyfriend?!] [A literal feast for hand-lovers! Those hands are gorgeous, perfect for holding.] Vivian immediately replied to a fan’s comment, publicly claiming her sovereignty over Nate: [Already holding hands.] She attached another photo, still wearing her gown, their long fingers tightly, beautifully entwined. It turned out that holding hands was so incredibly effortless for them. I remember when Nate and I were together in college. Our relationship felt like an underground espionage operation. He never allowed a single trace of affection or intimacy in public. Until the day we graduated, my roommate, Leila, had absolutely no idea we were even a couple. When we got our marriage license after graduation and I finally told her, she stared at me in absolute, paralyzed horror: “Have you gone completely insane from unrequited love?” If the marriage certificate weren’t an ironclad fact, she would have assumed I was just another delusional fan hallucinating a relationship. During my stay, Leila came to visit me. She asked cautiously: “Are you and Nate divorced yet?” I froze for a second, answering flatly: “Soon.” Leila didn’t press for details. Before leaving, she clapped her chest and gave a bright, booming laugh: “My door is always open for you. Come stay with me whenever you’re ready.” I smiled back at her, feeling a genuine warmth. Right before I fell asleep that night, Nate called again. His voice was perfectly neutral, devoid of any emotional rippling: “The hospital is slammed right now. I won’t be home for the next two weeks.” And I replied exactly as before: “Got it.” He had no idea that through the clear glass window of my room, I had just watched his silhouette standing right out in the hallway. After that call, he stopped calling entirely. He probably figured daily updates were far too tedious and decided to bundle his excuses all at once. Occasionally, Leila would visit and push my wheelchair around the hospital garden. One afternoon, we ran into Nate. He didn’t see me. His tall, powerful frame was bent over, pushing a woman in a hospital gown. Her skin was flawless, her features delicate and incredibly gentle. Vivian pouted, demanding ice cream. Nate crouched directly in front of her wheelchair: “It’s too cold. You can’t have it.” She grabbed his hand, whining cutely, and he gave in immediately, walking over to buy her a cone. When some ice cream smudged her lip, Nate reached out to wipe it away, but he froze mid-air, hesitated, and shoved his hand back into his coat pocket. I saw the quiet, fiercely restrained love burning in his dark eyes. Vivian smiled brilliantly: “Nate, wipe it for me.” Across the crowd, her brilliant smile landed right on me. Nate’s back was turned to me. In that exact moment, I finally realized that a massive mountain, a raging ocean, stood between me and Nate. Nate would never refuse to buy me ice cream in the winter because he simply didn’t care if I caught a cold. And he would never bend down to wipe my mouth. He would say: “Wynne, wipe it yourself. It’s unhygienic.” 03 My attending physician checked my leg and went over the discharge instructions. “You can leave next week.” I nodded, thanking him. Leila was traveling for work next week, so I would need to hire a private caregiver to help me move. Before leaving, the doctor added: “Make sure to wheel yourself outside for some fresh air.” I manually spun the wheels and rolled myself down to the courtyard alone. While eating lunch back in my room, I saw a post trending on Twitter. It was a side-by-side photo comparison of Nate and Vivian, charting their relationship from the age of sixteen to twenty-six. Nate’s broad back shielding Vivian from the paparazzi, her face looking straight into the camera. Zooming in closely, the twenty-six-year-old photo was taken right here in this hospital. And blurred out in the background… was me, struggling alone to push my wheelchair. #AloofSurgeonVSBeautifulBallerina #ForbiddenStepSiblingRomanceInRealLife My heart dropped into a bottomless abyss. The caption read: [Forbidden romances are the absolute best. So what if they’re step-siblings? They still have to sit at the same table for Thanksgiving dinner every year.] Reading those words, the fog in my brain instantly cleared. The old, faded photo Nate kept hidden in his wallet for years… was his stepmother’s daughter. Married for three years, I knew he had a sister, but he had never allowed me to meet her. Every single time I brought her up, he shut the conversation down completely. The mystery finally made perfect sense. My quiet, secret love for Nate—he had noticed it a long time ago. Once, when he was drunk, I secretly followed him out of a campus bar. I gathered my courage to approach him, but he suddenly turned around. I frantically whipped my head away, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. His deep, cold voice echoed behind me: “Wynne Vance. If you brought that water for me, just hand it over.” After that day, our paths crossed, and we drifted into a relationship. He confessed, we dated, we married. The entire process took less than six months, running smoothly like a dream. The happiness I thought was a sweet dream turned out to be a cage he built for me. He married me because he loved Vivian. His rigid morality told him he couldn’t cross the line with his own step-sister. When their parents forced them apart, Vivian went abroad, and he stayed for grad school. He desperately needed someone to make his parents think he had moved on. And I was the willing fool who volunteered for the job. I figured it all out just by reading between the lines of Vivian’s social media. It was the end of the year, and because of the holidays, no one wanted to take a caregiver job at a hospital. I offered triple pay, but no one applied. I had no choice but to stay in the hospital for a few more days until Leila returned. The hospital beds were scarce, and a new patient was moved into my shared room. An energetic elderly lady. She smiled warmly at me: “All alone, sweetie?” I nodded: “Yeah.” Because I had been delaying my discharge, the doctor and nurses had prodded me multiple times. I looked incredibly embarrassed, apologizing profusely: “I’ll leave soon, my friend is on her way.” The nurse, who was about my age, looked at me sitting alone and sighed heavily: “It’s fine. Don’t worry. You can stay one more day. I’ll get the doctor to sign off on it.” Seeing the panic and embarrassment on my face, she winked at me and mouthed the words silently: [Don’t worry, stay as long as you need.] 04 The next morning, Leila got stuck at JFK due to severe flight delays. And a new patient was brought to our floor. I heard a familiar male voice growling outside the door: “Why the hell are you still lingering in this hospital?” “Are you treating it like your own personal home?” I felt a wave of crushing humiliation. I frantically started gathering my things from the wheelchair, piling my bags near the door. The sweet elderly lady in my room helped me move them. I pushed the door open, and a cold, dark face loomed right in front of me. His nose was sharp, his brow furrowed tightly. He looked utterly impatient. He glared at me: “Do you have any idea how scarce the beds are right now?” “You’ve delayed your discharge for a week. Do you think you own this hospital?” Staring at his face, I froze completely. It was Nate. He was holding a leather suitcase in his right hand. Standing right beside him was Vivian, her arm tightly looped through his. I was wearing a medical mask, my face completely burning with embarrassment. I lowered my head and whispered: “Got it.” I awkwardly pushed my wheelchair out into the corridor, my bags piled messily around me. Until the sweet young nurse called out my name: “Wynne, let me help you. My shift just ended.” She started grabbing my bags. “Wynne?” Nate violently grabbed the metal frame of my wheelchair, his long legs stepping right in front of me. Our eyes met, and he finally recognized me. He completely froze. I forced a faint smile beneath my mask. The nurse looked at him, confused. “Wynne, where’s your husband? Your intake file explicitly says you’re married.” I lifted my eyes to look at Nate. Married for three years, and not a single colleague of his even knew he had a wife. I smiled and said: “I’m not married. I filled out the form wrong.” Nate tried to step forward, but Vivian aggressively pulled his arm back. I pushed my wheels, steering myself straight into the elevator. As the doors began to slide shut, I see a sudden flash of panic in his eyes. He frantically charges forward, screaming my name: “Wynne Vance! Wait!” He shoves his hand into the closing elevator doors to stop them, catching his fingers between the metal. He lets out a sharp grunt of pain and wrenches his hand back as the doors snap shut. Through the final crack, his expression is filled with confusion and absolute disbelief. Inside the taxi, I powered on my phone. Looking at the iMessage logs, it was a massive wall of green text messages—me, endlessly, mindlessly sharing my daily life with him up until a month ago. He used to tell me to be quiet. From now on, I will never annoy him again. I finally recognized my exact place in his heart. Nate sent a text: [Wait for me. Don’t go anywhere.] I didn’t reply. Back at my apartment, I practice standing up, holding onto the furniture. My leg was starting to regain feeling. The doctor said I had to permanently give up heavy sports, but walking and light jogging were fine. During my month in the hospital, I had already fully accepted that my leg would never dance or climb mountains again. And I fully accepted that Nate never loved me. I was right on the verge of falling asleep when the front door handle rattled. Nate walked in. His coat was covered in fine flakes of white. The first snow of the year had started falling outside. I lay in bed. He was holding a bag of takeout, his face slightly flushed, his breathing heavy. He ran up the stairs. He stared at me, his lips parting slightly, wanting to say something but remaining silent. After a long silence, he spoke: “Why didn’t you tell me you were hospitalized?” “When did it happen?” I squinted against the harsh light he just turned on, my eyes blurry. “A month ago.” His body stiffens. He seems to be calculating exactly how long a month ago was. His eyes sweep over me, his pupils contracting sharply. His voice is laced with disbelief: “A month ago?” “The night of your show?” I nod, pulling the covers up, completely exhausted. “Turn off the light. I want to sleep.” Nate suddenly asks: “Why didn’t you leave a light on for me tonight?” Hearing his question, a cold, mocking laugh bubbled up in my chest. Right. Why should I leave a light on for him? For three straight years, whenever he worked late, I kept a warm plate of food and left the hallway light on for him. It was all just my own pathetic, one-sided emotional desperation. After three years, I couldn’t even warm a block of ice. I don’t want to warm it anymore. “I’m tired. Turn it off.” The atmosphere freezes. After a long pause, he clicks the light off.

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A hidden camera was live-streaming inside my house, and I had absolutely no idea. On the screen, Liam walked up to me, his voice icy. “You’re playing games again?” My online haters were gloating in the comments. “Aria is always clinging to the CEO, faking their perfect romance. Now her true colors are showing!” My in-laws and sister-in-law were watching the stream too, offering cold remarks. “If Liam really doesn’t like her, they shouldn’t force this miserable marriage.” But then, the camera captured me—the woman who always maintained a gentle, graceful, and obsessively-in-love public image—impatiently shoving Liam’s handsome face away. “What is your problem? Back off.” Instead of getting angry, Liam’s stoic face revealed a hint of grievance. “Are you sick of me?” 1 The day I married into money, the internet tore me apart, sending me straight to the top of the trending topics. “What is going on?! Did my ultimate OTP just sink?” “Does Aria have no shame? She knew the CEO was in love with someone else, but she still seduced him. The worst part is her scheming actually worked!” My husband, Liam Sterling, was childhood friends with Mia Kensington, an A-list sweetheart of the entertainment industry. He had invested in her movies, ruined the careers of sleazy executives who tried to take advantage of her, and even showed up on variety shows just to support her. The “Billionaire & America’s Sweetheart” pairing was the nation’s favorite unspoken couple. Unfortunately, that fairy tale was ruined by a manipulative witch like me. During an interview, Mia forced a brave smile. “Liam and his wife are a great match.” But when she turned around, her eyes were red with tears. The internet instantly rallied behind the heartbroken childhood sweetheart. They dragged my name through the mud, accusing me of using dirty tricks to climb the social ladder. They even pointed out that my in-laws hated me. They weren’t wrong about that last part. Liam’s parents were incredibly displeased with me. Even at our wedding, their expressions were stony. His younger sister, Harper Sterling, had never once called me “sister-in-law.” She only ever called me by my first name. The public noticed all of this. The hashtag #WhenWillLiamDivorceAria trended year-round. I didn’t really care. It wasn’t like Liam and I were strangers forced together, but we weren’t exactly in a passionate, sweeping romance either. I had money to spend and a gorgeous man in my bed. Life was great. Who cared what the internet thought? But I never realized they hated me this much. Sterling Tech had just developed a fully automated tracking drone camera. It was tiny, hovered silently, and featured an AI recognition system programmed to strictly avoid filming any private or explicit moments. To promote this revolutionary product, the PR department decided to sacrifice their CEO. The invisible drone was going to follow Liam, live-streaming the daily life of a billionaire CEO to the entire world. And absolutely no one told me. While I was sprawled on the couch in my messy pajamas, my hair a tangled nest, the live stream quietly began. 2 “Shouldn’t someone have told Aria about the stream? What if she says something she shouldn’t?” Harper pouted, glaring unhappily at the screen showing her brother. On the stream, Liam wasn’t interacting with the chat. He was leaning back in the leather seat of his chauffeur-driven car, his eyes closed, looking slightly exhausted. He had woken up early to host the product launch, and now he was doing this live stream to appease the marketing team. He was drained. But his cold, aloof demeanor didn’t dampen the internet’s enthusiasm one bit. “The most hardcore brand ambassador in the world—CEO Sterling has arrived!” “Hahaha, this is way more entertaining than watching celebrities!” “Speaking of celebrities, is Aria going to show up in this stream?” “Ugh, please don’t bring up that toxic woman right now.” “Help! Just thinking about her fake, try-hard face makes me suffocate for my ruined OTP.” “Don’t worry, guys. A live stream is the ultimate lie detector. Just wait for Aria’s true colors to be exposed.” Mrs. Sterling glanced at the hateful comments scrolling across the screen and spoke mildly. “Aria is a pop singer, not a trained actress. She can’t fake a natural demeanor for hours on end. If we warned her, the viewers would think it was scripted, which would ruin the promotion.” “Besides, your brother knows what he’s doing.” Harper’s pout deepened, clearly annoyed. “I just don’t understand why he had to marry someone like her!” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling fell silent. They didn’t like Aria as a daughter-in-law, but they had always respected Liam’s decisions. They hadn’t actively stopped the wedding, but they certainly weren’t warm to her. This live stream was an opportunity for them to see the reality of Liam and Aria’s marriage. It would determine whether they needed to step in and offer Liam some “sincere advice.” If the two were truly miserable, it was better to cut ties sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, I was wearing a fuzzy yellow bear onesie, my hair clipped up haphazardly with a cheap plastic claw. I was curled up in a beanbag chair, furiously tapping on my phone, completely oblivious when Liam walked through the front door. He took off his suit jacket and tie, poured a glass of water at the kitchen island, and then paced back and forth in front of me a few times. I caught his shadow out of the corner of my eye, but I was in the middle of a ranked match. I couldn’t be bothered. Seeing that I was ignoring him, he walked right up to me, clearly displeased. His jaw tightened, and his tone was as cold as frost. “You’re playing games again?” Instantly, a tidal wave of comments flooded the screen. “You can’t blame Mr. Sterling for being mad. He works all day, comes home, and doesn’t even get a ‘welcome back.’ I wonder who the real boss is here.” “A freezing house, a cold husband. Welcome to Aria’s tragic reality.” “She deserves it. That’s what she gets for using dirty tricks to tear apart the Golden Duo. Ugh, poor Mia.” The haters were practically throwing a parade, fully expecting me to jump up in terror and grovel for his forgiveness. After all, my public persona was that of a submissive, gentle wife who was desperately, madly in love with Liam. Instead, I frowned impatiently and swatted my hand out, shoving Liam’s handsome face as far away as possible. “What is your problem? Back off.” You’re blocking my screen. Liam’s eyes widened slightly. His stoic, chiseled face revealed a distinct hint of grievance. “Are you sick of me?” For a solid ten seconds, the live chat was completely, utterly blank. Harper nearly dropped her phone in shock. “Am I hallucinating?! Is my brother… whining?!” 3 Hearing the pouty grievance in his voice, I finally pulled my attention away from the game and looked up in surprise. He was leaning over me, one arm planted above my head, his warm breath lightly brushing against my face. I reached out and poked his arm. He didn’t budge. He just stayed there, stiff and stubborn, staring at me with dark, intense eyes. I immediately realized what was happening. The guy was secretly throwing a tantrum again. He was always like this. Whenever I ignored him for too long, he would trap me in his arms, refuse to speak, and refuse to let me go. He would just press his lips together and stare at me, as stubborn as a massive, sulky golden retriever. But he was incredibly easy to coax. All it took was a hug or a kiss. Then he would act like nothing happened, quietly curl the corners of his lips, and revert back to his calm, collected CEO persona. I figured it had to do with how he was raised. As the eldest son and heir to the Sterling empire, his parents demanded absolute perfection from him. From his academics to his business acumen, down to his every word and action, he had to be flawless. He used to perfectly fit my stereotype of an alpha billionaire. Stern, humorless, and incredibly elegant. Honestly, he cared more about his image than I did as an actual pop star. It wasn’t until we got together that I realized his entire personality was basically an act. On the outside, he was all business. On the inside, he was a giant softie constantly craving affection. I sighed, put my phone down, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I pressed a few soft kisses behind his ear and whispered, “How could I be? You’re the absolute best, honey~” Liam’s earlobes turned bright, cherry red. He hugged me back fiercely, burying his face in the crook of my neck, as if trying to absorb my body heat. A moment later, he straightened up. Then, his body suddenly went completely rigid. By now, the live chat was exploding in absolute shock. “What is CEO Sterling doing?! Was he throwing a tantrum?!” “Is this how they actually act at home? I refuse to believe it. It has to be scripted!” “Definitely an act! Remember when Mia was filming that reality show and Mr. Sterling visited the set? He yelled at Aria to shut up in front of everyone!” “Mr. Sterling is sacrificing so much for this PR stunt.” “Wait… but his ears are literally red?” 4 The internet was in mourning. They couldn’t believe a dignified billionaire was lowering himself to act like a cheesy influencer for a marketing campaign. But Harper knew better. Her brother was rigid and principled. He would never force himself to act out a fake romantic script just for PR. Especially not a script that ruined his intimidating reputation. Honestly, the fact that he agreed to let a camera follow him at all had already shocked the entire company. Harper stared blankly at the screen. After a long pause, she pointed at Liam and asked her parents, “Did they hire a body double? The makeup is really convincing.” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling were speechless. As their eldest son, Liam had always been mature and dependable. They never had to worry about him. But seeing their cold, ruthless son blushing and burying his face in Aria’s neck… their brains short-circuited. When a person is shocked beyond a certain threshold, they just go numb. They sat there in a daze, completely unable to form words. The haters in the chat were coping hard. “This makes me sick. Why does Aria get to live this perfect life after the disgusting things she did?” “I feel so bad for Mia. Aria literally stole her life.” “Uh, wait. The side-chick’s fans are dragging the actual legal wife? You guys are delusional.” “Whatever, Aria isn’t worth a single hair on Mia’s head.” 5 Liam’s sudden stiffness felt a bit odd, but I didn’t think much of it. Having successfully appeased him, I grabbed my strawberry bear pillow and curled back into the sofa to resume my game. Liam opened his laptop on the coffee table and started working. As his fingers typed across the keyboard, he kept looking up to stare at me. Being a celebrity, I’m highly sensitive to being watched. After having my focus broken for the fifth time, I finally got annoyed. I shifted my body so my back was facing him. But a few minutes later, I felt that heavy, unmistakable gaze burning into my back again. I peeked over my shoulder. He had literally moved his laptop to sit on the opposite side of the table just so he could face me again. …So annoying. I groaned, crawled off the sofa, ruffled my messy hair, and prepared to relocate to the bedroom. “Where are you going?” Liam’s hands stopped typing. “Somewhere else, so you can stop harassing me.” “I’m harassing you?” He looked genuinely shocked. I scoffed, pointing two fingers at my own eyes, then at him. “You are visually harassing me.” “…” The chat was losing it. “Hahahaha, is Mr. Sterling always this clingy?!” “Am I crazy, or does Aria seem totally indifferent, while Mr. Sterling is the one obsessing over her?” “Aria’s fans are so delusional. He gives her one nice look and suddenly they’re ‘deep in love’?” “To be honest, their house is really cozy. TV tropes lied to me. Not every billionaire lives in a sterile, modern-art mausoleum.” Harper had never actually visited her brother’s house, so this was her first time seeing it too. Back at the family estate, Liam’s bedroom was entirely decorated in sophisticated greys and blacks—clean, sharp, and minimalist. But now? A cartoon desk calendar, a cat-paw mug, and a Hello Kitty desk mat. Things her brother would have never touched in a million years were proudly displayed right next to his work laptop. It somehow made his stoic resting-bitch-face look incredibly cute. Harper’s feelings were a complicated mess. She felt a weird mix of relief—like watching a dead tree suddenly blossom—and awkward guilt. After all, she had given Aria a lot of attitude over the years. “Oh God, I’m doomed… If I start calling her ‘sister-in-law’ now, is it going to look like I’m sucking up to her?”

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On a night of torrential rain, my fiancé abandoned me on the side of the road to go comfort his childhood sweetheart. As I stood there, completely drenched and shivering, a Range Rover pulled over in front of me. A tall, incredibly muscular man stepped out of the car and held an umbrella over my head. “With rain this heavy, what on earth are you doing out here, miss?” My eyes drifted first to his prominent, muscular chest pressing against his shirt, and then slowly up to his face. And then, I burst into loud, ugly tears. He panicked instantly, waving his hands frantically. “Holy shit! Please don’t cry! If you’re in trouble, just tell me! I’ll help you!” 1 “Son of a bitch! Is he even human?!” Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, I finished telling my story. The kind stranger was furious, cursing loudly and slamming his fist against the steering wheel. “What an absolute bastard!” “Don’t cry, miss. Here, dry your hair first.” He handed me a clean towel. His movements were incredibly gentle and careful, a complete contrast to the aggressive way he was cursing just seconds ago. He looked at me with deep sympathy, righteous anger burning in his eyes. “Good lord, look at how he treated a sweet girl like you. He’s a disgrace to men everywhere.” The more he talked, the more wronged I felt, and my tears just wouldn’t stop. Even total strangers thought he was completely out of line, yet Nate Sterling genuinely believed he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was an autumn night. I was soaked to the bone, and the freezing wind made me shiver uncontrollably. The man quickly took off his heavy jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and blasted the car’s heater. “Thank you so much.” “Don’t be sad, miss. I’m not a bad guy, I swear. Where do you live? I’ll drive you home. You’ll catch pneumonia if you stay out here.” I gave him my address, and he drove me straight home. That night, Nate Sterling abandoned me to comfort Chloe, his childhood friend who claimed to have severe depression. Instead, it was a random stranger passing by who saved me. Even though I got into the car quickly, I still woke up the next morning with a high fever. While drifting in and out of consciousness in bed, I heard my mom and Nate talking outside my bedroom door. “I was wrong about last night. I came to apologize to Hazel,” Nate said. My mom sighed. “Couples fight all the time. It’s normal. Just go in and talk to her softly. She’ll forgive you.” My mom didn’t know the full story of what happened last night. She assumed it was just a minor, petty argument. After all, I loved him so deeply and desperately. How could I ever stay mad at him? In the past, a few soft words were all it took for me to forgive him. The bedroom door opened. A warm palm rested gently against my forehead. I opened my eyes and looked at him coldly, turning my head to dodge his touch. Nate froze for a second, but his expression quickly returned to normal. His eyes held a trace of apology. “Last night was an emergency. You know Chloe has severe clinical depression. I couldn’t just leave her alone when she was having an episode.” You couldn’t bear to leave Chloe alone, but you could bear to leave me. A bitter taste flooded my throat, and my heart turned completely cold. Chloe constantly weaponized her “depression,” using it to snatch Nate away from me countless times. During our dates. While we were eating dinner. Even when we were lying in bed at night. All it took was a single phone call. No matter how busy or preoccupied he was, he would drop everything and rush to her side immediately. He constantly told me I needed to be “understanding” of Chloe. He swore he only saw her as a little sister. But what kind of “brother and sister” are so intimately close that they fall asleep hugging in the same bed? He claimed it was because Chloe lacked a sense of security and needed to be comforted. Last night, Chloe called him again, crying hysterically and saying she couldn’t breathe. Nate immediately turned the car around. I snapped and we got into a massive fight. His face was full of annoyance. He frantically checked his watch over and over, terrified that if he delayed even one more second, Chloe might do something drastic. “Can you stop causing drama for once?! Chloe is sick! She is a patient! You have absolutely zero empathy!” In that moment, I desperately wanted to know who mattered more to him. I arrogantly, foolishly issued an ultimatum: “You have to choose right now. It’s either me or Chloe.” And then… I was humiliatingly, brutally abandoned on the side of the road. I still remember the freezing, indifferent tone of his voice right before he left: “You are being incredibly cold-blooded right now. Stand here and reflect on your behavior.” The car tires screeched as he sped away, splashing freezing, muddy rainwater all over my dress. It felt like fireworks going off to celebrate Chloe’s ultimate victory. It was late at night. The road was completely deserted. He wasn’t worried that I might run into danger; he was only worried that Chloe might hurt herself. If that kind stranger hadn’t stopped to help me last night, I have no idea what could have happened to me. If he actually felt guilty, why didn’t he call me once during that entire, endless night? Why didn’t he come looking for me? Why did he only show up now? Because he spent the entire night keeping Chloe company, obviously. The agonizing pain of a heart covered in scars had finally gone completely numb. I was just sinking into an endless abyss. From seventeen to twenty-five. I had to face the brutal reality: the man I had loved for my entire youth was rotten to his very core. I would never be his first choice. As long as Chloe existed, the scales in his heart would always, permanently tip toward her. I stared at him, my gaze terrifyingly calm and detached, and spoke slowly: “Nate, I don’t want to marry you anymore.” “Let’s break up.” “I’ll explain everything clearly to both of our families.” My tone was so incredibly calm that Nate’s expression cracked for a split second. He furrowed his brow, familiarly reaching out to tuck the blankets around me. “You’re just speaking out of anger right now. Don’t say stupid things you’re going to regret later.” He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. It was incredibly tender. So tender that it made my nose sting with unshed tears. That’s the cruelest part. I desperately wanted to stop loving this despicable man, but I could still see the ghost of the boy I fell so deeply in love with. It made cutting him out of my life feel like pure psychological torture. “Rest up and get better. I’ll be right here with you.” 2 For the next few days while I recovered at home, Nate visited me every single day. He brought me pastries from my favorite bakery, meticulously fed me my meals, and made sure I took my medicine on time. My parents had originally been against our relationship. They thought Nate was emotionally unstable and unreliable. But I loved him so desperately, and after throwing enough tantrums, they finally gave in and gave us their blessing. Now, seeing Nate acting so attentive and caring, their opinion of him completely flipped. They started treating him incredibly warmly. Nate sat by my bed and said softly, “I already hired the wedding planner. If everything goes smoothly, we can have the wedding by the end of the year.” He held my hand, looking deeply into my eyes: “The venue design is exactly the style you wanted. Your custom wedding dress should arrive soon. Once you recover, we’ll go in for your final fitting.” Maybe God was giving me one final chance to reconsider. Because my fever refused to break, lingering for days. I silently pulled my hand out of his grip. Meeting his shocked gaze, I asked him: “If we get married… what happens to Chloe?” Chloe was Nate’s childhood friend. They grew up on the same street. They had been practically glued together since they were kids. Nate spoiled her like she was his own flesh and blood. He gave her whatever she wanted, and he always, instinctively, prioritized her needs over everything else. It was basically a hardwired reflex. Of course, the “she’s just my little sister” excuse was entirely Nate’s own delusion. In the eyes of their entire friend group, the two of them were soulmates who were destined to end up together. So when Nate finally introduced me to his elite social circle and announced I was his girlfriend… Everyone’s reactions were incredibly complex. But absolutely no one looked happy for us. Especially Chloe. Her face went ghostly pale. She forced a tragic, fragile smile, raised her wine glass, and with tears shimmering in her eyes, said: “Congratulations. I hope Nate and his new girlfriend are very happy together.” That night, Chloe drank heavily. No one could stop her. Nate’s brow remained furrowed in a tight, anxious knot the entire evening. His entire focus was completely monopolized by Chloe. Aside from Nate, I didn’t know a single person in that room. I felt entirely ostracized by their tight-knit group, so incredibly awkward I could only stare down at my phone. When Chloe got blackout drunk, she started crying hysterically and throwing a fit. She refused to let anyone touch her except Nate. In the end, Nate abandoned me. He told me to call an Uber and go home by myself, while he carried Chloe out and drove her home. 3 Before Nate left, he looked furious. Whenever an issue involved Chloe, he seemed to completely lose control of his temper. He looked at me with frustration and annoyance, defending himself: “I told you a million times, she’s just a little sister to me. We are completely platonic! Why do you always have to project such disgusting, toxic assumptions onto everyone?!” Am I the one making toxic assumptions, or are they the ones with something to hide? Honestly, everyone in that room knew the truth. But I wasn’t allowed to say it out loud. The second I said it, I became the villain. After Nate left that night, he didn’t come to see me for several days. My fever eventually broke. A close friend of mine, Leah, was officially launching her new non-profit organization, and the opening ceremony was perfectly timed. Standing near the entrance of the community center, Leah grabbed my hand, pointing excitedly at a man in the center of the room being praised by local politicians. “Look, that’s our primary donor! He’s incredibly generous. When he heard about our youth outreach program, he just signed a check for $500,000 without even blinking.” The man was extremely tall and powerfully built. He stood out massively in the crowd. The second I looked at him, I recognized him. It was the good Samaritan who drove me home that night in the rain. A second later, he turned his head and locked eyes with me. A look of genuine surprise crossed his face, and he walked briskly toward me. “Hey! Aren’t you the girl who was crying her eyes out on the side of the road in the middle of the night?” Leah froze, her expression instantly darkening. “What do you mean, crying on the side of the road in the middle of the night?” The man immediately slapped his own mouth lightly. “Ah, my bad! I shouldn’t have brought that up. Don’t be mad, miss, I didn’t mean to reopen an old wound.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s fine. Honestly, I really need to thank you again. I wouldn’t have made it home safe without you.” He waved his hand dismissively, a booming, hearty laugh escaping him. “Don’t mention it! That’s what neighbors are for.” He was clearly an incredibly kind, straightforward guy. He drove a stranded girl home in the freezing rain, and he was dropping half a million dollars on a local charity. Plus, he just radiated a rugged, protective aura. “By the way, miss, what’s your name?” “Hazel.” “Beautiful name. I’m Carter Vance.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper: “So… did you finally dump that piece of garbage boyfriend yet?” At the mention of Nate, my smile turned slightly bitter. “I’m planning to call off the engagement soon.” “Good for you! Let me tell you, where I’m from, a man who doesn’t treat his woman like a queen deserves to be struck by lightning.” Leah, who had been completely out of the loop, stared at me with wide eyes. “Wait… what?! You’re breaking off the engagement with Nate?!” Instead of trying to convince me to reconsider, she slapped her thigh, her eyes lighting up with absolute joy. “HELL YES! You should have dumped that loser years ago!” “He and Chloe are a toxic, narcissistic match made in hell. If I didn’t know how deeply in love you were, I would have told you to run a long time ago!” Sometimes, people refuse to listen to advice. But when life finally slaps them in the face, they learn the lesson immediately. 4 When Nate heard that Leah was launching a non-profit, he also donated $15,000. He was wealthy; to him, it was just pocket change. Even Chloe donated $3,000. Nate used this exact point to lecture me: “I told you Chloe has a good heart. The misunderstandings between you two are just too deep. You need to find a time to sit down and clear the air with her.” In his mind, even after we were married, he had absolutely no intention of cutting contact with Chloe. In fact, he demanded that I learn to get along with her. What was his ultimate goal here? A modern-day harem where everyone lived in harmony under his roof? When Leah found out about the night Nate abandoned me on the road, she was so furious she actually cried. She wanted to refund Nate and Chloe’s donations immediately, but I stopped her. “Don’t let pride get in the way of funding. There are so many kids who need food and supplies. Our current budget is nowhere near enough.” “So when are you going to tell your parents about calling off the engagement? Is Nate actually going to agree to it?” Nate felt completely secure. He wasn’t worried that I would break off the engagement unilaterally. Because technically, he and Chloe hadn’t engaged in any explicitly sexual or romantic physical contact. If I used Chloe as the reason for the breakup, his entire social circle would just brand me as a paranoid, hysterical, jealous woman making a huge scene over nothing. The end of this relationship couldn’t be framed as my fault. While I was trying to figure out a clean exit strategy, Nate invited his friend group out for dinner. Chloe was there, too. His goal was obvious: he wanted to force me and Chloe to “resolve our misunderstandings” and force me to finally accept her presence in our lives. Nate’s world simply could not function without Chloe in it. He would rather force me to swallow my humiliation and pain than ever abandon her. Using group pressure and social dynamics to “mediate” our relationship was nothing but emotional blackmail. When I arrived at the restaurant, Chloe was sitting in the dead center of the private dining room, surrounded by their friends. Her eyes were red, she looked incredibly fragile and tragic, and everyone was fawning over her, comforting her. She was the beloved, protected princess of their elite little clique. She was the only girl in the group, and she grew up alongside Nate. I was just the awkward outsider who suddenly intruded on their perfect dynamic during high school. Back then, I genuinely believed Nate and Chloe were just platonic friends. He rarely even mentioned her name around me. But one afternoon, I went to drop off an umbrella for Nate because it was raining. From a distance, I saw Chloe arguing with him. I didn’t hear what she said, but she ended up crying and sprinting away into the rain. The very next day, Nate officially asked me to be his girlfriend. After that, I didn’t see Chloe around him for a very long time. Until the news of Chloe’s “clinical depression” suddenly broke. Even though Nate’s friends were superficially polite to me, behind my back, they blamed me for Chloe’s mental breakdown. In their eyes, I was the malicious homewrecker who had stolen Nate and destroyed Chloe’s life. “Don’t worry, Chloe. With us here, she wouldn’t dare try to bully you.” “Seriously, Nate, why do you put up with Hazel? She’s the one who needs to apologize, and she has the nerve to show up late?” “Can’t you see how devastated Chloe is? Why do you insist on staying with Hazel? What does she even have to offer?” Right as their toxic gossip reached its peak, I pushed the heavy oak doors open and walked in. The room instantly fell dead silent. The expressions on everyone’s faces were incredibly entertaining, quickly smoothing over into masks of thinly veiled disgust. They reflexively ignored my existence, performatively pouring tea and handing tissues to Chloe, deliberately trying to signal that Chloe was fundamentally different from me, and that I would never, ever be accepted as one of them. I smiled. “What’s with the setup? Are you guys planning to put me on trial?” Nate pulled me down into the chair next to him, frowning. “Hazel, could you please not speak with such a hostile tone? You never used to be like this.” As he said that, his eyes instinctively darted toward Chloe. Seeing her looking like she was about to cry, a flash of deep pain crossed his face, and he looked back at me with sharp reprimand. It was as if I was just being an irrational, dramatic child. He had completely forgotten his promise to love and accept every part of me. Now, just because I made one slightly sarcastic comment, he was already blaming me to protect his precious childhood friend. Honestly, he wasn’t any different from the rest of the people in this room. Deep down, he had never truly viewed me as a real part of his life. The good news was: I didn’t care anymore. Chloe forced a tragic, brave smile, sniffled quietly, and raised her glass of juice toward me. “Hazel… in the past, I was immature and didn’t understand boundaries. I caused too much trouble for you and Nate. It was my fault. I’m apologizing to you now, and I really hope you can forgive me.” The young woman looked at me with an expression of profound sorrow, mixed with a defiant, stubborn glint in her eye. It was obvious she wasn’t actually sorry at all. I didn’t even bother standing up. I just stared dead into her eyes. “Chloe, are you actually diagnosed with clinical depression? Or are you just faking it?” The second the words left my mouth, Nate violently grabbed my wrist. His face contorted with rage, looking like he genuinely wanted to murder me. “HAZEL!” Chloe’s expression completely shattered. Her face went stark white, she covered her face with her hands, and burst into hysterical, gut-wrenching sobs. “Hazel… how could you possibly say something so cruel?” The entire room erupted in fury, pointing fingers at me. “Hazel, are you even human?! Who the hell jokes about something like that?!” Coincidentally, one of my close friends worked in the exact psychiatric hospital where Chloe claimed to receive treatment. I had asked her to check the system. Chloe’s name was completely absent from all patient records. I had actually told Nate about this before. But he refused to believe me. After all, Chloe had genuinely been admitted to the ICU for a “suicide attempt” in the past. I watched the chaotic, screaming room with absolute, deadpan calm. Nate was deeply offended by my cold, emotionless reaction. His eyes were full of profound disappointment. “You never used to be like this.” “You never used to be like this either.” I laughed. “Did you forget the promises you made to my parents?” “We haven’t even been engaged for that long, and you’re already teaming up with outsiders to bully me.” “Nate, you are truly an incredible fiancé.” His face cycled through several shades of red and white. His friends were yelling loudly, aggressively demanding that Nate “be a man” and put me in my place. Nate gritted his teeth, and ultimately, chose to stand firmly by Chloe’s side. “Hazel, you need to apologize to Chloe.” His voice was soft, almost like he was coaxing me. He was coaxing me to lower my head and submit to the woman he shared an ambiguous, emotionally entangled history with. My nose stung with a sharp, burning sensation. I suddenly realized that I had never, truly seen the real him. Or maybe, I had just projected my own idealized fantasy onto him. And now that I had finally accumulated enough disappointment, I could see his true face with absolute clarity. Everyone loves a man with a strong sense of responsibility, empathy, and devotion. But when a man distributes that responsibility, empathy, and devotion generously to every woman around him… he’s not a good man. He’s just a communal space heater. My eyes burned hot. Without saying a single word, I picked up the glass of iced water on the table and threw it directly into Nate’s face. The entire room gasped in shock. Nate’s face went completely, terrifyingly dark. Whatever final shred of patience he had for me instantly vanished. “Hazel, have you lost your fucking mind?!” The man sitting next to Chloe lunged forward, his face twisted in fury, raising his hand to hit me. With tears still blurring my vision. I grabbed a heavy glass tumbler and smashed it directly into his face. SMASH. It hit him square in the nose. Blood instantly gushed everywhere, and the sheer pain made him howl in agony, tears streaming down his face. “You’re all a bunch of brain-dead dogs. I’m done playing your pathetic little games!” I grabbed my designer purse and turned to leave. Nate chased after me, grabbing my wrist tightly, refusing to let go. “Hazel, you are going to apologize to them right now! If you don’t, how are you ever going to interact with my friends after we get married?!” I wouldn’t interact with your fucking friends even if you paid me! I swung my free hand around and slapped Nate hard across the face. “If you care about them so much, why don’t you just marry them instead?!” Even if I hadn’t already decided to cancel the wedding, why the hell would I ever care what these irrelevant losers thought? “You are being completely irrational!” “You are coming back inside with me right now!” Chloe, who had followed him out, tried to intervene, pulling at our arms. “Nate, please! This is all my fault. Please don’t fight with Hazel over me!” In the chaotic scuffle, someone shoved her hard. Chloe fell to the floor, scraping the palms of her hands on the pavement. She winced, her face going pale from the pain. Seeing her injured, Nate completely abandoned our argument, immediately dropping to his knees to frantically check on Chloe. “I’m fine. I just really don’t want you two to ruin your relationship because of me.” Chloe had an incredibly innocent, pure aesthetic. When she cried, she looked heartbreakingly fragile. Nate could never bear to see his precious “little sister” shed a single tear. And now, he truly, deeply hated me. “Hazel. If you refuse to apologize to Chloe right now…” “Then I think we need to cancel the wedding.” Using the wedding to threaten me? That was exactly what I had been praying for. Since I managed to secretly record the entire conversation on my phone, everyone would clearly hear Nate prioritizing an outsider and trying to force his fiancée to submit. When I leaked the audio, the blame would fall entirely on him. I didn’t have the energy to waste another breath on these two. I turned around to walk away. But Nate blocked my path again. As we struggled, a massive hand suddenly grabbed Nate by the shoulder and shoved him violently backward. Nate stumbled, nearly losing his balance, his brow furrowing in anger. “Who the hell are you?!” I stared blankly at the man who had just appeared. Carter Vance glared at Nate with a terrifying, aggressive scowl, pointing a thick finger directly at his face. “Who am I? I’m your worst fucking nightmare!” “Are you incapable of using your words like a man?! Why the fuck are you grabbing her?! You dress like a Wall Street executive, but you act like a complete degenerate! If there weren’t security cameras here, I’d rip that arm off and use it to scratch my dog’s back!” This guy could curse like a sailor without even pausing for breath. I didn’t know Carter was not only kind-hearted, but also an elite-tier trash talker. Nate’s face flushed a violent shade of red. He wasn’t the type to get into screaming matches; he literally didn’t know how to respond to street-level aggression. “What I do with my fiancée is none of your business!” Carter’s eyes went wide. He looked at Nate, then looked down at Chloe sitting on the floor. He nodded slowly, a disgusted smirk on his face. “Ah. So you’re the absolute scumbag who abandoned this sweet girl on the side of the road in the freezing rain to go hook up with your side-piece.” “I have a great eye for reading people. One look at you, and I knew exactly what you were. You and this little green-tea manipulator are clearly screwing around behind her back, and you have the audacity to come out here and torture a good woman.” “What century do you think this is? Are you trying to build a harem?!” Chloe had never been spoken to with such vulgar, brutal disrespect in her entire life. Her face turned just as pale as Nate’s. “What kind of garbage are you spewing?!” Carter shot her a freezing, contemptuous glare. “A girl like you is so toxic I could use you as rat poison, and you’d still smell like cheap perfume. Don’t sit there trying to play the innocent victim when you know exactly what you’re doing.” He wrapped his massive, muscular arm around my shoulders, pulling me protectively behind his back. Seeing this, Nate suppressed his fury and reached his hand out toward me. “Hazel. Come here.” Carter immediately launched another devastating verbal combo. “Come where?! Who the hell do you think you are, ordering her around like a dictator?!” “If I hadn’t happened to drive by and pick her up that night, she could be the victim on tonight’s True Crime broadcast! You abandoned your own fiancée shivering in the freezing rain, just so you could go snuggle up in a warm bed with your side-chick!” Nate was 6’1″, which wasn’t short. But standing next to Carter, he was still half a head shorter. Combined with Carter’s massive, heavily muscled frame, the physical intimidation factor was completely unmatched. He looked incredibly aggressive and scary, but standing behind him, I felt an overwhelming, profound sense of safety. When Nate’s friends had ganged up to bully me, I didn’t cry. When he stood by Chloe’s side and demanded I apologize, I didn’t cry. But suddenly, hearing a total stranger forcefully validate all the trauma and injustice I had suffered… Having someone finally stand up for me… I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears just started falling. Carter was a pro at talking trash, but he clearly had no idea how to handle a crying woman. Seeing my tears, he panicked, stammering awkwardly for a few seconds. Finally, he leaned down and whispered softly in my ear: “Don’t cry, Hazel. Give me a minute, I’ll find some guys to beat the shit out of him later.” My tears stopped instantly. I was supposed to be deeply upset, but his comment caught me so off guard I actually laughed. “Assault is a felony.” He winked at me conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. I’ll do it quietly. No one will ever know.”

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I was pregnant, and I was craving strawberries. I bought two pounds of them, brought them home, washed them perfectly clean, and called my husband and mother-in-law to come have some. I went to my bedroom to change my clothes. When I came back, the plate was full of pale, white cores. The bright red, sweetest tips of the strawberries had been bitten off by my husband. The middle parts had been gnawed away by my mother-in-law. My mother-in-law, her mouth dripping with juice, pushed the plate toward me: “Emily, eat! They’re so sweet!” I stared at the pale, leftover bottoms of the strawberries. Stuck to the fruit were gross, dark green bits of garlic and spinach that had fallen out of my mother-in-law’s teeth! I grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over. I turned, walked out the front door, and called my mom. “Mom, you were right. I’m getting the abortion.” 1 I had been talking about wanting strawberries for a week. David promised to buy them for me every single day. And every single day, he came home from work looking like a beaten dog, dragging his feet, and giving me a shameless smile: “Sorry, honey, I totally forgot!” His mother would stand off to the side, doting on her precious son. She’d hand him a cold beer, massage his shoulders, and then throw a passive-aggressive jab at me: “What’s so special about a fancy fruit anyway? You don’t have to eat it today. I’ll buy it for you tomorrow!” I was furious. I complained to David: “Your mom says she’ll buy them for me every day, and I still haven’t had a single strawberry all week!” The moment I brought up his mother, his face darkened: “Do you know how old she is? It’s hard enough for her to come all the way out here to take care of you, and you have the nerve to order her around?” His tone made my blood boil. “Then send her back home! Who asked her to take care of me?!” David’s eyes grew cold. He clenched his jaw and didn’t say another word. We had been fighting about this constantly lately. I was so sick and tired of it. As my best friend put it: “Just tolerate it. It’s his mom. If he’s the kind of guy who abandons his mother the second he gets a wife, you couldn’t rely on his character anyway.” I sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Fine. I’ll just buy the damn strawberries myself tomorrow! 2 I specifically asked to leave work half an hour early. I took a long detour to an upscale organic grocery store just to buy them. I never used to have cravings like this. It was definitely the pregnancy. Not getting to eat what I was craving was making my entire body physically uncomfortable. When I got home, my mother-in-law, Martha, was sitting on the couch with drooping eyelids, knitting baby booties. I had told her previously that no one puts babies in hand-knitted itchy wool booties anymore. She didn’t listen, so I stopped caring. Let her do what she wants. When she looked up and saw the carton of strawberries in my hand, her sarcastic attitude immediately flared up. “Oh, so you actually bought them? Wow, young people these days are so spoiled. Eating whatever they want, whenever they want. Back in my day, the men got the best cuts of the roast, and the women ate the scraps and gristle.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond. At this point, my strategy with her was just to pretend she didn’t exist. Just as I was heading to the kitchen to wash the fruit, the front door clicked open. David was home. He walked in completely empty-handed, acting like an overgrown infant, holding his arms out so his mommy could take his coat. “The project is finally over, Emily. I’ll spend lots of time with you these next couple of days.” I looked at him and let out a cold laugh. “You’re home so early. Where are my strawberries?” He slapped his forehead. “I forgot. I’ll go buy them right now.” Martha quickly grabbed his arm. “Come back here! You’re exhausted, don’t run back out. See, no one loves you as much as your mother.” After saying that, she shot a vicious, sideways glare at me. I turned into the kitchen, washed the strawberries thoroughly, and popped one into my mouth. God, it was so sweet! I looked down and realized I was still in my work clothes. I set the bowl of strawberries on the dining table. “Have a couple. I can’t eat all of these myself anyway.” I went to the bedroom, changed into my loungewear, and came back out. My strawberries were ruined. A plate full of pale, white bottoms. Not a speck of red left. David had already rolled off to his study to play video games. Martha, chewing loudly with juice staining her lips, pushed the plate toward me: “Emily, eat! They’re so sweet!” 3 I had waited a week for these strawberries! I bought them, I washed them, and I only got to eat exactly one! I didn’t even need to guess. The sweet, red tips were definitely bitten off by David, and the middle parts were gnawed on by Martha! Ever since Martha moved into our house, this was how she and David divided food. If I cooked a steak, David got the tender center cuts, and Martha happily took the fatty edges. Martha was even proud of it. She used to say that when David’s father was alive, she wasn’t even allowed to eat the fatty cuts. Now, her status had been elevated! I stared at the leftover strawberry bottoms on the plate. On several of them, I could clearly see the dark green bits of leftover spinach and garlic that had dislodged from Martha’s teeth. Wilted, dark green muck smelling of garlic, stuck to the remaining quarter-inch of fruit… and she wanted me to eat it? Eat my ass! My stomach violently churned with intense nausea! These were my strawberries! This was my house! I was shaking uncontrollably with rage. “AHHH!” I screamed, grabbed the edge of the table, and flipped it into the air! The cute, ceramic piglet plate crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. It looked like it had been violently executed. I grabbed my coat, snatched my purse, and slammed the door behind me. In the fraction of a second before the door clicked shut, I heard David’s panicked voice: “What’s going on?! Emily, where are you going?!” 4 Where was I going? Yeah, where was I going? I lived in this city with no family and no close friends. I had no one to rely on. I only had David. And until recently, I actually thought I had love. What an absolute joke. I was delusional. I walked laps around our neighborhood complex for a long time, letting the cold air calm me down. A decision I had been agonizing over for weeks finally cemented itself in my mind. I dialed the one number that would never, ever reject me. The moment the call connected, I couldn’t hold back my sobs: “Mom, you were right! I’m getting the abortion!” Before I could say another word, my phone was violently snatched from my hand. I could hear my mom’s panicked voice projecting from the speaker: “Emily! Emily, what happened?! Emily!” It was David. He looked absolutely furious as he hung up the call. “Stop acting crazy! It’s such a trivial thing, is this really necessary?!” The tears I had been desperately holding back finally spilled over. I stared at him with pure stubborn defiance. “Give me my phone.” He frowned, extending his arm high into the air. I was six inches shorter than him; I couldn’t reach it. “Can you stop running to mommy and daddy over every little inconvenience? We’re married. If there’s an issue, we discuss it! You literally flipped our dining table, and I didn’t even yell at you. Can you stop throwing a tantrum? You’re making a joke out of us in front of the neighbors. Let’s go home and talk.” I jumped up furiously, trying to snatch the phone from his grip. “Give it to me! I have nothing left to say to you. Go live with your mother!” He raised his arm even higher, getting agitated: “When it comes down to it, you just despise my mom! You are so incredibly disappointing!” 5 I clawed at his arm, jumping wildly to reach the phone. He gripped my wrist tightly, trying to pin me down. That was when Martha came running out of the building. While she was still a good thirty feet away, she suddenly sprinted, dropped to her knees, and did a dramatic baseball slide right across the pavement, stopping right in front of me. Smack! She slammed her forehead onto the concrete. “Oh, my dear daughter-in-law! You’re taking my life away! Please stop jumping around, if anything happens to my grandson, how will I ever face your parents in the afterlife?!” Watching her performance, I completely froze. I knew she was a two-faced actress, playing sweet to my face and talking trash behind my back. But I never expected a theatrical display of this magnitude. David couldn’t handle it. He reached down to pull his mother up. “Mom, what are you doing?!” Then, he turned his head and glared at me with vicious eyes: “Hurry up and help my mom up!” I help her?! I’ll help you straight to hell! Martha used David’s leverage to stand up. She immediately started slapping her own face, over and over again. “I was wrong! I am a sinner! I shouldn’t have eaten your strawberries! Please don’t be mad at me, just come home with me.” David was completely broken by this. Tears were literally welling up in his eyes. “My mom is literally begging you, what more do you want?! I admit I was wrong, okay?! Tomorrow I will buy out the entire farmer’s market so you can eat all the strawberries you want!” Because of their loud, dramatic wailing, neighbors were starting to gather. Seeing that she had an audience, Martha’s acting kicked into overdrive. “I shouldn’t have eaten the strawberries. I don’t deserve to eat them! I didn’t know my daughter-in-law valued those fruits more than my life! Back in our rural village, wild berries grow everywhere in the mountains! If you love them so much, Mom will go pick them for you! Just stop fighting with us, please come home. I came here with a good heart to serve you, but if you can’t tolerate me, I’ll leave! I’ll never come back! I’m just old and useless!” The surrounding neighbors started pointing fingers at me. “Am I hearing this right? Over some fruit? Is she serious?” “Exactly. She couldn’t bear to part with a few bucks worth of fruit. That breaks an old woman’s heart!” “Parents give their absolute all to their kids, and look at how the kids treat them. Can’t even let her eat a strawberry.” “It’s so hard being old! If you don’t help, they say you’re lazy. If you do help, they say you’re a burden. Might as well just die when you get old.” I watched as the crowd threw their judgmental words at me like poison darts. Some people were even pulling out their phones to record me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed at the top of my lungs: “Her! That old hag! She wanted me to eat the scraps she spat out! Strawberries covered in her garlic and spinach spit! If I handed them to you, would you eat them?!” 6 I was going insane. I was shivering with pure anger. I ground my teeth together and glared at David: “Give me back my phone. Give it to me!!!” His eyes were bloodshot. He looked at me with unadulterated hatred. I had never seen him look at me like that before. It was like I wasn’t his wife. I was the murderer who killed his entire family, and he loathed my very existence. I used every ounce of my strength to punch him in the chest: “I told you to give me my phone!” Smack! He slapped me across the face! I fell hard onto the pavement! A second later, my phone started ringing in his hand. He glanced at the screen. Then, using all of his strength, he violently hurled my phone at the concrete. The screen shattered into a million pieces. The ringtone died instantly. Silence. In the fraction of a second before the screen went black, I saw the caller ID: Mom. My mother! I reached my absolute breaking point. Shaking with fury, I used all my strength to spring up from the ground and delivered a brutal kick directly to David’s groin. He let out a horrifying howl, clutching his crotch, and dropped to his knees in agony. I scrambled to grab my shattered phone to run. But Martha grabbed me in a death grip. In the chaotic pulling and shoving, my vision blurred, and everything went completely dark. 7 When I opened my eyes, I was back in the bedroom of our apartment. Beside the bed, David was sitting with his head slumped forward, his hands gripping his hair tightly. I heard footsteps approaching, so I quickly squeezed my eyes shut. “David, you need to eat something. You’re going to break your mother’s heart.” “I don’t want to eat. Mom, shouldn’t we take her to the hospital? It’s been all night. I’m worried something’s wrong.” “Oh, please! I’ve been through this, would I harm my own grandson? She’s fine, pregnant women are just frail. Especially her, she refuses to eat this and that, so picky. You spoiled her into having these bad habits! Plain food builds a strong body. Women these days act like they’re laying a golden egg when they get pregnant. When I gave birth to you, I was still bleeding when I pulled my pants up and went to the kitchen to cook dinner.” David’s voice sounded like he was trying to suppress his panic, wavering unsteadily. “Times are different, Mom. Emily has never suffered a day in her life.” Martha’s voice suddenly dropped her usual sweet facade and became ice cold. “If she hasn’t suffered, then she needs to suffer now. What woman doesn’t suffer? When the baby comes, are you going to carry the burden of this whole house alone? Are you going to serve her every day? She actually dared to kick you! You should have beaten her to a pulp! If you don’t break her terrible habits now, you’ll be the one suffering later. Come eat with Mom! Ignore her! If she doesn’t wake up soon, I’ll take a sewing needle to her lip, I guarantee that’ll wake her up.” After a long pause, the shuffling footsteps slowly faded away. David left the room and closed the door. The room was dead silent. I slowly opened my eyes, feeling like I had just woken up from a terrifying nightmare. 8 David and I were college classmates. He chased me relentlessly for four years. I loved sleeping in, so every morning he would run to the dining hall to grab hot breakfast sandwiches and deliver them to my dorm. When I had an internship fifteen miles off-campus, he rode his bicycle through traffic just to bring me my favorite candied fruit from a street vendor. During the first heavy snow of winter, I opened my curtains to find a massive snowman outside my window, and him standing next to it, his face red from the freezing cold. I knew he came from a poor background, but if he had a dollar, he was willing to spend ninety cents on me. When I finally agreed to date him, our entire department was shocked. Everyone said his sheer willpower and persistence wore me down. The guys marveled that relentless stalking actually worked. The girls were horrified, asking if I had gone legally blind. After graduation, we dated for three years. He took care of my every need. When he proposed, the diamond ring cost him over three thousand dollars. I knew that was money he had saved by working multiple side jobs from dawn till dusk. Even though the diamond was tiny, I was moved to tears. Back then, I deeply believed in a popular saying: Don’t judge a man by how much money he has; judge him by how much of it he is willing to spend on you. I truly believed he would treat me well for the rest of my life. Who cared if he was a little broke? We could build our wealth together. 9 When I told my parents I was going to marry him, my mom fought me tooth and nail. Our relationship became incredibly strained over it. I even slammed my hand on the table and yelled at them: “I only asked for your opinion out of respect! I don’t need your permission to get a marriage license, and you can’t stop me!” My mom looked at me with eyes full of disappointment and heartbreak. She pressed her lips tightly together and didn’t speak for a long time. In the end, they couldn’t stop me. My mom yelled: “Fine! If you marry him, we won’t give you a single dime for the wedding!” I was so arrogant. I told her I didn’t care about their money anyway. But on the actual day I got married, my dad slipped a bank card into my hand. He sighed heavily. “Your mother has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. Whether you understand it or not, she is truly looking out for you. But I sincerely hope you made the right choice. Emily… you are our entire world. Do you know how hard it is for parents to watch their child willingly walk into hardship? Remember, if anything ever happens, call us immediately.” At the time, I was actually thrilled. I thought I had won the war against my parents!!! 10 After he finished his Master’s degree, I compromised and moved across the country with him to this city. The night before we left, I peeked through the crack in my parents’ door. My mom was sobbing against my dad’s chest. “It’s my fault. I raised her to be too naive.” My heart ached, but I swore to myself that I would build a beautiful life and prove that my choice was right. I’d show them. In the beginning, things were sweet. But everything changed the moment I got pregnant and Martha moved in. I always knew he grew up in a rural area. But when we got married, Martha didn’t even attend the wedding. His excuse was that she was in poor health, had never traveled, and it was too far away. I even said at the time: “Then we should go visit her! We’re getting married, I can’t just never meet my mother-in-law.” His eyes darted nervously. “You’ll meet her eventually. The living conditions out in the country are rough, I’m afraid you won’t adapt. My mom is a great person, she won’t mind.” It wasn’t until I got pregnant that my husband said: “We’re both so busy, and you really need someone to take care of you right now. Why don’t I bring my mom out here? She can cook for you. Ordering takeout every day isn’t healthy.” I thought it was a good idea. I planned to treat her like my own mother. I firmly believed I could build a good relationship with her. Reality proved I was dangerously naive. Her “cooking for me” meant that if David was home, there was fresh food. If he wasn’t, she would heat up three-day-old leftovers and serve them to me. If there were a few good cuts of meat in a dish and I grabbed one with my chopsticks, she would literally snatch it from my bowl and put it in her son’s. She constantly tried to brainwash me. She’d say pregnant women who did hard labor had easier deliveries. She’d brag about washing cloth diapers in freezing well-water in the dead of winter. She constantly talked about how tough she was, how much she suffered, and how she sacrificed her blood, sweat, and tears to raise David. Whenever she told these stories, mother and son would stare at each other, eyes brimming with tears! The most infuriating part was that after she memorized my phone passcode, she constantly snooped through my phone. I had reached my limit. I asked David multiple times to send his mother home, saying I didn’t need her taking care of me. He just glared at me coldly: “She is my mother! Blood is thicker than water! Now that I have a good life, shouldn’t she get to enjoy it? Are you disgusted by her?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “444436”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day the San Francisco earthquake hit, Liam told me he had joined the hospital’s emergency response team and was leaving that very night. I calmly packed his suitcase for him. As he dragged it toward the front door, I stopped him and asked, “Do you think you really know me?” He looked back at me, frowning, clearly confused by the question. “Like… what’s my Myers-Briggs personality type?” I smiled faintly. “Never mind. Have a safe trip.” We had an appointment at City Hall this Thursday to get our marriage license. To make that happen, I had worked overtime for the better part of a month just so I could take a half-day off during the workweek. But after he derailed my plans time and time again, I realized our relationship had reached its absolute limit. 1 Perhaps because I hadn’t been an emotionally supportive girlfriend during this brief separation, Liam took the initiative to call me at 11:30 PM on Thursday. It sounded like he had belatedly realized today was the day we were supposed to get married. His voice was exhausted as he offered apologies. I stared at the blinking cursor on my Word document. I had been sitting there since 10:00 PM and had managed to type exactly two lines. Only other fiction writers understand the absolute agony of writer’s block. His phone call chased away a fleeting spark of inspiration in my brain. Just like every other time he broke a promise, it made me incredibly irritable. Naturally, my tone wasn’t great. “Yeah, I know. Get some sleep.” I was about to hang up when he quickly added, “The hospital will give me a few days off when I get back. We can go get the license then.” A person with good morals probably shouldn’t say something upsetting to a doctor who is risking his life to save earthquake victims. But I believed that dragging things out would only cause more pain. Since he wasn’t going to be part of my future plans, he shouldn’t be interrupting my present. My work was important to me, too. “I’m afraid that won’t work,” I rejected him coldly. “Liam, from now on, my reasons for taking time off have nothing to do with you.” “What does that mean?” He paused for a moment before asking. “It means we’re breaking up.” I sounded like I was reading a corporate memo. “We’ve had a lot of happy memories over the years, but regardless, I wish you all the best in the future.” I hung up, blocked his number, and deleted his contact. To make a clean break, I even unfriended him on Venmo. That weekend, I packed up everything that belonged to him and had it delivered to his old apartment. I changed the passcode on my front door, deleted his fingerprint access, and then unblocked his number just long enough to text him: When you get back from SF, go straight to your own apartment. Don’t come here. Then, I blocked him again. That night, Liam used a random phone number to call me. He patiently and gently apologized again. “Chloe, it was wrong of me to postpone getting our license without talking to you first. But I thought you would understand. I am a doctor first, and myself second.” “I know,” I replied, my fingers flying aggressively across my mechanical keyboard. “I genuinely praise and admire your decision to volunteer in the disaster zone. But if you think our problems are just because you postponed a piece of paper… Liam, you’re insulting my intelligence.” “If you’re going to keep acting oblivious, stop calling me. It does nothing but ruin my mood.” Before today, I was willing to speak to him politely when breaking up. But after seeing an article published by the media company I used to work for, everything about Liam suddenly made me sick. Even though it was an entertainment gossip blog, during a massive event like the San Francisco earthquake, they pivoted to disaster coverage. However, the writers were still gossip columnists at heart. Under a clickbait headline like “Race Against Time: Gorgeous Doctors Perform Joint Brain Surgery,” the article subtly tried to ship the two attractive neurosurgeons involved. The handsome doctor was Liam. The gorgeous doctor was the woman he had secretly written about ten years ago on a postcard at a tourist trap: “Unrequited love is miserable. I’m just waiting for the woman I love to break up with her boyfriend.” I don’t know what state of mind a twenty-one-year-old Liam was in when he wrote that sentence. But ever since I accidentally discovered that photo with his desperate confession written on the back, all the strange, subtle shifts in Liam’s behavior recently made perfect sense. 2 Her name was Audrey Vance. She started pre-med at Boston University in 2006 and had been working in the neurosurgery department at Mass Gen ever since graduating. She came from a family of doctors, was currently thirty-four, three years older than Liam, and had started college at sixteen. That meant she was five academic years ahead of him. Because it was so long ago, it was hard to find much information about Audrey’s college days online. I only managed to piece together that she was a standout graduate, hailed by her peers as a child prodigy. But recently, BU posted an announcement that Audrey was returning to give a guest lecture. The high-res photo attached to her bio showed a striking, radiant woman. That face perfectly aligned with the young, immature girl I had seen in Liam’s family photo albums. The conclusion was glaringly obvious: Liam and Audrey grew up together. When I first flipped through those albums, I was curious about the little girl who appeared so frequently from childhood through high school. Then, she just vanished from the photos. At the time, Liam’s tone was casual. He just said she was a neighbor, their families were close, so they took a lot of pictures. But after her family moved to Boston, they lost touch. Audrey’s guest lecture at BU was scheduled for Saturday, June 29th. On that exact day, Liam and I had planned to go to a used bookstore to hunt for some rare editions. Early that morning, before breakfast, he looked hesitant and distracted. Finally, he told me that a doctor he deeply admired was giving a lecture at a university nearby, and he really wanted to go watch. For some reason, my mind instantly flashed to the announcement I had seen about Audrey’s lecture. BU live-streamed all their guest lectures now. I sat in front of my computer for ninety minutes and watched the whole thing. The content was almost identical to every other “outstanding alumni” speech I had suffered through during my own college years. It was the standard formula: her childhood dreams, her hard work in high school, her clear career planning in college, wrapped up with some motivational chicken soup for the wide-eyed undergrads in the audience. She mentioned a few rare clinical cases she had encountered, but since she was still relatively young, her experience was mostly just observing senior surgeons. If Liam was genuinely interested in those rare cases, reading the actual medical journals published by those senior surgeons would have been far more educational. In short, there was absolutely no professional reason for Liam to waste his time listening to that lecture. But thinking about it practically, they grew up together, and judging by the photos, they were close. It was perfectly normal to want to catch up and grab a meal after not seeing someone for years. So why couldn’t he just look me in the eye and tell me he was going to see her? When Liam got home, it was already evening. Beneath his usual calm expression, I could sense a hidden, bubbling joy. He immediately offered to take over the cooking. I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed, watching this tall, incredibly fit man look effortlessly handsome while flipping a spatula. “What did you have for lunch?” I asked him. “Braised chicken,” he replied. “With a friend?” I pressed. He glanced at me quickly. “Why do you ask?” I smiled. “If a lecture was good enough to make you cancel our plans, it probably attracted other med school alumni too. I figured you might have run into an old classmate.” He turned off the stove. In the moment it took him to slide the food onto a plate, the joyful fish swimming beneath his calm surface suddenly went completely still. “Yeah, I ran into an old classmate. We caught up for a long time.” “What about you? Did you find the books you were looking for?” he deflected. “No,” I said, feigning disappointment. “I was only going to try my luck today anyway.” Liam was an incredibly smart and observant man. If he hadn’t been completely intoxicated by the joy of reuniting with the woman he had loved for a decade, he probably would have noticed something when he came home from the lecture to grab his car keys. My everyday slippers weren’t by the front door. Which strongly implied I was home. I literally listened to the front door open and close. I watched through the living room security camera as he grabbed his car keys—something he rarely did, as he hated driving. And then, I checked the dashcam app on my phone and watched him drive Audrey Vance to the airport. “Next time. I’ll take a day off and go with you next time. We’ll definitely find the books you want,” he promised. 3 Audrey’s home was in Boston, and so was her career. It was hard for two neurosurgeons living on opposite sides of the country to maintain a spark. The little flutter of excitement from their reunion slowly faded over time. But then, Audrey was coming back. I only found out by chance. My alma mater, MIT, posted an article about an upcoming symposium featuring “Outstanding Young Innovators.” Audrey’s name was on the list. The date was Monday, July 29th, at 9:00 AM. I didn’t click the article to read all the bios. Her resume was just so impressive that they used her name in the headline as clickbait. It was impossible to miss. Monday, July 29th, was also the day Liam and I were scheduled to have our wedding photo shoot. We were supposed to try on five different outfits—two for indoor shots, three for outdoor locations. As he was getting ready to leave for work that morning, he hesitated. Once we were in the elevator, just the two of us, he finally spoke. “Chloe, the hospital is running a free clinic today, and I really want to volunteer. It’s just for the morning. We can still try on the outfits in the afternoon.” The hospital Liam worked at did occasionally set up free clinics outside the main entrance, usually on Mondays, from 10 AM to 4 PM. It was late July. The humidity was suffocating, making the city feel like a giant sauna. Standing outside a heavily air-conditioned hospital in this heat to run a free clinic was absolutely miserable work. Fine. He was a saintly doctor. I told him to go. After he left, I used the excuse of booking a Groupon for a hotpot place—$100 off a $300 meal for new users—to log into his phone. In reality, I just opened his transit app to check his subway history. He tapped in at the station near our apartment. He tapped out at the MIT station. Getting to MIT required transferring from the Red Line to the Green Line. His hospital was a straight shot on the Orange Line. A moment later, I closed the app and handed his phone back. “You should stay at the clinic for the afternoon too. I suddenly got swamped with work,” I said. He didn’t question it. He just nodded. Maybe that was the exact moment the idea of marrying him started to curdle in my mind. The receptionist at the bridal studio had told me earlier that the couple booked for the afternoon slot had a sudden emergency, and asked if Liam and I could swap with them. Given how insane both of our work schedules were, getting everything done today would have been perfect. But I didn’t ask Liam’s opinion immediately. I waited. I waited to see if he had the self-control to stay away, to see if he would choose to go see Audrey. I ended up going to the bridal studio alone that afternoon. The studio was completely unsympathetic and informed me that downgrading from a couple’s shoot to a solo portrait session didn’t qualify for a partial refund. Furious, I went and ordered a massive Korean BBQ combo meant for four people and ate it by myself. I brought the leftovers home. Liam asked if I had gone out with coworkers. I told him I went alone. He paused, then asked why I didn’t invite him. “You were busy,” I replied. We had been dating for three years and living together for two. He knew that when I was mad, my default response was a cold, sarcastic attitude. He didn’t coddle me, mostly because whenever he messed up, he would take the initiative to apologize. Like that time. Like right now. I used to soften up whenever he apologized. I would comfort myself by thinking that if we were going to be married for decades, fights were inevitable. If we were committing to a life together, we needed to be forgiving. Besides, in many other aspects of our life, he was incredibly accommodating to me. Now, it just felt completely hollow. His apology was as sincere as ever. He admitted his mistake first, and then proposed a solution. “I’ll take tomorrow off. We’ll go try the outfits together,” he said. I shoved the leftover BBQ into the fridge, turned around, and stared at him expressionlessly. It felt like he suddenly didn’t know me at all. I liked my life meticulously organized. If one of my plans was disrupted without warning, I got angry and irritable. Especially when the disruption wasn’t due to an unavoidable emergency. “So, I have to take tomorrow off too?” “In your mind, your work is a career, and my work is just a hobby?” A flash of guilt crossed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll schedule my time off around your days off.” “Don’t bother,” I replied. “Since you don’t care about it, it doesn’t matter if we take the photos or not.” Before walking into the bedroom, I looked at him with deadly seriousness. “You need to think long and hard about this marriage.” 4 Why didn’t I just break up with him right then? Why was I willing to give him another chance? Because the blueprint of my entire future was covered in his fingerprints. My original plan was to get the marriage license first, and then lay all my cards on the table about Audrey. I knew him well enough to believe that once everything was out in the open, he would sever any lingering romantic ties. Until I saw him and Audrey together in San Francisco. The night air in the suburbs was crisp and clean. Julian stood next to me, his voice so soft it felt like a breeze could blow it away. “So, why did you finally decide to end it? Do you think he intentionally went to SF to see his old crush?” I shook my head, turning to look at him with a smile. “Because the universe loves me.” “The postcard from ten years ago, the headline in the university newsletter, the article on my old company’s website… don’t you think that’s way too many coincidences?” I looked at him, my eyes bright. All the gloom from my fights with Liam had evaporated. “Plus, tonight, when I drove out here… I thought I could push past my hatred of driving. But I couldn’t. You have no idea how miserable I was the entire drive over here.” “I hate driving, period. So far, I haven’t met a single person or encountered a single situation that makes driving not feel like a chore. So you can imagine… when Liam chose to drive Audrey to the airport that day, the sheer joy he felt had to completely overpower his hatred of driving.” “So…” Julian prompted. “So, everything happens for my benefit,” I said. “The universe favors me. It was telling me not to wait until decades from now, when Liam is on his deathbed, wondering if his life would have been different if he had just been brave enough to chase the woman he truly loved.” “I know that once you’re dead, nothing matters anymore, but just the thought of him harboring that kind of regret makes me sick to my stomach.” Julian was a professional chess player I had met by chance, a world runner-up. We met in a bookstore run by an incredibly eccentric owner. Membership was ten dollars a month, and you could read any book in the store for free. The AC was always blasting, and the decor and vibe were absolutely perfect. But there was a catch: absolutely no books could be bought or borrowed. If you wanted to read, you had to stay in the store. In today’s hyper-fast world, almost no one has the patience to sit quietly in a bookstore. Combined with its hidden location, the place was virtually empty. I only found out about it because I loved hunting for rare editions. When I realized this store had a massive collection of out-of-print books, I felt like a massive idiot for spending a thousand dollars on eBay for a vintage magazine set that originally retailed for twenty bucks. When the night breeze finally felt too cold, I got ready to drive Julian back. He waved his phone at me. “It’s going to be a minute. I ordered an Uber.” “If you hate driving, calling a car is a much better option.” “I hope you don’t mind me interfering.” Talking to Julian was incredibly comfortable. He easily matched my wavelength, and everything he said was exactly what I wanted to hear. For example— The day Liam came back from San Francisco was a Saturday. He dragged his suitcase to my front door, the dim hallway lighting unable to hide his exhaustion. I thought about his apartment, which hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Whether he cleaned it himself or hired a maid, it would take time. In a moment of weakness, I let him in. He froze in the entryway. I said, “You don’t need to take off your shoes. Just come in.” His slippers were no longer on the shoe rack. “Are you going straight to bed, or do you want to eat something first?” I asked. His tall frame stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, his suitcase making him look travel-worn. “You sentenced me to death. You owe me an explanation.” I didn’t hide anything. I told him straight out that I knew about his past crush on Audrey, and that I knew he was still obsessed with her. Honestly, I wasn’t mad that he used to have feelings for someone else. Audrey was an incredibly impressive woman. If he hadn’t tried to have his cake and eat it too, I would have just thought he had great taste in women. “I admit it,” he said after listening to me, his face blank. “I handled that poorly.” “After her lecture, I cut contact with her. Running into her in SF was a complete coincidence. We’re both at critical points in our careers. Volunteering for disaster relief looks great on a resume when it’s time for promotions. You know how this works.” “I know,” I said, completely unfazed. “I also believe you went to SF purely to help people, not to see her.” “But you know me. I believe in fate. The universe putting that article right in front of my face was its way of telling me that your connection isn’t severed, and that you and I were only ever meant to be a stepping stone.” “There is no ‘unsevered connection,’ Chloe. She’s married. Her husband is a cop. She has an adopted daughter. She’s incredibly happy.” I froze, staring at him in disbelief. “She’s married and you’re still obsessing over her? That’s completely unethical.” “So all your assumptions were just a huge misunderstanding,” Liam countered. “Hiding my meetings with her and keeping a ten-year-old postcard was wrong, and I apologize. Can we move past this?” His pleading tone softened my heart for a fraction of a second. But I am as stubborn as a mule. Once I make a decision, I rarely change it, even if it’s the wrong one. We had the most explosive fight of our entire relationship that day. The golden window for earthquake rescue is 72 hours. He hadn’t slept properly for 72 hours, had to deal with this relationship disaster, and came home to a stubborn mule like me. Anyone would have lost their temper. He said, “Chloe, we aren’t kids anymore. This isn’t college where you date if you feel like it and dump someone if you’re bored.” He continued, “You chose to marry me for purely practical reasons. You say I want my cake and eat it too? What about you? You don’t even know how to be in a relationship. You just picked a husband who checked your boxes, someone who could be useful to you. You factored in so many selfish variables when you chose me. Look at how much I’ve tolerated since we got together. Why can’t you tolerate me just this once?” It felt like he was trying to collect interest on every grievance he had ever suffered with me. I looked at him, looking as deflated as a popped balloon. I felt no pity, no heartbreak, only rage and a sense of absolute absurdity. “Oh really? Tell me, how exactly did I use you for my own gain?” He pressed his lips together and stayed silent. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Aside from my corporate day job, I was also a novelist. After we met, I constantly asked him questions about neurosurgery to write a medical workplace drama. It got published and the TV rights were sold. I pocketed nearly a million dollars from the IP rights. I had done this before. My ex-boyfriend was a corporate negotiator, and I used his professional knowledge to write a book that also sold film rights. I never hid that from Liam. “Deep down, you think I only date guys so I can mine them for research to sell books? You think you’re just a cog in my money-making machine? “That is hilarious, Liam. If I just wanted professional advice, I could pay consulting fees to dozens of elite professionals. I can write workplace dramas, get them published, and sell the film rights because I have a sharp commercial eye and raw talent. I don’t need to play emotional games just to steal some medical jargon. I’m above that. “Yes, I am practical. I chose you because you come from a good family, you have elite degrees, and you’re incredibly handsome. Why else would I choose you? Do you really think someone with my average background, average education, and average job isn’t good enough for a golden boy like you?” Spitting out every thought in my brain in one breath, I watched his face drain of color. The last shred of affection I had for him evaporated. “I’m so sorry to break it to you, but I think I’m pretty fantastic. I’m good enough for anyone.” I slammed the door and left. After driving a few miles, I suddenly realized it was my apartment. Rookie mistake. Julian found me at a Dave & Buster’s. I was aggressively playing the claw machine. When you’re in a terrible mood, the whole world seems to conspire against you. I had blown way too much money on tokens, but I couldn’t grab a single plushie. I wanted to kick the machine through the wall. Julian plucked three tokens from my basket and started operating the joystick beside me. “When you play chess, you have to calm your mind. The same goes for the claw machine.” He handed me the Lotso Bear I had been failing to win for twenty minutes. “You look like you’re having a terrible time. Do you need someone to vent to?” As an introvert, I usually processed my problems internally. I rarely vented to anyone. But that day, I followed Julian to a spot with a beautiful view of the city skyline at night. Whenever Julian spoke, if he included a philosophical point or life advice, he always used chess as a metaphor. Coincidentally, I had outlined a novel a long time ago about a male chess prodigy. I had shelved it because my own understanding of chess was pathetic. I recognized Julian because I had watched his tournament videos on YouTube while researching the book. Maybe Julian could provide the inspiration I was missing for that story. Sometimes I hate how my brain works. The more chaotic and frustrated I feel, the more aggressively rational I become. “I use the silent treatment. I refuse to communicate. I have a million toxic flaws as a girlfriend, and I admit all of them,” I said, staring at the distant moonlight, my tone stubborn. “But he tried to use my flaws to justify his betrayal. I can’t accept that.” Julian looked up at the moon. The soft silver light washed over his face, highlighting his sharp jawline perfectly. “A rose’s thorns are part of its beauty, even if they draw blood.”

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To make sure my daughter got a decent meal, I took a massive risk and snuck her into the company’s annual banquet. I never expected the big boss to decide to “dine with the commoners” and sit at our exact table. My daughter blinked her big, innocent eyes at the CEO. The CEO looked back at her. She turned her head, called me “Mommy,” and then stared incredibly seriously at the CEO. “This is Mommy. Why aren’t you calling her Mommy?” 1 Instantly, every single eye at the table was glued to me and the CEO. I frantically slapped my hand over her mouth, laughing awkwardly. “Kids say the darnedest things! So silly!” Penny yanked my hand away and pointed innocently at my two coworkers. “Auntie Maya and Uncle Leo call you Mommy too!” Maya and Leo were our newest interns. I noticed they were always eating sad desk salads or ordering takeout, so I invited them over for dinner a few times. The two of them had been so overwhelmed with gratitude that they tearfully started calling me “Mommy.” I scooped Penny up in my arms and bolted. “Excuse us, she needs the restroom!” Penny struggled, trying to speak, but she was no match for my panicked adrenaline. I hauled her away. “Penelope, what did you promise me before we left the house?” I stood her against the wall, making her put her hands flat against her sides. I used my most serious Mom Voice. “Only eat, no talking,” she pouted, her lower lip sticking out as she immediately tried to act cute. “I’m sorry, Mommy! But I’m so hungry.” “When we go back, absolutely no talking!” I lightly tugged on her earlobe, and she dramatically winced and nodded. I had hoped the big boss would have moved to another table by the time we got back, but he was still sitting there. Seeing me return, my coworkers immediately tried to smooth things over, telling me the food was getting cold and urging me to eat. I was eating and keeping an eye on Penny when a piece of sweet and sour rib suddenly appeared on her plate. Before I could say thank you, Penny shrieked, “You didn’t use the serving chopsticks! That’s unsanitary!” Everyone’s heads snapped over, catching sight of the CEO’s chopsticks before he even had a chance to pull them back. Then, in perfect unison, everyone slammed their heads back down, pretending they had never looked up in the first place. The CEO coughed twice, picked the rib back up, grabbed the communal serving chopsticks, and placed a fresh piece on Penny’s plate. The little girl nodded in satisfaction. Then, using her own chopsticks, she dropped a piece of beef onto Liam Sterling’s plate. “Courtesy demands reciprocity.” It was like the two of them had initiated a localized automated protocol. They just kept going back and forth, serving each other food. I was incredibly embarrassed, but I also used the distraction to eat my weight in crab legs. I was very satisfied. Halfway through the banquet, Liam had to leave for another engagement. The moment he walked away, everyone at the table exhaled a massive sigh of relief. “Chloe, I swear my food wasn’t digesting while he was sitting here,” Leo groaned, watching Liam’s retreating back. “Me neither,” Maya quickly agreed. “I was too scared to even chew.” I looked over at little Penny, who was happily munching on a shrimp, and couldn’t help but give her a thumbs-up. 2 It was very late by the time we got home. Penny had run wild all day, so she crashed the second her head hit the pillow. I took a shower, crawled into bed, and my phone lit up. I opened my texts and saw a two-word message from a specific contact: [Come over.] After double-checking that Penny was dead asleep, I went next door. Before I even had a chance to scan my fingerprint, the door swung open from the inside. A pair of strong, muscular arms pulled me in and pinned me against the wall in the entryway. He gripped my waist, gently rubbing his nose against mine, and pecked my lips playfully. “Mommy?” My face turned burning red. “Kids don’t know what they’re saying.” He let out a low chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if considering the thought. “Well, she’s not entirely wrong.” Then he suddenly scooped me into his arms. By the time I opened my eyes again, it was 8:00 AM. I panicked, frantically throwing on my clothes, terrified that Penny would wake up and freak out when she couldn’t find me. Liam leaned back against the headboard. “I already had someone go over to your place.” “Who?” I asked. He frowned. “That kid you adopted at the office.” A second later, my phone rang. Maya’s voice came through the speaker: “Chloe! Penny is still asleep. Don’t worry about your business trip, I’ll watch her!” Knowing someone was with Penny, I let out a massive sigh of relief and slowed down my frantic dressing. Liam hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Since you’re awake, let’s get some exercise.” Liam was flying out for a business trip at noon. Before he left for the airport, he had someone deliver a massive order of steamed pork ribs to my apartment. It was my absolute favorite dish, and also Penny’s favorite. The clock on the wall hit 6:00 PM. I brought the ribs home and called Penny and Maya to the table for dinner. Last night was a rare exception; Liam almost never let me stay the night. We kept our relationship perfectly hidden. He was the untouchable CEO; I was an invisible assistant in the secretarial pool. He was going to be gone for three months this time. I felt an unprecedented wave of relief. On the first of every month, he wired money to my account. This time, he sent six months’ worth upfront. I took that money and took Penny to the fancy buffet she had been begging to go to. Liam had never treated me poorly, but I knew the day would eventually come when he got bored of me. When that day arrived, I would take Penny and leave San Francisco to move back to my hometown in the Midwest. It wasn’t as glamorous as SF, but the schools were decent, and more importantly, I wouldn’t have to live in constant fear of being discovered. I was incredibly thankful that Penny looked exactly like me. There wasn’t a trace of Liam in her features. But as she got older, some of her little mannerisms were becoming terrifyingly similar to his. It was starting to make me anxious. 3 Getting pregnant with Penny was a complete accident. Six years ago, I was a brand-new hire. The senior executive assistant had to travel, so I was temporarily assigned to accompany Liam to meet a client. It turned out someone had slipped something into his drink. I had just graduated. My grandmother was critically ill and needed surgery we couldn’t afford. In a moment of absolute desperation, I gritted my teeth, got into his bed, and planned to use it to blackmail him for the surgery money. But before I even had the chance to demand the hush money, the hospital called. My grandmother was failing. I dragged my exhausted body to the hospital, but I was too late. I didn’t have a dime. I couldn’t even afford to decide where she would be buried. Eventually, my relatives scraped together enough money to buy a plot in a public cemetery back in our hometown. Three days later, I went back to the office. The senior assistant had heard about my grandmother and told me to just go with the flow and try to live in the present. I forced a smile and nodded, even though I had my resignation letter drafted and ready to send. After what I did, being fired was the best-case scenario. I could have gone to jail. But what I expected didn’t happen. Instead, the company transferred me to the Austin branch “for professional development.” I was terrified, asking around to find out why I was being shipped off. The senior assistant just smiled and told me it was a good opportunity and not to worry. It wasn’t until later that I found out the person who actually drugged Liam was the head of the Austin branch. That woman threatened to jump off the building if Liam didn’t marry her. Liam immediately called her parents. To apologize and sweep it under the rug, her parents handed over a massive piece of commercial real estate to Liam’s company. “She’s been obsessed with Mr. Sterling forever,” a coworker gossiped. “She’s the daughter of a family friend. She used to work here at HQ, but they transferred her to Austin.” “Did you know about her and Mr. Sterling?” The coworker winked at me and started spilling all the colorful details… I was shocked. Did another girl go into his room after I left? “Weren’t there security cameras?” I asked, pretending to be casually curious. “Please, the princess planned it perfectly. She had the hallway cameras shut off in advance. If Mr. Sterling hadn’t played hardball, we probably would have all been invited to their wedding by now,” another older coworker chimed in knowingly. I let out a long exhale. I could finally tear up my resignation letter. “You lucked out,” someone else joked. “The Austin branch is smaller, but there’s plenty of money to be made there.” I just smiled and didn’t say anything. Not long after I got to Austin, I realized I was pregnant. My first instinct was to get an abortion. But I was so desperate for family. So desperate for a companion. After agonizing over it, I decided to keep the baby. Looking back, I was actually incredibly lucky. Just a few days after I found out I was pregnant, another coworker was transferred from HQ to Austin. They ended up taking on a lot of my workload. By the time I was transferred back to HQ, Penny was already learning how to talk. Everyone at the main office was shocked that I came back with a toddler. I fabricated a tragic story about getting engaged in Austin, but my fiancé dying in a car crash. Everyone was so sympathetic, telling me that having a child meant having a piece of him to hold onto. I forced a bitter smile and agreed. As for Liam and me… he was the one who approached me. He said we were both adults with physical needs. Since I already had a child, he knew I wouldn’t cling to him with unrealistic expectations like the younger girls. He also offered to move me into a much nicer, more secure building, and give me a generous monthly allowance. I just stared at his eyes, completely dumbfounded. “Does Ms. Vance feel the compensation is too low?” he asked. It wasn’t just “not low.” It was more than enough for Penny and me to live very comfortably. “It’s not low,” I replied, giving an honest assessment. He let out a low chuckle. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you get the short end of the stick.” 4 Liam texted me saying he wanted home-cooked food. The moment I saw the message, a wave of intense irritation washed over me. I had promised to steam fish for Penny tonight. I couldn’t just drop everything and go to his place. He usually didn’t ask to see me the day he got back from a business trip. This sudden ambush really annoyed me. Not long after I sent a text rejecting him, the doorbell rang. Penny cheered and ran to the door, chanting, “Penny’s boba! Penny’s boba!” I didn’t want her opening the door alone, so I followed her. I was absolutely stunned to see Liam standing in my entryway, looking like he had just stepped off a plane. “Mommy, we don’t have shoes for him,” Penny frowned, looking up at me. I was so caught off guard by his sudden appearance that the only thing I could do was hand him Leo’s extra pair of guest slippers. “Those are Uncle Leo’s,” Penny pouted. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy will buy Uncle Leo new ones,” I said, crouching down to hold her little hands. Suddenly, I felt an intense, burning gaze sweeping over me. I looked down and realized I had completely forgotten I was only wearing a thin silk camisole. While I was standing there panicking, the doorbell rang again. Liam smoothly opened the door and took a beige insulated bag from the delivery driver. “Penny’s boba!” Penny shrieked happily, reaching up with both hands to grab the bag from Liam. Liam kicked off his shoes—pointedly avoiding Leo’s slippers—and walked into my living room in his socks, holding the bag in one hand and putting the other in his pocket. Penny followed right behind him like an eager little puppy. He slowly and methodically pulled the boba cup out, poked the straw through the lid, and gestured for Penny to hold the cup with both hands. The little girl’s eyes were glued to the boba. She obeyed his every command. When she finally got her hands on it, she took a massive gulp and let out a very satisfied sigh. “Mommy, can I drink my boba and play on my iPad?” Her eyes screamed, Please do not say no to me. I nodded, and she bolted toward her bedroom with the boba. Once her door clicked shut, I finally had a second to deal with Liam. For once, I didn’t call him “Mr. Sterling.” I said, “Liam, why are you at my house?” He casually grabbed the second cup of boba from the bag and took a sip. “Too sweet.” Then he walked over to the entryway and dragged his carry-on suitcase inside. “I want to take a shower.” He said it so casually, like it was his own house. I did something incredibly childish and tried to physically push him out the door. Instead, I ended up trapped in his arms. “Be a good girl. Raising a kid takes a lot of money.” Liam’s tone was light, but there wasn’t a trace of a smile in his eyes. “Doesn’t it?” His words hit me like a slap to the face, waking me up immediately. Just because he had been a little accommodating lately, I had completely forgotten that I held zero leverage in this dynamic. I was getting arrogant. “Good girl. I’m going to shower,” he said, releasing me with a slow, leisurely smile. With an extra adult in the house, I grabbed some more vegetables from the fridge. I kept chopping and prepping, but my mind was a million miles away. I had changed out of the silk cami into a standard, practical cotton pajama set. Suddenly, a pair of slightly damp arms wrapped around my waist, and wet hair tickled my ear. “I’ve never seen you wear pajamas like this,” Liam whispered in my ear. 5 To keep him happy, I always made sure to wear sexy lingerie or silk nightgowns around him. This was the first time I was letting him see the domestic, everyday version of me. “Mommy!” Penny’s voice was getting closer. Liam released me like he had been electrocuted, instantly putting distance between us. “Did you finish it?” I asked. “No.” Penny always dragged out her syllables when she talked. “Mommy said I could only have a little bit, so Penny only drank a little bit.” “You’re so good.” I wiped my hands on my apron and patted her little head. “Can you go look at your picture books for a little while? Dinner will be ready soon!” Now that the sugar rush was settling down, Penny suddenly became very interested in Liam. “Mommy, who is he?” I glanced at Liam, completely freezing up. “I’m your mommy’s coworker,” Liam said, crouching down to her eye level. “Do you know what a coworker is?” “I know! Like Uncle Leo and Auntie Maya!” Penny looked incredibly proud of herself, clearly waiting for a compliment. “Not exactly the same.” Liam was about to keep talking, but I quickly cut him off. “Penny, ask the nice man to read you a storybook!” The second I said it, I realized how impulsive it was. I looked at him nervously, and sure enough, his brow was slightly furrowed. I tried to backpedal immediately. “Mr. Sterling, if it’s too much trouble…” “Let’s go,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’ve read to my friends’ kids before.” I let out a long sigh of relief, but a sudden wave of sadness hit me. This was the first time Penny was ever spending time with her father. 6 After dinner, Liam dragged me back to his place. Even though we had been intimate countless times, being alone with him still made me incredibly nervous. “How old is your daughter?” he asked. “Four,” I lied, shaving a year off. “Was it a C-section?” Liam asked. My hand instinctively reached toward my C-section scar, but he beat me to it. My hand ended up covering his. Our hands had intertwined a million times before. Whenever passion overwhelmed us, I would cling to him like a lifeline, his palms always radiating intense heat. He flipped his hand over and gripped mine tightly. “Did it hurt?” I forced myself to stay calm, terrified of what he was getting at. Did he somehow know? “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. But since he’s gone, I wanted to have a piece of him left in this world.” I dragged out my fabricated dead fiancé to use as a shield. Liam squeezed my hand harder. “You two must have been very much in love.” I couldn’t read the emotion in his voice, but the crushing grip on my hand made it very clear he was not happy. “I don’t like talking about the past,” I said, pulling away from his embrace. “I have to go. I can’t leave Penny home alone.” He didn’t say anything. He just leaned back against the headboard. The warm yellow light from the lamp spilled over him. I couldn’t clearly see his face, but I knew he wasn’t going to ask me to stay. The first thing I did when I got home was check on Penny. I loved staring at her face while she slept. People always say daughters look like their fathers. I was terrified of seeing Liam’s reflection in her face. Thankfully, she still had her baby fat. Forget looking like anyone specific, she just looked like a generic toddler. If you tossed her into a room full of kids, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to spot her right away. But tonight, seeing the two of them sitting next to each other at the dinner table… those subtle micro-expressions, the identical little habits… I closed my eyes, too scared to even think about it. Women are emotional creatures. Even though I had zero feelings for Liam when this started, things were different now. I felt like I was falling for him. I even had this insane, reckless urge to just tell him the truth—that Penny was his biological daughter. But then what? Would Liam even want her? And even if he did want Penny, would he want me? I stubbed out my cigarette, hid the pack back in its secret spot, and let the smoke drift out into the night air. I opened the balcony window, and the freezing wind slapped me in the face, waking me up completely. It was time to end this. 7 Some busybody posted the photos of Liam and Penny interacting at the banquet into the company group chat. [Do you guys think Chloe’s kid might actually be Mr. Sterling’s…] They didn’t finish the sentence, but… everyone knew exactly what they were implying. [No way. Chloe is way too plain. She’s not Mr. Sterling’s type at all.] [You guys need to stop gossiping. Chloe’s fiancé died in a car crash. The baby was born after he died.] An older coworker jumped in to defend me. [You guys need to watch your mouths. Little Penny already doesn’t have a dad, and now you’re making up disgusting rumors about her mom!] [Careful what you type…] More and more coworkers started taking my side. “These people are unbelievable,” Maya was even angrier than I was. “Penny looks nothing like the CEO.” “Penny is so adorable!” Leo huffed indignantly. “Mr. Sterling is nowhere near as likable as Penny.” The second the words left Leo’s mouth, Mr. Sterling coughed twice right behind him. There was a very important client standing next to him, desperately trying not to laugh. “Our CEO is a natural-born king,” Leo said without missing a beat, not breaking eye contact with his monitor. “We wouldn’t dare ‘like’ him. We only gaze upon him in awe from a distance.” Then, he turned around with a perfectly feigned look of surprise. “Oh! Mr. Sterling! You’re here!” Liam gave him a long, dark look before striding away. “I almost died,” Leo slumped against Maya’s desk. “How does the CEO walk without making a sound?” “Maya, can you please take this file to Mr. Sterling’s office for me?” Leo begged, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. “You’re scared? I’m scared too!” Maya shoved him away. “Get off me, stop trying to use me as a shield.” Leo turned his desperate, pleading eyes to me. With no other choice, I—the woman currently at the center of the company’s biggest scandal—had to step into the line of fire. “Liam, is that really your daughter?” “Do you actually believe that?” Before I even had a chance to knock, their conversation drifted out of the partially open door. “If she is, that’s great,” the client said. “Daughters are sweet.” “I don’t like kids,” Liam’s voice was freezing cold. “Especially fragile, whiny little girls. I can’t handle them.” I stood outside the door, the blood draining from my face. So he absolutely hated kids. Then why the hell did he read Penny a storybook? Forcing myself to stay calm, I knocked on the door. “Mr. Sterling, I have a contract that needs your signature.” “Come in.” He took the contract from my hands, signed it, and handed it back. “Ms. Vance.” “Do not bring your child to the office again. “Your salary is more than generous. You do not need to bring your child to company events just to get a free meal.” He handed me the signed contract without looking at me once. “I apologize, Mr. Sterling. It won’t happen again,” I said, keeping my face perfectly neutral, apologizing instantly. “Liam, you’re being too harsh,” the client chuckled. I shot the client a grateful look and quickly escaped that suffocating room.

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The day after my divorce was finalized and the assets were divided, I got into a car accident and woke up with amnesia. Later, my ex-husband, Liam, tracked me down. He told me that if I stopped acting crazy every day, he would consider remarrying me. I froze, biting down on my ice cream spoon. After a long pause, I finally spoke: “Yeah… no thanks! I… I… I’m actually perfectly fine just keeping the money.” 1 When I woke up, the first thing I saw was my best friend, Chloe, looking incredibly distressed. She told me not to be sad. She said my health was the most important thing, and even though I was divorced, I still had to live my life. She told me the kids would be fine living with Liam, and there was no point in fighting for custody because I wouldn’t win anyway. I just stared at her. After a long time, I couldn’t help but ask, “Who is Liam?” Chloe froze, a look of utter bewilderment on her face. A moment later, she snapped out of it and ran to get the doctor. The doctor said the trauma from the car crash had given me amnesia. Chloe hurriedly asked me how old I thought I was. I thought about it for a second. “I’m eighteen! Didn’t I just graduate high school yesterday?” Chloe burst into laughter. She squatted on the floor, laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach and punching my hospital bed. “Oh my god, Maya, you are… your amnesia is fantastic! Yes, you’re eighteen. Eighteen is amazing! There’s no Liam, no kids… just you and me…” I was even more confused. 2 Chloe took me home to her apartment once the doctors confirmed my memory wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Only then did she give me a brief rundown of my current situation. I am Maya Lin. During my freshman year of college, I fell in love with a broke guy named Liam Sterling. I dated Liam for ten years, from eighteen to twenty-eight. I stayed by his side while he built his startup, eating instant ramen and struggling together. I gave birth to his children, and I took care of his elderly parents. And then, this year, he dragged me to court and divorced me. “??? What?” I was absolutely shocked. What kind of tragic soap opera was my life? After a long pause, my voice trembled as I asked, “So, what you’re saying is, I acted as this guy’s unpaid servant for ten years, and at twenty-eight, I got kicked to the curb?” Chloe nodded. “Yes. You also have two kids. A son who’s six, and a daughter who’s four. But because you were a stay-at-home mom with no personal income, and both kids said they wanted to live with their dad, full custody was awarded to Liam.” “…What??? The two kids I busted my ass to raise are just gone…” Even though I didn’t remember any of this, it sounded absolutely horrifying. I was on the verge of tears. Then Chloe laughed and patted my shoulder. “Don’t be too sad. At least you have money.” Tears welling in my eyes, I tentatively asked, “How much?” Chloe sat up straight. “Maya, listen to me. You got 20% of Liam’s marital assets. That includes a 10% equity stake in three publicly traded companies, and two massive townhouses in Manhattan. It’s valued at roughly $260 million.” “…” Silence. Deep thought. Then, I cautiously asked, “Chloe, you aren’t messing with me, right?” “If I’m lying, I’m a dog.” That day, I stared out the window at the sky in a daze. I had lost ten years of memories. I had no idea how I had lived the past decade. But Chloe said I was rich. And when I was eighteen, the thing I loved most in the world was money. So I figured this wasn’t a bad deal at all. 3 Chloe took some time off work. For a few days, she dragged me around to various offices to finalize the transfer of assets. I didn’t see this Liam guy Chloe mentioned. He had outsourced all the asset division paperwork to his lawyers. We were busy for almost a month. After that, Chloe helped me list all the properties under my name for rent. She did the math for me. The monthly rental income alone would be around $160,000. That day, I stared at the endless string of zeros in my bank account. Then I looked up at the mirror. Staring back at me was twenty-eight-year-old me, looking incredibly polished and well-groomed. I scratched my head. Not bad at all. 4 I had nothing to do all day, but Chloe had to work. So I just stayed at her apartment and played video games. When Chloe ordered lunch for delivery, she always ordered a portion for me too. She worked late. When she finally got home, she looked like a zombie, collapsing onto the sofa completely dead to the world. I put down my controller and massaged her shoulders. Must have been muscle memory, because I gave a fantastic massage. Once Chloe recovered some energy, she started venting: “Liam is a literal monster. You started working for him for free the second you graduated. His mom was in poor health, so after you got off work, you had to massage her shoulders and rub her back.” “…” As she talked, Chloe got angry, grabbed my arm, and flicked my forehead. “Maya, you were so spineless! Whenever I wasn’t around, you just let them walk all over you! That whole family bullied you because they knew you didn’t have anyone else who cared about you.” I rubbed my forehead, feeling a little wronged. “But I don’t remember any of that! I only remember you.” Chloe stopped mid-rant, then laughed. “That’s true! You don’t remember, and it’s better that you don’t. As long as you remember me, that’s enough. I won’t bully you.” I believed her, because Chloe and I grew up together. We were both raised in the foster care system. When I was little, I followed Chloe everywhere. She fought for my snacks and washed my clothes. When we got older, she tutored me. She was a year older than me. When I was a senior in high school, she was a freshman in college, and she called me every single day to make sure I was studying. She wanted me to test into her university, but her scores were ridiculously high. I studied myself half to death, but I still didn’t have the grades to get into an Ivy League. The day the scores came out, I hugged Chloe and bawled my eyes out. Chloe flicked my forehead. “What are you crying for? You scored in the top five percent. That’s amazing. Why are you crying?” She patted my head. “You did great.” Later, I went to a university in Chicago, still crying about it. 5 Whenever Chloe brought it up, she was full of regret. She said she never should have let me go to Chicago. “If you hadn’t gone to Chicago, you wouldn’t have met Liam. And if you hadn’t met Liam…” I interrupted her eagerly. “Then I wouldn’t have $260 million!” Chloe put her hands on her hips. “What’s more important, the money, or the last ten years of your life?” I tried to guess the correct answer. “The money?” Chloe looked at me like I was a lost cause. “You! You are more important. If you’re miserable, all the money in the world is useless. Thank God you got amnesia. Otherwise, if you got depressed and did something stupid, what good would the money be?” “Umm… it could buy me a really nice mausoleum…” Chloe laughed out of pure exasperation. “Get out!” “…” Chloe had always been a powerhouse, and she still was. She was the General Manager of a multinational corporation, pulling in around $55,000 a month. But she was incredibly busy, sometimes traveling for work, and she was constantly worried about leaving me alone. So she started dragging me along on her business trips. Eventually, she figured that since she was bringing me everywhere anyway, she might as well not pay for it out of her own pocket. So she hired me at her company to be her executive assistant. I was thrilled! I had spent the last few months reading dozens of romance novels about billionaire CEOs falling in love with their cute assistants. On my first day, I confidently marched into the office wearing a sleek pencil skirt and blazer. I made her coffee, organized her files, and ran around doing errands. I looked like I was working incredibly hard. Eventually, she found it hilarious, told me to stop running around, and handed me a spreadsheet. “Have Ava show you how to do this. Take your time, there’s no rush.” “You got it, boss!” And just like that, I officially started working. 6 I went to work with Chloe and left with Chloe. I didn’t have much to do, so my tasks were usually finished early. Chloe, on the other hand, had a mountain of work. I would always wait for her in the breakroom. One day, she saw me sitting there watching online lectures on my phone. She suddenly realized something and asked me seriously, “Maya, do you want to go back to school?” “…I do.” Since I had amnesia, I didn’t know how to do a lot of office work. I was basically starting from zero, and every time I messed up, I felt pretty useless. When we were kids, Chloe was my role model, and she still was. I wanted to be like her—handling everything effortlessly. It was so cool. So Chloe enrolled me in classes. Every day after work, I would drive to a continuing education center. I took systematic project management courses, sprinkled with training on various enterprise software. I filled two entire notebooks before things finally started clicking. Oh, so that’s how it works. Once I finished those, Chloe signed me up for corporate accounting classes. I studied for a year, and I had a total epiphany. So that’s what all this means. Work started becoming a breeze. 7 After I had been working for a year, Chloe started having me shadow Ava on project negotiations. Ava was three years younger than me. She was a Project Manager, and her personality was amazing. She spoke very gently, and she took great care of me. One time, after a meeting, she went downstairs to buy herself a coffee and bought me an ice cream. I happily scooped up my ice cream, and Ava laughed. “Chloe told me you’re twenty-nine, but I swear I never believe it. Maya, you act like a kid! Like a really hardworking, obedient kid.” I thought about it for a second, then solemnly informed her, “I actually have two kids.” “Stop messing with me. We’ve worked together for over a year, and I’ve never even seen your husband.” “We’re divorced.” “Girl, you literally look like a teenager.” “Mhm… well, technically I’m a divorcée.” Ava was completely bewildered. She didn’t believe me, and I laughed, because honestly, I didn’t really believe it either. In my head, I had just finished high school. How could I be twenty-nine? But I had been eating well and living stress-free for two years, so I really did look young for my age. When I first got divorced, I apparently looked terrible and exhausted. But I guess millions of dollars is the best skincare routine. Right after I got out of the hospital, Chloe dragged me to all sorts of dermatologists and spas. She also said I was too weak and signed me up for MMA classes. As an eighteen-year-old in my mind, whatever Chloe said was gospel. If she said go east, I would never go west. If she said MMA, I wasn’t going to sign up for Taekwondo. We hired a private chef to make nutritious meals, and the healthier I ate, the better I looked. Since I had amnesia, I had zero emotional baggage. I had infinite money, didn’t need to work, and could eat and sleep as much as I wanted. Over those few months, even my hair got noticeably thicker. Honestly, the past year and a half had been incredible. I completely forgot the messy, miserable ten years I supposedly lived. My eighteen-year-old brain was a clean slate, soaking up new knowledge without any pressure, and Chloe was always behind me, supporting and guiding me. But I guess the universe couldn’t stand seeing me so comfortable. One day, while I was with Ava at a client’s office building, I ran into a guy. 8 Ava’s meeting that day was highly confidential, so I wasn’t allowed in. She left me in the lobby coffee shop to eat ice cream and read a book. Halfway through my book, I felt someone staring at me. I looked up and saw a man in a tailored suit, his brow tightly furrowed. He just kept staring at me. I froze. I felt like I recognized him, but I couldn’t put a name to the face. Later, when Ava came down from her meeting, I grabbed the coffee I had bought for her and walked over to meet her. As I brushed past the man, I heard him say, “Are we pretending not to know each other now?” The comment lacked any context. I gave him a weird look, ignored it, and walked out the door with the coffee. But the man followed us out. “Maya Lin, can’t even say hello when we run into each other?” I turned around, and Ava turned around with me. Ava saw the man and smiled politely. “Mr. Sterling! It’s been a while.” Liam ignored Ava completely, keeping his eyes locked on me. I looked at the guy. Mr. Sterling? Could this be… Liam? I whispered to Ava, “Is he Liam Sterling?” “Yeah! The CEO of Sterling Group. You know him?” “…Yeah, I think he’s my… ex-husband…” Ava was completely stunned. She looked at me, then at Liam, then back at me. Liam glared at me. I thought about it for a second, then held out my hand. “Hi.” Liam didn’t shake it. He looked at me, his eyes filled with contempt and mockery. “Maya, I underestimated you. I actually thought you were a good mother! In court, you fought so hard for Oliver and Lily, but the second you got your payout, you never came to see them once… Thank God the kids weren’t given to you. Someone like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother.” A sudden, inexplicable wave of grief washed over my heart. But once the sadness faded, I racked my brain and still couldn’t remember what Oliver and Lily looked like. “Maya, you better come visit this weekend. Otherwise, don’t even think about seeing Oliver and Lily for the rest of your life.” Liam walked away, leaving a deeply confused Ava and a very thoughtful me.

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I tried to win over the male lead ten times. Ten times I failed, all because of his best friend, Carter. On my eleventh attempt, the male lead and I were finally married. All I had to do was get pregnant, have a child, and my mission would be complete. Then Carter showed up again. He told the male lead that my entire relationship was a calculated scheme. The male lead immediately moved out and hired a lawyer to draft divorce papers. That very night, I hired someone to kidnap the culprit. Carter knelt before me, his hands bound tightly behind his back. Even though he was covered in bruises, his eyes were still arrogant and condescending. I sneered, using the toe of my shoe to tilt his chin up, and then pressed my foot flat against his cheek. I’ve been terrified of you for ten lifetimes. This time, it’s your turn to be afraid of me. Even while kneeling on the floor, Carter kept his back ramrod straight. His custom shirt had been whipped into shreds, hanging off his shoulders in ragged strips. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. When I tilted his chin up with my shoe, his chest heaved violently, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “What’s with that look?” I sneered, stepping on his shoulder and shoving him backward. The old wooden floorboards creaked loudly. He hit the ground hard, completely defenseless. The next second, I stepped forward and pinned his abdomen with my foot. “Who gave you permission to look at me?” He stared straight into my eyes, his face completely expressionless, but the blatant mockery in his gaze was impossible to hide. I slid my foot down an inch, stopping just in time, and watched him with cruel amusement. “Stop!” That perpetually emotionless face finally cracked. His voice was tight, carrying a hint of barely concealed panic. “Stop~” I dragged out the syllable, acting innocent, and stepped down hard. “But you didn’t tell my foot to stop.” Carter’s face went rigid. His voice trembled, and his breathing grew heavy. “Let me go. I won’t press charges.” “Let you go?” I moved my foot and watched him instinctively curl in on himself. “Can you even walk out of here like this?” “How about I help you wash up before sending you out?” His eyes were bloodshot. His bound hands struggled fiercely behind his back. Before he could move his legs, I straddled his waist, pinning him down. “You have to take your clothes off to take a bath.” I tapped his designer belt buckle with my finger. “Tell me, should we take your pants off first,” I moved my hand up to the ruined buttons on his chest, “or your shirt?” His ragged panting slowed. His eyes grew hazy, as if his brain was short-circuiting. I let my guard down. I didn’t expect him to suddenly jerk his knees upward. I lost my balance and crashed hard onto the floor. Carter used the opportunity to shuffle toward the door, trying to lean against the wall to stand up. But I was faster. I grabbed the bucket of saltwater I had prepared and splashed it all over his open wounds. He didn’t even cry out in pain. He was a tough bastard. But so what? Watching Carter crawl on the ground like a drowned rat, I grabbed him by the hair and delivered a sharp chop to the back of his neck. He lost consciousness instantly. Dealing with a guy this massive was a nightmare. Tying him to the heavy iron bed frame took half my life. After making sure all the doors and windows of the abandoned warehouse were locked, I finally felt secure enough to drive away. Now, it was time to go win back my male lead. Carter and I were two parallel lines that should never have crossed. But for ten lifetimes, every time I was on the verge of finally winning over the male lead, my momentum would plummet—all because of Carter. The first time, Carter invited the male lead out to dinner. The male lead met his “destined” female lead and dumped me. The second time, I drove the male lead to Carter’s place. On the way back, I got into a horrific car crash and died on the spot. The third time, before I even managed to establish a relationship with the male lead, I accidentally offended Carter. He had me shipped overseas to do grueling manual labor. The following attempts all failed because of him too. And no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t avoid him. Carter was the exact type of person I feared most. Old money, gorgeous looks, and incredibly ruthless. The scariest part was that he had zero weaknesses and couldn’t be threatened. Whenever the male lead was around him, he turned into a loyal lapdog. If Carter said walk a straight line, he would never dare to turn around. During my fifth attempt, the male lead took me to meet Carter. Carter looked at me like I was radioactive trash. He explicitly warned the male lead not to bring random strays into their circle. I knew he looked down on me, so I avoided him like the plague. I never went anywhere near him. I never expected that this time, after Hudson and I were already legally married, Carter would demand Hudson divorce me. And Hudson, stupid as a rock, actually believed the so-called “dossier of evidence” Carter provided. He accused me of having ulterior motives and brought in a lawyer to negotiate my exit. I admit, winning him over was my system-assigned mission, but my love for him wasn’t fake. In every single attempt, I only had eyes for him. For him, I racked my brains to orchestrate the perfect “accidental” first meeting. I worked tirelessly to mold myself into his exact ideal type. I never wore the same date outfit twice. I even did his group projects for him in college. After all that suffering, now that we were finally together, he wanted a divorce? No way. My informant told me Hudson was currently at our penthouse packing his bags. I didn’t waste a single second and drove straight home. “Hudson, what do I have to do to make you believe my feelings are real?” Opening the door and seeing Hudson walking out with his suitcase, I threw my arms around his waist, not caring about my pride. “Hazel, stop being immature.” He didn’t stroke my hair like he used to. His words were sharp, carrying a hint of warning. “You’re sentencing me to death just because of a few pieces of paper from Carter?” I buried my face in his chest. “I love you. Even if I schemed to meet you, it was only because I wanted to be with you.” “Hazel, when a relationship is built on calculation, it’s poisoned.” He mercilessly pried my fingers apart. “Also, I don’t like it when you talk about Carter that way.” Then he strode out the door. When he loved me, he was so afraid I’d be lonely that he’d stay on FaceTime with me while we slept. When he stopped loving me, he left me all alone in an empty, echoing house. It was all Carter’s fault! If it weren’t for Carter, I would have succeeded a long time ago. I checked the time on my phone. It had been three hours. Carter should be waking up right about now. Good thing I drove fast. Carter had already managed to free one of his legs. I sneered and slapped him hard across the face. “You broke my bed.” Carter really did have delicate, expensive skin. Half of his face swelled up immediately. I grabbed his leg, tied it back to the iron post, and viciously slapped the other side of his face. “Now it’s symmetrical.” He was like a brick wall, refusing to utter a single syllable. “Speak,” I demanded, squatting by the bed. “Doesn’t it hurt?” I poked his bleeding lip. He still didn’t make a sound. “That’s fine.” I didn’t care. I leaned in closer, letting my dark hair brush against his ear, cheek, and neck. “Carter, you’re going to beg me.” He squeezed his eyes shut and refused to look at me. I shrugged, pulled up a chair, and sat next to him to play games on my phone. I also placed a decorative water-drip hourglass on the nightstand. I watched a movie on my phone for two hours. My back ached, so I stood up to stretch. I glanced at the man on the bed, who was resting with his eyes closed. I smiled. Let’s see how long you can last. Another movie, another two hours. The person on the bed was getting restless. Without the movie playing out loud, the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of the hourglass became agonizingly clear in the silent warehouse. Carter’s brow furrowed, and his breathing became erratic. I glanced at him again, the corners of my lips curling up into a smirk. Half an hour later, the expected voice sounded: “Hazel, let me go.” “What did you say?” I stood by the bed. “I couldn’t hear you.” “Let me go.” His body was already contorting against the ropes, but he couldn’t see how pathetic he looked. “Let you go to do what?” I asked again. “You know what.” The veins on his forehead bulged, and the sound of his hands struggling against the restraints grew violent. “I don’t know what you mean.” I continued playing dumb. “Hazel!” His voice grew more intense. “Let me go, and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” “Beg me.” I felt a sick thrill of excitement. “Hazel!” His arrogant calmness was entirely gone. He looked like a mindless, cornered beast. I watched his frantic state with cold eyes. He looked exactly like the way he had looked at me during my third attempt—like I was nothing but a disgusting insect. “Please.” He finally surrendered. “What did you say?” I asked. “Please.” He closed his eyes in ultimate defeat. I knew I shouldn’t push him too far over the edge. I smiled brightly. “Alright, I promise.” Then I turned around and started walking toward the door. “Hazel!” He panicked. “Why aren’t you untying me?” “Untying what?” I looked innocent. “You promised me.” “Yeah, I promised you.” I said nonchalantly. “What exactly did I promise you?” He froze, completely unsure of what to say. I laughed. “Since I promised… “I promise I won’t look. “Help yourself.” I originally only wanted to scare Carter. I didn’t expect his mental defenses to shatter so easily. He lay on the bed like a corpse, his breathing barely perceptible. When I changed his torn clothes earlier, he didn’t even put up a fight. “Carter?” I called his name. His eyes were vacant. He didn’t seem to hear me at all. “Should I untie you?” I asked again. He still stared blankly at the ceiling, his eyes devoid of life. Oh my god, did I break his brain? I untied one of his hands. He didn’t react, so I untied the other. His legs were still bound, so I wasn’t afraid of him attacking me. But he just lay there on the bed, completely motionless. I started to panic. My first instinct was to run. As long as I was alive, I could try again. Worst case, I’d just restart the route and wipe my memory. I still had chances. I didn’t even bother locking the doors or windows. I drove away as fast as I could. When I got home, I packed my bags, bought the earliest flight out of New York, and settled down in a remote border town in Montana. For a whole month, absolutely nothing happened, except for Hudson calling me constantly to demand we finalize the divorce papers. I contacted my informant, asking if there was any major news in the city recently. My informant sent me a question mark. Before I could hint further, the informant sent another message saying the only big news was that the Vance family was pouring billions into overseas investments, and the head of the family was personally moving to Europe to oversee it. The head of the Vance family—wasn’t that Carter? It seemed he hadn’t lost his mind. I breathed a massive sigh of relief, but then my heart leaped into my throat again—he was definitely going to hunt me down to settle the score. The System urged me to speed up my progress. The progress bar had been stagnant for a month. It also delivered some devastating news: if I didn’t succeed on this attempt, my request to “return to the real world and resurrect my grandmother” would be permanently denied. I asked my informant how long Carter would be out of the country. The informant replied: a year at minimum, maybe three to five years. Without Carter in the way, I could finish Hudson’s romance route in six months tops. Once that was done, I’d negotiate with the System. By the time Carter got back to the US, I’d already be back in my original dimension. High risk, high reward. I immediately booked a flight back to New York to continue my mission. I never expected that the moment I stepped out of baggage claim, a group of men in suits would grab me. And the man who was supposedly “in Europe” was now sitting right in front of me in a private lounge. Except this time, the person kneeling on the floor… was me. His subordinates all left the room, leaving just me and Carter in the massive, dimly lit space. He toyed with a silver Zippo lighter in his hand. The flame flickered out, then flared up, then flickered out again, perfectly mimicking my erratic heart rate. Then I thought about it—he’s just a fictional character in a novel. What’s there to be afraid of? My fear vanished instantly. I raised my chin and glared up at him, a faint, mocking smirk playing on my lips. “What are you smiling at?” He stopped spinning the lighter, looking at me with a mix of confusion and a hint of dark madness. “Who gave you permission to sit?” I demanded. In an instant, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and a loud, nervous gulp echoed in his throat. “Kneel,” I commanded. The next second, Carter dropped to his knees on the rug like a programmed robot. His face flushed a deep crimson, and he was trembling like a leaf. I wasn’t completely clueless about what was happening, but I still felt like I was crossing a very dangerous, bizarre line. “Untie me,” I continued. His eyes grew icy, flashing with pain and a hint of intense reluctance. “Be good,” I said, my voice dropping to a seductive whisper. With just a few words, our positions were swapped once again. I was ecstatic. Hudson was Carter’s most loyal follower. If Carter was now obedient to me, completing Hudson’s romance route would be a piece of cake. Stroking Carter’s soft black hair as he knelt before me, I slapped him across the face twice without hesitation. “Who gave you permission to tie me up?” He suddenly acted like a wronged Golden Retriever, grabbing my hand, wanting to blow on my palm to soothe it. I immediately yanked it away. “Don’t touch me.” He knelt there, completely at a loss for what to do. His lips opened and closed for a long time before he finally whispered, “I didn’t tell them to tie you up.” “Carter.” I leaned in close. He visibly brightened, a faint, eager blush spreading across his cheeks. “I don’t like it when you talk back.” His face paled, and he lowered his head, staying perfectly silent. “I don’t like it when you’re silent, either,” I added. Hearing this, Carter’s head snapped up. Tears were actually welling in his beautiful eyes. “Don’t dislike me.” “Then you need to be good.” I gently touched his swollen cheek. “Does it hurt, Carter?” He took the opportunity to grab my hand again, but let it go the second my eyes narrowed in warning. “No.” I knew how to play the game—a slap followed by a piece of candy. “But it hurts me to see it.” “Don’t be hurt.” He struggled, unsure of what to call me. I touched his cheek again. “Call me Hazel.” He shyly lowered his head, then quickly looked back up. Like a kid who had just stolen a taste of honey, his eyes were full of undeniable, desperate joy. “Hazel.” “Good boy.” I took his hand. “What do you want for a reward?” “Can Hazel kiss me?” He squeezed his eyes shut nervously, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. I gave him a quick, dismissive peck on the forehead, not missing the flicker of deep disappointment in his eyes. “Hazel, don’t go.” I stood up, preparing to leave. My main mission today was to find Hudson. I had already wasted way too much time here. Carter was anxious, but I didn’t let him get up. He had to stay kneeling. “Count to one hundred and eighty, then you can get up.” Looking at his desperate, pleading eyes, I smiled. “I like it when you listen to me, Carter.” The System told me that Hudson would meet the “destined” female lead—who was working part-time as a waitress—at a charity gala tonight, playing out a classic “hero saves the beauty” trope. I had to step in and save her before he did, severing their romantic connection before it even started. Sure enough, when I arrived, the female lead was already surrounded by a group of sleazy trust-fund kids. Luckily, no one else had noticed yet. I marched over, gave the brats a harsh scolding, and then comforted the female lead. I lied and told her that her college dorm RA was doing a surprise room check, urging her to hurry back to campus. She had always been a stellar, obedient student, so she believed me completely. But she was worried about leaving her shift unattended. Right on cue, a waitress I had hired in advance appeared to take over. The female lead successfully left the gala. With that baggage handled, I scanned the room for Hudson, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. At 8:00 PM sharp, Hudson appeared. Though he wasn’t as terrifyingly powerful as Carter, he was still a highly sought-after young CEO. People lined up to hand him their business cards. I seized the opportunity and stepped right in front of him. I hadn’t seen him in a month. A wave of grievance washed over me, and my nose stung. After attempting this route so many times, my feelings for him couldn’t be explained in just a few words. When things were good between us, I had genuinely planned to give him a child before I left his world forever. The crowd tactfully dispersed, leaving Hudson and me face-to-face. “Why didn’t you come looking for me?” I pouted, throwing a tantrum like I always used to, waiting for him to coax me. “I tried calling you.” His voice was distant and cold. “Now that you’re back, let’s finalize the paperwork. The cooling-off period for the divorce is over.” “Hudson, you weren’t like this before.” I held my hand up in front of him. The wedding ring on my ring finger sparkled under the chandeliers. “Did you forget what you promised me?” Hudson had custom-made that wedding ring, inlaying it with a circle of crushed diamonds. Back then, I told him the crushed diamonds were too flashy, and that a single stone or a plain band would be fine. But Hudson had looked at me and said that setting every single diamond was like kissing my eyes. “Don’t forget to give the ring back to my lawyers.” His eyes were completely dead, as if he was discussing a mundane business transaction. “Hudson, look me in the eyes.” I grabbed the lapels of his suit. “I don’t believe you feel absolutely nothing for me anymore.” “You know me.” He gently but firmly removed my hands. “I’ve always hated deception.” “What are you two doing?” Carter’s voice suddenly rang in my ears like a death knell. Staring at the culprit who ruined my life every single time, I shook with anger. Hudson took the chance to push me away. I tried to chase after him, but Carter grabbed my arm. “Hazel, didn’t you two get divorced?” I slapped him across the face. The entire banquet hall fell dead silent. “No,” I said, enunciating every syllable. He didn’t even get mad. He just pulled me tightly into his arms. I struggled furiously but couldn’t break free. He practically carried me out of the venue. In the backseat of his Maybach, Carter held my hand, asking if it hurt. “Are you sick in the head?” I couldn’t help but curse at him. “If Hazel says I’m sick, then I’m sick.” He didn’t care at all. He brought my palm to his lips and gently blew on it. His warm breath gathered in my palm. I instinctively curled my hand into a fist, but Carter pried my fingers open one by one, refusing to let go. When we got to his penthouse, he took his shirt off and handed me a leather riding crop. “If Hazel is unhappy, you can hit me.” I lashed his back twice, but seeing the twisted mix of restraint and pleasure on his face, I was so disgusted I threw the crop across the room immediately. “Is Hazel feeling better?” he asked softly. “No,” I said. “Then what will make you feel better?” Carter asked. “Bring Hudson to me.” I blurted out. Carter lowered his head and fell dead silent. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I mocked him. “I’m going home.” “If Hazel wants to see him, I’ll bring him to you.” He put his shirt back on. Before he left, he gave me a deep, lingering look, his eyes hiding emotions I couldn’t decipher. What kind of look was that? It seemed mostly lonely, but overflowing with a kind of devastating, pathetic sadness. “Hazel, you rest here.” He gently closed the door. “I’ll go.” The next morning, just as Carter promised, Hudson appeared before me. Like a happy little bird, I sat down next to him on the sofa. “Hudson! You came to see me?” “I came for your signature,” he said coldly. “The divorce papers.” “Hudson, do you really have to talk to me like this?” My heart, which had been so full of hope, felt like it had been dumped in a bucket of ice water. “I told you, I just want to be with you.” “Do you really want to humiliate me like this?” Like a wounded animal, I slumped back into the cushions, my eyes heavy with unbearable disappointment. Right at that moment, the System’s robotic voice echoed in my head: [Correction, correction. Capture target error.] I snapped my head up, only to hear the System continue: [Capture target error. Downloading patch… Updating automatically… New mission generated: Redeem Carter.] [The mission is much easier now! Carter already loves you,] the System babbled excitedly. [All you have to do is fall in love with him.] [Hurry up and complete the mission. Your grandmother is still waiting for you to resurrect her in the real world.] The sudden mission change hit me like a ton of bricks. I had tangled with Hudson for ten agonizing lifetimes, and now you tell me to change targets?! Fury burned in my chest like a raging inferno. I looked at Hudson, who looked half-dead and completely checked out. “Hudson, let me tell you something. Plenty of guys like me. If you don’t care about me, I won’t waste my time bothering you anymore.” I jumped off the sofa. “Get out. Get as far away from me as possible.” “I was actually worried you’d be lonely! I actually wanted to have your kids! “Hudson, you don’t deserve me!” Tears betrayed me and spilled down my face. What did I do wrong to be treated like a plaything? The System had found me and told me that as long as I married Hudson and had a child with him, it would resurrect my grandmother. Ten times. Ten lifespans. Let alone a person, if you poured your heart and soul into a lifeless rock ten times, it would be impossible to just let go. What gave the System the right to easily say “change targets”? What gave them the right to erase all my past efforts, all my pain, with a simple software patch? “Sign it.” Hudson handed me the divorce papers. “You’ve already moved into Carter’s house. Sign it now so it doesn’t get in the way of you and him.” I wiped the tears from my face, took the pen, and neatly signed my name. He took the papers and walked away without looking back. “Hudson.” I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to him. “There’s no future for us anymore.” He didn’t turn around. His steps only grew faster. I stared at his retreating back, my vision blurring with tears. He turned and grabbed my hand, complaining, “Hazel, if you walk any slower, we’ll miss the fireworks.” “But Hudson, I can’t walk anymore. Will you carry me on your back?” “I can never say no to you. Hurry up and hop on. I told you those heels were bad for walking…” When my vision finally cleared, I was alone in this massive house again. There was only the heavy mahogany door. No more Hudson. Carter was incredibly happy when he walked in. His eyes sparkled, looking at me like a clear spring of water. Thinking about the new mission the System gave me, I initiated the conversation. “Carter, why are you so happy?” He pulled me onto his lap and buried his face in my chest. “Hazel, we can finally be together.” “Weren’t we already together?” I asked him. “Hazel, I’m going to treat you so well.” Afraid I wouldn’t believe him, he placed my hand over his heart. Beneath my palm, his heart was beating wildly. The man in front of me was overflowing with love. [Hurry up and tell him you love him too! Give him a little sugar, don’t let the plot stall here!] the System urged. Remembering my mission, I forced myself to nod at Carter. But that night, I had nightmares. I dreamed of Carter’s disdainful glares. I dreamed of him shipping me out of the country. I dreamed of everything he had done to me in my past lives. Not a single memory was associated with happiness; every single one was wrapped in terror and humiliation. I struggled awake from the dream, saw his terrified, anxious eyes staring down at me, and fainted from sheer panic. When I woke up again, it was noon. The sunlight stung my eyes. “Hazel, you’re awake.” Carter, who was lying next to me, pulled me into his arms. “You were having a nightmare.”

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