Five years. That’s how long I was gone. Sold into the armpit of rural nowhere, living a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. And now, just days after being rescued, my husband, Caleb Thorne, looks at me with an expression that is chillingly casual. “I arranged the kidnapping,” he says, his voice as smooth as glass. “I was right there in the alley when they shoved you into the van.” My entire body goes rigid. Before I can process the words, my older brother, Elias, the wealthiest real estate mogul in Chicago, chimes in. “I put up the cash for it.” “The plan was only to leave you out there for three years as punishment,” Elias continues, checking his expensive watch. “But Tristan was worried you hadn’t learned your lesson yet. He thought you’d come back and start bullying Maya again.” “He insisted you stay out there another two years.” Tristan. The orphan my family took in when we were kids. My foster brother. While they made their plans, I spent every night of those five years being brutally pinned down by stranger after stranger. My belly grew big six times, only to be forced small again. I tried to die, but they wouldn’t let me. I tried to escape, and they shattered both my legs. Now, I stand here on cheap, government-issued prosthetics. Through every agonizing second, the desire to see these three men again was the only thing that kept me breathing. And now I know they are the architects of my hell. The blood in my veins turns to ice. I shiver uncontrollably, my voice coming out as a raspy whisper. “Why? Why did you destroy me?” Elias and Tristan look away, shifting uncomfortably. Caleb is the only one who can look me in the eye. “You were a spoiled bitch, Elara. You used our love for you as a weapon to torture Maya. We just wanted you to grow up a little. To learn some humility.” “Maya is pregnant with my child now,” he adds, dropping the bombshell with zero emotion. “If you can’t accept that, we can get a divorce.” A coppery taste fills my mouth. Then, a ping echoes in my brain—a sound I haven’t heard in years. [Host, do you wish to abandon your mission to redeem these three villains and detach from this world?] The System. It has been silent since the day I decided to stay here permanently, years ago. Hearing it now makes me feel disconnected from reality. I look at Caleb’s stone-cold face. I look over at Elias and Tristan, who are hovering over Maya on the sofa, discussing what pre-natal meals the chef should prepare for her. A sharp, stabbing pain rips through my chest. Five years ago, they told me they had been in a terrible car accident on the way to my birthday party. I was terrified. I loved them more than anything. I took a shortcut through a dark alley to get to the hospital faster. I never made it. I was snatched in the dark, and my living interment began. I thought I had finally been rescued by the men who loved me. Instead, they are telling me it was all an elaborate prank to avenge Maya. “Detach,” I whisper inside my mind. [Confirmed. Initiating 8-hour countdown. Since this is an abrupt departure, the Host must ensure all three villains are present at the time of detachment.] I start laughing through my tears. A wild, broken sound. Caleb steps forward, reaching out to wipe a tear from my cheek. His touch is gentle, a terrifying echo of the man I thought he was. “You don’t have to divorce me if you don’t want to,” he says softly. “It’s just… Maya has been treated delicately these past few years. You can’t lay a hand on her again. Ever.” “Since the abuse you suffered rendered you infertile, Maya said she’s willing to let you raise the baby as your own. To keep up appearances for the Thorne name.” I had Caleb’s child once. I was seven months pregnant when Maya pushed me down a flight of stairs. We lost the baby. When I woke up in the hospital, I went insane. I tried to claw Maya’s eyes out. Caleb stopped me. He slapped me across the face and locked me in our house. The moment I was physically recovered from the miscarriage, I was kidnapped and sold to the hills. My throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Speaking hurts. “Because I slapped Maya one time… you punished me like this?” “Yes,” Caleb replies, dead serious. “You were incompetent. You couldn’t save your own child, yet you blamed Maya. You were acting hysterical, not fitting of a woman in your position.” “As long as you behave yourself from now on, I promise I won’t send you away again.” My face wet with tears, I stare at Elias. “Since you lied to me for five years, why tell me the truth now?” Elias sighs, rubbing his temples. Tristan looks at me with terrifying self-righteousness. “You and Maya are sisters, Elara. We needed you to really digest this lesson so that moving forward, you’ll protect her just like we do.” Protect her? The dam breaks. I grab an expensive vase from the side table and smash it onto the floor. I yank up the sleeves of the oversized sweatshirt they gave me, exposing the horrific, overlapping scars on my arms. “They tortured me day and night!” I scream, breaking down. “The men you paid… they did this! And my legs…” “Enough!” Caleb barks, cutting me off. The disgust in his eyes is palpable. “Even the special effects makeup for those fake scars looks real. I see you haven’t learned a damn thing.” Elias and Tristan look at me with profound disappointment. Caleb grabs my wrist roughly, drags me to the end of the hall, and shoves me into a walk-in storage closet. “If you haven’t learned how to submit by the time Maya gets back from her appointment, I’ll personally drive you back to that village myself.” He slams the door, locking it from the outside. His threat triggers a full panic attack. The trauma is deep in my bones. I can practically feel the chains clanking around my prosthetic ankles again. I pound on the door, my voice raw and broken. “I’ll sign the divorce papers! Please, don’t send me back there! I’ll do anything, just don’t send me back!” I don’t know how long I scream. My hands, still tender with old, unhealed wounds, are bleeding onto the wood before the door finally opens. Elias stands there. Seeing my dishevelled hair and swollen, red eyes, his initial look of concern instantly shifts to annoyance. “You just got back and all you do is throw tantrums. Can’t you just be quiet for five minutes?” He shoves me out of the way. I weigh less than ninety pounds now. I collapse onto the hardwood floor instantly. Elias freezes for a fraction of a second, then sneers. “Acting pathetic again? You think that’s going to make me let you out of the house?” Despite everything, my heart still flinches at his cruelty. My big brother never used to speak to me with such malice. I’m a transmigrator. I’ve been in this world since I was an infant. Our mother died in childbirth, and Elias practically raised me single-handedly. He used to treat me like I was made of glass. He wanted to give me the world on a silver platter. When the System first told me my mission was to redeem three potential villains to save this world, I tackled it head-on. I forced myself onto Caleb until he fell for me. I brought Tristan, a starving runaway, into our home. Elias never criticized me for it. In fact, he told Caleb and Tristan that I was a princess who deserved to be spoiled. Everyone in this city knew that you could offend Vance, Thorne, or Burke, but you absolutely never offended Elara Vance. In my original world, I was an unloved orphan. I had never known what it felt like to be cherished. So, when the mission was accomplished and I was certain they wouldn’t turn evil, I chose to stay in this world. I chose them. Until Elias brought dad’s secret illegitimate daughter, Maya, home. He held me while I cried about the affair, swearing to me, “Elara, dad is gone. Maya is technically our sister; we can’t just leave her on the street.” “I promise you, I’m only giving her a roof and some food. I won’t love her like I love you.” I didn’t like it, but I didn’t fight him. I didn’t realize Maya wouldn’t be satisfied with just a roof. I was the obstacle in her way. One day, as Elias was walking down the stairs, she poured boiling hot soup on herself and fell to her knees, sobbing at his feet. “Elias, help me! Elara tried to ruin my face!” When Caleb had a high fever and was delirious, I stayed by his side all night. The moment he opened his eyes, Maya pushed me out of the way and flopped onto his chest, crying. “Oh, Grant, you’re finally awake! I’ve been right here all night, I was so scared.” I used my own money to help Tristan’s startup survive a financial crisis. Maya made sure she was there when he found the funds. She slapped herself across the face, bruising her own cheek, and whispered to him while sniffling: “Tristan, don’t worry. I won’t tell Elara that I was the one who put up the money. Let her have the credit. I just want you to be okay.” Lie after lie, credit stolen time after time. They became increasingly disappointed in me. And the way they looked at Maya became increasingly tender. Even on the day Caleb married me, his face was a mask of resentment. I couldn’t handle the shift. I screamed, I cried, I begged Caleb, only to receive a cold retort. “Elara, if you can’t handle it, we can get a divorce.” By then, I had just found out I was two months pregnant. I didn’t want my baby to grow up without a father, so I swallowed my pride. I submitted. Until I lost the baby. All that pent-up rage exploded. I slapped her once. And for that one slap, I got five years of living hell. The countdown hologram flashes in my vision, pulling me back to the present. 6 hours left. I sway as I stand up, meeting Elias’s mocking gaze. My voice is devoid of all emotion. “I’m not acting. Since none of you like me anymore…” “Then give me the divorce papers and a legal severing of our sibling relationship.” Before I leave this world, I want no strings attached. No connection to them. There’s no point in fighting anymore. It’s meaningless. Just as the words leave my mouth, a heavy sound slams against the front door. Caleb is standing there, his face dark, with Maya clinging to his arm, her eyes red from crying.

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When my sister-in-law, Mia, racked up fifty million dollars in illegal offshore gambling debts, she skipped the country. But before she vanished, she left the loan sharks with my personal contact information. By the time the compounding interest ballooned the debt to a staggering one hundred million dollars, a crew of vicious, heavily tattooed debt collectors finally cornered me at my front door. I spent an agonizing half-hour desperately trying to reason with them, finally convincing them to give me a few days to figure things out before they left. Only then did my husband and mother-in-law nervously creep out of their hiding spot in the back bedroom. My husband, Liam, was deathly pale. “Let’s get a divorce. I’ll walk away with absolutely nothing if I have to. You incurred this debt, you carry it yourself. Don’t even think about dragging me down with you.” No matter how many times I frantically explained that it was his sister who owed the money, he absolutely refused to believe a word I said. My mother-in-law marched right up to me and delivered a brutal, stinging slap across my face. “You lying bitch! You’re trying to bankrupt my son to pay off your own filthy debts, and now you have the audacity to frame my daughter?! Divorce! You are getting a divorce right this second!” “And you know what? I’ll tell you the truth right now. Liam already has someone else on the side! It’s your best friend! So give up your pathetic delusions and sign the papers!” Wait a second. I actually have a hundred million dollars in liquid assets. I originally just wanted to ask if they needed me to dip into my accounts for an emergency bailout. How did this suddenly escalate into a divorce demand and a voluntary confession of infidelity? Well, if that’s how they want to play it, they can pay off his sister’s catastrophic debt themselves. My throat felt like sandpaper as I forced the words out: “You… you have someone else? It’s Sarah? Since when?” Liam turned his head, looking at me with pure, unadulterated disgust. “Chloe, so what if it is? Is it any of your business?” “Don’t even try to beg me to stay! I absolutely refuse to be married to a worthless, debt-ridden loser who doesn’t even have the guts to own up to her own mistakes.” I stood frozen in the middle of the living room, completely incapable of forming a single sentence. Seeing me paralyzed, my mother-in-law, Martha, stepped forward and kicked me hard in the shin. “Did you hear him?! Tomorrow morning, we’re going straight to the courthouse! Divorce!” Having delivered her verdict, she turned to Liam with a wicked, conspiratorial smirk. “Thank God you made sure to slip her those pills every time you slept with this useless trash.” “Otherwise, she’d definitely try to use a pregnancy to trap you into paying off her debts!” I honestly couldn’t believe my own ears. “You… you’ve been secretly feeding me birth control?” No wonder my stomach had remained completely flat throughout three years of marriage. Martha had publicly humiliated me in front of relatives and friends on countless occasions, calling me a “barren, defective woman,” and even aggressively forcing me to undergo invasive fertility testing at the hospital. The medical results came back perfectly normal, and the issue was eventually swept under the rug. It turned out that Liam had been secretly crushing pills into my food and drinks the entire time. He had been intentionally rendering me infertile, all while plotting to let his mistress have his children. Liam let out a cold, arrogant scoff. “Why don’t you think about how your family treated me? The way they handled the dowry and the wedding expenses… I was disgusted from day one!” Martha spat on the floor. “Exactly! The pathetic dowry your parents put together… they dragged it out for months, humming and hawing before finally handing it over. It was so incredibly cheap and embarrassing. I didn’t even want my son to marry you that day.” My mind flashed back to our wedding three years ago. Originally, we had agreed on a symbolic dowry of $99,999, just for the auspicious numbers. But on the morning of the wedding, Martha literally blocked the door of the bridal limousine. She refused to let me get in unless my parents handed over an additional “door-opening fee” of $100,000 in cash. I was furious and felt it was entirely out of line, but Liam sat in the limo, playing the victim, whispering that his mother “had a really hard life” and begging me to be understanding. I gritted my teeth and had the money transferred. Later, when the limo pulled up to their house, Martha pulled another stunt. She demanded a “family acceptance fee” of another $100,000 before she would let me cross the threshold. At that point, I explicitly told my parents not to pay. It was blatant, shameless extortion. But my dad stepped in, playing the peacemaker. He said a wedding was supposed to be a joyous occasion, and we shouldn’t let money ruin the mood. He wrote the check. Thank God my dad had the sharp intuition to see through their greedy, bottom-feeding nature. He had deliberately hidden the fact that our family’s corporate empire was worth tens of billions of dollars. My dad even intentionally arranged for the pre-wedding activities to take place at the modest, middle-class house we lived in before his company exploded in value. In the end, they managed to extort $300,000 from us before finally acting satisfied. Martha, of course, hadn’t contributed a single penny toward the wedding or the traditional groom’s gifts, claiming their family was “poor and struggling.” I only found out later that she had taken the entire $300,000 my parents gave us and handed it directly to her daughter, Mia, who blew through it in months. Back then, my dad had specifically warned me to keep our family’s true net worth a secret, telling me, “Time reveals a person’s true character.” Looking at them now, his advice was incredibly, frighteningly accurate. I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and looked at Martha. “Fine. I agree to the divorce. But I am absolutely not taking the fall for Mia’s gambling debts. I’m calling her right now to get this straight.” I dialed Mia’s number five times in a row. It went straight to voicemail every single time. Liam aggressively slapped the phone out of my hand. It clattered onto the hardwood floor. He roared at me: “You knew damn well my sister is vacationing in Europe and can’t answer international calls! That’s exactly why you chose to frame her today!” Martha stepped up and kicked my phone across the living room. “You incurred this massive debt, and now you have the delusional audacity to try and make us pay for it?! If you don’t take responsibility, who will?!” Right at that exact second, the heavy front door was violently thrown open with a deafening BANG. Sarah stormed into the living room, her face twisted in absolute fury. “Chloe, you are a complete and utter monster! A hundred million dollars in debt?!” Liam instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her protectively against his chest. “Sarah, she actually tried to blame the debt on my sister.” Sarah reached up and planted a kiss on Liam’s cheek. “Baby, why don’t you just pack your things and move into my place tonight? You can spend some time with our baby.” Seeing my face freeze in absolute shock, Sarah let out a condescending sneer. “What? Are you really that surprised? Where did you think Liam was going every time you went on a ‘business trip’?” “He was at my house! He’s slept in my bed more times than he’s ever slept in yours!” After throwing one last insult at me, calling me a piece of trash, she grabbed Liam’s hand, and the three of them—Liam, Sarah, and Martha—marched out of my house without looking back once. I wasn’t just shocked by Liam’s betrayal. I was completely blindsided by Sarah. Sarah and I had been best friends since college. A few years ago, when she lost her job and was facing eviction, she asked me for a loan. I wired her ten thousand dollars without a second thought. Later, when she still couldn’t find a job, I pulled some strings and recommended her for a position at a major corporation. She slowly climbed the ladder until she became a senior executive, pulling in half a million dollars a year. But I never told her that the corporation she worked for was actually owned by my father. I never, in my wildest nightmares, imagined that this ungrateful, backstabbing snake would sleep with my husband. Just as I was processing this betrayal, my phone rang. It was one of my direct subordinates at the corporate office. “Ms. Vance, you need to get down to the office immediately! It’s an emergency!” I had no idea what was going on, but I grabbed my keys and sped to the corporate headquarters. When I walked onto the executive floor, I saw Liam, Sarah, and Martha in the middle of the open-plan office, screaming and causing an absolute scene. Liam was standing aggressively at the legal department’s desk, demanding paperwork. “Effective immediately, I am relinquishing my shares in this pathetic, sinking ship of a company! I want out!” Sarah snatched a stack of divestment contracts from the desk. “Exactly! Cash out his shares immediately and finalize the divorce! That hundred million dollar debt has absolutely nothing to do with us!” Martha had literally marched into the client reception area and was screaming at a group of our VIP clients: “The CEO of this company is a corrupt, debt-ridden criminal! I highly advise you to take your business elsewhere! Run while you still can!” The VIP clients, looking bewildered and concerned, immediately stood up, gathered their briefcases, and began walking toward the elevators. But Martha wasn’t finished. She paraded through the employee cubicles, shouting at the top of her lungs: “Everyone, keep an eye on your personal belongings!” “Your scumbag boss owes the mob a hundred million dollars! She could clean out the company accounts and skip the country at any second! You aren’t getting your next paycheck!” When the employees saw me walk in, a wave of panic swept through the room. People hastily started packing their laptops and valuables into their bags, whispering frantically to each other. “Oh my god, the CEO really owes a hundred million dollars?! If she doesn’t even care about bankrupting her own husband, she’s definitely going to steal the company funds and run!” “I never would have guessed she was that kind of degenerate! Now her husband and mother-in-law are literally here exposing her. What is she going to do?!” “Even her own best friend is turning her in. It has to be true. We need to start sending out resumes tonight.” I sprinted into the middle of the bullpen. “On what grounds are you spreading these defamatory lies?! I will hold you legally and financially liable for every single cent of revenue this company loses today!” Sarah stepped in front of Liam, puffing out her chest, pretending to be a paragon of justice. “You owe the mob a hundred million dollars! That is an undisputed fact!” The murmurs and anxious chatter among the employees grew noticeably louder. Everyone was judging me. Right at that moment, my mother walked through the glass doors of the office. She looked utterly bewildered. “How is that possible? Chloe, didn’t you just gift me a diamond necklace from the Sotheby’s auction two days ago?” I suddenly remembered—I had planned to take her out to a nice dinner after work today. Liam let out a harsh, barking laugh. “Sotheby’s auction?! She bought that necklace with money she borrowed from the mob!” “You can smile now, old lady, but just wait until the loan sharks come to break your legs!” “Thank God I already have a child with Sarah, otherwise my bloodline would be cursed by association!” “WHAT?!” My mother’s face contorted in absolute shock. She lunged forward and grabbed Liam’s arm as he tried to walk past her. “What did you just say?!” Liam violently shoved her hand away, his face twisted in disgust. “Are you deaf, you old bat?! I said Sarah and I are having a baby!” My mother already suffered from severe hypertension. The violent shove from Liam caused her to stumble backward, losing her balance. She clutched her chest, her face turning gray, and collapsed onto the polished office floor. I sprinted forward, sliding onto my knees to catch her. “Mom! Mom, what’s wrong?!” Liam spat on the floor near us. “This broke old hag is just faking it! She’s probably trying to stage a medical emergency to extort us for a settlement! Let’s get the hell out of here, this is disgusting!” Without another word, he frantically grabbed Martha and Sarah and practically ran toward the elevators. My mother’s face was deathly pale. She couldn’t form a single word before her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness. I didn’t have time to worry about anything else. I scooped my mother up and ran to my car, speeding directly to the nearest emergency room. Inside the ER, the doctors immediately stabilized her. “Her blood pressure spiked to catastrophic levels due to extreme emotional distress. We have to admit her for observation to prevent a stroke.” I walked out of the hospital room into the quiet hallway and dialed my father, who was currently on a business trip in Europe. “Hello? Chloe?” my dad’s steady voice came through the speaker. I took a shaky breath and quickly recounted the entire insane, chaotic sequence of events. The line was dead silent for several seconds. Then, my dad spoke. “I am booking the next flight back to the States. They are going to pay for this.” “You just focus on taking care of your mother. I will handle everything else.” He paused, his voice dropping an octave into something terrifyingly cold. “I will also be dealing with Sarah and the Sterling family personally.” I hung up the phone. I sat in a plastic chair outside my mother’s room, opened my banking app, and instantly revoked authorization on the platinum credit card I had given Liam. That was the card I gave him for his daily expenses. I had told him it had a strict $10,000 monthly limit. He only knew that I paid the balance off every month. He had absolutely no idea that it was an ultra-exclusive black card with a true credit limit of one hundred million dollars. My phone suddenly started vibrating aggressively. It was a barrage of text messages from Sarah. First, she sent several highly explicit, intimate photos of her and Liam in bed together. Then, a series of voice memos: “Hey bestie, I’m so, so sorry. Your debt is just way too massive, I couldn’t possibly help you out.” “But I do have a suggestion! You could always pick up a side hustle in the red-light district to pay it off!” “It’s great exercise! Besides, Liam told me you’re an absolute dead fish in bed. That’s exactly why he came looking for me.” Instead of getting angry, I actually laughed out loud. “I’ve treated you incredibly well over the years. And this is how you repay me?” Sarah replied with a laughing emoji. “Honestly, back in college, I only became friends with you because I thought you were actually a rich heiress!” “If I had known you were just a pathetic, broke loser funding your lifestyle with mob loans, I wouldn’t have given you the time of day.” I didn’t bother replying. I just permanently blocked her number. The next morning, I drove back to the house to grab some clothes and toiletries so I could stay at the hospital with my mom. The second I unlocked the front door, I saw Liam, Martha, and Sarah standing aggressively in the middle of my living room again. Liam marched forward and delivered a brutal slap across my face. “You actually have the nerve to show your face?! Weren’t we supposed to meet at the courthouse this morning?! How dare you stand me up!” Martha stepped forward and kicked my leg. “I knew it! I knew she was going to drag this out! She refuses to divorce because she wants to trap us into paying off her hundred million dollar debt!” I violently shoved both of them backward, my eyes burning with rage. “My mother is lying in a hospital bed because of you psychopaths, and you think I give a damn about your divorce schedule?!” Liam let out a cold, arrogant scoff. “It’s your mother in the hospital, not mine. Why the hell should I care?” Sarah smugly tossed a thick legal document onto the coffee table. “I already had my lawyers draft the divorce settlement. Sign it.” Liam picked up a pen from the desk and threw it at my chest. “I already consulted with top-tier attorneys. As long as I legally declare that I am walking away with zero marital assets, I am completely absolved from absorbing a single cent of your debt!” “Sign it right now! Don’t you dare delay my wedding to Sarah!” I found the entire situation incredibly amusing. I picked up the pen and signed my name on the dotted line without a second thought. To escape a debt he didn’t even owe, he was voluntarily signing away his legal right to half of my family’s multi-billion dollar corporate empire. The second I signed, Sarah lunged forward, grabbing my arm to drag me toward the door. “Let’s go! To the courthouse! We are finalizing this divorce right now! Nothing is more important than this!” I violently ripped my arm out of her grasp. “My mother is going into surgery today. I don’t have time for this.” Martha kicked me again. “Cut the bullshit! Even if your mother dropped dead right now, you are coming with us to finalize this divorce!” They physically dragged me out the door and forced me into their car, hauling me all the way to the county courthouse. During the entire drive, and even while standing in line, Martha was loudly, obnoxiously gossiping to anyone who would listen, loudly proclaiming that I owed a hundred million dollars to the mob. The people in the waiting area started whispering and pointing at me. “Did you hear? That woman owes loan sharks millions. No wonder her husband is dumping her.” “I heard she even tried to frame her own sister-in-law for the debt! She tried to dodge the cartel!” “Wow, what a piece of trash. I don’t blame the husband and the mother-in-law at all. I’d kick her to the curb too.” The county clerk adjusted his glasses and looked at the paperwork. “Are both parties in complete agreement regarding the terms of the settlement?” Liam nodded eagerly, shoving the papers across the desk. “We are in complete agreement. I am walking away with zero assets.” I had no objections. We finalized the paperwork in minutes. Stepping out of the courthouse doors, a massive, victorious smile broke across Liam’s face. “I’m finally free! I love you, Sarah!” “As soon as the mandatory waiting period is over, we’re getting married!” He pulled Sarah into his arms and kissed her passionately right there on the courthouse steps. “Thank God I found you and get a fresh start. Otherwise, my entire life would have been destroyed by this worthless loser.” Martha was even more arrogant. She shoved my shoulder hard. “Get lost, you broke bitch! Sarah is carrying my precious grandson now.” “From now on, we’ll be living a life of luxury, and we’ll never have to look at your pathetic, poverty-stricken face again!” I couldn’t be bothered to engage with their delusions. I turned around and started walking toward the parking lot. Sarah playfully pinched Liam’s waist, then pulled out her phone and made a loud, performative phone call. “The Ritz-Carlton? Yes, I need a VIP table for tonight at 7:00 PM for a celebration dinner.” “I want your absolute highest-tier tasting menu. And reserve two bottles of your 1982 Lafite Rothschild.” She intentionally projected her voice so I would hear every single word. After hanging up, Sarah smiled a sickly sweet smile at me. “Chloe, we’re going out to celebrate tonight. Do you want to come?” I took a deep breath, turned my head, and looked at her with eyes like ice. “Fuck off.” Liam laughed mockingly. “Sarah, stop teasing the idiot. She owes the mob a hundred million dollars. She wouldn’t dare show her face at a high-end restaurant.” “Honestly, the cartel might show up to collect at any minute. She’ll probably be dead in a ditch by tomorrow morning.” Martha spat on the pavement. “Serves her right! It’s called karma!” Right at that exact moment, a massive crowd of people suddenly surged toward us from the parking lot. Leading the pack was a hulking, bald man covered in gang tattoos, followed by seven or eight heavily muscled, intimidating enforcers. The bald man ripped off his jacket, revealing a massive chest tattoo, and roared: “A debt is a debt! Pay up or pay in blood!” Liam and Sarah jumped in terror, startled by the aggressive roar. Martha, assuming they were the loan sharks coming for me, hastily pulled out her freshly stamped divorce decree and waved it frantically. “She’s officially divorced from my son! You can kill her, you can chop her into pieces, we don’t care! She has absolutely nothing to do with us anymore!” The bald enforcer looked at her in total confusion. He gestured to his men. “Bring her up. You point them out yourself. Which ones are your family members?” Mia was violently dragged to the front of the pack. Her face was battered, covered in dark purple bruises and swollen cuts. She wailed like a slaughtered pig: “Mom! Liam! Chloe! Save me!” “I owe them a hundred million dollars! If I can’t pay them today, they’re going to traffic me!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “401620”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Excuse me, Ms. Harper, Mr. Sterling. Your replacement marriage certificate is ready.” I froze in the middle of the County Clerk’s office. The man’s name was the exact same as my husband’s, and the woman’s name sounded strangely familiar. The clerk walked over to me, opened the marriage certificate, and pointed to the couple’s photo inside. “Ma’am, have you seen this woman?” Two intensely familiar faces stared back at me. The man in the photo was my “husband,” Arthur Sterling. The woman was his college sweetheart, Chloe Harper. Right at that moment, a tall, stunning woman walked up to us and smoothly took the certificate from the clerk’s hand. “I’m so sorry, I just had to run to the restroom.” The woman then reached out to take the other copy from my hand, but my fingers locked around it. She offered a calm, polite smile. “Ma’am? Could you let go, please?” Only when the clerk gently reminded me did I finally snap out of my daze. I handed the certificate to the woman, forcing a smile onto my face. “You two make a beautiful couple.” “Thank you,” the woman said softly, turning and walking away. I stared at her back, my mind a chaotic mess. The clerk waved a hand in front of my face. “Ma’am? Are you alright?” I answered automatically, “The man in that photo doesn’t just look exactly like my husband. They have the exact same name.” “Pfft!” The clerk burst out laughing at my response. “Ma’am, the husband of the woman who just left is the CEO of the Sterling Group. He’s on the news all the time. Don’t tell me you don’t know who he is?” How could I not know the Sterling Group? How could I not know Arthur Sterling was its CEO? The clerk seemed to have found her favorite topic of gossip. “Those two big shots actually had a pretty rocky love story. Rumor has it they dated for years, even survived a long-distance relationship while she was studying abroad.” “Ms. Harper went to the UK for her master’s for four years, and Mr. Sterling waited for her that entire time.” “They finally tied the knot two years ago. I was actually the one who processed their marriage license.” “I heard that on the day they got their license, Mr. Sterling even launched a brand-new subsidiary company just to give to Ms. Harper as a wedding gift~” I was completely paralyzed. Arthur waited for Chloe for four years, and they got married two years ago. Then what the hell was I? I got my marriage certificate with Arthur three years ago. The Sterling Group was the empire Arthur and I built together from the ground up. When we got married three years ago, to prove my love and absolute trust in him, I transferred all of my shares in the company into his name. That was the only reason he reached the level of success he had today. How is it that I accompanied my best friend to the County Clerk’s office today, only to discover my husband is legally married to someone else, and my company has absolutely nothing to do with me anymore? I didn’t even know he had launched a subsidiary company… After the clerk walked away, I stared blankly at the ceiling. I don’t know how much time passed before my best friend, Mia, walked over with her new husband, hand in hand. They were beaming with happiness, holding their fresh marriage certificate. “Babe, thank you so much for taking time off work to be our witness today! Dinner tonight is on us. We’re going somewhere fancy!” “Let’s do it another time. I have a client dinner tonight.” I didn’t want to ruin their perfect day, so I forced a smile. They knew I was always incredibly busy, so they didn’t push it. After reminding me a dozen times that I had to be at the wedding, we went our separate ways. My mind was a hornet’s nest of anxiety. I wanted to storm into Arthur’s office right that second and demand an explanation. I had absolutely no focus left for work, so I just went straight home. Today was Tuesday. It was the one day a week Arthur actually came home. Yes. Even though we were “married,” his time only belonged to me on Tuesday nights. He always said he was busy, that his workload as a CEO was crushing. I used to complain about it, but every time I did, he would tell me that we were still young. That we needed to grind and build our empire now, so we could enjoy the rest of our lives later. Just like every other Tuesday, I cooked a massive, elaborate dinner and texted a photo of it to Arthur. “Waiting for you to come home for dinner.” The moment the text delivered, he called me. To the outside world, he was an aloof, untouchable executive. But with me, his voice was always filled with warmth. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I have a crucial client dinner tonight that I can’t get out of. Don’t wait up for me.” My throat felt incredibly tight. He was still calling me “baby,” calling me his wife. Could he really have been legally married to another woman for two years? “Baby? Are you there?” Arthur’s voice pulled me back to reality. “It’s fine. No matter how late it is, I’ll wait for you…” He replied softly, “Okay. No matter how late the dinner goes, I promise I’ll come home and sleep next to you…” After hanging up, I looked at the table full of beautiful food and shook my head helplessly. I knew in my heart that his so-called “client dinner” was almost certainly a celebration with Chloe for getting their replacement marriage certificate. … It wasn’t until 2:00 AM that Arthur finally walked through the door. He was still sober, but he looked physically exhausted. A distinct wave of perfume washed over me. It was the exact same scent I had smelled earlier today. On Chloe Harper. He seemed incredibly guilty. He buried his face in my neck, abandoning his usual stoic demeanor, and sounded genuinely apologetic. “I’m so sorry, baby… making you wait up so late…” I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible. “Arthur, you have to be at the office early tomorrow, so I’ll keep this brief.” “I have a new idea. Can we open a new subsidiary company under the Sterling Group umbrella?” The moment I mentioned work, he snapped into CEO mode. “We barely have the bandwidth to manage the main company right now. Why would we open a subsidiary?” I watched his face closely. When I brought up the idea of a subsidiary, his expression didn’t change a single fraction of an inch. I nodded slightly, explaining my reasoning. “I just want to take some of the burden off your shoulders. Once the subsidiary is up and running, your workload on the main operations will be much lighter.” Hearing that, his eyes softened drastically. He pulled me close, leaning his weight against me. “It’s fine. If everything fails, I’ll just become a butcher and support you.” “What?” I was caught off guard by the joke. He pulled a sleek folder out of his briefcase and gently opened it while leaning against my chest. “Look. This is the Vanguard Investment proposal. I finalized it yesterday. It’s a two-hundred-million-dollar deal.” “The capital injection is massive. I want you to personally oversee this project. Let’s put a pin in the subsidiary idea until this deal is fully executed, okay?” Before I could even respond, he kissed me deeply. “Baby, time is money, and we only get one night a week. I need you…” I closed my eyes, enduring his kiss. The desperate hunger he was showing… was it all just an act? When I woke up the next morning, he was already gone. He was notoriously disciplined; he absolutely had to be at his desk before 8:00 AM every single day. He had left the Vanguard investment portfolio on the coffee table, along with a sticky note. “Baby, head out today. The Vanguard headquarters is in Seattle. It’s not too far…” “You can fly home every Tuesday. That’s my selfish request.” This perfectly curated sweetness… contrasting it with everything I had learned yesterday made it feel horrifyingly surreal. Refusing to believe it without seeing it with my own eyes again, I took our marriage certificate and went back to the County Clerk’s office. When I walked out of those doors, the anxiety that had been keeping me suspended in mid-air finally plummeted, shattering on the concrete. The clerk confirmed it directly to me. Our marriage certificate was a fraudulent document. Arthur Sterling was legally married, and his spouse was Chloe Harper. Walking past a street corner, I tore our fake marriage certificate into a hundred tiny pieces like a madwoman, throwing them into the air like confetti. Watching the pieces drift down over my head, scenes from the past flashed vividly in my mind. Arthur and I met in the winter six years ago. Doing the math, that was exactly the year Chloe left the country to study abroad. Back then, I was a Senior Advertising Director at a major agency, and he was a fresh graduate hired onto my team. At the end of that year, the agency underwent massive layoffs, cutting our entire department. At our farewell dinner, fueled by liquid courage, I announced I was starting my own agency and asked if anyone wanted to join me. Most of them laughed it off, politely declining with various excuses. But Arthur… Arthur looked me dead in the eye and said he believed in me, and he stayed to help me build the business from the ground up. We huddled together through the freezing startup winter, and gradually, we fell in love. With that bond, we poured our blood, sweat, and tears into the company. It finally took off, and we achieved the life we had always dreamed of. Regarding Chloe, Arthur never tried to hide her existence initially. He told me straightforwardly that his college sweetheart was named Chloe, and that after graduation, forced to choose between him and a master’s degree in London, she chose London. One night, completely drunk, he told me he hated her. He hated her because she threw him away without a second thought to chase her own ambitions. It wasn’t until today that I finally understood. Arthur’s hatred for Chloe instantly reverted back to love the exact second she stepped off that plane back in America. To accommodate that, he meticulously planned ahead, tricking me with a fake marriage certificate. To Arthur, I was his business partner. Chloe was the only woman who ever truly held his heart. The reason he was going to such extreme lengths to hide it from me now was probably because he felt a sense of gratitude toward me and didn’t have the heart to crush me. Thinking back on everything we had been through, a bitter resentment gnawed at my soul. I loved too deeply. He lied to me, yes, but I refused to believe that he hadn’t felt a single genuine spark for me over the last six years. I didn’t fly to Seattle to negotiate the Vanguard deal. Instead, I drove straight to the subsidiary company Arthur had launched—the Harper-Sterling Group. In the sleek glass conference room of the Harper-Sterling Group, Chloe and I sat across from each other. Faced with my direct confrontation, she openly and graciously admitted she had known about me the entire time. Even yesterday at the County Clerk’s office, she knew exactly who I was. Because she was Arthur’s actual, legal wife, she spoke to me with the casual superiority of someone holding all the cards. “Anna, right? Arthur actually mentioned you to me, and he explained the dynamic between you two.” “While I understand why he did it, I also want to thank you. You’re the one who elevated Arthur to the level of success he has today.” “But gratitude doesn’t mean I’m going to step aside. I made the wrong choice six years ago, and I am absolutely not letting him go this time.” Arthur had told her about me, and she was completely fine with the arrangement. And me? From beginning to end, I was played for an absolute fool, and Arthur never told me a single shred of the truth. My chest tightened with a sour ache, but I pulled a legal document from my briefcase. “This is a stock transfer agreement for this subsidiary.” “If you sign this, the Harper-Sterling Group will be entirely severed from the main Sterling Group conglomerate. From this day forward, this company is 100% yours.” “I only have one condition. Leave him. Give him back to me.” “You still don’t understand the dynamic between the three of us.” “The woman he truly loves is me. He just doesn’t have the heart to destroy his former benefactor.” Chloe’s words were calculated to inflict maximum damage. Her expression suddenly hardened. “Anna, our relationship will not be swayed by any external factors anymore!” “Even if it means losing absolutely everything, I am going to be with Arthur!” And just like that, two women were deadlocked in a corporate boardroom, fighting over one man. A few moments later, the tension on Chloe’s face broke into a subtle, chilling smile. “Tell you what. Let’s let Arthur choose between us himself.” “The one who gets left behind has to walk away and never interfere again. Deal?” I frowned, narrowing my eyes. “What exactly do you mean?” Chloe leaned across the table, whispering her psychotic plan into my ear… As the sun began to set, Arthur received an anonymous video message. In the video, Chloe and I were both tied to wooden chairs. The camera panned, revealing a figure wearing a ski mask. “CEO of the Sterling Group, Arthur Sterling. These two women are supposedly the most important people in your world.” “If you don’t want anything bad to happen to them, liquidate every liquid asset you have and bring the cash to the roof of the abandoned development project in the West Ward!” “Come alone. If you call the cops, I swear to God they die first!” Two hours later, Arthur actually showed up alone on the roof of the abandoned high-rise. He first looked at Chloe, his eyes full of agonizing heartbreak, then he looked at me, his gaze heavy and unreadable. Finally, he turned to the masked man, pulling a sleek black titanium card from his jacket pocket. “Everything you asked for is on this card. Let them go.” The kidnapper verified the funds on a tablet, his voice laced with mocking approval. “Mr. Sterling is a man of his word. But I think I want to play a little game today.” “You can only take one of these women with you. The other one gets pushed off this roof. You choose.” Arthur erupted in fury. “I am taking both of them!” The kidnapper didn’t say a word. He just grabbed the backs of our chairs with his massive arms and began dragging us toward the unprotected edge of the ten-story drop. “If you don’t choose, I’ll throw both of them off right now!” Arthur panicked. A raw, unprecedented terror took over him. He ground his teeth together audibly. “Wait!” “So… only one of them survives today. Is that the deal?” The kidnapper didn’t answer verbally, just gave a slow, deliberate nod. At the very last possible second, Arthur raised a shaking hand and pointed at Chloe. “I… I choose her!” Chloe shot me a subtle, sideways glance. A victorious smile bloomed across her face. I sat there, gasping for air like a fish thrown onto dry land, staring blankly at the scene unfolding in front of me. I stared dead into Arthur’s eyes, screaming at the top of my lungs, demanding to know why. But Arthur, perhaps consumed by guilt, didn’t dare look at me for even a fraction of a second. After the kidnapper untied Chloe, the two of them practically ran for the stairwell. The kidnapper pulled off his ski mask, then walked over and untied the ropes binding me. He let out a mocking scoff. “Ms. Anna, you lost.” “According to your agreement with our CEO, Ms. Harper, you are never to appear in front of Mr. Sterling again.” I nodded slowly, a look of absolute, hollow despair settling onto my face as I managed a weak smile. “Don’t worry. I’m a woman of my word.” I sat alone on the roof of the abandoned building for a very long time. Finally, I pulled out my phone and dialed a highly secure number. “It’s… it’s over between us. From today on… he no longer needs my protection…” “I want to treat this all like a bad dream. I want to destroy every single thing tying us together. Starting with the Sterling Group…” It was time for me to go. Arthur chose Chloe. I bet, and I lost fair and square. He abandoned me. So he can abandon the empire I built for him, too.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “401619”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the news of my husband’s sudden death arrived, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just calmly reclaimed his shares in my company and filed the paperwork for his death certificate. I could do this so coldly because I had lived this life before. In my past life, my father—terrified that gold diggers and corporate sharks would circle his billionaire heiress daughter—handpicked three boys from a local orphanage, sponsored their elite educations, and raised them to be loyal, protective companions for me. I eventually chose the most brilliant of the three, Liam Sterling, to be my husband. But just three days after our extravagant wedding, he died in a tragic hiking accident. Heartbroken and devastated, I allowed his two “brothers,” Carter and Mason, to convince me never to remarry. I stayed a faithful widow my entire life. But when I turned eighty, I took a nostalgic trip back to the place we had promised to visit together: a sprawling lavender farm in Provence, France. And there, sitting outside a rustic villa, was Liam Sterling. A man who had supposedly been dead for sixty years. He was surrounded by children and grandchildren, looking incredibly happy. And the woman sitting next to him, his wife, was my former private driver, Audrey. Realizing I had been conned and manipulated my entire life, the shock triggered a massive stroke. I died right there in the lavender fields. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I received the news of his death. Let’s see how a dead man without a legal identity manages to live out his happily ever after this time. “Chloe, Liam spent his entire short life devoted to you. He only went up that mountain in the pouring rain to scout a location for your anniversary present.” “Now that he’s gone, you absolutely cannot remarry. It would break his heart.” “Oh, and regarding Liam’s company shares… you should transfer them to the two of us. We’ll stay by your side and protect the legacy Liam left behind.” Hearing those horribly familiar voices, I sat bolt upright in bed. I had actually been reborn. Back to the exact day Liam faked his death to elope with his mistress! “Where is Audrey?” Hearing my sharp question, Carter and Mason both froze. “Liam just passed away, and you’re acting completely indifferent! Why are you asking about a driver?!” “Do we mean that little to you?!” Looking at their feigned, defensive outrage, I didn’t get angry. I actually laughed. “Since Liam is dead, I am immediately clawing back the shares I transferred to him.” I turned to my assistant standing by the door. “Grab your coat. We’re going to the county clerk’s office. We are officially invalidating his identity and ordering a death certificate!” My assistant immediately spun on her heel to follow me, leaving Carter and Mason standing paralyzed in the bedroom. “Chloe! He just died! How can you be so ruthless as to seize his assets?! Shouldn’t those be divided among us, his brothers?!” Seeing their bloodshot, panicked eyes, I didn’t even break my stride. In my past life, when I heard the news of Liam’s death, I fainted from crying and swore to remain his widow forever. As for his shares, under their subtle, manipulative pressure, I transferred them equally to Carter and Mason. When I saw Liam and Audrey living their perfect life in Provence all those years later, I immediately knew something was wrong. I had my forensic accountants audit the company books. It turned out those two “brothers” had been using the dividends from the shares I gave them to funnel $500,000 a month to Liam, funding his luxurious, secret life abroad with his mistress! In my last life, I funded another woman’s fairytale. This time, the news of his death was exactly what I needed! My car had barely pulled up to the county clerk’s office when I got a text from my legal team. The 30% of corporate shares held under Liam Sterling’s name had been successfully clawed back and frozen under my primary holding company. I nodded in satisfaction and handed the thick folder of documents to the clerk behind the glass. “These are all the identification documents for my late husband, Liam Sterling. Please process his legal deregistration.” The clerk looked at Liam’s driver’s license photo, her eyes full of pity. “So young. Ivy League graduate, and married into the Vance family. What an absolute tragedy.” She efficiently typed the information into the federal database, pulled out her heavy “DECEASED” stamp, and raised it over the paperwork. Right at that critical second, Carter and Mason burst through the double doors of the office, gasping for air. “DON’T STAMP THAT!” Seeing the sweat pouring down their faces, a wave of bitter irony washed over me. I chose Liam to be my husband, yes. But regarding Carter and Mason, I had never, ever treated them unfairly. Aside from the corporate shares, they received the exact same luxury cars, penthouses, and black cards that Liam did. But from the very beginning, the three of them had conspired to con me. They scammed me for sixty years! While they were secretly wiring money to Liam so he could live lavishly with Audrey… I was constantly investing in their startup ventures, hoping they would build successful lives of their own. While they were easing their “grief” by secretly FaceTiming Liam… I, a billionaire CEO, was spending my evenings cooking their favorite meals to comfort them for the loss of their “brother.” While they used “overseas business trips” as an excuse to fly to France and reunite with him… I was secretly acquiring companies they liked as surprise birthday presents. I treated them like my own flesh and blood. They treated me like a bottomless ATM. Now, it was time to show them reality. Without the halo of the Vance family wealth, they were nothing but the charity cases my father pulled out of a group home! “Carter. Mason. When you speak to me, you will use proper respect.” Carter’s jaw dropped, his eyes blazing with furious entitlement. “We treat you like our closest family, and you’re using that tone to command us?!” Mason furrowed his brow, playing the disappointed peacemaker. “Chloe, what is wrong with you today? Did the news of Liam’s death trigger a psychotic break?” A cold sneer tugged at the corner of my mouth. I dropped the gentle, accommodating persona I usually wore for them and fully embodied the aura of a billionaire heiress. “Since when do I have to explain my actions to you?” Seeing my icy glare, they both looked stunned. Their fingernails dug into their palms, but years of ingrained reliance on my money forced them to lower their heads. “Yes, Ms. Vance. We just heard the news of Liam’s passing, and in our panic, we…” I had zero interest in hearing their pathetic excuses. I raised my hand, cutting them off. “Stamp it.” To make his fake death look convincing, Liam had somehow managed to bribe a doctor for an official coroner’s report. The clerk verified the coroner’s signature and, following my explicit instructions, slammed the heavy stamp down onto the paperwork. “Ms. Vance, I’m so sorry for your loss. Here is your husband’s official death certificate.” I gave a curt “Mhm” and casually tossed the document into my designer purse. Just as I took two steps toward the exit, Carter’s phone started vibrating violently in his pocket. He shot me a terrified, paranoid look and scurried into a quiet corner to answer it. Even though he tried to whisper, I still caught fragments of the frantic conversation. [How the hell was I supposed to know Chloe would be so ruthless?!] [Your passport has been federally flagged as deceased? You’re stuck at TSA and can’t board the flight?!] [Don’t panic! We’ll figure something out. Just make sure Audrey is safe, don’t let her stress out.] When Carter and Mason walked back toward me, their faces were ashen. They clenched their fists, looking ready to argue. Before they could even open their mouths, I beat them to it. “Call the PR department. Tell them to issue a press release. Chloe Vance is a widow, and I am officially accepting applications for a new husband!” Both of their eyes instantly turned blood-red. “Chloe! Liam just died, and you’re already trying to remarry?! Are you trying to insult his memory?!” “You just got lucky being born into money! Your actual personality is worse than a gutter rat!” “Besides the three of us who were raised to tolerate you, do you honestly think any man in elite society would actually want to marry you?!” I suppressed the boiling disgust in my chest and stared coldly at the two men throwing a temper tantrum. “What I say goes. Do it immediately!” Carter and Mason exchanged a look, their eyes dripping with blatant contempt. “If you think pulling a stunt like this is going to make us jealous enough to beg to marry you, you are deeply mistaken.” “In our hearts, you aren’t even worth a single fingernail on Audrey’s hand!” “Fine, we’ll post your pathetic press release. But Chloe, the day will come when you’re crying on your knees begging us to come back!” When my father heard the news of the press release, he immediately called me back to the family estate. Carter and Mason tried to follow my car, but I ordered my security detail to block the gates. “Vance family business has absolutely nothing to do with you.” The two of them, eating dirt at the gates, furiously spun their cars around and drove off. When my dad saw me, he let out a long, heavy sigh. “Chloe, you were so deeply in love with Liam. Have you truly thought this through? Are you really ready to move on?” Seeing me nod with absolute certainty, he pulled a thick manila envelope from his desk drawer. “If you’re absolutely sure, I actually have the perfect candidate in mind.” I didn’t even look at the profile. I accepted immediately. “If he meets your standards, Dad, he must be incredible. I’ll take him.” Seeing my decisive attitude, the exhaustion on my father’s face melted into a relieved smile. He told me he would tell Julian Hayes to expedite his return to the States so he could become my right-hand man. Hearing that name, my heart began to pound violently in my chest. The candidate my father had chosen… was Julian! My dad mentioned Julian was currently wrapping up a critical acquisition in London and would be back in exactly one week. I pushed down the overwhelming excitement in my heart and decided to give myself a proper vacation. I stayed at the estate, resting and resetting for the entire week. Carter and Mason didn’t try to contact me once. I had no idea what kind of scheme they were brewing, but I was more than happy to enjoy the silence. The day finally arrived when Julian’s flight was scheduled to land. I was just stepping out the front door to head to the airport… When I saw my “dead” husband, Liam Sterling, standing perfectly upright at the entrance to my driveway. The bespoke, ten-thousand-dollar suits I used to buy him had been replaced by a cheap, wrinkled t-shirt from a discount store. Stripped of the luxury styling, his supposedly “flawless, aristocratic” aura had completely evaporated. He looked like an incredibly average, unremarkable guy off the street. Standing next to Liam, playing the tragic victim, was my former driver, Audrey. Carter and Mason were hovering around her, constantly whispering words of comfort. What a spectacular performance of resurrection. It was glaringly obvious that since his passport was flagged and he couldn’t flee the country, they had to crawl back with their tails between their legs. I took a deep breath, took a few steps forward, and spoke with freezing indifference. “Liam. You’re not dead?” Before Liam could even open his mouth, Audrey aggressively stepped in front of him, shielding him like a martyr. “Ms. Vance! Can you please stop being so toxic?! He is your husband! Do you really want him dead that badly?!” I raised an eyebrow, staring at this woman who, in my past life, had lived in absolute luxury on the French Riviera, funded entirely by my bank accounts. “Who the hell do you think you are? Do you really think you have the right to bark at me on my own property?” Realizing she had dropped her submissive act, Audrey quickly lowered her head, playing the bullied servant. Liam immediately stepped forward to protect her. “She is my savior! I demand to know who you are, and why you are speaking to the woman who saved my life with such disrespect!” Seeing the confusion, Carter and Mason quickly jumped in to weave their web of lies. They claimed that while scouting the mountain for my anniversary gift, Liam slipped and fell off a cliff. He miraculously survived, but he hit his head on a rock and suffered severe amnesia. They said Audrey just “happened” to be driving by and heroically rescued him. They dramatically proclaimed that Audrey was no longer just a driver for the Vance family. Since she saved my husband’s life, she was now the esteemed savior of the entire Vance empire. After listening to their pathetic, rehearsed script, Audrey shoved her cheap handbag into Liam’s hands and tilted her chin up arrogantly at me. “I’m exhausted. I’ll have to trouble you, Ms. Vance, to find a luxury guest suite for me, your husband’s savior, to rest in.” Liam immediately put his arm protectively around Audrey and started walking toward my front doors. I snapped my fingers. The head of security stepped forward and slammed the massive iron gates shut right in their faces. Liam whipped his head around, glaring at me furiously. “They told me you are my wife! If she is my savior, she is your savior too! How can you be so incredibly disrespectful?!” I let out a soft, mocking laugh. They were acting their asses off. If I hadn’t been reborn and known the truth, I probably would have actually treated Audrey like an honored VIP guest! “Liam, you are my husband, that’s true. But in the Vance family, I am the only one who gives the orders.” “Get in the driver’s seat and take me to the airport. Right now. That is an order.” Liam’s eyes looked ready to shoot fire. Audrey strategically tugged gently on his sleeve and subtly shook her head, playing the pacifier. After a few seconds of tense silence, Liam bent his supposedly “proud” spine and personally opened the passenger door. Audrey smoothly slid into the front seat. “I apologize, Ms. Vance. Liam just woke up from a coma, and as his savior, I am deeply concerned about his medical condition.” “You are the CEO, I’m sure you won’t mind me riding up front to monitor him, right?” Liam didn’t even glance in my direction. He leaned in, gently buckled Audrey’s seatbelt, and then yanked the driver’s side door open. “If you’re coming, get in the back.” Hearing Liam use that freezing, commanding tone with me, the corners of Audrey’s mouth twitched upward into a victorious smirk. I let out a cold scoff and got into the back seat. These two were clearly trying to put me in my place. Establish dominance. But what they didn’t know was that my trip to the airport was to pick up my new, incoming husband. Thinking of Julian, I let out a deep, heavy sigh. In my past life, because I was determined to remain a faithful widow to Liam, Julian had stayed single his entire life, quietly and loyally protecting my business interests from the shadows without any official title. Now, in a twist of fate, he was the exact candidate my father had selected for me. A sudden, nervous flutter erupted in my chest. Just as I was lost in thought… The car violently jolted. I heard Liam let out a panicked shout as he wildly cranked the steering wheel. He intentionally swerved the car, forcing the left side—the side I was sitting on—directly into the path of an out-of-control semi-truck! A blinding, explosive pain ripped through my body. The very first words out of Liam’s mouth were him frantically asking if Audrey was okay. Audrey was sitting in the passenger seat! The side of the car that was completely untouched! What the hell could possibly be wrong with her?! I tried to reach for my phone to call 911, but the impact had thrown it somewhere into the crushed metal of the floorboards. Fighting through the agonizing pain, I looked down. A jagged piece of the crushed door frame was pinning my thigh. It had sliced deeply into my femoral artery. Bright red blood, along with my life, was rapidly draining away. My vision began to swim with black spots from the catastrophic blood loss. I used both hands to desperately compress the wound, praying the paramedics would arrive in time. However, when the emergency sirens finally wailed and the first responders rushed to the vehicle, Liam leaned out his broken window and screamed frantically: “The person in the back seat is fine! Ignore her! Save the woman in the passenger seat first! Hurry!” My hands, slick with my own blood, froze. Liam’s words felt like a serrated hunting knife being slowly driven into my chest. He knew damn well I was bleeding out, yet he didn’t even care to maintain his “amnesia” act anymore! In the passenger seat, Audrey was screaming hysterically, claiming she was in agonizing pain, demanding the firefighters use the Jaws of Life to pry her door open first. Liam was sobbing in panic, ignoring his own fractured arm to wrap his body protectively around Audrey. Seeing the bizarre scene, the firefighters simply walked around to the back, used their hydraulic cutters to peel the crushed metal off me, and carefully extracted me from the wreckage. They listened to Liam’s frantic screaming with completely deadpan expressions. “You two have the energy to scream and shout. It means your airways are clear and your lives are not in immediate danger.” “I understand you want to save your lover, but we are not going to let a critically injured woman bleed to death in the back seat!” It turned out that even complete strangers could instantly recognize the true nature of their relationship. In my past life, how incredibly, pathetically blind must I have been to trust Liam so completely that I never suspected a thing? When I finally regained consciousness, I was lying in a VIP hospital suite. Carter and Mason were standing by my bed, whispering intensely to each other. “The old man doesn’t know about this yet. If Mr. Vance finds out Liam got Chloe into a nearly fatal car crash, we are completely fucked.” “Don’t panic. Liam is currently donating blood to Audrey.” “When Chloe wakes up, we’ll just convince her to tell her dad that she was the one driving.” “That way, not only are we off the hook, but we can extort a massive ‘hush money’ payout from her to cover Audrey’s tuition for her study abroad program in Paris.” My entire body was screaming in physical agony, and my heart was breaking all over again. Right at that moment, Liam burst into the hospital room, looking frantic. “Is she still unconscious?! Quick, while she’s out, pump her full of anesthesia! The doctors need to graft the skin from her face to repair Audrey’s burns!” Carter and Mason looked horrified. “What happened to Audrey?! Why does she need a skin graft?!” “I couldn’t get into the trauma bay, but I heard her crying! She said the skin on her chest was ruined and required immediate grafting!” “Since it’s for Audrey, we need to move fast.” “I’ve forged Chloe’s signature on legal documents before. I’ll sign the consent forms. You guys hold her down and force this liquid sedative down her throat.” Hearing their psychotic, cannibalistic plotting, my blood ran colder than liquid nitrogen. I violently forced my eyes open and lunged for the emergency nurse call button. Liam reacted faster than I did. He blurred across the room, pinning my hand to the mattress, his face twisted into a demonic, terrifying snarl. “Chloe! Audrey cares about her physical beauty more than anything in the world! You owe her your life, so you HAVE to do this for her!” Carter quickly grabbed a pen and flawlessly forged my signature on the surgical consent form. Mason grabbed a cup of milk heavily laced with liquid sedatives, completely ignoring my injuries, and aggressively tried to pry my jaw open to pour it down my throat. “Chloe, why the hell did you have to wake up right now?!” “Just be a good girl and be an organ donor for Audrey! It’s not that hard!” I thrashed wildly, trying to fight them off, but my body was covered in casts and sutures. I couldn’t move an inch. Their eyes were completely dead, devoid of human empathy. They forcefully pinched my nose to force my mouth open, ready to pour the drugs in. My brain was getting foggy from the lack of oxygen. My consciousness began to slip. Right at that exact, terrifying second… the heavy oak door to the VIP suite was violently kicked open with a deafening CRASH.

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When my boyfriend and I were broke, splitting a single bowl of cheap instant ramen to save money, I told him about some juicy gossip I’d heard that day while picking up designer clothes for a consignment shop. “So there’s this new tech billionaire, right? Instead of living it up, he’s basically slumming it in a tiny apartment.” “Word is, he built his company from nothing, and he has this girlfriend who stuck with him through all the hard times.” “But now that he’s rich, he wants a young, beautiful trophy wife, but he also doesn’t want to let go of his original girlfriend. So he’s lying to both of them.” “Why are rich guys so messed up? Isn’t that just destroying someone emotionally?” My boyfriend’s hand froze. The piece of egg he was moving to my bowl dropped onto the table. I was so focused on mourning the wasted food that I completely missed how deathly pale his face had turned. Until the next day, when I went to a client’s house for a consignment pickup. I put on my white cotton gloves and carefully inspected the clothes and handbags. “These are incredibly hard-to-get limited editions. Ma’am, your husband really spoils you.” The client smiled. “He says I’m so young, he’s the one getting the better end of the deal. Every time we… you know… he buys me a bunch of gifts.” She lazily lifted one foot, examining her shoe. “These heels got wet in the rain. Just take them too. My husband will just buy me the newest season’s pair anyway.” I mentally calculated that this would mean an extra fifty bucks in commission. I could buy some late-night takeout for me and Liam to share. Happily, I bent down to help her take off the shoes. Suddenly, a gentle, familiar male voice echoed through the room. “Baby, why are you selling the things I gave you again?” “I’m going to get mad. Ten grand, twenty grand… to your husband, it’s the same as a couple of bucks.” I snapped my head up. My eyes locked onto a deep, dark gaze. Liam. The man who was supposed to be riding an e-bike delivering DoorDash right now was standing in this luxury foyer. In the fraction of a second our eyes met, a million questions surged up my throat. But they were instantly extinguished by the female client’s whiny, flirtatious complaint. “Hmph. Don’t let him fool you with how much he spoils me and gives me whatever I want.” “When he bullies me in bed, he’s absolutely ruthless!” Liam’s eyes shifted away from mine, his expression completely unreadable. He reached out and pulled her silk robe back up over her shoulder, covering a cluster of dark red hickeys. His voice was incredibly soft. “Chloe, fix your robe. We have company.” It wasn’t hard to imagine. How reverently he must have pressed his lips against her neck and chest to leave those marks. I suddenly noticed something else. They were wearing matching designer silk pajamas. A set that cost over two thousand dollars. Just a few days ago, I had held up my phone, showing Liam a picture of those exact pajamas. I couldn’t help but complain, “It’s just a piece of clothing, but I’d have to work for months just to afford it. I hate rich people!” He had kissed the corner of my mouth. “Audrey, we’ll have things like that too. I’m working hard so you can be a rich man’s wife.” I had taken it as a sweet, romantic joke, smiling contentedly. I never imagined that he would wear those pajamas first—and with someone else. They made him look impossibly wealthy and elite, elevating him to a status I could never reach. Chloe pouted, turning to lightly punch the man’s chest. “You jerk, you even get jealous of women now!” “Last time a guy at your company looked at me a second too long, you fired him on the spot.” “You think you’re some kind of mafia boss from a movie. You’re so mean!” The girl’s face was glowing with youth, packed with collagen and vitality. That was why she had the confidence to act so spoiled. I stood there, stunned, and it took me several seconds to snap back to reality. My voice came out hoarse. “Do you guys… own a company together?” My client, Chloe, pushed out her red lips. “It’s my husband’s company.” “When I was just an intern there, he landed a massive contract.” “He insisted I was his lucky charm, and he chased me relentlessly.” Those words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Three years ago, Liam had enthusiastically drained our entire life savings to launch a tech startup. Later, he told me the startup failed, and he fell into a deep depression because of it. Turns out, he didn’t fail my expectations. He ran the company incredibly well. It’s just that the position of “Founder’s Wife” he promised me… He gave it to another woman. Chloe looked at me, her eyes full of genuine concern. “Ma’am, are you looking for a job?” “If you need money, I can set you up with something.” She patted her chest confidently. “Besides him, I’m the boss.” Liam chuckled lightly, pinching her nose. “Always causing trouble.” “Don’t just hire random strays off the street.” “From now on, our company is only hiring Ivy League graduates.” My chest suddenly felt incredibly hollow. Both he and I went to no-name state schools. We endured endless eye rolls and rejections when looking for jobs because of our lackluster degrees. Now that he was at the top, he was invalidating everyone with a background like ours. And by extension, he was discarding me. I tried desperately not to look at them flirting. I turned my head stiffly, looking around the room. This massive mansion Chloe lived in… I had never even seen the inside of a place like this in real life. Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t imagine luxury on this scale. The tiny apartment we had rented for eight years was smaller than one of the guest bathrooms here. Liam and I used to squeeze onto a full-sized bed. On rainy days, the ceiling leaked, and we patched it over and over again. Back then, we were so poor all we had was love. But I couldn’t understand it. Why were we able to share the suffering, but not the success? Once the fruit of our labor was ripe, he picked it and handed it to another woman without a second thought. Making my youth, and my love, look like a complete joke. Ten minutes later. I picked up the heavy bags filled with designer goods and turned toward the mansion’s front door. The plastic handles dug into my palms like sharp blades. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain in my chest. Liam had his arm around Chloe, his thumb quickly tapping out a message on his phone. It was a secret code we used to use when we were playing around. Wait for me. I’ll contact you in a bit. I pretended I didn’t see it. Before leaving, I offered them a respectful, professional bow. From the wealthy suburbs to our cheap apartment across town, it was a two-hour walk. I was usually incredibly frugal, and I would have gritted my teeth and walked until my legs gave out. But today, for the first time, I called an Uber. The money I had painstakingly saved up for our wedding suddenly felt like meaningless scrap paper. I turned my head, looking out the window at the passing scenery. Certain memories clawed at the nerves deep in my brain. In college, I was the student council president. While reviewing dining hall data, I noticed a guy who only spent two dollars a meal, eating the cheapest slop available. That was Liam, the campus golden boy I had secretly crushed on for months. I started quietly applying for low-income grants for him, finding ways to take care of him without bruising his pride. Until Liam found out. He cried, begging to be with me, swearing he would make me happy in the future. Later, his mother was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. We went to the bank and withdrew the first twenty thousand dollars we had saved from our part-time jobs. On the way to the hospital, we were cornered by a group of thugs with baseball bats. Facing them down, I spoke calmly. “Let him go. I have all the cash.” I turned and whispered in Liam’s ear: “This is your mom’s life-saving money. Go pay the hospital bill.” “I know these guys. I can talk to them. I’ll be fine.” To this day, Liam still doesn’t know. That last part was a lie. Afterward, I even tried to lie to myself. To pretend that nothing happened that night in the alley. Stepping out of the Uber, my hands shook as I unlocked the apartment door. I hugged the toilet, dry heaving violently. I threw up my lunch, my dinner, and ten years of absolute trust. I frantically scrubbed my hands under the faucet. But the humiliation those men subjected me to… no matter how hard I scrubbed, I could never wash it off. I looked up at the mirror. My skin was rough and dull, and fine lines were starting to show at the corners of my eyes. What did I have to compete with a young girl in her early twenties? Suddenly, I started laughing. As I laughed, tears began to fall, one by one. He promised me everything, yet gave me nothing. And I never promised him anything. Yet I gave him everything I had. I don’t know how much time passed before Liam came home, acting as if absolutely nothing was wrong. But this time, he had finally given up the disguise. He was wearing a perfectly tailored dark suit, exuding an aura of wealth and arrogance, completely shedding the exhausted, broke delivery driver persona. His first words upon walking through the door weren’t a plea for forgiveness. Instead, he demanded to know why I was working a side gig. If it weren’t for today, I probably would have never discovered the truth. I looked him dead in the eye, my face perfectly calm. “Liam, you delivering DoorDash after work was a lie.” “But me working three part-time jobs every single day… that was real.” He instantly grabbed my wrist, his gaze sharp and aggressive. “Audrey, have I ever let you go hungry or cold these past few years?” “Who are you putting on this pathetic ‘poor me’ act for?” I stared at him intently for a long time. “I wanted to make extra money so you could afford to marry me sooner.” “Is that a crime?” My voice trailed off, becoming as light as a breeze. “But looking at things now, I guess there’s no need.” As the words fell, his grip on my wrist suddenly went rigid. I looked toward the bedroom. Liam and I used to curl up on that tiny bed. We would count on our fingers who we were going to send invitations to, and fantasize about how we’d decorate the venue. We role-played him putting the wedding ring on my finger countless times. Those dreams were the fuel that kept me going. But I never got the wedding I longed for. Instead, I got his betrayal. Wiping away my tears, I stared into his eyes and asked: “It’s been ten years. What exactly am I to you?” He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted and frustrated. “At a corporate dinner, I got too drunk and… I took Chloe’s virginity. I have to take responsibility for her.” “She’s just an innocent girl fresh out of college.” He stared at me for two full seconds, an expression I couldn’t read crossing his face. “Whereas you… before we got together, God knows how many men you’d been through.” His voice was icy, slithering into my heart like a venomous snake. Suddenly. I remembered our first time. When he entered me, his body suddenly paused. He went completely stiff. I didn’t want to rip open the old wound and tell him the truth. I looked at him nervously, whispering. “Does it bother you? If it bothers you, I can…” Before I could finish the sentence. He gently shook his head, his warm palm caressing my cheek. “You fool. I only feel bad for you.” “If only I had met you sooner. You wouldn’t have had to suffer through bad relationships.” Liam actually thought I had just dated a lot of guys before him. It’s my fault I didn’t see through his hypocrisy back then. I stupidly thought he was different from other men. I didn’t respond to his accusations. I pushed past him, grabbed his clothes, and started throwing them out the front door, one by one. His large hand covered mine. He let out a low sigh. “Audrey, don’t do this…” Suddenly, a vicious slap struck my face. Chloe had somehow found out my address. She sneered sarcastically, “Hey, old lady. Do you really think someone like you is allowed to touch my husband?” She shook her hand, which was red from the impact. Her hands were soft, white, and perfectly manicured. They had never known a day of hard labor. My hands were rough as bark, yet they had earned Liam’s first startup capital. I bit my lip hard, fighting back the tears. I turned to look at Liam. The man was watching me coldly, showing zero reaction to my swollen, red cheek. Compared to the young boy who used to get teary-eyed with devotion… He was a completely different person. Chloe was shaking with anger, her voice shrill. “When we were at the house earlier, I knew something was off about you.” “I said all those things just to make you back off.” “I didn’t expect a cheap slut like you to keep clinging to my husband!” She looked at me with absolute disdain, her eyes filled with naked humiliation. “You live in this hundred-square-foot dump, while I live in a multi-million-dollar mansion.” “Even now, can’t you figure out who he actually loves the most?” Liam’s brow furrowed slightly. He raised a hand to block Chloe’s next slap. He wiped away her fake tears, his voice deepening: “Haven’t you made enough of a scene? Let’s go home.” He swept Chloe up into his arms, carrying her bridal style, while she continued to whine and complain. “You jerk! You big jerk!” “You’ll eat anything, won’t you? How could you stomach trash like her…” The woman nestled in his warm embrace, her face radiating triumph. Downstairs, the engine of a black Bentley roared to life. Speeding away from the impoverished neighborhood where it so clearly didn’t belong. I lay on the sofa for a long time, until my entire body was freezing cold. My phone vibrated on the table. Chloe had sent me a link to a couple’s vlog account with a million followers. In her videos, Liam was the perfect lover. He was always endlessly patient, playing along with whatever bizarre couple’s challenges she came up with. He always looked at her with a gentle, unwavering gaze. It turns out, every time Liam told me he was going “out of state for business.” He was taking Chloe to chase blue whales in Antarctica, kissing her under Mount Fuji, and proposing by the Eiffel Tower. And me? I was wearing a stifling mascot suit handing out flyers in the dead of summer, and sorting packages at a freezing warehouse in the winter. Late at night, I would check my bank balance over and over, stupidly counting down the days to our imaginary wedding in my head. That night, after he left with Chloe, he never came back. I really wanted to know. When he pinned that young girl to an expensive mattress, completely exhausted after making love… Was there ever a single second where he remembered eating spicy ramen with me in this crumbling, tiny apartment? Did he remember holding me tight to keep me warm because we couldn’t afford to turn on the heat in winter? Chloe’s latest video was from their company’s annual gala. Liam had her wrapped in his arms, his face full of adoration. “For the next sixty seconds, every time you yell ‘Boss Lady,’ you get a hundred bucks.” “I’m covering the bonus pool, and there is no cap.” Amidst the roaring, chaotic cheers of the employees, Chloe laughed with wild, reckless abandon. Tears splashed onto my phone screen. Liam. Ten years together, and it meant absolutely nothing. The bitterness turned to tears, streaming from the corners of my eyes. I raised my hand and wiped them away, over and over, until my eyes were bloodshot and raw. Using details from the video, I tracked down his company’s address. 19 Ocean Boulevard. Before I left, I pulled an old, faded envelope from under my bed. Stepping into the ultra-expensive downtown high-rise for the first time, a wave of insecurity washed over me. “Hi, I’m looking for Liam Vance.” The receptionist glanced up at me. “Do you have an appointment?” I shook my head slightly. She flashed her acrylic nails and dismissively pointed toward the exit. “To make sure his wife feels completely secure, Mr. Vance issued a strict order: he does not see any unknown female visitors.” “Mr. Vance is famous for spoiling his wife. You? You don’t have a chance in this lifetime.” He certainly gave all his loyalty to Chloe. I didn’t leave. I waited for an employee to badge in and quietly slipped through the turnstiles behind them. Walking through the building. I saw high-end, spacious executive suites. Hundreds of elite employees hustling to close deals. Here, in just one hour, they could earn what took me a full day of grueling labor. Everyone’s future was so much brighter than mine. So bright it almost burned my eyes. Finally, I stopped in front of an office door. Through the crack in the door, I heard a man’s voice. Liam had the girl sitting on his lap in his executive chair, his large hands massaging her slender calves. His lips parted. “Chloe, what do I have to do to make you forgive me?” She reached up and grabbed him by the tie. Laughing flirtatiously. “Give me a baby. I want to use a baby to tie you down permanently.” “So you can never leave me and our child.” He let out a silent chuckle, leaning down for a deep kiss. “Okay. Whatever you want.” He picked Chloe up, unbuttoning his shirt as he carried her toward the private rest suite attached to the office. My eyes burned terribly. I remembered 20-year-old Liam telling me I was the only woman he would love for his entire life. I slowly looked up, glancing one last time at the gold plaque on the wall. It read: CEO’s Office. Tears streamed down my face. I could barely stay on my feet. 30-year-old Liam Vance, congratulations on achieving your startup dream. Even though I no longer exist in your future. Before I left, I took the envelope out of my bag and left it at the front desk. I sent him a text. 【Liam, I’m leaving.】 The next second, my phone rang. “Audrey, stop throwing a tantrum.” “Since you already know about me and Chloe, pack your things and get ready to move.” “I bought a penthouse for you downtown. The neighborhood is great, you’ll love it.” My voice was dead calm. “No need.” He paused, his voice softening. “I’m a nostalgic guy. You’ve been with me the longest.” “As long as you behave yourself, I can take care of you for a very long time.” Through the receiver, I silently shook my head. But I care. I care that you kissed her lips. I care that you held her body. A meal that’s already half-eaten… how could I possibly swallow it? I hung up the phone and got into a taxi. The city streets receded rapidly. I stared out the window. I pulled the SIM card out of my phone and snapped it in half. I threw away the phone plan, deleted my social media, and moved to a new city. Aside from knowing my name, what else do you really know about me? Liam, we will never see each other again. As Liam was leaving the office, his secretary stopped him. “Mr. Vance, a woman dropped off an envelope for you earlier.” It was a yellowed, faded police report receipt. [Complainant: Audrey Evans] [Incident: Sexual Assault by suspect John Doe and others.] The date on the receipt. Liam would never forget it for the rest of his life. It was the exact day, over ten years ago, when they were supposedly “mugged.” Tears dripped from the corners of his eyes. He dialed the number saved as ‘Wife,’ whispering in agony, “Audrey, pick up the phone…”

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Midnight had passed, and my husband was working late again. Seeing me sitting forlornly in the living room, he proactively handed me his phone. “Check it.” “The passcode is your birthday.” With that, he went straight into the bathroom to take a shower. I looked at the phone in front of me and gave a bitter half-smile. Even if I checked it a hundred times, what was the point? He had long since scrubbed it clean. Shortly after, Ethan came out of the shower and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Nothing there, right? I told you, you can trust me.” I looked up, only to see a thin, faint scratch mark on the back of his neck. I gave a cynical, mocking smile. I didn’t explode. I just calmly pushed him away. “Let’s get a divorce, Ethan.” I had had enough of living like this. The air went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, a crisp, shattering sound rang out. It was the sound of Ethan accidentally knocking over the vase next to him. That vase was the very first decoration we bought together at IKEA during our first year of marriage. From a cozy one-bedroom apartment to a spacious condo, and now to a luxurious mansion. We had treated it like a lucky charm, witnessing our stumbling journey all along the way. Now, the vase was shattered completely. Just like our seven-year marriage. It could never be repaired; we could never go back to how things were. I pulled my gaze away from the shattered pieces on the floor and looked back at Ethan. “I’ve already had a lawyer draft the divorce papers. Remember to sign them…” Before I could finish, Ethan abruptly cut me off. “My hand got cut by the vase, Emma.” I paused, looking down. Only then did I realize that his hand had been sliced by a flying shard. Bright red blood was dripping onto the floor. “Emma, help me clean this up,” Ethan said, his voice hoarse. He rarely showed weakness to me. But I also knew this was his usual tactic for seeking a truce. As long as I took the out he was offering and proactively helped bandage him up, we would be “back to normal.” But this time, I just calmly looked away and said coldly: “It’s just a small cut. Put some ointment on it and it’ll be fine.” I paused, steering back to the original topic. “Once you’ve dealt with that, remember to sign the divorce papers.” Ethan’s eyes suddenly darkened. “Emma, I’m literally bleeding. How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?!” Ethan sounded genuinely confused. In his eyes, it was as if cheating wasn’t really a mistake. Especially since, after my hysterical crying and screaming, he had set up auto-delete for all those ambiguous text messages. He had even changed all his passcodes to my birthday. So he didn’t understand why I was still “throwing a fit.” I subconsciously rubbed the mottled scar on my wrist and stayed silent. Right then, his phone rang. It was that familiar ringtone, the one that had frequently sounded in the middle of the night for nearly a year. Ethan used to explain that it was an emergency line for his company, and I hadn’t doubted him. Until his birthday. I was at Whole Foods, picking out his favorite fish, hesitating over whether to bake it or fry it. Then I looked up and saw him, right there with my own eyes, holding another woman close as they picked out snacks. In that moment, everything finally clicked. Ethan had been cheating on me for a long time. And that woman was his childhood friend he had mentioned in passing, Chloe. Perhaps because we had already confronted it and he had come clean, Ethan didn’t bother making excuses this time. He answered the call right in front of me: “I’ll be there right now. Wait for me.” After hanging up, completely disregarding the cut on his hand, he hurriedly grabbed his car keys to leave. As he reached the entryway, he suddenly cast a deep, piercing look at me. His tone was filled with disappointment: “You never used to be like this, Emma.” What was I like before? Offering him a burning, devoted heart, only to be wounded by him until I was covered in scars? Because I cared too much. Because I couldn’t bear to let go of this ten-year relationship. Not to mention, back then, he had gotten me pregnant. So I endured the pain and chose to forgive him. He also promised to keep his distance. But what was the result? The scar on my wrist… wasn’t that the ultimate proof of my stupidity? I rubbed that scar. It felt as if the festering wound was oozing pus again, hurting so much I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, a loud “BANG—” interrupted my thoughts. Ethan had slammed the door and left. I knew he was going to find Chloe again. I stared at the closed door and gave a faint, bitter smile. “Goodbye, Ethan.” Half an hour later, Chloe posted an Instagram story visible only to me. “He said I’m the only one whose heart aches for him, and told me never to leave him.” The accompanying photo showed the back of Ethan’s head buried in her embrace, and their tightly interlocked fingers. Just tens of minutes ago, Ethan had said I could trust him. But the “trust” he spoke of probably meant trusting the pure “friendship” between him and Chloe. Trusting that when he missed my prenatal check-ups time after time for Chloe’s minor inconveniences, it was just out of “loyalty” to a good friend. Trusting that the two of them spending an entire night naked in the same bed was just an innocent way of “catching up.” Shortly after, just like many times before, Chloe completely deleted that post. As if what I had just seen was merely a hallucination born of my “paranoia.” Then, she sent another message. “Hey girl, Ethan was just in a really bad mood tonight, so he came over for a drink. Please don’t overthink it.” “It really isn’t worth it for an outsider like me to affect the relationship between you husband and wife.” Don’t overthink it? I looked at those words and couldn’t help but sneer. I still remembered when I dragged my fever-ridden body to confront Ethan with screenshots of Chloe’s Instagram. He had explained it the exact same way. “Chloe and I grew up together. She went abroad for college and stayed there. Now she’s finally back in the States. Can’t I just catch up with an old friend?” “Emma, you’re just sitting at home sick with too much time on your hands. That’s why you’re always overthinking things.” Seeing that I was running a high fever, my face growing paler by the second, Ethan seemed to realize he had misspoken. He quickly pulled me into his arms, resting his forehead against mine. “Em, even for the sake of our child, you should trust me. Please don’t overthink it, okay?” He gently wiped away my tears, his tone full of helpless affection. “Stop crying, Em. Alright, I promise you, I’ll keep my distance from her.” Seeing my tears flow even harder, Ethan deleted Chloe’s contact info right in front of me. He even changed all his passcodes to my birthday. Ten years of history. Seven years of marriage. And our child was about to be born. At that time, I truly couldn’t bear to let go. So I gritted my teeth, forgave him, and chose to trust him one more time. But what happened after? Less than a month later. Right when I unexpectedly went into premature labor, had just learned the baby had died in my womb, and needed to recover in the hospital the most… He decisively left the hospital, all because of Chloe’s single text saying her “stomach hurt.” I instantly broke down. Like a madwoman, I grabbed the fruit knife next to me, my voice hoarse as I asked him: “Ethan, are you sure you want to choose her? If you take one step out that door, we are completely finished!” Ethan’s expression instantly turned nasty. He looked at me like I was insane. “Emma, stop acting out. I’ve hired private nurses to be here with you, and the doctor already said you’re stable.” “Chloe just got back to the States. She doesn’t have anyone here, and she’s always had health issues. I have to go. Don’t make this difficult for me.” After saying that, he never looked back, leaving me with only a resolute silhouette. The moment the hospital room door clicked shut, the knife in my hand also slipped from my grasp… It slashed my wrist, leaving that grotesque scar. The vibration of my phone pulled me back from those distant memories. It was a voice message from Ethan. He sounded drunk. “Em, please stop being mad at me. Let’s have another baby, okay?” A baby? I subconsciously rubbed the scar on my hand. I thought the pain had already numbed. But hearing him mention a child again, my heart still ached in waves, almost drowning me. It took a long time before I finally managed to calm my emotions. I raised my hand, wiped away the last tear, and silently blocked both Ethan and Chloe’s numbers. Then I made an overseas call: “Dad, I’ll meet you at the airport in three days.” For the next few days, Ethan didn’t come home. I didn’t bother asking when he’d be back. I just started packing my bags. But the imprint left by seven years of marriage was too deep. So many items had shadows of Ethan. The white scarf Ethan gave me on our first date. I had worn it for many years and could never bear to throw it away because he had spent months knitting it himself. There were many other “firsts” he gave me—things Ethan had poured his heart into, staying up late to make for me by hand. They were all carefully treasured in a safe. I couldn’t bear to lose them. Later, as Ethan’s career became more and more successful, his gifts became increasingly expensive. I continued to accept them with joy because they were all proof that Ethan had once loved me deeply. But later still… in our second year in the mansion, Chloe appeared. The vanity table slowly began to fill up with various luxury brand watches and jewelry. The closet gradually filled with the latest haute couture from every season. Some of these were worth hundreds of thousands, some even millions, but they were no longer given out of love. They just became Ethan’s “apologies” and “compensation” for making me wait alone for countless nights… all for someone else. I looked at these items and coldly bypassed them. Then I only packed the things that truly belonged solely to me. On the day I finished packing everything, Ethan happened to come home. Seeing the suitcase in my hand, he frowned. “Where are you going this time?” He still thought I was just throwing a tantrum. After all, the old me had threatened to run away more than once. I didn’t deny it. I just lowered my eyes and said, “Going to clear my head.” Ethan didn’t sense anything wrong. Instead, he pulled me into his arms. “Em, I’ve been waiting for a text from you all week.” Waiting for my text? But I clearly remembered that in the past, whenever I texted asking him to come home… All I got in return was his dismissive impatience. He cupped my face with both hands, staring intently into my eyes. “As long as you said the word, I would have come right back. But you didn’t.” Ethan sounded aggrieved. As if during those days, the person keeping another woman company wasn’t him. I didn’t call out his lie. I just gave a faint smile. Ethan mistakenly thought my anger had passed. He leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Em, I knew it. You’re not like your dad.” Not like my dad? The words Ethan blurted out stabbed into my heart without warning. The pain made it hard to breathe. He knew exactly how much trauma my mother’s infidelity and domestic violence had caused my father and me. If my dad hadn’t been resilient enough, brave enough… the person buried in the grave right now would be him! He wouldn’t have escaped abroad to live the life he wanted. And now, Ethan casually dismissed everything my biological father had fought so hard to build. And the knife he used… was handed to him by the old me, the one who had loved him wholeheartedly. Meeting my red, swollen eyes, Ethan awkwardly tried to explain: “Sorry, Em. I meant… you don’t have to struggle like your dad did. Just staying by my side is enough.” “Is that right?” I suddenly smiled, looking straight into his eyes. Meeting my gaze, Ethan’s heart inexplicably tightened. But he didn’t dwell on it. He thought this meant I wanted to reconcile. He nodded repeatedly, his tone certain: “Of course. Em, you just need to trust me like you used to.” I scoffed internally but didn’t show it. Just then, my phone rang. I looked up at him and said calmly: “My ride is here. Ethan, you should get back to work.” “Okay.” Ethan still hadn’t noticed anything unusual. He even considerately walked me to the door. Before getting into the car, I called out his name. “Hmm?” “Goodbye, Ethan,” I said. Let this be my final farewell to Ethan, a farewell to my past. He ruffled my hair, smiling. “Alright, go have a good trip and relax. I’ll work hard at home to make more money to take care of you.” I still didn’t say anything. I just took one last, quiet look at him and gave a small wave. As the car neared the airport, my phone started vibrating frantically. It was an unknown number. Thinking it was spam, I blocked it immediately. But as I exited the screen, I saw an anonymous text message. “Emma, your baby didn’t die. Ethan lied to you.” I stared at that line of text, my mind going completely blank. My baby didn’t die? Ethan lied to me? I took several deep breaths before I finally regained my senses. With trembling hands, I tapped into the chat and typed word by word: “Who are you? What does this mean…” Before I finished typing, the other person sent a video. It looked like a secretly recorded video. In the video, Ethan and a small infant in his arms were being hugged by Chloe. Their backs were to the camera. Chloe spoke: “Ethie, are you sure? Are you really going to let me adopt you and Emma’s baby?” The knuckles of the hand gripping my phone turned stark white. The next second, I heard Ethan’s affirmative voice. “I promised you, so of course I won’t go back on my word. Besides, my child is your child.” “But…” Ethan cut her off, patting her shoulder. “I’ve arranged everything. Emma will never know. Don’t worry. Plus, you have a weak constitution, it’s hard for you to have kids.” Ethan paused, his tone light: “But Emma is different. If she still wants a child, she and I can just have another one later.” At the end of the video, Chloe shot a provocative look at the camera. It turned out, in his eyes, I was just a tool to provide him with eggs. It turned out, that drunken request to “have another baby” meant exactly this. I sat in the car, my whole body turning cold. My fingernails dug so hard into my flesh that it was the only way I could suppress the rage boiling inside me. With trembling hands, just as I was about to tap “save video…” The next second, the sender immediately unsent the video. My face turned as pale as paper. I frantically told the driver to turn around and head straight for Chloe’s house. As soon as I arrived, Chloe was walking out of the front door of her villa. “Sister, what are you doing here so suddenly?” I gave a cold, cynical smile: “Chloe, where is my child?” Chloe kept up her act of complete ignorance. There was even a hint of surprise in her eyes. “Sister, what are you talking about?” “I know the baby died shortly after being born premature. You’re grieving, but you can’t just make up lies and slander me, right?” Seeing my face grow even paler, she suddenly leaned in close to my ear: “Sister, could it be that you developed postpartum depression after losing the baby and are having psychiatric hallucinations? I remember you used to always be paranoid about me and…” Before she could finish, I slapped her hard across the face. “You and Ethan, you two are absolute trash…” Just as my palm was an inch from Chloe’s face, someone suddenly grabbed my wrists with brute force. Then, Ethan’s cold, reprimanding voice came from above my head: “Emma, didn’t you say you were going on a trip to relax? Why did you run over here to act crazy?” I struggled frantically like a madwoman, but I still couldn’t overcome the bodyguard’s strength. My wrist bones felt like they were going to be crushed, yet it was still less than a ten-thousandth of the pain in my heart. I looked at Ethan with bloodshot eyes, my voice hoarse: “I know everything, Ethan.” Ethan’s pupils shrank for a fraction of a second, then returned to normal. I screamed at him hysterically: “Ethan, I’m begging you, give me my child back!” Seeing my bloodshot eyes, he pursed his lips, seeming like he wanted to say something. Chloe suddenly chimed in: “Ethie, is Sister having psychiatric hallucinations? I know she’s heartbroken, but didn’t the baby already pass away?” I snapped my head toward Chloe. Just as I opened my mouth to say something, I heard the coldest sentence I had ever heard in my life. “Take her to the psychiatric ward to get checked out. Acting crazy in public is a disgrace.” I struggled desperately, screaming at their retreating backs. “I’m not crazy! You’re the ones who are crazy…” The hospital examination results came out quickly. I was “diagnosed” with hysteria. Consequently, Ethan quickly arranged for me to be hospitalized for treatment and specifically assigned extra people to “watch” me. The doctors subjected me to electroconvulsive therapy, nearly torturing me into a real “lunatic.” After the treatment ended, I had lost almost all my emotions. I lay numbly on the hospital bed. It wasn’t until I heard a faint signal beep from the window that I slowly climbed out of bed and calmly walked over. Just in the split second I was preparing to jump, Ethan suddenly opened the door and walked in. And so, he saw my silhouette leaping from the eighteenth-floor window. Ethan’s pupils contracted instantly. He rushed frantically toward the window, trying to grab me: “Em! No!”

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It was supposed to be the ultimate bachelorette weekend. Five days in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, before my best friend and college roommate, Sarah, tied the knot. Seven girls, endless margaritas, and a luxury all-inclusive resort. But less than an hour after checked into our oceanfront suites, the trouble started. Not with the bride, but with the maid of honor, Ashley. Ashley was wild, rich, and deeply insecure. She had booked us a private VIP tour of “historic underground cultural sites” in a nearby town for that very night. I knew Cabo. I’d spent my junior year spring break here. I knew that “historic underground” was code for unlicensed, dangerous strip clubs and donkey shows run by local cartels in cartel-controlled territory. Even if you managed not to get assaulted, there was no guarantee you’d make it out without getting kidnapped for ransom. I was the only one who knew the truth. But instead of stopping them, I encouraged them to go. I even told them it was the perfect place to find a “vacation fling” before the wedding. In my past life, I had tried to stop them. I had gone to the hotel manager, begging him to intervene. He had called security, who physically blocked the girls from leaving the lobby, threatening to evict us if they tried to go to that part of town. Ashley had thrown a fit, screaming at the manager, but Sarah had eventually talked her down, and we had stayed at the resort bar instead. A few hours later, Ashley, furious at me for ruining her plans, snuck out alone. She took an unlicensed taxi, and before she even reached the edge of the tourist zone, she was grabbed by four men. By the time they found her body two days later, there wasn’t much left to identify. When Sarah found out, she blamed me. She said I had made Ashley feel trapped, that if I had just let us go as a group, nothing would have happened. She said my “controlling nature” had killed her best friend. Before we left Mexico, Sarah had pushed me off a balcony during a drunken confrontation at the resort. “You killed her! It should have been you!” she had screamed as I fell. I had died from a severe brain hemorrhage the next day. My parents tried to sue the resort and file charges against Sarah, but Sarah’s family was wealthy, and the other bridesmaids, terrified of her, backed up her story that it was a tragic, drunken accident. Then, I woke up. I was back in the hotel suite. Ashley was already in her tiny, neon bikini, throwing a wrap over it, ready to head out. I stood in front of the door, blocking their exit. “Seriously, Audrey? You’re ruining the vibe before we even start,” Sarah snapped, looking at me. “You’ve always been such a buzzkill.” “Come on, Audrey, don’t be like that,” another bridesmaid, Megan, added. “Ashley said the trip-advisor reviews for this place are amazing. Authentic Mexican nightlife!” “You just don’t want us to have fun,” Ashley sneered, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “You’re jealous because Grant, Sarah’s fiancé, always says I’m the hot one. You’re scared Sarah’s going to find a hotter Mexican guy tonight and realize you’re completely irrelevant.” The other girls giggled, nodding in agreement. My heart went cold. They had no idea what they were walking into. In that part of town, sexual violence wasn’t a risk; it was a guarantee. Gang rapes, human trafficking, brutal assaults—it was an ecosystem built on the brutalization of tourists. We had booked a reputable group tour through Expedia for the entire trip. We were staying at a five-star Hilton, our tour guides were certified, and every stop was vetted. As long as we stuck to the plan, we were perfectly safe. But Ashley had found this “exclusive” place on some sketchy dark-web forum, promising a “true, raw Mexican experience.” In my past life, my desperate attempts to save them had cost me my family, my future, and my life. “Fine. You’re right. I’m just being a downer,” I said, forcing a smile and stepping away from the door. “Actually, I heard a rumor that the fewer people who go to this place, the more exclusive the experience is. Supposedly, if you go in a huge group, they just treat you like regular tourists. But if a few girls go alone… well, that’s when the real fun starts.” I was completely making it up, but it worked instantly. Ashley’s eyes lit up with vanity. “Wait, really?” she asked, already pulling up her phone to confirm this fake rumor. “Yeah, and suppposedly, the sexiest, most authentic Mexican men only approach the girls who look… adventurous,” I added, looking at their barely-there beach cover-ups. “Like, short skirts, crop tops… that kind of vibe.” Immediately, the conversation shifted. The other girls started debating what to wear, already fantasizing about their exotic encounters. “Okay, change of plans!” Ashley announced, clapping her hands. “We’re going to do this ‘adventurous’ look. No basic tourist vibe!” Sarah hesitated. “Wait, Grant said to be careful about where we go…” “Grant isn’t here, Sarah!” Ashley interrupted. “This is your bachelorette party! Live a little!” They were so excited as they left, talking about finding true Mexican passion. I watched them go, a cold smile forming on my lips. I wondered how excited they’d be when they realized that passion wasn’t exactly consensual in that part of town. As the elevator doors were about to close, they bumped into the groom, Grant, who had just returned from a bachelor fishing trip. When he saw what they were wearing and heard where they were going, his face turned bright red with rage. “Audrey, I told you to keep an eye on them!” he roared, looking at me. “You let them walk out looking like prostitutes to go to cartel territory?!” “Excuse me?” Sarah snapped, stepping forward. “We’re grown women, Grant. We can go wherever we want. You don’t own us.” Grant’s face twisted in disgust. “Fine. You want to act like a single girl? Go ahead. But if you walk out that door, don’t expect a wedding on Saturday.” The money talk always worked on them. All of them were depending on Sarah marrying into Grant’s family’s wealth. Megan immediately started backing up. “Sarah, let’s just… let’s just stay. Grant’s probably right. It’s late.” Sarah hesitated, looking back at Grant. Ashley, sensing the defeat, stepped forward. “Grant, don’t be a dick. This is my bachelorette party too. Let them go back to the room. I’m still going.” She winked at Megan. “Come on, Megan. Grant’s just being a controlling ass.” They were about to leave when Sarah put a hand on Ashley’s arm. “No, let’s just… let’s just go back to the room. Grant’s right. It’s late.” Sarah leading them back, everyone else reluctantly followed. I went back to the room, ready to call it a night, but as soon as I walked in, Sarah, Ashley, and Megan were waiting for me. Sarah looked furious. “Audrey, I know what you did. You went straight to Grant as soon as we left the elevator, didn’t you? You told him where we were going just to ruin our night.” I started to deny it, but Ashley cut me off. “Don’t bother lying, you little snake. Grant already admitted you texted him. What is wrong with you? Do you just hate seeing other people have fun?” Before I could defend myself, Sarah slapped me, hard, across the face. My vision blurred. “We came all this way, spent all this money, just for you to ruin it!” Megan added. “You’ve always been jealous of me, Audrey,” Sarah sneered. “Ever since college. You can’t stand that I’m marrying a millionaire and you’re still single and broke.” Then, Ashley came up with a “brilliant” idea. “You know what? Sarah’s right. Grant’s controls us because we’re dependent on him. Let’s just… let’s just go without his permission. We’ll sneak out.” The other girls, excited by the rebellion, immediately agreed. They grabbed a roll of duct tape from the minibar and taped my hands and feet together. Ashley leaned in close, her manicured nails digging into my arm. “Stay here and think about what a terrible friend you are, Audrey. When Grant realizes we left, he’s going to be so furious at you for letting us escape.” They left, locking the door from the outside. They were idiots. They thought the danger was Grant’s anger. They had no idea that Grant’s anger was the only thing standing between them and cartel thugs. I struggled with the tape, screaming for help, hoping a maid or resort security would hear me. Before I could scream a third time, the door was unlocked and pushed open. Sarah, Ashley, and Megan were back. “Audrey, you just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” Sarah sneered. They dragged me into the bathroom. Sarah slapped me again. “We were right down the hall and we could hear you screaming! You really don’t want us to leave, do you?” “I’m just trying to keep you safe!” I cried. Sarah laughed. “Safe? You’re jealous! You’re single, lonely, and you want us to be as miserable as you are!” Ashley smirked. “You know what? Grant controls us because we let him. We need to… we need to show him we’re strong. We need to show him we can handle ourselves.” She pulled a bottle of toilet bowl cleaner from under the sink and held it up to my face. “You need a good, clean dose of humility, Audrey.” She forced my mouth open while Sarah and Megan held me down. The noxious, burning acid flooded my throat. I gagged, struggling violently, splashing half the bottle all over Ashley’s neon bikini. “You bitch!” Ashley screamed. “This was custom-made!” She kicked me hard in the stomach. The pain was so blinding I almost passed out. Ashley told the other two girls to finish the bottle while she went to change. Megan hesitated. “Sarah, this is… this is bad. If she calls the cops…” “Megan, shut up,” Sarah interrupted. “Her parents are public defenders. My Grant’s family owns this hotel group. Trust me, Grant will cover for us. Besides, Audrey’s a liar. Nobody will believe her.” Megan was a total pushover, and Sarah was marrying millions. Neither of them wanted to mess that up. Ashley was screaming from the other room to hurry up. Sarah and Megan finished pouring the rest of the chemical down my throat. The acid felt like it was dissolving my esophagus as it went down. But it was nothing compared to the burning rage in my heart. I couldn’t understand. I had never done anything to hurt them. Why were they doing this to me? When they finished, Ashley was back, wearing a different swimsuit, telling them Grant had texted. They had to leave now. The hands holding me down let go, and I collapsed onto the cold bathroom floor, gasping for air. Ashley kicked me one last time in the stomach. “Clean this mess up, loser.” I lay in the bathroom all night, completely paralyzed by the pain. It wasn’t until Grant came looking for us the next morning that I was discovered. When he saw the state of me, he immediately cut the tape and asked what happened. He said he hadn’t been able to reach any of them since they left. “Grant, I’m so sorry,” I cried. “I tried to stop them. They tied me up… they did this to me…” His face went pale. He pulled out his phone, ready to call the police, but the call came in first. He listened, and then he collapsed onto the floor. “It’s over.”

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My husband had been on location shooting a new project for three months. I hadn’t received a single video call from him; he just kept texting that it was a “closed set.” My heart ached for him. I bit the bullet, bought a plane ticket, and flew halfway across the country to visit him on set. When I got near the filming location, I tried to grab a coffee from Starbucks to bring him, only to be told that someone had bought out the entire store’s inventory for the day. I was just wondering which A-list celebrity was throwing their weight around when a heavily made-up woman bumped hard into me. “Are you blind?! Do you have any idea how much this Birkin costs? You couldn’t afford to replace it in a million years! My sugar daddy bought this for me with his black Amex!” I glanced down. The logo on the bag was literally printed crooked. It was a glaringly obvious, cheap knockoff. Bought with a black Amex? Yeah, right. My phone buzzed in my pocket. My husband, Liam, finally replied to my text. “Babe, the set is on total lockdown. The director is a tyrant, he won’t even let a fly in. You absolutely cannot come visit!” As I was typing a reply asking what was going on, I heard the woman next to me giggle coquettishly into her phone. “My sugar daddy is worth billions. I just batted my eyelashes, and he offered to buy the whole building to apologize to me. Get this—I told him I missed him, and he literally told his wife he was on a closed set for three months.” That excuse sounded way too familiar. My thumbs froze over my keyboard. Wait a minute. My husband was a struggling extra making two hundred bucks a day doing those trashy, micro-budget soap operas for TikTok. He played a billionaire CEO for two days, and now he actually thinks he’s a billionaire? He even found himself a fake mistress to play the part? … “What are you staring at? Jealous?” The woman’s shrill voice violently yanked me out of my absurd thoughts. She rolled her eyes and dramatically stroked the crooked logo of her fake “Birkin” with her cherry-red acrylic nails. “Makes sense. A broke, pathetic woman dressed in thrift store rags like you probably couldn’t even afford the hardware on this bag.” I ignored her insult. My gaze bypassed the fake bag and landed dead on the wrist she had raised. Around it was a breathtaking, flawless jade bangle. It was the heirloom my late mother-in-law had personally placed in my hands before she passed away. Before Liam left for this shoot, he had begged me with red, teary eyes to let him borrow the bangle. He claimed a crucial scene required a highly valuable prop as collateral, and that lending it to the production was the only way he secured the lead role. And now, that “crucial prop” was dangling from the wrist of this woman bragging about her sugar daddy. I clenched my fists tight, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Excuse me, miss. That bangle on your wrist… it’s quite unique.” The woman tilted her chin up arrogantly. “At least you have some taste!” “This is a token of love from my sugar daddy.” She intentionally waved her wrist right in my face. “I heard it’s a family heirloom. Priceless.” “He told me that only the true matriarch of the Sterling family is worthy of wearing it.” The Sterling family? I let out a cold laugh in my head. The micro-short Liam was currently filming did indeed feature a male lead with the last name Sterling. It was called something ridiculous like The Billionaire CEO’s Runaway Bride. Two hundred dollars a day. Was he actually living out his script in real life? I put on a mask of awe and looked at her. “A sugar daddy that generous must spoil you rotten, right?” “Of course he does!” The woman covered her mouth and giggled. “Mr. Sterling caters to my every whim.” “Yesterday, I casually mentioned the catered lunch on set was disgusting. He immediately waved his hand and ordered takeout from every five-star hotel in a ten-mile radius.” “Today, I wanted Starbucks, so he bought out all the coffee in the entire district.” She looked me up and down, her eyes dripping with undisguised contempt. “So, don’t blame me if you can’t get your coffee.” “Blame yourself for not finding a better husband.” Right at that moment, the phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a text from Liam. [Babe, the director lost his mind today. He’s been screaming for ten hours straight.] [I haven’t even had a sip of water. I’m literally eating stale bread.] [You seriously cannot come visit. The director said anyone whose family shows up is fired on the spot!] [Babe, I miss you so much. Once I suffer through these three months and get my paycheck, I’m going to buy you some nice new clothes.] I looked at the pathetic lies on my screen, then looked back at the woman bragging about her “five-star hotel takeout.” A violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. Ten years. I stuck by Liam when we moved from a friend’s basement to a leaky, moldy studio apartment. To support his dream of becoming an actor, I worked three jobs a day. I wouldn’t even spend six dollars on a latte for myself. And he took my blood, sweat, and tears—and my dead mother-in-law’s heirloom—to play pretend billionaire for another woman. “If your sugar daddy treats you so well, why isn’t he here buying your coffee with you?” I looked up, a mocking half-smile on my face. The woman’s expression faltered for a second before she haughtily puffed out her chest. “Mr. Sterling is a very busy man! He handles billion-dollar deals by the minute. You think he has time to run errands?” “He’s currently in his luxury hotel penthouse, running an international video conference!” “Although…” Her eyes darted around, and she intentionally leaned in close, lowering her voice. “His pathetic, ugly wife is probably sitting at home right now, counting his pocket change for him.” “She doesn’t even know her husband bought out an entire building just for me.” “It’s honestly sad. And hilarious.” I gripped my phone tight. “Is that right?” I asked softly, “That wife… she really does sound pitiful.” Thinking I agreed with her, the woman became even more smug. “Isn’t she?!” “Mr. Sterling told me himself. That woman is old, tacky, and her skin feels like sandpaper.” “If it weren’t for the fact that she slummed it with him back when he was broke, he would have kicked her to the curb years ago.” “Now, he basically just keeps her around as an unpaid maid.” Every single word felt like a dull, rusted knife slowly, brutally carving into my chest. I wasn’t bleeding, but the pain was suffocating. This was the man I had loved for ten years. “Ugh, I’m wasting my breath on you.” The woman glanced at the fake, rhinestone-encrusted Rolex on her wrist. “If Mr. Sterling finishes his meeting and can’t find me, he’s going to worry.” She swayed her hips and turned to leave in her stilettos. “Wait.” I called out to her. The woman turned back impatiently. “What now? Are you going to ask me to pay for your cheap clothes?” I shook my head, flashing a smile entirely devoid of warmth. “No, I just wanted to give you a friendly heads-up.” “Your bag… you can get it on Amazon with a coupon for forty-nine bucks. Free Prime shipping.” “Your billionaire sugar daddy is buying you knockoffs?” The woman’s face instantly turned ash gray. “What the hell are you talking about?! What does a broke bitch like you know about luxury brands?!” She stomped her foot in furious humiliation, turned, and practically sprinted into the lobby of the high-end hotel next door. I watched her walk away. My phone buzzed again. Liam: [Babe, why aren’t you replying? Are you mad at me?] I stared at the screen for a long time before slowly typing out a reply. [No, honey. I know you’re working so hard.] After hitting send, I looked up at the glittering, opulent entrance of the luxury hotel. “Liam. Since you love acting so much.” “If I don’t give you some extra screentime, it would be a total waste of your incredible talent.” I followed that woman into the hotel lobby. I walked straight up to the concierge and pulled out a photocopy of Liam’s ID. “Hi, I’m Liam’s wife. I’m here to drop off his stomach medication.” The concierge checked the registry and smiled warmly, handing me a keycard. “Mr. Sterling is in the Presidential Suite on the top floor. Go right ahead, Mrs. Sterling.” The Presidential Suite. At least a few thousand dollars a night. While Liam was crying poor to me on text last night, claiming he found half a cockroach in his set-catered meal. I gripped the keycard and stepped into the elevator. As the floor numbers ticked higher, my heart sank lower. When I reached the suite, the door wasn’t fully closed. It was cracked open just a sliver. The voices inside spilled clearly into my ears. “Arthur baby, I just ran into this pathetic, broke woman downstairs, and she had the nerve to say my bag was fake!” It was the woman from downstairs, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet whining. Immediately after, I heard a voice that was etched into my very bones. “There, there, babe. Don’t be mad.” “That bottom-feeding trash doesn’t know the first thing about luxury.” “When I get the final payout for producing this short film tomorrow, I’ll take you out to buy a real limited-edition one.” Liam’s voice oozed with an arrogant, superior swagger. I peeked through the crack in the door. Liam was wearing a suit that clearly didn’t fit him, the cuffs still showing uncut, fraying threads. But he was sitting spread-eagle on the leather sofa, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand with dramatic flair. The woman was kneeling on the plush rug, eagerly massaging his legs. “You’re the best, Arthur!” She cooed, leaning her head against his chest. “So, when are you going to divorce that ugly hag you have at home?” Liam’s hand froze for a second. A flash of annoyance crossed his eyes. “Why are you bringing her up? You’re ruining the mood.” “She relies entirely on me to survive. She’d starve to death without me.” “Once I finalize taking my company public, I’ll throw some cash at her and make her disappear.” I stood outside the door, listening to him shamelessly spin these psychotic lies. Relies on him to survive? His pathetic acting gigs didn’t even pay enough to cover our electric bill. For the last ten years, every single expense in our house was paid for by the overtime shifts I worked until my eyes bled. I took a deep breath and violently shoved the door open. BANG! A massive crash echoed through the suite. The two people on the sofa froze instantly. The wine glass in Liam’s hand jerked violently, spilling dark red wine all over his cheap suit pants. He whipped his head around. The moment he saw it was me, his pupils shrank to pinpricks. “You… what are you doing here?!” His voice was literally shaking. The woman was stunned, too. She looked at me, then looked at Liam. “Arthur, this is the broke bitch who bumped into me downstairs!” “How did she get in here?! The security in this hotel is garbage!” She stood up, pointing her finger right at my nose, screaming. Liam suddenly snapped out of his shock. He looked at the furious woman, then looked at me standing in the doorway, my face completely expressionless. A flash of pure panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a frantic, almost psychotic resolve. He shot up from the sofa, pointed at me, and roared aggressively. “Where the hell did this crazy stalker come from?!” “You actually followed me to my hotel room?!” I froze. Stalker? I stared at the man I had shared a bed with for ten years. I stared at his face, completely twisted by extreme, desperate vanity. “Liam, what did you just say?” “STAY BACK!” Liam bellowed. He didn’t even dare look me in the eye. He just screamed toward the hallway. “SECURITY! WHERE THE HELL IS SECURITY?!” “GET THIS CRAZY BITCH OUT OF HERE!” The woman sneered coldly from the sidelines. “So she’s just an obsessive, psychotic fan.” “Take a look in the mirror before you act crazy. You actually had the nerve to break into Mr. Sterling’s room?!” Several security guards came running down the hall. They aggressively grabbed my arms, one on each side. “Let go of me.” I stared at Liam with eyes like ice. “Liam, are you absolutely sure you want to pretend you don’t know me?” Liam clenched his jaw so tight the muscles in his face twitched. He turned his head away, refusing to look at me. “I have no idea who this crazy woman is!” “Get her out of here!”

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A pair of best friends walked into my nail salon on grand opening day. The moment they sat down, they started tearing into their boyfriends. One of them sounded exaggerated, but she couldn’t hide the sweetness in her voice: “My boyfriend is great in every way, except he’s a total animal in bed. Eight times a night, minimum.” “He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body, just materialistic. Keeps buying me designer bags and jewelry. I’m actually getting sick of receiving them.” I had just finished her friend’s nails and was about to start on hers when she suddenly stood up. “Can you do them at my place instead? I’m trying on wedding dresses this afternoon, and I’m tight on time. Triple price.” One job for the price of three—of course I agreed. I grabbed my kit and followed her to her car. As she opened the door, her phone slipped and hit the ground. I bent down to help her pick it up, and the screen happened to light up. On her lock screen wallpaper, that “eight times a night” man was wearing a shirt I had bought him, holding her close with a look of pure adoration on his face. …… My breath hitched. The handle of my tool box dug into my palm, stinging. “Is this your husband?” Sophie smiled so wide her eyes crinkled, her tone pure boastful bliss: “Yeah! Even though I was just complaining about him, you can’t deny his looks.” She leaned closer to the screen, her fingertip tracing that face I knew all too well. “He was totally infatuated from the start. Told me he wanted to marry me the first time we met. He pursued me relentlessly for three whole years!” “If any guy even came near me, he’d chase them off completely. It was almost too much.” Three years. They had been together for three years. And I had been with Mark for five. Five years, and I had never received a public acknowledgment of our relationship from him. It turns out, that acknowledgment had already been given to someone else. I sat in her car mechanically, my mind buzzing. She pulled up in front of a bridal boutique. “Gotta try on a dress real quick, won’t take but a minute.” She looked back at me, her tone chirpy. “It’s fine, I’ll wait.” I forced a smile, my throat feeling like it was full of razor blades. As soon as we walked into the shop, the employees swarmed us, respectful and eager to please. Whispered voices floated into my ears: “Big client, a thirty-thousand-dollar dress!” “Mr. Sterling specifically instructed us to take perfect care of his fiancée. We’re definitely getting a nice commission.” A thirty-thousand-dollar wedding dress, and Mark had ordered it. I had brought up marriage once. I mentioned that in my family’s tradition, we do a symbolic cash gift—around ten thousand dollars—just for show, and the money would come back to us anyway. That time, it was the first time he had ever looked at me with anger. He slammed the door and left, giving me the cold shoulder for seven days. He called me a gold digger, asked me how I could have become so superficial. For those seven days, I asked myself repeatedly: Was I asking for too much? Was I really that materialistic? But now, a thirty-thousand-dollar dress, and he didn’t even blink. Yet a ten-thousand-dollar symbolic gift was labelled “greedy.” Whether someone loves you or not is truly crystal clear. After she came out from changing into her dress. I silently followed behind her and sat in that million-dollar luxury car. The car drove into the city’s top gated community, and the security guard at the gate saluted as he let us pass. I knew the houses here all too well; the starting price was five million. “Ms. Vance is truly young and accomplished,” I said, straight from the heart. But she just gave a light, cynical laugh. “What’s young and accomplished about me? I live paycheck to paycheck, spend it as soon as I make it.” She paused, her tone turning sweet: “It’s all because that jerk Mark bought this place behind my back. I was completely shocked when I found out the price. I said it was too expensive and I couldn’t accept it. He said if I couldn’t handle it, even better—that way I’d be too spoiled to run away.” He had once dragged me to look at this community. My family wasn’t wealthy to begin with, and he always told me he was in the early stages of starting his business. I said it wasn’t necessary, that when we bought a house later, an affordable starter home would be fine. But he insisted on bringing me to look, and even comforted me, saying that maybe someday we would have this. At that time, I was so warmed by his words, thinking he would definitely carve out a piece of the world for himself someday. Little did I know, that one and only time we went house hunting, it was also for another woman. Once inside the house, I set up my tools and began doing her manicures. Sophie was incredibly talkative, excitedly scrolling through her phone to show me her Instagram: August 15, 2023, Antarctic Aurora. In the photo, he held her, with the brilliant aurora in the background. That day, I had been splattered with paint by a client and called him for comfort. He said he was on a business trip and vanished for half a month. November 12, 2024, Bali Beach. They wore matching swimsuits, laughing brightly. That day my dad was in surgery, and I stayed at the hospital alone all night. I called him, and he said he was busy. She got more excited as she talked, scrolling to a photo from last month: “Oh, right! I told him I didn’t want kids, and guess what?” Her eyes were shining bright. “He went straight and got a vasectomy! Said as long as I’m happy, nothing else matters, kids or not.” My heart dropped violently, and I accidentally slipped and got nail polish on my own hand. In our five years, he never used protection, said it ruined the experience. Every time afterward, I was the one taking the pill. Taking so many hormones made me gain twenty pounds, and my cycle was never regular again. In the end, all that got me was a comment from him that I was undisciplined. But for her, he went and got a vasectomy. Sophie noticed my face was off and asked with concern, “Are you okay?” I bit back the bitterness and shook my head, pretending I was fine. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. She skipped cheerfully over to open it. My gaze fell in the direction of the door, and I held my breath. The courier was at the door. In his arms, he held 999 roses, a piercingly bright red. Sophie signed for them expertly, then turned around and dialed a number. “Mark! Can you take a break? 999 roses every single day. My place is piling up like a flower shop!” Her scolding tone was pure sweetness. “That money would be better used for charity.” On the other end of the line was that voice I knew all too well: “Wife, how can you be like this? I know you love flowers, that’s why I send them every day, and now you’re complaining?” “Is yesterday’s the same as today’s? Don’t try to save me money. Doesn’t a husband make money precisely for his wife to spend? If you’re like this, what motivation will I have to make money in the future?” My fingernails dug into my palm, drawing blood. Five years, and he had never sent me a single flower. The only time was when he accompanied me to pay respects to my father. He casually handed me a bouquet of white chrysanthemums—the kind meant for the gravestone. At that time, I even lied to myself: He just doesn’t understand romance, as long as the thought is there. But it wasn’t that he didn’t understand how to be wasteful; it was that I wasn’t the person he was willing to go through the trouble to be wasteful for. Sophie hung up the phone, sat back down, and extended her hand. “Hey sweetie, can you speed it up a bit? I need to go out and buy some things later, and tonight I have to go meet his parents.” “You guys are going to meet the parents?” I heard my own voice trembling. She tilted her head and thought about it: “Not really the first time. He’s taken me to meet his mom and dad before.” “You have no idea, his mother is too much. The first time we met, she gave me their family heirloom bracelet. I felt embarrassed taking it. This time it’s his mother’s birthday, she insisted I go, so I have to. Can’t refuse an elder’s kindness.” The family heirloom bracelet. My eyes were glued to her wrist. I had seen that bracelet. On his mother’s hand. Mark had taken me to meet his parents once before, too, but that time was not pleasant. From the start of the meal to the end, not a single person at the full table gave me a good look. After dinner, I was the one who washed all the dishes alone. When we got back, I cautiously asked him if his parents didn’t like me. He held me and said, “Don’t overthink it, my parents are like that with everyone.” Turns out it wasn’t comfort; they really didn’t like me. My chest was stiflingly blocked, my throat felt like it was being squeezed. I started coughing violently, struggling for breath. My acute cough was acting up again. “Omg are you okay?” Sophie scrambled to offer me water. I trembling pulled out my pill bottle and swallowed the medicine with the water. Finally recovering, she let out a sigh of relief. Then, she stared at my pill bottle. “Hey! Is this medicine from that master over at Nanshan?” I nodded. “My boyfriend begged for it. I have an acute cough.” She excitedly grabbed my hand: “Me too! I have an acute cough too! Mark specifically went and begged for this medicine!” “That master is incredibly difficult to appeal to, only acts on fate and won’t accept money. He kowtowed at every step for 999 steps just to beg for this medicine!” She smiled brightly: “But it was worth the kowtowing! I was all better the next day.” My hand violently jerked. “When was this?” The voice sounded like it was squeezed out of my throat. “Last year, January.” Last year, January. By then I had been coughing for six months. I had gone to all the major hospitals, and no medicine worked. Another six months passed, and Mark brought back a bottle of medicine. I asked him where it came from. He said, “Don’t worry about it, just take it.” After taking it, I really was cured. A colleague said this medicine was exceptionally rare, that you had to kowtow every step for 999 steps to get it. I was moved to tears at the time, silently cherishing every bit of good he had done for me. So later, even when he was away on business, often not coming home late at night, I never had a word of complaint. I just took it as him working hard for our future, but now reality gave me a brutal slap. Even the medicine he once begged for me was only because it was leftover from her. Sophie’s phone screen suddenly lit up. It was an electronic notification of a Master’s degree certificate from Clapton University. I lowered my head, brushing her nails, striving to keep my voice steady. “Ms. Vance is not only beautiful but also so talented, a Master’s degree from Clapton University?” “I remember the tutors’ theses there are incredibly difficult to pass; very few people from here can graduate.” Once, I also applied myself and was accepted into the Master’s program at this school. In order to graduate, I started preparing my thesis half a year in advance. But later, the thesis was still sent back, rejected. Later on, I wanted to revise it again, but then my mother met with an accident. With various family matters pressing down, I never had another opportunity to reapply. That was the regret of my entire life. Sophie’s eyes lit up, but she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh please, it’s not that hard. Mark did my thesis for me, and he could pass it even as an outsider.” She paused, a trace of slight admiration in her tone. “But don’t say that, Mark is actually quite sharp. When that thesis was published, it directly got me offers from top-tier academic institutions with a seven-figure salary.” “But I thought it was too far, so I gave it up. Now I’m just getting by with this Master’s degree. Anyway, he’s supporting me now, so I don’t need to work. I can work whenever I want to play.” My heart violently sank. I had worked so hard for so long and couldn’t even exchange it for an opportunity to graduate. She can effortlessly get a seven-figure salary offer? I couldn’t help but tighten my grip on the nail file, asking tentatively. “Could I take a look at your thesis? I studied for a Master’s at this school once, too.” I wanted to know where the difference was between me and others. At least it would soothe my long-held regret. Hearing my words, Sophie flashed a look of surprise. But she still generously pulled out her phone, pulled up the old academic thesis, and handed it to me. I took the phone, my fingertips trembling slightly. When I saw the thesis topic, the arguments, the evidence, even the core points inside. It was exactly the same as my old thesis. My heart felt like someone had rawly torn it apart. The only person who had ever been in contact with my old thesis was Mark. I had also asked several senior colleagues and classmates in the academic group to check it for me, and they all said that with my level, graduating would be no problem. But right when my mom met with her accident, I was overwhelmed with family matters, so I had Mark submit it on the website for me. He said he had submitted it for me.

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The day I was born, the moment the nurse handed me to my parents, the joyful smiles on their faces instantly froze. Hovering just above my smooth, newborn head was a string of numbers that only they could see. 6,570 days. Exactly eighteen years. Not a day more, not a day less. The nurse assumed they were just nervous first-time parents. But my mom and dad knew the truth—that number was the countdown to my death. While the other families in the maternity ward were celebrating new beginnings, my parents were staring directly at my end. For the next eighteen years, I was the most cherished person in our household. No matter how tight money got, I got the fresh eggs, the new clothes, the best cuts of meat. My younger brother could only watch with hungry, envious eyes. My parents would always tell him, “Let your sister have it. She doesn’t have much time left.” I grew up understanding the assignment. I never threw tantrums, never caused trouble. I just quietly waited to die. On my eighteenth birthday, I blew out the candles and sincerely said my goodbyes to the world. The next morning, my parents and my brother walked into my bedroom, dressed in somber black, their eyes red and swollen from crying. I rubbed my eyes, sat up, and smiled at them. “Good morning.” The air in the room instantly solidified. The profound grief on their faces slowly morphed into shock. Then into a stiff, awkward stiffness. And finally, into a chilling coldness. … The silence dragged on for a full ten seconds. “How… how are you…” My brother hid behind my mom, his voice trembling like he was looking at a ghost. “I didn’t die,” I said. My dad’s face cycled through several expressions before he finally forced out a strained smile. “That’s good. That’s good you didn’t die…” He nudged my mom’s arm. “Go make breakfast.” My mom offered a delayed, wooden nod. She walked to the doorway, stopped, and looked back at me. The look in her eyes was so complex I couldn’t understand it. For the first time in eighteen years, I felt like something in my home was terribly wrong. Breakfast was just plain oatmeal and toast. My brother, out of habit, pushed the plate of scrambled eggs toward me. I reached out to take some. Smack! My mom slapped my hand away so hard it left a bright red mark. “You’re an adult now! Are you really going to fight your little brother for eggs? Grow up and be considerate for once.” I pulled my hand back and quietly finished my oatmeal. After breakfast, I immediately jumped up to wash the dishes. In the past, whenever I tried to do chores, my mom would rush over, stop me, and say with a doting smile, “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that. Let Mom handle it.” This time, she just shot me a cold, sideways glance and said nothing. After washing the dishes, I forgot to wring out the sponge and left it sitting wet on the edge of the sink. My mom walked into the kitchen, saw the sponge, and her expression instantly twisted in fury. “Are you blind?! You just leave a soaking wet sponge sitting there to grow mold?!” I was startled and quickly reached for the sponge. “I raised you for eighteen years!” she screamed, following right behind me, her voice shrill. “We gave you the best of everything! The eggs, the meat, the brand-new clothes! Has your brother ever worn anything that wasn’t a hand-me-down?! You’ve been living like a princess! And you can’t even wash a damn dish right…” “Mom, I washed them. It’s just the sponge…” “Don’t you dare talk back to me! Are you out of your mind?!” She snatched the sponge from my hand and violently hurled it onto the floor. “Look at you! Walking around with that miserable look on your face! You’ve been alive for eighteen years and you don’t even know how to wring out a sponge! What use are you?!” My dad walked into the kitchen at that moment. He looked at my mom, who was red in the face with rage, and then at me, standing there in utter shock. He waved his hand dismissively, like he was breaking up a pointless argument. “Enough yelling. Both of you, go find something useful to do.” I bit my lip hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Mom, Dad… are you acting like this because I didn’t die?” Their bodies instantly went rigid. My dad took a deep breath, forced an awkward, hollow laugh, and said, “We’re just… we haven’t adjusted yet. We need… we need some time to process this…” I watched them walk away. Faintly, I heard my dad mutter under his breath, “Eighteen years, and she just doesn’t die. What kind of sick joke is this?” I couldn’t understand it. I was alive. Wasn’t that something to celebrate? I looked out the kitchen window. The sunlight looked exactly the same as it always did. But as it fell on my skin, it suddenly felt freezing cold. After that day, the atmosphere in the house changed completely. I was moved into the cramped storage room. My mom said my brother was a growing boy and needed the larger bedroom with better sunlight. My mom stopped asking what I wanted for dinner. Instead, when setting the table, she would set one plate short in silence, shoot me a resentful glare, and then reluctantly grab another set of silverware. My dad spoke even less. Sometimes, when he came home from work and saw me sitting on the porch, he would pause, then intentionally walk around the house to use the back door. Only my brother would occasionally linger near the storage room door, watching me. The look in his eyes was strange—like he was observing a freak of nature. Before, I was the precious treasure they had spent eighteen years desperately loving. Now, I was the scapegoat for every single thing that went wrong in the house. If a faucet wasn’t turned off all the way, my dad’s brow would furrow deeply. The gentle tone he used to use with me was completely gone. “Did you do that on purpose? Do you know how expensive the water bill is?! All you do is drain our resources!” “Dad, I swear I didn’t…” “Don’t call me Dad!” he roared, before turning and storming off. When my brother failed a math test by one point, my mom exploded. “It’s because you’re constantly hovering around the house, distracting him! We were supposed to finally be able to live a normal, peaceful life, and you ruined everything!” If the rice at dinner was slightly undercooked, my mom would slam her fork down. “It’s because you didn’t die! You bring bad luck to this house! Even the stove is fighting against me now!” I stood there, helpless, my eyes red and tears streaming down my face. I muttered brokenly, “I thought I was going to die, too.” The breaking point happened one evening when I flipped a light switch, the bulb flickered, and then blew out completely with a loud pop. My mom completely lost her mind. “You are a curse! Ever since you lived past eighteen, everything in this house breaks! You’re a jinx!” “Eighteen years! Six thousand days! Your father and I counted down every single day raising you! We gave you everything, and left your brother with nothing! We mentally prepared ourselves to say goodbye to you, over and over and over again… and you…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood perfectly. Their eighteen years of sacrifice, the neglect they showed my brother, the agonizing countdown they had so carefully managed—it had all turned into a massive, humiliating joke. It wasn’t because I was alive. It was because they realized that all the money they had spent on me, all the things they had denied my brother—things that were supposed to be justified and resolved the moment I died—were now entirely meaningless. I thought that if I just worked myself to the bone, if I swallowed my pride and endured the abuse, if I somehow made up for my “mistake” of surviving, my parents’ hearts would soften. I thought they would remember how much they used to love me. I took over every single chore in the house. I did the laundry, cooked the meals, bought the groceries, mopped the floors. I worked harder than a paid housekeeper. I cooked elaborate, different meals every day. I kept the house spotless. But no matter how perfectly I did everything, it never earned me a single kind word or a smile from my parents. I grew thinner and thinner, my face gaunt and exhausted. The neighbors eventually noticed the shift in how I was being treated and began gossiping. One neighbor tried to reason with my parents. “Don’t be so hard on Mia. She’s still your daughter.” My mom, right in front of the neighbor, scrunched her face in absolute disgust. “As far as we’re concerned, we never had a daughter. She’s a freak. She’s a curse on our family’s luck! Keeping her around just brings us endless misery!” My dad chimed in right beside her. “We raised her for eighteen years! We’ve fulfilled our moral obligation! Now she’s just leeching off us, dragging this family down!” Those words were like daggers plunging directly into my heart. The pain was so suffocating I couldn’t breathe. Every minor inconvenience in the house became a weapon they used to attack me. But it was an incident with my brother that became the final straw. That day, it was just my brother and me at home. I needed to use the bathroom, but when I tried to open the storage room door, the handle wouldn’t turn. I panicked, pounding frantically on the wood. “Leo! Open the door!” No one opened the door. Instead, I heard a loud crash from the kitchen—the sound of things shattering—followed by a cry of pain and Leo screaming. When the door finally opened, it was my mom. The second the door swung wide, she slapped me across the face with everything she had. “You jinx! I knew leaving you home alone would end in disaster!” Her eyes were bloodshot; she looked like a rabid animal. She collapsed onto the floor, slapping her own thighs and wailing. “My life is a curse… raising a freak for a daughter! You ruined any chance this family had at a good life!” My dad came home right then. He saw Leo’s broken leg, he saw my mom acting like a lunatic, and the madness seemed to infect him instantly. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, hauled me up, and violently threw me back onto the small cot in the storage room. “Mia! You are a plague on this house! Just die already!” My voice was raw and hoarse from crying as I desperately tried to explain. “Mom, Dad, it wasn’t my fault! Leo was trying to steal the cookies from the top cabinet and he slipped…” They didn’t listen. They locked the door from the outside. No food. No water. I could hear everything happening outside. My mom cooking dinner in the kitchen. My dad’s heavy footsteps pacing the living room. Leo loudly complaining about his leg hurting. No one mentioned me. Not once. I curled into a tight ball on the freezing cot. My cheek was swollen and burning from the slap. My body was on fire with a high fever, yet I was shivering uncontrollably from the cold. My consciousness began to blur. I thought, This time, I’m really going to die. Good. Dying is better. Dying means I’m finally free. In my delirium, the eighteen years of my life flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. As far back as my memory goes, I could feel the different way my parents looked at me. At first, I didn’t understand the meaning behind that gaze. It felt like they were looking at a fragile porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. It was careful, but loaded with a complex emotion I couldn’t decipher. Later, I realized it was a mix of pity, helplessness, and profound sorrow. They never, ever talked about my future. Our family was always living on a countdown. The neighborhood moms would praise me for being so mature. They said I was always so quiet, never throwing fits or making a fuss. They didn’t know I wasn’t making a fuss because I just didn’t see the point. I grew up fast. I was mature because I had nothing to fight for. Kids in kindergarten would cry over a piece of candy or throw a tantrum because they didn’t get a gold star. I never did. The candy I was given was always the biggest piece. The gold star was always handed to me first. My teachers loved me. They said I was an “easy” child to manage. Only I knew that I wasn’t “easy.” I was just waiting. Waiting for the day that invisible number hit zero. When my brother was born, I could feel the guilt in my parents’ eyes even more intensely. When he was five, he snuck a piece of meat from my plate. My mom caught him and spanked him mercilessly. He cried and screamed, “Why does she get to eat it, but I can’t?!” My mom didn’t answer. She just kept spanking him. Afterward, she hid in the kitchen and cried for a long time. “Sis,” my brother had whispered to me later. “Are you really going to die?” “Mom says you’re going to die. Sis, I don’t want you to die. You can have all the meat from now on.” The memories of my mom and brother’s eyes from back then tangled with the look in their eyes now, making my head pound with agonizing pain. Did they love me? Yes. They did. But that love had an expiration date. It was entirely predicated on the countdown. It was a love built entirely around the concept of saying goodbye. Eighteen years. The countdown ended, and so did their love. I figured if I died now, maybe that love would be preserved in their memories. We would all remember each other at our absolute best. My mom, stroking my hair with a loving smile. “Mia is the most beautiful princess in this new dress.” My dad, lifting me high into the air, promising to show me the most beautiful sights in the world. My brother, secretly saving his favorite yogurt drinks just to give them to me. Those moments felt so incredibly close, yet impossibly far away. I forced my heavy eyelids open. I was still in the storage room. There was no light coming in. There was nothing. I twitched my fingers, trying to reach under my pillow for the letter. A letter I had written to my mom, my dad, and my brother. I had written it a long time ago. I pulled a weak, bitter smile. I just hadn’t managed to die on schedule. There was also a pink piggy bank. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy a small toy for Leo. I drifted off to sleep again. I thought that when they finally found me and saw those things, maybe they wouldn’t be so angry at me anymore. This time, my sleep was incredibly deep. Dreamless. I could hear my own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. And then, slowly, very slowly… it stopped. The storage room fell completely, utterly silent. No one knew. No one came to check. The little girl who had spent her entire life waiting to die… finally didn’t have to wait anymore. The moment I detached from my body, I felt incredibly, impossibly light. I floated in the air near the ceiling, looking down at my stiff, lifeless body on the cot. I marveled at the fact that souls actually existed after death. I phased right through the drywall and finally stepped out of that cramped, suffocating room. Lunch was set on the dining table. Three place settings. My mom had finished cooking. My dad was serving the rice. My brother was sitting at the table, waiting. I floated over and sat in my usual chair, waiting for one of them to ask, “Where’s Mia?” But no one did. After lunch, my brother limped toward the storage room. My eyes lit up. I screamed silently, Leo, open the door! I promise I’ll never be a burden to you guys again! But before his hand could even touch the doorknob, my mom’s voice lashed out from the kitchen. “Leo! What do you think you’re doing?! Get away from that door! Do you want your leg to hurt worse?!” Leo flinched, terrified, and quickly hobbled away. That afternoon, Mrs. Higgins from next door came over to borrow some salt. “Where’s Mia? I haven’t seen her around the last couple of days.” My mom’s expression went rigid for a second, but she quickly smoothed it over. “She’s not feeling well. She’s resting in her room.” “Is it serious? I have some medicine at my house if…” I offered a sad, bitter smile. Mrs. Higgins, no medicine in the world can save me now. “No, no, it’s fine!” my mom said, her voice a little too rushed. “It’s just… she’s fine. She just needs a couple days of rest.” Mrs. Higgins didn’t press the issue, and I lost my chance to be discovered. After she left, my mom glanced nervously toward the storage room door several times, but she never once walked over to check on me. When my dad got home from work that evening, I spread my arms wide and tried to block his path. Dad! Please, I’m begging you, just go look at me! I promise I won’t make you guys angry ever again! The countdown is really over this time! But my dad walked right through me. “She still locked in there?” he asked. My mom didn’t say anything. “Open the door,” my dad said. I was practically weeping with joy. Was I finally going to be discovered? Would my mom and dad be sad? Would they tell me I was a good girl? As my mom took a step toward the storage room, the house phone suddenly began ringing frantically. My dad picked it up. His face instantly drained of all color. He looked like he was about to collapse. My mom was startled. She ran over and grabbed his arm to steady him. I sighed. I was so close. So incredibly close to being found. “We have to go! We have to go back to my hometown right now! My brother just called… Grandma is dying!” They scrambled to grab their coats and rushed out the door with Leo. The storage room door remained locked. I was forgotten once again. Even though I was dead and had no heartbeat. Hearing the news about my grandmother still sent a phantom ache through my chest. Over the past eighteen years, Grandma loved me the most. Knowing I was only going to live to eighteen, she had spent countless nights awake, crying over me. I floated into their car and followed them back to our rural hometown, wanting to see Grandma one last time. Grandma was lying in her bed, looking as fragile as dry kindling. She gripped my dad’s hand tightly, forcing the words out with agonizing effort. “David… where is Mia? Why isn’t she here?” My dad looked away, his face etched with guilt. “She… she stayed home. She didn’t come…” Grandma’s eyes suddenly widened in horror. “You bastard. What did you do?” My dad panicked and immediately confessed the truth. “Mia just made a mistake, so I punished her by making her skip a few meals…” Hearing that, all the remaining strength seemed to leave Grandma’s body. She muttered something under her breath. “Mom? What did you say? I can’t hear you.” My dad leaned in desperately close to hear her fading voice. “What about Mia? What do you mean she wasn’t supposed to die?” He pressed his ear practically against her lips. I was floating too far away to hear what she said. But I watched my dad’s body instantly turn to stone, as if he had been struck by a massive bolt of lightning. The expression on his face twisted into absolute, horrifying disbelief. He even forgot to blink. “MIA!!” I jumped. My dad let out a scream of pure, unadulterated terror. His face was ghostly white. Ignoring my mom’s frantic, confused questions, he started sprinting out of the house like a madman, muttering over and over, “We got it wrong… we got it completely wrong…” What did they get wrong?

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