To increase the birth rate, the country mandated that anyone unmarried past thirty must accept a system-enforced match. Dylan and I had been married for almost a year, so when I received the call from City Hall, my first instinct was to question it. “Are you sure you have the right person?” The staff member’s tone was firm. “The system shows you’re still unmarried.” “This concerns a major life decision. We verify personal information multiple times. There’s no mistake.” I hung up, grabbed the marriage certificate from my drawer, and rushed to City Hall. The staff member saw through it immediately. “This is a fake certificate. Even the stamp is forged.” Before I left, they stopped me. “We’ve already found your matched partner. Two days from now, remember to come on time to complete the marriage registration with him.” The fake marriage certificate was destroyed right before my eyes, reduced to a pile of ashes. My voice hoarse, I requested to check Dylan’s marital status. The staff member’s fingers flew across the keyboard, then turned the screen toward me. Married. Spouse: Claire Rivers. The registration date was eight months ago—exactly the same as the date on my fake certificate. When I accepted that marriage certificate that day, Dylan must have thought I looked like a complete fool, so easily played by him. A chill swept through my body. I felt dizzy and disoriented. When I came to my senses, I was already standing at my front door. Dylan sat on the sofa, his tone as gentle as always. “Where were you? Why are you back so late?” My eyes bloodshot, I walked up and slapped him across the face. “Why did you lie to me?” “Why her of all people?” He froze for a moment, then a mysterious smile curved his lips. He smoothly caught both my hands, trapping my agitated body in his embrace. He already knew exactly what I was asking about. “Actually, Claire isn’t as terrible as you say.” All the strength drained from my body in an instant. Such a light, casual sentence, dismissing all the harm I’d suffered. But when I collapsed crying at my mother’s funeral, when Claire’s lackeys cornered me and beat me against a wall, Dylan had held my hand and sworn solemnly. “Your enemies are my enemies. Renee, I’ll always be your solid support.” I had truly believed him. But now he stood before me, and when he spoke Claire’s name, his eyes held a tenderness that broke my heart. I wanted to grab his collar and demand when it had started, to ask what else he’d lied about. But all I could do was dig my nails into my palms, forcing myself to calm down. As long as I could find someone to marry within three days, City Hall would withdraw the forced matching. Apart from Dylan, I had no one else. I wiped away my tears, hope flickering in my eyes. “Could you… could you divorce her?” He let out a muffled laugh and playfully tapped my nose. “Now’s not the time for you to throw a tantrum.” I opened my mouth to say more, but his finger pressed against my lips. “Claire is pregnant. I need to give her security.” “Don’t worry. As soon as the baby is born, we’ll divorce immediately.” “Renee, just wait for me a little longer.” I swayed unsteadily, shaking my head through blurred tears, wanting to say there was no more time. In three days, I would marry someone I’d never met. But my throat felt stuffed with cotton. I couldn’t get a single word out. Dylan kept talking. Now that everything was out in the open, he threw caution to the wind.

“Claire is in her third trimester. I don’t feel comfortable with her living alone.” “Tomorrow I’ll bring her to live here.” With the facade torn away, he became even more brazen. The next day, he did exactly as he said and brought her over. Claire’s pregnant belly was prominently rounded, her face glowing with obvious joy. Meeting my gaze, she flashed a provocative smile. “Renee, which room should I sleep in?” I stared at her, grinding my teeth. I would never forget the day she and her mother came to our house. The sun had been shining brightly. Shortly after, my mother became a pool of blood and flesh on the lawn below. “Renee, remember to keep your eyes open from now on. Don’t follow in Mom’s footsteps.” After saying that, she jumped right in front of me. What followed was an endless nightmare. And now, Claire stood in my home with her arm around my husband, smiling provocatively at me. “Renee, the guest room is a bit small. I want to sleep in the master bedroom.” I didn’t get any say in the matter. The moment she finished speaking, Dylan waved his hand and workers swarmed in, throwing all my belongings out of the master bedroom. Things clattered across the floor. He helped Claire to the bed, carefully settling her on the edge. A jade bracelet on the nightstand caught Claire’s attention. Its texture was lustrous, clearly well-treasured. She picked it up and examined it carefully. The next second, as if her hand had slipped, she let go. I instinctively ran forward to catch it, but I was still a step too late. The sound of the jade shattering exploded in my ears. I lowered my head as tears dropped one by one onto the floor. Overwhelming rage surged into my head. I swung my arms toward Claire. “That was the only thing my mother left me!” But before I could get close to her, Dylan stepped forward, grabbed my arm, and shoved me backward hard. I fell onto the bracelet fragments, the impact cutting my palms until they bled profusely. Dylan, who would normally blow gently on even a small cut on my hand for ages, now frowned harshly, his tone as casual as discussing what to eat for dinner. “It’s just a bracelet. Next time I’ll buy you a better one.” “Getting worked up over this and upsetting Claire isn’t worth it.” I climbed up from the floor, carefully gathering the blood-stained fragments into my clothes. But a moving worker stumbled, his arm hitting my back, and the fragments scattered across the floor again. I finally couldn’t hold back anymore and collapsed on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. After enduring all this, I developed a high fever that night. In my confusion, I felt a pair of hands carefully wiping away my sweat, placing a cool, damp cloth on my forehead. When I was fourteen, I was punished for not cleaning the stairs properly, forced to kneel in the snow in the dead of winter. My stepmother’s expression was vicious. “We’ve raised you all these years, and you can’t even do this small task properly.” My father deliberately avoided my pleading eyes, pretending not to see. Halfway through my punishment, a basin of foul, cold water was dumped over me, chilling me to the bone. Claire stood on the second floor wearing a thick coat, her hands in fuzzy gloves as she held the basin. “You looked sleepy, so I came to wake you up.” In the end, it was Dylan who brought me home, forcing several bowls of fever medicine down my throat to pull me back from death’s door. He had cradled my swollen, frost-damaged fingers, his eyes brimming with heartache. In my daze, I opened my eyes to find that the teenage Dylan had transformed into this cold, silent stranger before me.

“You’re sick. Don’t move around the house these next few days, so you don’t pass the illness to Claire.” Tears rolled down my temples, soaking into the pillow. I couldn’t understand how a good person could rot like this. He stood at the door, meticulously wiping his hands with disinfectant alcohol, afraid of missing a single detail. Footsteps pattered outside the door. The next second, Claire threw herself into Dylan’s arms. The guest room door clicked shut and locked. No matter how much I knocked and shouted, there was no response. I was imprisoned, simply for having a fever. I slid down against the door and sat on the floor, my heart already too numb to ripple. In the darkness, my phone vibrated. A message popped up. [Match successful. One day remaining until marriage registration.] I gave a self-mocking smile, avoiding looking at the matched partner’s information like an escapist. A whole day passed. It seemed everyone had forgotten about me. My already weak stomach ached from not eating all day. My throat was dry and scratchy, and even my breath felt hot. The door opened a crack. Claire stood far away, holding a stale piece of bread. Like feeding a dog, she tossed the bread in front of me. Then she raised her phone and took a photo of me. “Didn’t you say you hated homewreckers the most?” “Now I’m going to make you experience what it’s like to be the other woman yourself.” She laughed loudly, then turned to edit a caption and post it online. She portrayed herself as a pitiful pregnant woman, claiming I had taken advantage of her vulnerability to seduce her husband. In the photo, I looked like a homeless dog—disheveled and pathetic. My phone notifications dinged incessantly. Soon someone had dug up my information. “She looks decent on the outside, but she’s so shameless behind closed doors.” “The birth rate is already declining year by year, and she chooses this moment to upset a pregnant woman. Rotten to the core.” “Is it possible her mother gave birth to her the same way? Like mother, like daughter.” I shook my head, whimpering: “No… it’s not…” I wanted to say Claire was the homewrecker who stole someone else’s man, that I was the victim. But then I suddenly remembered that fake marriage certificate burned to ashes. My hand slowly dropped. After a long while, I finally spoke in a hoarse voice. “Let me go. I won’t interfere in your business anymore.” Claire let out a cold laugh. “I refuse.” “I want you to watch the child being born with your own eyes. Watch as I take away everything you care about, piece by piece.” She leaned close to my ear, speaking at a volume only we could hear. “Want to know when I got pregnant with this child?” My heart clenched. I instinctively backed away several steps, but Claire grabbed my arm and held it in a death grip. Her voice continued. “On the anniversary of your mother’s death.” My pupils contracted sharply, overwhelming hatred rising in my heart. I remembered how Dylan, who had promised to be there that day, suddenly canceled. “Something urgent came up at work. I can’t get away.” “Renee, we’ll visit your mother together next year, okay?” Thinking back now, Dylan’s voice had carried subtle breathlessness when he spoke. I’d just been too grief-stricken that day to notice. I clenched my fists, my fingertips turning white with pressure. If I had a knife right now, I would gladly plunge it deep into Claire’s belly.

But before I could react, she suddenly clutched her stomach and cried out softly. Urgent footsteps approached from far to near. Dylan’s trembling hands supported Claire. “What’s wrong?” “Dylan, my stomach hurts so much…” The next second, Dylan’s sharp gaze shot toward me, anger surging within. “If anything happens to Claire and the baby, I definitely won’t let you off.” He steadily lifted Claire into his arms. Before leaving, he didn’t forget to order someone to bring me along. “If anything goes wrong, you need to be ready to donate at any time!” The car sped toward the hospital. I rested my head against the window, Dylan’s tireless comforting of Claire filling my ears. Claire clutched Dylan’s clothes tightly, her voice full of panic. “Dylan, do you think our baby will be okay?” Dylan held her tightly in his arms, then raised his hand and slapped me. “Didn’t I warn you to stay away from Claire? Why did you provoke her again?” I lifted my eyelids but didn’t argue. Whatever I said, he wouldn’t believe me anyway. Dylan’s words continued. As the car stopped, doctors who had been waiting rushed over. I stood outside the crowd, watching coldly. Claire turned to look at me, then fearfully turned back. “Dylan, I’m so scared.” “Childbirth can cause massive hemorrhaging. What if there’s not enough blood in the blood bank?” Dylan gripped her hand tightly, following her gaze to me. I sensed something and tensed. “She has the same blood type as Claire.” “Take her to draw blood!” I backed away in fear, flailing my arms wildly, but was immediately restrained. “Let me go!” I struggled desperately, but was still pinned firmly in the chair. The needle pierced my arm. Crimson blood flowed from my body. “We’ve already drawn 500cc, Mr. Carter. Should we continue?” Dylan glanced at me coldly, his voice ice-cold and merciless. “Continue.” Then he simply turned and left. I felt the vitality draining from my body, warmth slowly dissipating. The nurse’s pitying voice reached my ears. “If we keep drawing, she’ll die, won’t she?” “Sigh, so young. Poor thing.” I felt my whole body begin to shake uncontrollably. Then my consciousness plunged completely into darkness. The operating room light stayed on. An irrepressible panic kept rising in Dylan’s heart. He felt something had slipped beyond his control. He attributed this emotion to worry for Claire. Medical staff went in and out, making him even more irritable. After who knows how long, the operating room light finally went out. The doctor brought the baby out. “Mother and child are safe. It’s a boy.” Dylan carefully took the baby, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. He suddenly remembered Renee’s existence. “Go bring Renee here.” But before long, his subordinate ran over in panic, holding a phone. “This is bad. Miss Rivers is gone.” “Her phone was on the hospital room floor.” Dylan took the phone. Just then, a text message popped up. [Forced matching has taken effect. Your marital status has been updated. Congratulations on your marriage!] But before Dylan could read the message clearly, Claire was wheeled out by a nurse.

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At the class reunion, our former teacher, Mr. Wallace, suddenly asked everyone about their relationship status. He first asked Madison Taylor, the prettiest girl in our class: “Back then, to help you all focus on your studies, I deliberately confiscated the love letter you wrote to Evan Pierce. Do you still resent me for that?” Madison’s eyes brimmed with tears as she gazed tenderly at my husband, Evan Pierce, then shook her head. Mr. Wallace then turned to Evan: “If you could turn back time, would you accept Madison’s confession and make up for that missed opportunity?” Without hesitation, Evan said: “I would.” Everyone started cheering. “You two are truly meant for each other!” I looked down at the cheap wedding ring on my finger. Just yesterday, we had celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. Evan had told me he would never betray me in this lifetime. Now it seemed I was the only one who had taken him seriously. Having gotten the answer he wanted, Mr. Wallace’s smile relaxed. He raised his glass with a sigh: “Back then, to avoid affecting your college entrance exams, I had to be the bad guy and keep you two apart.” “But now knowing you still have a chance, I feel much better.” Good-natured laughter filled the private room. The class president took the lead: “Mr. Wallace, we all understand your intentions. Besides, the lovebirds didn’t miss their chance—sometimes fate just takes its time. Maybe this reunion is the perfect opportunity. Right, Evan?” Evan smiled without responding, as if in agreement. Madison’s face turned even redder as she practically buried herself under the table. Only I stared at my glass, my eyes unfocused. Because back in high school, the person dating Evan was me. Madison had only written him a love letter. But everyone believed that Madison was the one who should be with Evan. Even Evan had hidden the ring on his finger. Suddenly, Madison looked at me and said apologetically: “Mia, could you switch seats with me? I’d like to sit next to Evan.” The chatter in the room died down as everyone turned to look at me. The class president laughed first: “Oh, can’t wait already, Madison?” He pointed at me with a hint of suggestion and urging. “Come on, Mia, I’ve got a seat here. Switch over and don’t get in the way of their quality time.” Another round of laughter. Madison bit her lower lip, looking at me expectantly. I looked at Evan. “Should I switch?” I asked softly. Evan didn’t look at me—as if deliberately avoiding my gaze, or perhaps not wanting others to notice our connection. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. He wanted me to switch. I picked up my glass and drained it in one gulp. Then I set down the glass, pushed back my chair, stood up, and sat down next to the class president. Each movement was as precise as a robot’s. Madison smiled at me gratefully and happily took the seat next to Evan. Someone spoke up suggestively: “Look at them—don’t they look just like when they secretly took their graduation photo together?” I froze, almost forgetting to mask my expression. “They really do,” the athletics rep said with a laugh, slinging his arm around someone’s shoulders. “Back during graduation photos, only Evan and Madison got special treatment. They said they didn’t want to take photos with unimportant people, so they specifically asked me to excuse them. I remember Mia even asked me where Evan was.” “In the end, I made up some excuse about Evan spraining his ankle to cover for them.” “Evan, is that photo of you and Madison still your profile background?” Evan’s profile background hadn’t changed since graduation year. Two figures in school uniforms, seen from behind. He had told me it was a stock photo he found online to make up for not taking graduation photos. Turns out, it was him and Madison. I lowered my head and looked at the ring on my finger. Under the light, it hurt my eyes. “Oh, right,” Mr. Wallace suddenly turned to me with a caring smile, “I almost forgot to ask you, Mia. You were always so introverted in school and rarely came to our reunions. Are you married now?” The room fell silent for a moment. Evan’s hand froze mid-air as he stared directly at me. That look was filled with anxiety and warning. Then someone kicked my shin. The cold leather of the shoe touched my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I didn’t need to guess who it was. After five years of marriage, the last time I’d seen Evan this flustered was when we met each other’s parents before our wedding. He was afraid I’d embarrass him in front of his parents, so he had specifically set up secret signals to tell me when to shut up. I didn’t look down, nor did I look at Evan. I smiled at Mr. Wallace: “I am married, but… we’ll be divorced soon.” Across the table, Evan’s body went rigid.

The smile froze on Mr. Wallace’s face. After a moment, he stammered an apology: “I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.” “But… why divorce?” He frowned, habitually adopting the tone he used to counsel students: “Marriage is a serious matter. It’s not easy for two people to be together. If there are problems that can be resolved, you should try to work through them. Don’t act rashly out of anger…” “I’m not acting out of anger.” I smiled at him, my voice just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “His heart belongs to someone else. There’s no point. Might as well end it.” I smiled. Mr. Wallace’s words caught in his throat. He nodded awkwardly: “Well… I suppose you should divorce then…” Madison rested her head on Evan’s shoulder, her smile unchanged: “Oh, I see. I thought it was…” “Thought what?” The athletics rep, drunk, instinctively probed. Madison glanced at me with an ambiguous look, mumbling: “Nothing, just thought Mia was still being delusional…” Delusional. That had been the entire class’s unanimous assessment of me throughout high school. Because I was just an ordinary girl—ordinary family background, ordinary grades, ordinary looks—yet I delusionally liked Evan Pierce. Meanwhile, the genius student and the gentle school beauty were everyone’s ideal couple. I wasn’t as pretty as Madison, so I didn’t deserve to like Evan. So even though Evan and I had known each other since childhood. Even though Evan had allowed me to stay by his side. Even though back then, Madison and Evan weren’t together—I was Evan’s actual girlfriend. None of that mattered. They all thought I was delusional. And Evan remained the same as always. Eyes on his nose, nose on his heart. Too lazy to even say “Mia is my girlfriend.” “Come on, let’s not bring up the past. Mia’s already married,” the class president coughed lightly, changing the subject. “Mia, good men are everywhere. I know a few suitable guys. Give me your phone—I’ll introduce you.” The class president moved closer with enthusiasm. “Enough—” Evan suddenly kicked the table, a smile on his lips: “She’s not officially divorced yet. Wait until then.” “Evan’s right. Wait until she’s divorced.” “What if her husband finds out and comes after you? Haha.” Everyone joined in the teasing. The class president caught on and downed a drink as self-punishment. “Alright, alright, my bad. Mia, just let me know when you need help. We’re all old classmates—don’t be shy.” I murmured agreement with a smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw Madison take out hand cream and say something to Evan. Evan’s eyes crinkled as he squeezed a thick dollop onto his own hands. The scent was strong—I could smell the gardenia fragrance even from across the table. The old Evan hated artificial fragrances. Because of this, in all our years of marriage, I never used hand cream, and even carefully selected unscented body wash. Turns out he didn’t hate fragrances. He just didn’t like me using them.

For the rest of the evening, Evan and I had a tacit understanding. I chatted with the class president about old times. He and Madison were inseparable, whispering things only they could hear. We didn’t disturb each other, distant as strangers with no connection. Even when leaving, we went separately. I grabbed my bag and left the private room first. Evan had driven, so he went to the parking garage first and brought the car to the hotel entrance. Classmates trickled away. Evan opened the car door and carefully helped the tipsy Madison into the vehicle. The entire time, he didn’t glance at me once. The class president was supporting the drunk Mr. Wallace. Seeing me staring at Evan’s car, he laughed: “Mia, stop looking. Evan’s always been particular—he won’t even look at people he doesn’t like. I drove here too. I’ll give you a ride later.” The class president meant well, so naturally I didn’t refuse. I nodded and followed him to his car. Outside the window, streetlights lit up one by one, casting dim yellow circles on the asphalt like abandoned periods marking the end of sentences. The class president turned down the AC and asked softly, “Cold?” I shook my head, but my gaze followed the hotel’s shrinking silhouette in the rearview mirror. Suddenly I remembered the years I’d spent helping Evan build his business from nothing. We’d lived in a basement apartment, splitting ten-dollar takeout meals between us. The ring on my hand was from that time. From a street vendor. Sixty-eight dollars. He said he’d use this ring to forever remember the hardships I endured with him. I remembered how, after making it big, he drove his new car and took me to the beach, promising: “From now on, you’re the only one who’ll ever sit in my passenger seat.” And yesterday, on our fifth anniversary, he’d said apologetically: “Mia, I’ve been unfair to you all these years. I’ll never let you down in this lifetime.” Now it seemed he’d forgotten. Only I had taken him seriously. My phone suddenly buzzed—a message from Evan. [Good job tonight, but the divorce excuse was too frivolous. Don’t use it again.] I laughed and exited our chat. Of course I knew divorce wasn’t frivolous. But he didn’t know I was serious.

When I got home, I tossed my bag on the floor and sighed deeply before washing up. Two hours passed. Evan still wasn’t home. Out of habit, I picked up my phone to ask where he was. Opening the chat, I realized it wasn’t hard to guess. Late at night, a man and woman alone—what might happen wasn’t hard to imagine. Just like in our five years of marriage, Evan treated me well in every way. Except he refused to acknowledge our marriage in front of classmates, refused to tell them I was his wife. The reason wasn’t hard to guess either. I opened my photo gallery to a hidden album containing a screenshot from Evan’s phone. On our wedding night, Evan was distracted, standing on the balcony with his phone for a long time. He said he had wedding jitters, but I knew. He was looking at Madison’s social media. I’d secretly taken that screenshot that night. He wrote: “When are you coming back?” She replied: “Give me another five years.” This year marked exactly five years. I touched the photo with my finger, then deleted it. I removed the wedding ring I’d treasured for five years and placed it on the bathroom counter. I scheduled an appointment with a divorce attorney my friend had recommended, turned off my phone, and went to sleep. That night, I slept restlessly. In my dreams, I kept remembering high school—Evan and I secretly sharing earbuds to listen to music, hiding from Mr. Wallace. And the moment of shock and delight in his eyes when he received Madison’s love letter. Tears fell onto my pillowcase. The next morning, I put on makeup and changed into the blue dress from my closet. Evan didn’t like blue, so I’d never worn this dress after buying it. As I was about to leave, Evan came home. Seeing the blue dress, he paused: “Madison had too much to drink last night. She was alone, and I was worried something might happen, so I slept on her couch.” I looked up at him, somewhat surprised. I hadn’t expected him to explain. Evan took off his jacket and approached me, his tone casual: “Why’d you dig out this dress? Didn’t you used to dislike blue?” I walked past him and changed my shoes. “I’ve always liked it. You just never knew.” Evan watched me, the ease in his eyes fading. “What’s wrong?” “Why are you so angry this early?” “You were never like this before.” My movement paused for a moment. Before, I wasn’t like this because I hadn’t completely lost hope. Now, things were different. “Look, stop being mad. What happened yesterday wasn’t intentional. You know Madison—she’s sensitive. If I hadn’t responded, she would’ve felt terrible.” “I’ll make it up to you. How about we travel somewhere next week? The Maldives? I saw it on Madison’s feed…” “Evan.” I interrupted him. He froze slightly, a rare confusion in his eyes. I looked at him and said softly: “We…” Before I could finish, Evan suddenly grabbed my hand and demanded: “Your ring? Where’s your ring?!”

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On New Year’s Day, my tenant Terry suddenly sent me a TikTok video. The title was “New Year’s Landlord Rent Reduction Contest.” I was about to tell him that next month’s rent would be completely waived when he sent another message: “Did you fucking see my message or not? Just so you know, I’m only paying a hundred next month!” Seeing his terrible attitude, I angrily replied: “You don’t need to pay next month’s rent. Just get out this month.” That evening when my wife Chloe came home, she brought Terry with her. His arm was intimately wrapped around Chloe’s slim waist. “If you won’t rent the house to me, then I’ll just have to move into your place.” The atmosphere instantly became awkward. The door behind them was still open, with luggage blocking the entrance completely. I looked at Chloe. “What’s the meaning of this?” She leaned against Terry, arms crossed, and immediately started interrogating me. “What right do you have to refuse to rent the house to Terry?” I laughed coldly. “What right?” “That house normally rents for twenty thousand. I only charged him two hundred out of consideration for you. And he still wanted to haggle!” Houses in that neighborhood were extremely popular and had no shortage of renters. Back then, I had already found a tenant and signed the contract, but Chloe came up and tore up the contract on the spot, breaking the agreement. “I have a friend coming to Brooklyn. We grew up together.” “Save this house for him.” “Just charge him two hundred a month for rent to make it look good. Don’t make things difficult for me.” She threw out a few sentences and left in a huff, leaving me and the prospective tenant staring at each other awkwardly. In the end, I had to apologize profusely with a forced smile, compensating them with two months’ rent before the matter was finally settled. Chloe frowned at my words. “Alexander, when did you become so petty?” “I was planning not to charge anything at all. To make you feel better, I specifically had Terry give you two hundred every month. What more do you want?” A house with an annual rent of two hundred forty thousand became an annual rent of two thousand four hundred, and Chloe still thought I was stingy. I suddenly had nothing to say. Moreover, the things she took from our home to give Terry every month were worth far more than two hundred. Holiday gifts from her company, shopping cards from my company, even the fruits and home-cooked meals my mom sometimes brought over—she would pack everything up and take it to Terry. The New Year’s clothes I bought online yesterday—I never even saw them before she eagerly grabbed them and left. “Terry’s all alone in this city. It’s not easy. We should help him as much as we can.” “You’re a grown man. Don’t be so petty.” “We’re all from the same hometown. If I don’t help him out, people back home will gossip about me.” For the sake of Chloe’s reputation, I had endured it all before. But today, Terry’s arrogant attitude completely ignited the anger I’d been suppressing for so long. My attitude remained cold and hard. “Move in? Impossible.” “In this house, it’s either me or him. It can’t be both!” Seeing this, Terry tugged at Chloe’s sleeve with a wronged expression. “Chloe, I should just leave. Worst case, I’ll find some random place to stay tonight.” Fake sympathy. It made me sick. “Leave? Why should you leave!” Chloe pushed me aside forcefully and led him straight to the guest room. Though Terry kept his head down, the smugness in his eyes as he passed me was impossible to hide. After settling him in, she finally came over to me. “Stop making a fuss. It’s just for one night.” “Tomorrow I’ll take him to look at other places.” “You wouldn’t let him live in the south side place, and Terry obediently didn’t insist. Did I say anything about that?” I clenched my fist, opened my mouth, but ultimately said nothing, telling myself to endure it for just one more night. The next morning, I received a call from the property management.

“Is this Mr. Alexander?” My heart suddenly lurched. “Yes, it’s me.” “Could you please come over? Your house seems to be leaking and has flooded the downstairs residents.” “We can’t reach your tenant and have no way to open the door.” That completely woke me up. I hastily got dressed and rushed to the rental property. A crowd had already gathered at the door. Seeing me, someone angrily approached. “You’re the landlord here, right?” I nodded. “What’s going on with your place? My ceiling started leaking last night, and this morning when I woke up, there was a layer of water on my floor!” “We knocked but no one opened! We called out but no one answered!” I quickly took out my key and opened the door. As soon as I pushed it open, a foul stench hit me in the face. I couldn’t help but bend over and dry heave several times. The onlookers outside also covered their noses. “What’s going on here?” “How did they trash the place this badly?” The bright floor was covered with garbage mixed with unknown stains, floating on the water’s surface. There wasn’t even a place to step. The walls were painted over with black paint, and even the bedroom bed was piled high with takeout boxes. Grease had soaked through the mattress, giving off a nauseating smell. I followed the sound to the bathroom and found the sink faucet turned to maximum, water gushing out. Seeing all this, the downstairs residents’ faces darkened. It was obvious this accident was deliberately caused by someone. She waved her hand in front of her nose, her brow tightly furrowed. “Alexander, next time you rent out the house, you need to screen tenants more carefully.” “Your tenant kept making noise late at night. My husband has a bad heart and often couldn’t sleep.” “Property management reminded him several times, and we talked to him too. Who knew he not only wouldn’t listen but got even worse!” Several other households chimed in, their faces showing disgust, clearly having suffered greatly. Someone lowered their voice. “You should disinfect this house. I’ve seen that young man bring different people home. Who knows if he has any diseases!” I nodded, suppressing my anger. No wonder Terry had moved out without a second word—he’d left me such a huge mess. The downstairs resident grabbed my arm. “You have to compensate us for our losses!” I nodded repeatedly in agreement, having already cursed Terry a thousand times in my mind. After settling the compensation with the downstairs residents and contacting someone to handle the house, I called Chloe. The phone rang for a long time before going to voicemail. I called Terry’s number, but again, no one answered. The fire in my heart burned hotter and hotter. I drove straight home. Standing at the door, I could hear chaotic noise inside, as noisy as if there were a flock of ducks. I forcefully pulled open the door, and everyone inside instantly looked up at me. The originally tidy living room looked like a typhoon had hit it, utterly chaotic. Several burlap sacks were piled on the floor, muddy water seeping out from them, tracked into messy footprints. Besides Chloe and Terry, there were several people I didn’t recognize. “Who are you?” An old woman with her hands on her hips demanded, eyebrows raised, face full of aggression, saliva spraying onto my face. “Is there no law anymore? How dare you barge into someone else’s house in broad daylight?” “Terry, hurry up and throw him out!” A huge sense of absurdity washed over me. I ignored Chloe’s winking signals and said coldly. “This is my home. Who are you?” “If you don’t get out now, don’t blame me for calling the police.”

“Alexander!” Chloe shouted coldly, her voice so loud it completely drowned out mine. She grabbed my arm and yanked me outside, closing the door partway so the people inside couldn’t hear us. “Terry’s parents came today. To put their minds at ease, I told them this house was bought by Terry with his own money.” “Watch what you say. Don’t let it slip!” I forcefully shook off her arm. “When did my house become his?” “Yesterday you clearly said he’d only stay one night, but now look—the whole family’s moved in!” “And the house he was living in before…” Before I could finish, a domineering voice interrupted. “Chloe, who’s this? You know him?” It was Terry’s mother. She leaned against the door, eyes narrowed, looking me up and down. Chloe pulled me behind her, her hand viciously pinching the flesh on my arm. I couldn’t help but hiss in pain. “This is my husband, Alexander.” “He heard you were coming today and came specially to see you.” I started to say something but Chloe immediately covered my mouth. Terry’s mother looked at my empty hands with complete disdain on her face. “Coming without bringing anything, empty-handed. No manners.” “Chloe, I’m not criticizing you, but if you’d chosen our Terry back then, you’d be living in a big house by now.” I struggled hard to break free from Chloe’s grip and immediately shouted. “This is MY house. All of you get out now!” “What!” Terry’s mother’s eyes widened instantly. “Pfft!” She spat viciously at me and pushed hard on my chest. “Did you fall and hit your head walking around without watching? What kind of poor wretch is so eager to claim a house?” “Terry said this is the house he worked hard to buy. You think I’m stupid?” “Right, Chloe?” Chloe stood behind her and glared at me angrily, her tone full of disappointment. “Alexander, stop making a scene. No matter how much you want a house, you can’t steal someone else’s.” “Go home. Stop embarrassing yourself here!” Chloe’s protective words slapped me in the face like repeated blows. “Mom, Chloe, come eat.” Terry suddenly appeared at the door. Wearing my pajamas, holding a spatula, he looked exactly like the master of the house. Seeing me, his face didn’t even flash a hint of guilt. “Alexander, you’re here too. Perfect. Come in and eat with us.” I laughed coldly, thinking Terry’s face was thicker than a city wall. Knowing it was useless to argue with these people, I took out my phone. Just as I pressed 9-1, my phone was slapped away by a strong force. The screen landed face-down and bounced a few times, instantly covered with spider-web cracks, though the screen was still lit. I bent down to pick it up, but Chloe stepped hard on the back of my hand and ground her foot. Glass shards embedded into my palm, and a sharp pain instantly shot through me. “Ah!” I cried out in pain, veins bulging on my neck.

“Chloe!” I stared at her with reddened eyes. She snorted coldly and kicked the phone far away. After multiple impacts, the screen went completely black and was utterly unusable. Only then did Chloe lift her foot off my hand. She crouched down and lowered her voice in my ear. “It’s not like we’re not giving the house back to you.” “Just go find some random place to stay for now. In a couple days when they leave, I’ll let you know to come back.” I never thought she would go this far for Terry, completely disregarding our marriage. Terry’s mother took the opportunity to kick me while I was down. “Chloe, this man has no money and no looks.” “Why don’t you divorce him and be with Terry? I won’t mind.” As she spoke, she took Chloe’s hand and placed it gently in Terry’s right in front of me. Terry laughed and pushed his mother playfully. Chloe blushed but didn’t refuse. Blood from my hand dripped onto the floor drop by drop, but Chloe never gave me a single glance. I took a deep breath, my heart already completely dead. “Chloe, let’s get divorced.” Hearing this, she finally reacted, but her first words were still blame. “Alexander, don’t be childish. I was just joking around.” “You’re a grown man. Why make such a big deal of this?” “Terry’s relatives are all here today. Don’t spoil the mood!” Her eyes held disgust and disdain, but not a trace of love. Smugness flashed in Terry’s eyes as he reached out to pull Chloe by the waist, ushering the two of them back inside. “Forget about him. Let’s go eat.” “Chloe, I made your favorite dish. You have to try it later.” Hearing this, Chloe smiled and helped Terry’s mother back into the house. The door slammed shut in my face, completely shutting me out. Laughter and cheerful voices came from inside. “Who was that outside?” “Some unimportant person. Don’t worry about him.” “Everyone eat and drink as you like. Make yourselves at home. Don’t be shy!” How ridiculous. It was my house, yet now I was being shut out by a group of strangers. I clenched my fist, turned around, and knocked on my neighbor’s door. It opened quickly. The neighbor looked at me in surprise. “Alexander, what happened to you?” I smiled bitterly. “Can I borrow your phone to call the police?”

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In my previous life, I spent thirty loving years with my husband, Marcus. When I turned fifty, he suddenly confessed that he had fallen in love with one of his students. I thought it was just a moment of foolishness, so I refused to sign the divorce papers no matter what. When the student failed to take my place, she left the country and soon news came of her marriage. On her wedding day, Marcus was so distraught that he got into a car accident and became disabled. I took care of him at his bedside for fifteen years. Before he died, he grabbed my hand, his voice trembling: “The biggest regret of my life was marrying you. If there’s a next life, I’ll be braver…” Our children blamed their father’s death entirely on me. Later, I became paralyzed too. One was a company CEO, the other an elite returnee from abroad, yet they dumped me in the cheapest nursing home. After I died, they casually scattered my ashes in a filthy ditch, looking relieved: “If it weren’t for you, Dad and Maria would have found happiness long ago. You vicious woman, you never deserved a good ending!” When I woke up again, I had returned to the day Marcus confessed to me.

I started preparing ingredients at six in the morning. I spent the entire day trapped in the kitchen, so exhausted my back was killing me. Marcus was either handling work in his study or tending to his snake plants on the balcony. Ryan, my son, arrived first, carrying a box of premium tea and ten packs of cigarettes. Then he handed me a plastic bag containing some blackened, rotten fruit. “Bought these before New Year’s. Judy said they couldn’t finish them, so she told me to bring them to you.” He said this with a smile, as if he saw nothing wrong with it at all. I said nothing and took the fruit into the kitchen. Soon after, my daughter Lester arrived too. The fish was simmering in the kitchen, and afternoon sunlight flooded the living room. My children sat around their father, chatting about everyday life. In this harmonious scene, I alone felt like an outsider. Soon, the food was served. Ryan raised his glass first: “Dad, I want to toast you! If you hadn’t set such an example, my career wouldn’t be where it is today. You’re not just my father—you’re my greatest mentor!” Lester stood up too. “Dad, without you, our family wouldn’t have the life we have now. I toast you as well.” After emptying their glasses, Lester took a bite of food and frowned. “Mom, the food is too salty.” They all seemed to have forgotten that today was supposed to be my fiftieth birthday celebration. “I have something to say too.” Marcus drained his third glass and set it down heavily on the table, as if he’d made up his mind about something. “Marta, there’s something I have to confess. I’ve fallen for someone else—one of my students.” “We’ve been together for quite some time now. She’s young and insecure. I want to… give her a proper status.” I gripped my fork tightly. Before I could speak, Ryan said excitedly: “Dad, you finally said it! Honestly, not everyone has that kind of courage. No matter what, I support you!” Lester applauded. “Congratulations on your second spring! Come on, let’s toast to this love that transcends age and convention!” The three of them raised their glasses together while I sat in silence, like an outsider. “Mom, you’re killing the mood!” “Yeah, Dad found true love. Shouldn’t you be happy for him?” Their eyes held reproach, as if looking at a petulant child. I stared at the dishes growing cold on the table and suddenly laughed bitterly. Then I pulled a wrinkled divorce agreement from my pocket. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”

The air fell into an eerie silence. Marcus hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. His voice couldn’t hide his excitement: “Marta, you’re really willing?” I pushed the agreement toward him, my action serving as my answer. My calmness seemed to unsettle all three of them. Marcus picked up the paper and carefully smoothed it out. I could tell he was satisfied with the property division. Our current house was my premarital property. I was giving up all marital assets. We’d split the savings in half. I had my pension anyway, so I wouldn’t worry about my future. Mainly, I just didn’t want to argue with him anymore. Marcus was about to sign when he noticed my name already there. His pen paused for a moment. Then he quickly scrawled his own name, as if afraid I’d change my mind if he waited even a second longer. Only then did Ryan stand up and pour me my first glass of wine that day. “Mom, that’s more like it. You should look on the bright side. Dad has the right to pursue happiness too.” Lester pestered her father about when they could invite Maria over for dinner. “Maria loves lobster. Make sure you buy several, and remember to pick the fat ones…” I interrupted expressionlessly: “It’s getting late. You should all leave.” I said “you all.” Ryan’s hand froze mid-reach for the food. Lester’s smile instantly stiffened. After the three left, I took out a bottle of Marcus’s treasured wine. I poured myself a glass and drank it down with the table full of dishes. I didn’t feel like cleaning up the table, so I just left it. I went back to my bedroom and lay down. Without the thunderous snoring, without someone constantly getting up during the night, I slept exceptionally well. The next morning, I slept until I woke naturally, then changed into workout clothes and exercised in the park for a while. When I got back, I slowly tidied up, toasted some bread, fried two eggs, and made myself coffee. In my previous life, I had to get up at five every morning to feed bedridden Marcus, change his diapers, bathe him, give him massages… Before I could take a single bite, I’d have to pick up my grandson from school, then go to Lester’s bachelor apartment to clean and cook. In the evening, I’d go home and repeat the whole morning routine. Day after day, with no end in sight. I hadn’t experienced such a leisurely morning in so long. I opened the closet and packed all of Marcus’s things into boxes. After I finished, only a few old, outdated clothes remained in the closet. In my previous life, just because Marcus said: “Marta, I’m a professor. I need to set an example for my students. We must live modestly.” I wore the same down jacket for fifteen years, the same pair of jeans for eight years. But when that student Maria got engaged, he casually gave her $888,000 as a gift. After leaving the package station, I went straight to the mall. For the rest of my days, I didn’t want to shortchange myself anymore. I didn’t expect to run into Maria there, with Ryan and Lester by her side. When they saw me, their smiles stiffened and embarrassment flickered across their faces. But Maria spoke first: “Marta, long time no see. Are you here alone?” “Look at these two kids. I said they didn’t need to come, but they insisted.” “Ryan really splurged on this trip.” I looked at the designer shopping bags Ryan was carrying. Thinking of that bag of rotten fruit, I felt nothing but bitter irony. Maria walked over and took the dress I’d been looking at. “This color suits me perfectly. How much is it? I’ll take it!” “I saw it first,” I said, suppressing my anger. “Mom, such a beautiful dress is wasted on you. Just let Maria have it!” Ryan immediately said. “Exactly. At your age, wearing a dress like this—have you no shame?” Lester’s words were even more cutting than Ryan’s. Maria pretended to mediate: “Don’t say that. Everyone loves beauty. I just think this dress doesn’t suit you. Shop assistant, please wrap it up for me!” “Wait,” I called out. My husband—she could have him. My two children—I could give them up too. But this dress represented my rebirth and transformation. I just didn’t want to let her have it. But just as I was about to pay, Lester suddenly ran over and pushed me. I lost my balance and crashed into a rack of clothes behind me. I’d had surgery on my back before, and now a searing pain shot through it. Ryan took the opportunity to pay for Maria first. He turned around, saw me on the ground, and though a trace of reluctance crossed his eyes, he still said: “Mom, don’t blame us. Who told you to be so foolish as to compete with Maria?” With that, they surrounded Maria and left. In the end, the shop assistant helped me up and asked with concern if I needed to go to the hospital. I saw the panic in her eyes and reassured her I was fine.

Walking out of the mall, I saw the three of them waiting for a car. When they spotted me, Ryan and Lester immediately moved to shield Maria behind them. I ignored them and walked to the curb to hail a taxi. “Marta, Ryan called a driver. Why don’t we all ride together?” Maria invited with a smile. “No need.” “Don’t be so polite…” Maria pretended to pull me along, but leaned close to my ear and whispered: “Did you know? Your children have been calling me Mom for a while now.” “You’re such a failure. Can’t keep your husband, and your children don’t even want you. If I were you, I’d be too ashamed to live.” I looked at that young, delicate face and couldn’t help but raise my hand. Back then, I pitied her poor family situation. I often invited her to eat at our house and privately gave her money. I never imagined she’d repay kindness with betrayal. Now she was even flaunting it in my face. Before my hand could fall, Ryan grabbed it viciously, his grip nearly crushing my bones. “You crazy woman, I knew you had bad intentions!” “Ryan, do you know what she just said to me?” I straightened my back and looked him in the eyes. “She said you’ve both been calling her Mom, and she called me a failure!” My son froze, his expression flickering with complexity. After a long moment, he said coldly: “Was she wrong?” I looked at him in disbelief. “Maria isn’t just young and beautiful—she’s a PhD. You’re nothing but a maid who can only wash clothes and cook. You’re not worthy of being our mother!” Even though I’d completely lost hope in them, when Ryan spoke his true feelings so plainly, my heart still felt like it had been punched. Just then, an out-of-control truck came swaying toward us. In that critical moment, maternal instinct kicked in. I reflexively tried to push Ryan out of the way. But the siblings rushed toward Maria instead, even pushing me hard into the road because they thought I was in the way. The moment I hit the ground, I heard panicked voices: “Mom—” As my consciousness faded, past memories gradually surfaced in my mind. Shortly after giving birth, my husband moved to the study under the pretext of needing to prepare lectures. Back then, he was just an ordinary lecturer. To become an associate professor as quickly as possible, he’d lock himself in the study the moment he got home, barely coming out except to eat and use the bathroom. My mother-in-law Rose had poor health and couldn’t help, so I had to quit my rising career and raise our two children alone. Ryan was mischievous as a child. He got into a fight and nearly blinded another student. To beg for mercy on his behalf, I knelt before the injured student’s parents and kowtowed in apology. As a mother myself, I understood their anger. So when they came at me to beat me, I just knelt there and let them vent. I broke three ribs that way, one nearly piercing my internal organs. But it kept them from pressing charges against Ryan, saving his academic future. Lester had congenital kidney dysfunction. When she was twelve, the doctor suggested a transplant. When Marcus heard, he turned and left, saying it wasn’t worth it for a girl. Without hesitation, I donated my own kidney to her. When they were young, both children were very dependent on me. But at some point, their hearts gradually shifted toward Marcus and his successful career. Though it hurt, I never blamed them. Until one day, I accidentally overheard them talking with Marcus. “Dad, you’ve worked so hard, putting up with that freeloader Mom all these years. If it were me, I couldn’t have stood it.” “Dad, you deserve better. If you want a divorce, Ryan and I will fully support you.” “I wouldn’t recommend divorce though. Without her, who would take care of Dad so wholeheartedly? Besides, maids aren’t cheap these days…” At that moment, my hands and feet went cold, a chill rising from the depths of my heart. So to them, after raising them with such sacrifice, willing to give up everything for them—I was nothing but a free maid.

When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. A young nurse was changing my bandages while complaining: “Those two are really filial. Their mom’s hurt this badly, but they insisted the doctor treat that young woman first, and she just had a few scratches.” “Honestly, if I had children like that, I’d have cut ties with them long ago. What trash…” Seeing I was awake, another nurse quickly nudged her. The speaking nurse’s face went pale as she apologized profusely. But I smiled weakly. “It’s okay. You’re not wrong.” She froze in surprise. Many things were clearer to outsiders than to me. A week later, I checked myself out of the hospital. As I was about to hail a taxi, I suddenly received a call from Ryan. His voice was angry: “Mom, Judy told me you haven’t picked up Bobby for a whole week.” “Judy has work too. The household is falling apart, and you’re the only one out there slacking off. Have you no shame?” “I’m giving you two hours. If you’re not back, there will be consequences!” He hung up. Then Lester’s message popped up: [Mom, how long are you going to keep slacking off? My apartment’s a pigsty now! Come clean it up right away. And I want porridge!] Taxis were hard to get at the hospital entrance. Standing in the cold wind, I hesitated for a moment, then dialed that number. The call connected quickly. A man’s voice, somewhat aged but tinged with excitement, came through: “Marta, I’ve been waiting for this call for so long.” My nose tingled. “Alex, I’ve made up my mind. Come pick me up.” “Alright. Send me the address.” Minutes later, a luxury car pulled up in front of me… A uniformed driver got out and personally opened the door for me. Inside sat a familiar yet unfamiliar face. Looking at him, I couldn’t help choking up: “Alex…” “It’s okay.” He patted my hand, his voice low. “Now that you’ve made your decision, you can’t soften your heart anymore.” I nodded. “I won’t.” Never again.

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1 I am the wife Caleb Vance stole from his best friend through sheer, ruthless manipulation. Because he started as the “other man,” he is paranoid about every single male who comes anywhere near me. Even when I feed the stray dogs in our neighborhood, he has to confirm that both the dog and its owner are female before he can relax. Until recently, when a new, young intern at my office brought me coffee for a few days. Caleb claimed it was fine, but that night, he scrolled through my phone until 3:00 AM, getting so worked up he broke out in full-body hives. On the way to the hospital, his face flushed bright red with fever, he shoved a photo of the intern right in my face. “Look at these pecs! They are obviously Photoshopped!” “And look at his height, he’s definitely wearing shoe lifts. There is no way he is six feet tall!” Seeing the nurses around us trying to hold back their laughter, I embarrassedly clamped a hand over his mouth and hauled him into the ER. While picking up his prescription, the doctor casually mentioned: “For birth control, we still recommend the woman takes the pill or you use condoms. After all, this new male contraceptive pill just hit the market. The side effects are severe. Hives are actually on the milder end of the spectrum.” “Furthermore, he’s taken it three times in just one week. Even if he doesn’t want you to suffer the side effects of birth control, he can’t be this reckless with his own health.” I froze for a second. But I’ve been pregnant for three months. … I watched Caleb sleeping soundly and picked up his phone. His passcode was entirely my birthday. His Instagram feed was filled exclusively with photos of me. His search history was all about me: “How to get my wife’s attention?” “My wife thinks I’m too clingy, is she seeing someone else?” “What to do when my wife misses her late mother?” Even his Notes app was packed with information about me: “March 20th: My sweet girl had a nightmare and missed her mom.” “March 21st: My sweet girl’s morning sickness is awful lately. She throws up everything she eats.” “April 1st: Went out of my way to find my sweet girl’s old nanny to learn how to make my mother-in-law’s signature beef and tomato stew. My sweet girl ate it very happily.” Reading these, my eyes stung with tears. I tried to comfort myself, thinking that maybe I was just being overly sensitive due to the pregnancy. Until, the GPS app on his phone suddenly popped up with a notification: “Based on your usual routine, your route home has been automatically calculated. Estimated time: 30 minutes.” The destination of the route was Building 7, The Pinnacle Apartments. But I live in Building 3. My hand uncontrollably tapped into the app. The location history showed that for the past three months, every single day at noon, he would navigate exactly to this address and stay for about two hours. I suddenly remembered that because my morning sickness was so severe, I had lost eight pounds in just three months. The only thing I could stomach was the food Caleb cooked. But his company was so far away. Every day, he not only had to take care of me but also deal with the old foxes on his board of directors. Working overtime until dawn was his norm. My heart ached for him. I wanted him to get proper rest at the office during his lunch break. But he thought I didn’t need him anymore. We had a massive argument. No matter what I said, he kept a cold face and insisted on making lunch for me. It wasn’t until I pretended my morning sickness had improved and promised I would take good care of myself that he finally agreed to rest at the office. But in reality, every single day, he was in another building less than a thousand feet from our home, keeping someone else company. I gripped the phone, my entire body shaking. Suddenly, a text message popped up: “Cal, you left a pair of boxers at my place yesterday. She didn’t find out, did she? I left those for you on purpose… unwashed.” “Those are my absolute favorite boxers. Make sure you bring them to me on my birthday.” I stared dead at that profile picture. With trembling hands, I clicked into it. It was Chloe! The illegitimate daughter who infuriated my mother to death and monopolized my father. Since we were kids, she had to fight me for everything: clothes, jewelry, my father’s love… And even my husbands. My ex-husband and I divorced precisely because I caught him and her in bed together. The day of my divorce, I was in absolute despair. Caleb held me, promising me word by word: “My sweet girl, I will only love you for the rest of my life. No matter how much she tries to show off, I could never look at her twice. Trust me.” And he had actually done it. When Chloe tried to seduce him and sent him nudes… He called the police directly, getting Chloe detained for seven days. He even reported the incident to her university, getting her expelled and ruining her future. I thought that escaping that swamp and meeting Caleb was the greatest luck of my life. But why did it have to be her? Why is it her again! Almost masochistically, I opened their chat history. I watched Caleb call her “his sweet girl.” I watched how, when Chloe threatened to expose everything to me, Caleb ruthlessly blocked her, disciplined her, and took that discipline all the way to the bed. I watched how, when I was hospitalized and crying from fear over poor prenatal test results, they were sleeping in the very room I had decorated with my own hands, and she was wearing my pajamas… My whole body trembled, a wave of nausea rising straight to my throat. Behind me, the bed shifted slightly. “Wife?” 2 Seeing my reddened eyes, Caleb reached out to hug me. Smelling the faint, distinct scent of sex and sweat on him… I shoved him away violently and rushed into the bathroom, dry heaving. “My sweet girl!” Caleb immediately followed me in. The moment his hand touched my back, I sprang away as if burned, grabbing a glass jar nearby and hurling it at him. “Get away from me!” The heavy glass ashtray struck his temple. Blood began to trickle down his brow bone. Caleb didn’t seem to care at all. He just looked at me with deep concern, panic practically spilling out of his eyes. “Is the baby acting up again?” “Or are you feeling sick somewhere else?” I sat on the floor, watching him frantically rush out of the bathroom. He poured water, grabbed my medicine. Blood dripped onto the collar of his crisp white shirt, blooming into a small red stain. He was completely oblivious, just holding out the medicine with a cautious, fragile look in his eyes. “Open your mouth, sweet girl.” “Why?” I looked into Caleb’s eyes, so full of love. Tears poured out uncontrollably. Just a few days ago, we were still discussing baby names together. We were still dreaming about our future life as a family of three. We talked about taking her to the beach, to the mountains, to every place we had ever visited since we fell in love, once she was a little older. Just moments ago, he was still acting jealous because I stood a little too close to someone else. “Why did you betray me!” I looked at him, tears blurring my vision. Caleb froze. The hand gripping the medicine clenched tightly. “You know everything.” I waited for him to explain. I told myself that no matter what he said, I would believe him. As long as he said it, I could forgive him. “I’m sorry.” He took a step forward, his voice trembling. “I know you’re upset that I fired the intern behind your back. But I just couldn’t accept another man being around you every day, seeing your smile.” He crouched down, looking up at me with an agonizingly humble expression. “You don’t know how much effort it took for me to steal you away from Ethan, just to be able to stand beside you in the light. What right did that intern have to just have all that without doing anything?” “I know I’m sick. I know I’m not normal. But I absolutely do not regret it.” “My sweet girl, hit me, curse me, punish me however you want. Just don’t hurt yourself, and please don’t leave me. I will die.” He looked up at me, his eyes rimmed with red, looking like an abandoned dog. I looked at him, knowing that right now I should turn and walk away without a second’s hesitation. But I couldn’t bear to. I couldn’t bear to lose his tenderness. I couldn’t bear to lose these happy days. So, as long as I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I could pretend nothing had happened. As long as I didn’t see it with my own eyes. I looked at Caleb and forced a smile. “I want some of that beef and tomato stew.” Caleb’s eyes lit up instantly. He turned to head to the kitchen. But soon, his phone rang. He glanced at it, his face filling with apology. “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. There’s an emergency at the company. I’ll make it for you as soon as I get back.” Before I could say a word, he was gone. I drove my car, following closely behind him. Building 7, The Pinnacle Apartments. I stood in the shade of a tree, watching Chloe link her arm through his, intimately walking through that door. The moment the door closed, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. Through the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room, I saw him stand up immediately, making a gesture as if he were about to leave. Then, Chloe went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The sickening sound of wet kisses and his heavy breathing came through the receiver. I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. “Caleb. My stomach hurts.” Hearing this, Caleb violently shoved Chloe away, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. “My sweet girl, don’t be scared. I’m coming back right now.” Suddenly, a muffled groan came through the phone. Chloe crouched down. Immediately after, the call was disconnected. Ten seconds later, a message popped up: “My sweet girl, an emergency board meeting just got called. I absolutely have to attend. I’ve already contacted your doctor, he’s on his way to our house right now. Don’t be scared.” I looked up. Through that window, I watched him carry Chloe toward the bedroom. My heart died completely. I pulled out my phone and dialed the hospital’s number. “Hello. I need to schedule an abortion.” 3 I was about to drive away when I saw someone standing in front of my car. It was my father. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then I followed him into the house where I had lived for eighteen years. The living room was still the same living room, but everything else was different. The photo of my mother and me that used to hang on the wall had been entirely replaced by photos of Chloe and her mother. My mother’s favorite begonias had been replaced by sickeningly sweet roses. I stood in the center of the living room, feeling like I was standing in a completely foreign place. My father pointed to the sofa. The moment I sat down, he cut straight to the chase. “Leave Caleb.” “I refuse. Caleb is the one who can’t leave me.” Once, when I discovered he had Chloe’s contact info on his phone, feeling betrayed, I packed my bags to leave. He blocked the door. Without a word, he grabbed the fruit knife off the coffee table and plunged it into his own abdomen. Blood poured out, but he didn’t take a single step back. He just stared at me. “If you want to leave, it’ll be over my dead body.” My father didn’t speak. He just looked at me with pity. Then, he pointed to the adjacent wall. It was a photo wall. Entirely covered in photos of Chloe and Caleb. Snuggling on a gondola in Venice. Holding hands under the cherry blossoms at Mount Fuji. Kissing passionately beneath the Eiffel Tower. “He didn’t go on a business trip last week. He took Chloe traveling all over the world.” He stood up, walked to the photo wall, and pointed at the massive wedding portrait in the very center. “They got their marriage license abroad. They had a wedding, and invited everyone.” “Including his parents.” “To get his parents to accept Chloe and attend their wedding, he knelt outside their door for seven days.” “I seem to recall that no one attended your wedding with Caleb, right?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Caleb’s parents despised me. They thought I had seduced their son, making him bear the label of a homewrecker and ruining his reputation and future prospects. So, they didn’t show up on our wedding day, and they refused to let us visit them. But in the photo, they were smiling with absolute benevolence, happily accepting the ceremonial tea from Chloe. “I heard you got into a car accident a few days ago?” “Because you didn’t want Caleb to worry, you handled it all by yourself and didn’t tell him.” My father scoffed. “Do you know where he was right then?” “He was standing not far away from you, helping Chloe pick out a diamond ring.” My brain started buzzing with a loud, ringing sound. “He watched the whole thing. He watched that driver harass you. He watched that man shove you to the ground. He watched you hide in your car and cry. He watched them pound on your window and curse at you. He watched you force yourself to call the police.” “And he didn’t move a muscle. Because Chloe was thirsty, and he was in a hurry to buy her boba tea.” “I don’t believe you!” I stood up, trembling all over. I refused to believe that the man who would agonize for half a day over a minor scrape on my knee would watch me being bullied and do absolutely nothing. “These are all lies! These are stories you made up just to get me to leave Caleb!” My father stared at me in silence. That look terrified me. After a long time, he spoke. “Chloe is pregnant.” “The baby’s name is Julian.” Julian. Wishing him a peaceful, secure life. Something snapped in my brain. That name… Caleb and I had spent an entire month flipping through dictionaries to come up with it. That was the name for our child. Only my child’s name! “Men understand men best.” My father’s voice echoed again. “What he has left for you now is just obligation. If you keep going like this, you’ll end up exactly like your mother.” My mother. When she found out my father had a mistress, she stubbornly refused to get a divorce. My father blatantly brought the mistress into the house and was intimate with her right in front of my mother. Eventually, unable to bear the humiliation, my mother took her own life. Will my fate be the same as my mother’s? Spiraling into an endless cycle of breakdowns, madness, and mutual torture? I didn’t know. I just suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. I stopped paying attention to the words the man in front of me was saying. I pushed open the door and walked out. The sun outside beat down on me, but I couldn’t feel a single trace of warmth.

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Eight in the morning. I am sitting in our newly renovated apartment, fully dressed in my wedding gown, waiting for the groom and his party to arrive for the ceremony. But he never shows. His mother, pale as a ghost, keeps wringing her hands: “I’ve been calling him since sunrise, but he won’t pick up. His father drove back to their place to find him. He said he drank too much at the bachelor party last night and can’t be woken up…” Rage boiling in my chest, I grab my phone and dial his number myself. After several attempts, it finally connects. “Hello?” A weak, drowsy groan comes through the receiver, heavy with sleep. My heart sinks. I press the speaker button. “Liam, do you have any idea what today is?” “Hm? What day?” Frustrated, I yell into the phone: “Today is our wedding day!” Silence for a few seconds on the other end, then sudden alertness. “Wait? Since when were we having the wedding today?” 1 I can’t process his response. My only thought is: can he still make it on time if he leaves right now? But I know Liam Sterling too well. He dawdles for a solid hour just getting ready to go out normally, let alone putting on a suit, doing his hair, and the whole nine yards for a wedding. What if we skip all that? “Liam, go take a quick shower, throw on the suit in your closet, and grab an Uber straight to the venue.” I think this solution is standard protocol. I didn’t expect Liam to completely explode. “No way, man! Since when did we agree on having a wedding today?” “How am I just finding out about this? Did I even agree to it?” “Can you stop looking for trouble when there isn’t any?” Me: … I am gripping the phone, my hand shaking slightly. For this wedding, I’ve only slept four hours a night for a solid month. Yesterday, I was busy for twenty-four hours straight, not even stopping for a drink of water. But right now, I am so angry my stomach aches, and I feel like I might be sick. I respond with icy calm: “We had an engagement dinner. We picked out the wedding rings. We put deposits down on the venue. And you’re sitting there telling me you didn’t know we were getting married?” His tone is matter-of-fact: “Of course I didn’t know. Nobody told me!” The relatives standing around me exchange glances. His mother asks me carefully: “Claire… did you really not tell him?” I am stunned. How could I not have told him? I ask him: “Do I need to file a formal request in triplicate and get your signature as proof of notification every time I initiate a life-changing conversation?” But Liam acts like his logic is flawless. “Then what? Can you stop making me look dumb? No way, man… You handled this so unprofessionally, and you have the nerve to blame me? I’m completely baffled, okay!” “Out of nowhere, you just tell me today’s the wedding day? I never wanted a big ceremony! Is marrying me all you think about?” I feel a deep chill settle in my soul. But looking around at the living room packed with relatives and friends staring at me, at the bright, agonizingly festive decorations… I feel like I’m being roasted alive. Everything is prepared. Friends and family rescheduled their lives to be here today. So many people are currently sitting at the reception venue, expecting a party. And the groom claims he had absolutely no idea? I let out a cold laugh. “I get it. You aren’t ignorant; you just didn’t want to come. You are trying to ditch the wedding, right?” Liam hears the profound disappointment in my voice. He sighs, his tone softening a bit. “Claire, look, that was just my morning grumpiness talking… But seriously, think about it. I was up until four-thirty playing games with Luna. She wanted to play; I couldn’t just tell her no, right? Any day can be a wedding day. Is it absolutely necessary to do it right this second?” “Be good. Stop being angry; you’ll ruin your health. When I finally wake up, I’ll take you out for burgers and milkshakes, okay?” Me: … Someone nearby whispers. “Who is Luna?” “No idea. Never heard of her.” I take a deep breath, forcing myself to be calm. I issue Liam a final ultimatum. “I’m giving you exactly one hour. If you aren’t here by then, this wedding is off. Permanently.” Liam doesn’t explicitly refuse, but he doesn’t explicitly agree either. He dodges. “But I’m still not finished sleeping…” I feel hot blood rush to my head. I emphasize again: “Make no mistake. My meaning is: if it doesn’t happen today, it is never happening.” Liam is silent for a long moment: “Let’s talk after I wake up.” Then he hangs up. 2 I am sweating from anxiety, shaking from pure rage. Yet I feel a crushing sense of powerlessness, as if all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. I genuinely want to pass out just so I don’t have to deal with this nightmare. But things have to be resolved. I can’t collapse right now. I cannot lose control of my emotions. I look up at the people surrounding me. Their faces are all dark with anger and embarrassment. Especially Liam’s parents. They look like the sky just fell. Obviously, they didn’t expect their son could be this unreliable either. Actually, Liam’s personality had shown cracks long before the engagement. When his parents and I were arranging everything for the engagement dinner, I told him he needed to pick out his outfit ahead of time. But he was completely unwilling. He continued playing his game, not even looking up. He whined, “Ugh… do I have to go?” I thought it was just a joke. After all, during the entire engagement process, even though he was reluctant, he never said no. But what happened today is beyond ridiculous; it’s a living nightmare. For a split second, I even consider grabbing a rando on the street to be the new groom. But this is reality, not some dramatic fanfiction. How could I possibly find a suitable replacement on five minutes’ notice? Even if I wanted to, the other party definitely wouldn’t agree. What if I hire an actor just to walk me through the process? Forget it… besides being able to keep the cash gifts, there’s zero meaning. Things have progressed too far. There is no remedy. My wedding. It is completely ruined. 3 I have always been a strong, rational person. I hate letting others see my vulnerable side. So I fight back my tears, trying my best to keep my voice steady. I even keep a forced smile on my face. “Well, there’s nothing we can do now. The wedding has to be cancelled. Please spread the word.” Finished speaking, I open my contacts list and randomly dial a number. Very apologetically, I tell them the wedding is off due to an emergency. On the surface, I act like none of this is bothering me. In reality, my mind is complete chaos. I don’t even remember who I called, and I have no idea what they said in response. I just kept apologizing, apologizing, apologizing. The other end of the line goes silent. The entire living room is also dead silent. Expectant eyes are locked onto me, tonnes of weight pushing down on my shoulders. I struggle not to collapse, quietly waiting for the response. Suddenly, the person asks: “So, when is the next wedding?” I feel a slight unease at the question, but I instinctively reply: “We haven’t decided yet, but to make up for today, I’ll definitely take you out for dinner another day to apologize in person.” “… Okay… Well, what about you? Are you alright?” “Everything is fine on my end.” “But you don’t sound fine.” “Hm? Do I?” I let out a couple of fake, dry laughs. I vaguely realize this person is slightly strange. But right now, I don’t have the emotional bandwidth or time to analyze it. I make a few more brief pleasantries and quickly hang up. Seeing this, the expressions of the guests in the room all go dark. They start pulling out their phones to spread the news themselves. Tell the people waiting at the reception venue to just leave. The wedding checks and gifts will be returned. Quite a few people are audibly complaining: “What kind of mess is this? I’ve never seen a wedding like this before! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered coming! I’ve never met someone so unreliable!” “I thought I was coming to celebrate a happy occasion, and it’s just miserable! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered. This is a complete joke.” “Is it possible she got rejected and doesn’t even know? This clearly feels like she deliberately played us.” “Stop talking. His family is well-off. Maybe she was trying to force him into marriage with this whole thing. But the guy actually had some backbone; he firmly decided not to show…” I pretend I can’t hear any of it. I continue apologizing to the next person I call. And that’s when something even more bizarre happens. 4 The guests at the reception hall had just left, still complaining loudly, when a section of the hotel building suddenly collapsed. Fortunately, because everyone had evacuated in an orderly fashion, there were no injuries. Perhaps even God wanted to stop this wedding. I think if we are selecting the world’s most miserable person today, it has to be me. This event quickly makes the local news. By coincidence, Liam, who just woke up, happens to see the story. He forwards the news clip to me, proudly bragging: See? Good thing I didn’t go. That building was destined to fall. Just say it—if I actually went today, how many people would I have doomed? Look at my foresight! Honestly don’t know why you’re always so anxious and looking for trouble. You were so unlucky because you didn’t listen to me, haha. Having been busy for twenty-four hours straight, when I see these messages, a metallic taste rises in my throat, and I spit out a mouthful of blood. The pristine white wedding dress I carefully picked out over a month ago is stained with a patch of crimson blood. I stare blankly. My mind is a complete void, a humming sound in my ears. He is completely unhinged. So unhinged that even if I wanted to yell at him, I wouldn’t know where to start. I just toss the phone aside. Sitting in the empty apartment, I return to the mirror and continue undoing my hair and removing my makeup. But the few phrases he just sent repeat themselves in my heart, torturing me almost to madness. Only half my hair is undone when I finally can’t hold it in any longer and burst into tears. Abandoning all hope, I just yank the pins out, ignoring the pain in my scalp. My hand shaking, I type out: You are completely unhinged. Let’s break up. He replies quickly. Claire… stop being angry. I’ve actually done some self-reflection. I was definitely in the wrong too. When you get home, I’ll apologize and make it up to you, okay? Besides, it’s just a wedding. It’ll happen sooner or later. What’s the rush? You don’t actually want to get married right now anyway, right? Hurry up and finish your stuff over there and come find me. Haven’t you been dying for burgers and milkshakes? I’ll take you for a huge meal. It feels like a massive boulder is pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe. Sooner or later… He actually believes I will wait for him unconditionally, infinitely, and will never leave him. What if I don’t wait? Will he suffer like I am today? But recalling his face, I can’t help but let out a self-deprecating, cold chuckle. No. He absolutely will not suffer. I can never, ever make him personally experience the pain I suffered today. And what I wanted wasn’t burgers and milkshakes. It was BBQ. Liam always forgets. The humiliation and indignation I’ve repressed for so long flood my heart simultaneously. Everything suddenly goes black. When I next wake up, I am lying in a hospital bed.

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1 On the day I was set to give birth, terrified of the pain, my husband, Mark, and I had fully agreed I would get an epidural. To ensure everything went smoothly, I had paid out of pocket for an upgraded, private maternity suite and several pre-paid, elective medical options not fully covered by our insurance. I didn’t expect that the moment I was three centimeters dilated and agony was setting in, my mother-in-law, Sharon, would practically block the delivery room door, physically stopping the nurse from bringing in the anesthesiologist. She marched over to my bedside and slapped a car title transfer document onto my over-bed table. “Sign over the title of your Porsche to your brother-in-law right now for his wedding! Otherwise, forget about the epidural!” The labor nurse stood nearby, tapping her foot in frustration and checking her watch. “Ma’am, we need to get the doctor in here now.” But Sharon had dug her heels in. Until I signed that paper, no medication was getting through that door. Worried about triggering an emergency with the baby due to the intense stress and pain, I had no choice but to grab the pen and scrawl my signature. I thought that was the end of it and I could finally focus on delivering my child. But then, the fetal monitor began to beep sharply. The baby’s heart rate was plummeting. As the OB-GYN rushed in holding a consent form for an emergency C-section, needing an immediate signature to save two lives, Sharon spoke up again. “If you want a family member to sign that consent, you need to add my son’s name to the deed of your downtown penthouse.” Pale from the blinding pain, I looked at Mark, desperately begging him for help. “Mark, the baby is losing oxygen! Are you really extorting a house from me right now?” Mark looked incredibly conflicted, shifting his weight from foot to foot while holding my hand. “Honey, you have to understand, Mom is just trying to look out for our family’s future.” “Just nod your head, please! Otherwise, Mom swears she won’t let me sign these life-saving papers!” … Mark was actually crying harder than I was, as if he were the victim being coerced. “That penthouse is my separate premarital property!” I tried to yank my hand away from his, but I didn’t have an ounce of strength left. Beside me, the fetal heart monitor’s alarm became a piercing, continuous scream. “Her water is completely meconium-stained! The baby is severely oxygen-deprived!” The lead surgeon, sweat beading on his forehead under his cap, practically slammed the surgical consent form against Mark’s chest. “Any more delay and this will be a stillbirth! Sign it now!” Mark acted like a spineless coward, burying his hands deep in his pockets and letting the paper slide right off his chest and onto the floor. He turned to look at Sharon, pleading with her, “Mom, shouldn’t we save them first?” “Save them, my ass! If that house deed doesn’t have your name on it today, no one is cutting her open!” Sharon shoved Mark aside, acting like a brick wall blocking the surgeon. She pulled out a self-inking notary stamp and an “Amendment to Real Estate Deed” document, shoving it directly into my face. “Rylee, just press your thumb right here. The downtown place gets Mark’s name on it, and I will instantly tell my son to sign the surgery consent!” “This is extortion! I’m calling the police!” the labor nurse yelled, her whole body shaking with rage as she reached for her phone. “Go ahead and call them!” Sharon snapped, swinging her hand and aggressively slapping the nurse’s wrist. “Furthermore, this is a family matter! When the cops show up, they have no right to stop a mother from educating her daughter-in-law!” The pain was causing stars to explode in my vision. Tears mixed with cold sweat poured down my face in huge drops. “Mark, this is our baby! The one we fought through five rounds of IVF to get!” “How can you let our child suffer like this?” For this baby, I had endured over three hundred days of daily hormone injections, leaving my stomach a mass of black-and-blue bruising. During egg retrieval, I had screamed in agony. Mark had knelt by my bedside then, slapping his own face, swearing on his life he would spend forever cherishing the baby and me. Five years of supposedly unbreakable love—was it really worth less than a piece of real estate to him? “Honey, I’m hurting more than you are right now!” Mark sobbed, dropping to his knees by the bed. “But it wasn’t easy for Mom to raise me all on her own. She just wants some security for us.” “Just add the name, and I’ll sign immediately! I swear to God, even with my name on the deed, it’s still your house. I will never take a dime of equity from you!” Even as he was speaking these supposedly profound words of love, he was physically forcing open my clenched fist. “Honey, just swallow your pride for once. The nurses are already making fun of us. Nothing is more important than our family being okay and together!” Listening to this incredibly spineless speech, my heart went completely cold. “Fetal heart rate is down to sixty! Prep for internal resuscitation!” the OB-GYN roared at the team. “My baby…” I closed my eyes in despair, my mental defenses completely collapsing. For this piece of my own flesh and blood that I had suffered so much for, I couldn’t gamble. I couldn’t afford to lose. “I’ll sign…” The words had barely left my mouth when Sharon grabbed my thumb, practically grinding it into the stamp ink, and jammed it down hard onto the deed amendment document, leaving a clear, dark fingerprint. “See? If you’d just been this sensible from the start, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Sharon tucked the document away with a look of immense satisfaction. Mark instantly stopped crying, scrambled up from the floor, grabbed a pen, and scrawled his signature on the surgical consent form. “Doctor, quick! Save my wife and child! Use the best medicine!” Mark yelled. Several nurses worked together to lift me onto a gurney, pushing me at a dead run down the hallway. Just as the gurney was about to burst through the doors of the operating room, a sharp voice rang out. “Wait! Stop! She can’t go in!” The head surgical nurse came sprinting from the opposite end of the hallway like a track star, slamming her hand down on the gurney to halt it. “What is going on? We are out of time!” the lead surgeon bellowed. “The surgery is canceled!” The head nurse held up a printout of the billing statement, yelling, “The two hundred thousand dollar pre-payment in the patient’s hospital account… a family member just applied for a full refund and took the cash!” 2 “What refund?” the lead surgeon demanded, his voice dangerously low. I followed the head nurse’s pointing finger. Not far away, at the hospital’s billing and discharge window, Sharon was busy stuffing stacks of hundred-dollar bills into a black plastic trash bag. Mark stood right beside her, hunched over, holding the bag open for her. “Mark!” I used every last ounce of strength I had to scream his name. Below the belt, another wave of agonizing, tearing pain ripped through me. Hearing my voice, Mark flinched, and the plastic bag almost slipped from his grasp. Sharon snatched the bag away, hugging it tightly to her chest, and turned around to roll her eyes at the doctor. “What are you screaming for? Charging two hundred thousand to deliver a baby, this hospital is practically committing highway robbery!” The doctor was shaking with rage, pointing his finger at her and yelling, “That was the pre-paid emergency fund for dynamic complications, major hemorrhaging, and life-saving intervention!” “Without money, the blood bank won’t release units for transfusion! If the patient gets on the operating table and can’t come off, who’s going to take responsibility?” “I had three kids, all natural, total cost was like fifty bucks back in the day!” Sharon retorted, sticking her finger aggressively toward the doctor’s nose. “I asked around! A standard delivery is a few grand, max! You people are just trying to scam us!” I could feel warm liquid continuously gushing from me, and the bedsheets beneath me were already soaked red in a massive bloom. That two hundred thousand was my own money that I had pre-paid into the hospital account to save my own life, specifically for a catastrophic moment like today! “Mark…” I grit my teeth, shaking violently. “Give the money back.” Mark walked over with an expression of complete helplessness. “Honey, Mom says we need this money for an urgent emergency.” “Your brother-in-law is getting married, and the bride’s family suddenly demanded an extra two hundred thousand for the dowry, or she’s getting an abortion and calling off the wedding. Mom was completely frantic, that’s why she had to borrow your pre-payment fund for just a moment.” “Don’t worry, as soon as he’s married, I’ll sell my soul to pay you back.” I was so angry I actually started laughing—laughing until tears streamed down my face. Taking my life-saving money to pay for my brother-in-law’s wedding dowry? “That is my life!” I struggled, trying to grab his collar, but I didn’t have the strength to even raise my hand. “Without money, she cannot enter the operating room! Family needs to go pay now!” The head surgical nurse blocked the operating room door, holding firm on hospital protocol. Mark turned to beg Sharon, his voice pathetic beyond belief: “Mom, can we maybe just pay fifty thousand of it? Rylee is bleeding a lot, it looks pretty scary.” Sharon squeezed the plastic bag tighter against her chest and plopped down onto an open chair in the waiting hallway. “No money! Not a single dime!” “Her parents have money. A little bleeding isn’t going to kill her!” The medical staff in the vicinity were completely stunned. “You are recklessly endangering a human life! I’m calling the police right now!” The head nurse pulled out her cell phone to dial 911. “Go ahead and call them!” Sharon dropped to the floor and began slapping the linoleum with her hands, throwing a full-blown toddler tantrum. “Help! The doctors are conspiring with patients’ families to steal money! There’s no justice in the world!” Mark looked at me, his face a mask of total helplessness. “Honey, look at Mom. She’s completely lost it. Just look at this two hundred thousand as helping your brother-in-law out, okay?” “We’re all family trying to live a good life, what’s a little money between us?” Beside me, a nurse screamed, “Fetal heart rate is still dropping! Patient is in active hemorrhage!” I looked at the man standing over me and found him completely unrecognizable. For this baby that I had fought through five rounds of IVF to get, I couldn’t waste another second. Trembling, I fumbled under my pillow for my phone. “I’ll pay…” “I will use my own trust fund money to pay the advance!” Hearing this, Sharon, who had been throwing a fit on the floor, suddenly scrambled to her feet. “You little bitch, you finally admitted it!” 她 rushed over and aggressively grabbed my wrist. “Mark works day and night to earn money, and you have the nerve to hoard a secret stash behind our backs!” I screamed in pain. “Let go! That is my inheritance from my parents!” “Bullshit! You married into the Vance family, your money is Vance money!” Sharon ignored me completely, desperately trying to pry my fingers open. “Mark, quick! Come help! Get the phone! This bitch definitely has way more than a few hundred grand hidden away!” Mark stood there. He didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he just rubbed his hands together, looking at me with an expression of utter betrayal. “Honey, since you had money all along, why didn’t you just take it out earlier to help my brother?” “Why do you have to draw such a hard line between ‘yours’ and ‘ours’ within the same family?” 3 Sharon snatched my phone from my hand and violently slapped my face. “What’s the passcode! Tell me!” A searing, burning pain exploded across my cheek, and my vision began to go black in patches. “That is my life-saving money… in your dreams!” “Won’t talk, huh?” Sharon grabbed a handful of my hair, violently slamming my head against the cold metal railing of the gurney. “I’ll teach you to be stubborn! You don’t pay today, you can just lie here and die!” “Stop it! Security! Get security down here now!” The head nurse and several other nurses desperately rushed forward, trying to pull her off me. Sharon fought like a rabid dog, biting and scratching, single-handedly forcing several nurses back. “Mark!” I screamed in pure despair. Mark finally moved. He stepped quickly over to the gurney and aggressively pulled the thrashing Sharon back. “Mom, stop beating her! Rylee is still pregnant with a Vance child!” I gasped for air weakly, thinking that he finally had a sliver of conscience. But in the next second, Mark grabbed my right thumb and violently pressed it against the phone’s screen to use Touch ID. “Mark… what are you doing!” I tried desperately to shrink away, but I couldn’t break free from his grip. “Honey, I’m sorry.” Mark’s eyes were red, and tears began to plop, plop down onto my face. “Mom is stubborn. We just have to go along with her this one time. As soon as you pay the money and the baby is born, I promise I will sell my soul to make it up to you!” There was a soft beep. The fingerprint ID worked. Mark expertly opened my mobile banking app and tapped on the account balance screen. Both of them leaned over the screen, and instantly, they let out a sharp, synchronised gasp. “Units, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, hundred thousands, millions…” Sharon’s voice was trembling violently. “Three million dollars! You little bitch, you actually had three million hidden behind my son’s back!” Mark’s eyes went wide, and his tone actually carried a hint of self-pity and accusation. “Honey, your family gave you that much inheritance? You were hiding it so deep from me…” “Give me back my phone…” I was continuously gushing blood from below, and my consciousness was beginning to fade; only a sliver of primal instinct was keeping me holding on. “Give it back? You crossed into our Vance household; this is now marital assets!” Sharon immediately clicked on the transfer funds screen. “Enter the passcode! Transfer all three million to my son’s account right now!” The lead surgeon, sweat beading on his forehead, was pushing the gurney, ready to burst through the operating room doors. “Patient is going into hypovolemic shock! Are you paying the surgical fee or not!” Sharon whirled around, spreading her arms wide, using her heavy-set body to completely block the operating room entrance. “No, we aren’t paying! And she’s not going in!” “If this three million isn’t transferred to my son today, no one is doing any surgery!” The head nurse was shaking with rage. “Are you insane? That is a human life! This is literal murder!” “Bullshit!” Sharon spat on the linoleum. “She has three million and refused to help my youngest son in his emergency. She doesn’t care about family, so why should I care if she lives or dies!” “Mark, hold her face! Use Face ID for the transfer!” Mark looked at me, covered in blood, and then looked at the numbers on the phone screen. He swallowed hard, bringing the phone up to my face. “Honey, just blink your eyes for me.” “The second the transfer is confirmed, I will personally carry you into the operating room. The doctor said if we wait any longer, the baby’s brain will be irreversibly damaged from oxygen deprivation.” “Didn’t you love this IVF baby more than anything? Trading three million for our child’s life is a good deal.” Listening to this casually evil speech, my heart completely died. Five years of marriage, the love I thought we had—it was all nothing but a joke. “In your dreams…” I clamped my eyes shut as tight as I could, violently biting down on the tip of my tongue, using the blinding pain to force myself to stay conscious. “You bitch! Daring to close your eyes?” Sharon rushed over, using both hands to violently pry my eyelids open. “Mark, quick! Scan! Scan!” I desperately rolled my eyes, fighting against the phone screen’s facial scan. The pain in my lower abdomen hit me like a tidal wave. I finally couldn’t hold on any longer, and my vision was plunged into complete darkness. “Patient has lost consciousness! Fetal heart rate is almost gone!” a nurse screamed in despair. In this moment of absolute, life-or-death crisis… The elevator doors at the end of the hallway opened with a soft ding. A furious roar exploded down the hallway like a thunderclap. “Let’s see who dares to touch my daughter!” 4 “Rylee!” When my mom saw the horrific sight of me covered in blood and unconscious on the gurney, her vision blurred, and she almost collapsed. My dad rushed forward like an enraged lion. “What did you animals do to my daughter!” He swung his foot, violently kicking Mark square in the stomach. “Murder! The rich are getting away with murder!” Sharon saw this, but instead of being scared, she plopped down right at the operating room entrance, throwing a full-blown tantrum again. “If you beat my son to death, your daughter can forget about ever getting on that operating table today!” My dad ignored her completely, turning to roar at the doctor: “I am her biological father! I will sign! However much money you need, I will pay! Save my daughter!” The doctor, looking utterly panicked, shook his head frantically, tightly gripping that crumpled surgical consent form. “We can’t! The patient already signed earlier, and this agreement is a co-signature form with her husband holding joint liability.” “Hospital policy dictates that when the husband is present, his signature is required to override the previous consent and proceed with surgery!” “And the patient is actively hemorrhaging. The emergency pre-payment was refunded, and the blood bank won’t release units without funds!” My dad whipped his head around, staring with murderous intent at Mark, who was cowering in the corner. “Sign! Get the money paid!” Mark clutched his stomach, scrambled up from the floor, and immediately hid behind Sharon. Sharon’s eyes darted around, and she stood up, brushing the dust off her clothes. “My, my, you have quite a temper.” She pulled another document from her pocket and slapped it against my dad’s chest. “Want my son to sign? Want the money to save your daughter?” “Fine! Transfer thirty percent of the shares in your company over to my son’s name immediately!” “Otherwise, you can just stand here and watch your daughter and that little bastard die together!” “In your dreams!” My mom pointed a shaking finger at Sharon, screaming, “That is the business we’ve worked our whole lives for. Why the hell would we give it to you parasites!” “Don’t give it, then. We can just wait.” Sharon gave a cold laugh, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looking entirely untroubled. “I’m not the one bleeding.” Mark peeked out from behind her, looking pathetic and aggrieved. “Dad, Mom, Rylee’s life is hanging by a thread. If I had these shares, I would have the financial security to take care of them both for the rest of my life.” “Just look at this as helping me out for the sake of the baby Rylee is carrying.” Hearing this unbelievably shameless speech, my dad was shaking with rage, pointing at Mark, unable to form a word for a long minute. A nurse screamed, tears running down her face. “Family needs to decide now! Patient’s blood pressure is down to fifty! If we don’t transfuse now, she really won’t make it!” My mom looked at my deathly pale face, and her mental defenses completely collapsed. “Honey, give it… give it to them! Rylee’s life is what matters most!” My dad had been a proud man his whole life, decisive in the business world, but now his eyes were red, and his hands were shaking violently. He looked at me covered in blood, his knees began to bend, and he was actually about to kneel down to this spineless coward, Mark! “Mark, I am begging you…” “Dad! Do not kneel!” I don’t know where I found the strength, but I suddenly opened my eyes and ripped out a raw, agonizing scream. My dad froze. Mark and Sharon were also startled by my sudden burst of rage. I grit my teeth, fighting against the blinding pain in my lower abdomen that felt like I was being torn apart. I slowly pushed myself up. I looked at my parents’ white hair, at the way they were humiliating themselves for my sake, and the pain in my heart far eclipsed the physical agony. Five years of compromising, five rounds of IVF torture—what it bought me was their escalated extortion and the humiliation of my parents. Enough! This bottomless, parasitic leeching ends today! I violently ripped off the fetal heart monitor leads attached to my belly! “Rylee, what are you doing!” Mark yelled, turning pale with terror. “I’m not giving birth.” I stared dead at Mark, pronouncing every word. “I do not want this baby anymore.”

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I was a spoiled, high-maintenance wife who made my billionaire CEO husband give me foot baths and forced my five-year-old heir to massage my calves. That was, until a stream of holographic text suddenly floated across my vision, declaring that I was just the “toxic evil ex-wife” in a romance novel. I was scheduled to be written off soon—paralyzed in a horrific car crash—to make room for the pure, innocent, and kind-hearted female lead. Terrified, I immediately kicked over the foot spa basin and yanked my legs back. Are you kidding me? My legs are long, pale, and flawless. I am not losing them! 1 I’ve always had a pampered, diva-like temper. I married a giant iceberg of a man and gave birth to a mini iceberg. Even as my son turned five, I continued to rule the house like a queen, bossing the two of them around all day. I just loved watching them secretly annoyed but still having to wait on me hand and foot. Until today, when a row of glowing text suddenly scrolled past my eyes. [The toxic wife is finally getting written off! The female lead just transferred to the male lead’s company today, and she even took the little heir out for fried chicken. The plot is finally on track!] [She spends all day torturing our male lead and the little boy. Thank god this father-son duo will eventually kick her out to please the female lead. This pampered rich wife ends up homeless on the streets and gets paralyzed from the waist down by a car.] [Just thinking about the male lead’s new happy family of three visiting the hospital to laugh at that crippled witch makes me so satisfied.] Terrified, I jerked my leg up in a panic. My husband, who was soaking my feet in a warm basin, and my son, who was squatting next to him massaging my calves, were instantly splashed with warm water. The two identical, stoic iceberg faces immediately frowned in unison. I stuttered. “You… you don’t have to do this. I’ll do it myself…” Leo, my five-year-old, knitted his little brows together. His tiny brain probably couldn’t figure out why I was throwing a fit this time. “Mom, is the water too hot?” I awkwardly placed my foot back into the basin. “No, I’m done soaking. You don’t need to massage me anymore. You can get up.” I swallowed hard and looked at my husband, who was also resting on one knee. “You get up too.” Compared to Leo, Carter was much more composed. He seemed completely used to my erratic mood swings. He calmly stood up to grab a towel. [Look how humiliated the male lead and the little heir are, kneeling like that. It’s going to be so satisfying when they slap her in the face later.] [Making the little prince massage her legs, and the billionaire CEO wash her feet. She really has a death wish.] I stared at the scrolling subtitles in utter silence. So, after all this time, I was just a villainous supporting character. My husband and son were the main characters of this fictional world. Not only did I have to step aside for the female lead, but my son Leo only existed because the author didn’t want the female lead to suffer the pains of childbirth—so they used me as an incubator! In the end, the female lead would make a glamorous entrance, take over my husband and son, “redeem” them, and show them that truly kind women existed in the world. Then, their new family of three would live happily ever after. I clenched my fists. Whatever, I could let Carter go. We were just a business arrangement anyway; we didn’t have any emotional foundation. But Leo… I looked down at the obedient little boy standing nearby. Even though he had a face identical to his father’s cold one, he was still the flesh and blood I carried for nine months! I was not about to just hand him over to some other woman on a silver platter. So, I cleared my throat and asked him. “Sweetie, if Mommy and Daddy get a divorce, who would you want to live with?” Leo froze for a second. Then his little eyebrows furrowed again, perfectly mimicking his father’s cold tone. “Mom, please don’t make meaningless hypothetical assumptions.” I choked on my words. Looking up, I met Carter’s indifferent eyes. His gaze was like a stagnant pool of water. He stepped forward, bent down on one knee again, and lifted my feet out of the basin. “Don’t say things like that in front of the child.” Leo nodded, turning around and walking toward the door like a serious little adult. “I’m going to bed.” The live-chat comments erupted into mockery. [What is this villain thinking? The father and son are cut from the same cloth; they definitely find her equally annoying.] [CEO Vance can at least hide it, but the little heir practically has ‘disgust’ written all over his face.] [Lmao, forget about her not wanting to divorce. Even if they did, the kid would never go with her. Why would he? To be her little servant dog?] [Her only purpose in this story is to be a total brat, get abandoned, and die a miserable paralyzed death to give the readers a satisfying payoff.] My heart skipped a massive beat. Without a second thought, I snatched the towel right out of Carter’s hands. “I’ll dry them myself.” Carter’s brow twitched slightly, but in the end, he didn’t say a word. Lying in bed, I desperately tried to digest the information from those floating comments. I pulled up my silk robe, staring at my legs. They were so pale, so long, and so perfect. I absolutely refused to lose them! After thinking it over, I decided I needed to stop exploiting my husband and son immediately. According to the comments, I couldn’t stop the male and female leads from meeting. Even if I forced Carter to fire this female lead, they would just bump into each other at the next intersection. That’s how plot armor works. But if my son realized I was actually a gentle, loving mother, maybe when Carter and I divorced, he would willingly choose me. Just as I had this epiphany, I looked up and saw Carter walking out of the master bathroom. He had a towel wrapped low around his waist. Droplets of water trailed slowly down his chiseled chest. Seeing me lying in bed with my robe pulled up and my legs exposed, he paused mid-towel-dry. His eyes instantly darkened. I was still wracking my brain figuring out how to be a good mother. When I looked up again, Carter had already pulled out the “men’s battle armor” I used to buy for him from the closet. In his left hand, he held a black, lace-trimmed harness. In his right hand, a purple silk sheer shirt. The tips of his ears were slightly flushed. He stared at me with a wooden expression, as if waiting for me to pick one. The floating text before my eyes went absolutely feral. [Why did my screen just go black?! What is it that my premium VIP membership doesn’t allow me to see?!] [Villainess, I take back my insults! Turn the camera back on and let us all appreciate your husband’s massive pecs!] [Serena, share your husband with the class! Turn on the camera right now!] Amidst the barrage of thirsty comments, a few original book fans chimed in. [I can’t accept this. Even knowing how the kid was conceived, I still feel like the male lead is being forced. Can’t she see that her husband has a cold, miserable face every time?] [Exactly. The male lead clearly rejected her the very first time, but she forces him to wear these things every single night just to satisfy her weird kinks. So gross.] [It’s fine. Just remember that the legs currently resting on the male lead are about to be crushed into paste. It makes me significantly less angry.] I took a deep, sharp breath. Looking at Carter, who was just about to change clothes, I violently yanked the duvet up and buried my legs completely. “I… I’m not in the mood tonight! Let’s just go to sleep early!” As soon as those words left my mouth, the air in the bedroom seemed to freeze solid. The comments boiled over. [Oh? The sun rose in the west?] [The male lead’s face looks off. What kind of stunt is she pulling now?] [What else? She tried to force him to wear it and got rejected. Look at how his knuckles are turning white from gripping that lace shirt so hard. He is truly enduring humiliation for the sake of the family…] I noticed it too. Carter’s face looked absolutely terrible. Especially when I said I wasn’t in the mood, his expression visibly darkened by two shades. In the past, Carter was always extremely reluctant to put on these outfits, and I had to coax and pressure him into it. Right now, looking at the scrolling comments, I didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. “Understood.” Carter’s voice was just like his personality—freezing cold. He casually tossed the clothes back into the closet, lifted the covers, and got into bed. I covertly pinched my legs under the duvet and let out a long sigh of relief. Thank god. They were safe. Goodnight, legs. See you tomorrow. The next morning, the sun was already shining brightly when I woke up. I walked out of the master suite and saw the large iceberg and the mini iceberg sitting in the dining room. The moment I sat down, Carter stood up to get my toast from the kitchen. Leo grabbed a heavy carton of milk, grunting as he waddled over to me. He stepped onto a stool, preparing to pour it for me. The comments started roasting me again. [This woman totally deserves to die. They have so many maids in the house, but she forces the male lead and the kid to serve her. She’s just looking for reasons to torture them.] [Exactly. She claims she wants the little heir to “develop a service-oriented mindset” so he won’t be a useless husband when he grows up. Does the billionaire heir of the Vance family need to act like a servant?] [She covers it up by saying she’s making the dad set a good example for the son, but she’s just a control freak trying to torture them.] My eyelids twitched violently. I quickly reached out and grabbed Leo’s little arm. Leo looked up at me, his face full of confusion. “I put a spoonful and a half of sugar in it this time.” I took the milk carton from his hands, poured it into my own glass, and took two big gulps. “Mommy can do little things like this herself from now on. You go eat your breakfast.” Leo stared at me. He probably couldn’t figure out why I was acting so out of character. But he turned around and went back to his seat anyway. Carter came out of the kitchen, looking at me with a slightly troubled expression. “We’re out of your favorite truffle mayo. I already asked Maria to go buy some…” I grabbed a plain turkey sandwich with one hand. “It’s fine. I can eat it without mayo.” The room went dead silent. Even the housekeeper was staring at me in utter shock. Carter looked down at his empty hands, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. “Mom, you didn’t throw the sandwich at Dad’s face…” My son blinked in disbelief. I took a deep breath. Was I really that awful before? The comments answered for me. [Why did she suddenly change her personality? Isn’t her morning temper legendary? Last time they were out of mayo, she threw a massive tantrum and chucked the sandwich across the room.] [Look how scared our little Leo is. His stoic facade broke! He probably thinks his mom is possessed by a demon.] I took a bite of the sandwich, too guilty to look at the comments anymore. A small piece of lettuce slipped out and landed right on my thigh. Looking at my stained silk loungewear, I instinctively frowned. Suddenly, a tissue was gently placed over my leg, followed by a large, well-defined hand entering my line of sight. Carter’s hand was massive; it practically covered my entire thigh. My pupils constricted. It felt like I was watching my beautiful legs turn transparent, grow wings, and wave goodbye to me. I immediately brushed the lettuce off myself. Looking up, I crashed right into Carter’s icy eyes. “I can handle little things like this myself.” I forced a tight smile, then turned to my son. “From now on, you don’t need to massage my legs or pour my milk anymore. Mommy will do it herself.” Leo’s eyebrows twisted into a tight knot. His voice was cold. “Mom, are you sick?” I choked. This little brat! I try to be nice to him, and he asks if I’m mentally ill! I ate the rest of the meal in total silence. I didn’t throw a temper tantrum or demand anyone hand me a napkin or pour my drinks. Leo looked up at me several times, his little frown deepening with every glance. Carter’s gaze also swept over me intentionally or otherwise, before slowly looking away. It wasn’t until Carter took Leo and left for work and kindergarten that I finally collapsed onto the sofa. Looking up at the massive, floor-to-ceiling wedding photo hanging dead center in the living room, I massaged my temples. Truth be told, before I was set up in this arranged marriage with Carter, I had a massive crush on him. But he was a legendary iceberg. All of my socialite friends who tried to flirt with him hit a brick wall. I had my pride. I wasn’t about to lower myself and chase a man who didn’t want me. Let alone try to melt an impossible glacier like him. Just as I was about to strangle my little crush in its crib, the arranged marriage between our two prominent families tied us together. I still remember how secretly thrilled I was when we first got married. But then, I overheard a conversation between him and his friend, Ryan, outside his home office. “Serena Sterling is famous in our circle for being an absolute spoiled brat. You really drew the short straw, man.” Carter’s voice had been flat. I heard him reply. “We each get what we need. That’s how arranged marriages work.” The tiny spark of hope in my heart was permanently extinguished. After pretending to be a sweet, obedient wife in front of my crush for a few months, I completely gave up. I shattered the facade and exposed the most authentic, demanding version of myself. Whatever. Just like he said, we each get what we need. From the major appliances to the smallest rugs, I demanded everything in the house be styled exactly to my taste. Carter never cared. The only time he ever showed a reaction was when I insisted on hanging this gigantic wedding photo right in the center of the living room. He had frowned. “Hanging it here… it clashes with the decor. It’s ugly.” I was just being petty back then. He didn’t think the photo was ugly; he clearly thought I was ugly. But Carter’s cold personality meant his temper was surprisingly tolerant. He rarely argued. So, I escalated. I started ordering him around, making him do this and that. I forced him to wear clothes he hated, just to satisfy my own visual pleasure. Sometimes Carter looked unhappy, but his only way of expressing dissatisfaction was frowning. He looked incredibly handsome when he frowned. He already looked like a marble statue of a Greek god. I loved watching him frown—it was like a painting coming to life, finally showing a vivid, human expression. Over the years, he always indulged me and went along with my demands. Sometimes I even caught myself having the delusion that he actually loved me. But looking at that iceberg face, he treated the housekeeper with the exact same polite indifference he treated me. I knew it was just my ovulation cycle messing with my hormones, creating false delusions. “Maria, get someone to take this photo down.” I pointed up at the massive wedding portrait. I had hung it up full of joy and fantasy back when we first got married. It’s been six years. I finally see clearly that in Carter’s eyes, I’m no different from anyone else. Honestly, I can accept a loveless marriage. But the floating comments acting like security cameras, live-streaming what the male and female leads were doing right now, was driving me insane. [The female lead just poured the male lead coffee! He actually looked up at her! I ship it so hard!] [The female lead didn’t even realize she made a typo in the document. She’s such a clumsy little cutie. The male lead is definitely going to find her adorable~] I closed my eyes, deciding to take a nap first. When I opened my eyes again, thunder was rumbling outside. It was pouring rain. My phone buzzed. It was Carter. “Did you fall asleep on the couch?” His voice was flat. I hummed in agreement. After two seconds, he spoke again. “I have to work late today. If it gets too late, I won’t come back tonight. Let Leo sleep with you.” Before I even had a chance to agree, the floating text sped across my vision in a frenzy. [The male lead is working late, but our female lead is still at the office too!] [It’s raining, and the only people left in the building are a few extras and the two leads. Just thinking about it is so romantic!] [I love this power-couple dynamic! He’s a workaholic CEO, and she’s a career-driven woman. So much better than a certain spoiled housewife.] [Exactly. She’s scared of a little thunder and needs someone to keep her company. If her husband isn’t home, she forces her kid to do it. Is she a giant toddler?] Being roasted as a giant toddler, I let out a long, heavy exhale. “No need, you just focus on your work…” Before I could finish my sentence, I looked up and saw Leo standing a few feet away. He had a stiff, serious look on his little face. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing at the doorway or how much he’d heard. As I looked up, the perspective of the comments shifted for two seconds. My son didn’t say a single word. He silently took off his backpack, turned around, and walked to his room. Carter, however, spoke up. “The wall behind you…” I turned to look. Oh, while I was sleeping, the staff had already taken down the wedding photo. “Where is the photo?” he asked. I answered honestly: “I had someone throw it away. You just focus on your work. Hanging up now.” Carter didn’t say anything, but his face darkened instantly on the video call. I didn’t notice, though. I was too busy staring at the empty wall, feeling stressed. Should I buy a giant abstract painting to hang up there? It really did look bare and ugly. After dinner, the thunder outside still hadn’t stopped. I rubbed my sore eyes. When I opened them, the little boy was standing solemnly in front of me, clutching a storybook. “Let’s go. I’ll coax you to sleep.” Honestly, I wasn’t that scared of thunder. I just hated the gloomy, oppressive weather. So every time there was a thunderstorm, my mood plummeted, and I would find creative ways to torture Carter in bed. [The villainess is so annoying. Forcing a five-year-old to coax her to sleep. Talk about reversing roles.] [And she has zero self-awareness. The little heir’s face is completely stiff; he’s practically radiating disgust. Since the husband is working late and she can’t torture him, she starts torturing the son. Can the romance plotline please speed up?] I looked at Leo. The boy was expressionless, his wooden face a carbon copy of his father’s. “No need. Mommy can sleep by herself.” I waved my hand to refuse. Leo bit his lip, looking a little wronged. “But Daddy told me to keep you company.” I felt a headache coming on. Before I could say anything else, the sound of a car honking echoed from the courtyard. I froze. The comments were equally dumbfounded. [Why is the male lead back? What about the female lead?!]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397498”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The formidable, cutthroat CEO Liam Thorne dropped to his knees the second I confronted him. “That night I was drunk. I thought she was you. I swear on my life, it will never happen again.” The young college student, blushing deeply, confessed that she saw Liam had money and wanted to use the baby to secure her future. Liam personally took her to the clinic for an abortion. For the next six years, our marriage was the picture of perfect devotion. Until our sixth anniversary, when I stood outside a hotel room holding my positive pregnancy test, ready to finally turn the page. I was carrying a box of his favorite red velvet cake, arriving at the hotel where he was supposedly on a business trip. Just as I stepped out of the elevator onto his floor. I heard a woman’s voice coming from around the corner, holding a six-year-old boy and sending a sickly-sweet voice memo. “You’re so bad… you insisted on finishing inside last night. My legs are still like jelly.” “You have to go easy on me tonight, or I’m going to give you the silent treatment.” I couldn’t help but marvel at how open people were these days, and out of sheer curiosity, I took a glance. My entire body froze in place. It was that exact same college student from six years ago. 1 Chloe Davis didn’t seem to recognize me. She continued recording her voice memo, her tone soft and seductive. “Make sure you shower and wait for me. I’m going to wring you dry tonight.” “I don’t want strawberry flavor today, I want cheesecake~” “Mommy, I want to eat the strawberry tart Daddy bought!” The little boy called out in a sweet, childish voice. Chloe crouched down and kissed his cheek: “Okay, Daddy is waiting for us in the room. Be a good boy. When you see Daddy, you have to tell him how much you missed him.” With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and sent Liam a text: [Honey, are you busy?] The top of the chat window continuously showed “Typing…”. But after a full minute, no message came through. I dialed his number. “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is turned off…” It seemed he had turned his phone off so he wouldn’t be disturbed. Chloe held the child’s hand, her hips swaying seductively as she walked to the presidential suite at the end of the hall. She raised her hand and knocked lightly three times, a cheerful rhythm. A large, distinctively masculine hand reached out, grabbing Chloe’s slender waist. He pulled her and the child inside. In the second before the door closed, through the crack, I clearly saw Liam’s familiar face. He was smiling so tenderly. He lowered his head to kiss Chloe’s forehead, his eyes full of absolute adoration. Then he scooped up the little boy, put him on his shoulders, and made funny faces to make the child laugh. Click. The door shut in my face, cutting off the happy laughter of their family of three. A wave of dizziness hit me. My feet felt as heavy as lead. The scenes from the past six years flashed through my mind like a movie reel. I remembered how, no matter how late he worked, he would always cook me healthy soups, insisting takeout wasn’t good for me. I remembered how every time he traveled for work, he would send me his itinerary and bring back a suitcase full of my favorite local treats. I remembered three years ago when he had the opportunity to transfer to the London office and be promoted to Executive VP. But because I wasn’t used to living abroad, he gave it up without a second thought. He had said: “Rylee, what’s the point of conquering the world if I don’t have you by my side?” That night, I was so moved I cried in his arms until dawn. I also remembered the day we got our marriage license six years ago. Chloe, heavily pregnant, stood crying hysterically outside the courthouse, begging me to step aside. Liam’s face had turned pale with rage. He dragged Chloe into his car, saying he was taking her to the hospital. Three hours later, he came back alone. His hands were covered in blood, and his shirt was stained with it. He dropped to his knees in front of me, knocking his forehead against the ground: “Honey, the mistake has been taken care of.” “Please, give me one chance. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” Those blood-soaked hands became a nightmare I couldn’t shake for six years. But they also became the ironclad proof that made me believe he had truly changed. To give me peace of mind, he even voluntarily got a vasectomy. “Rylee, we don’t need kids. You are the only one I want for the rest of my life.” The vows were still ringing in my ears, but the man had completely changed. My phone vibrated suddenly. My mom sent a text: [How is it? Did you tell Liam the good news about the pregnancy? He must be thrilled!] Fighting back the urge to vomit, my fingers trembling, I typed a reply: [Just got to the hotel. Haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.] 2 After sending the message, I turned and walked toward the elevator. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back down. I sat on a sofa in the hotel lobby, waiting quietly. Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened. Liam had changed into a navy blue button-down shirt, with gold-rimmed glasses resting on his high nose bridge. He looked refined and elegant, showing absolutely no trace of the degenerate behavior happening in that room just moments ago. When he saw me, his pupils constricted, and his footsteps halted for half a second. But he quickly adjusted his expression and walked briskly toward me. “Honey!” He crouched in front of me, his face full of concern, and reached out to hold my icy hands: “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to get some rest at home?” “Traveling is exhausting. I didn’t want you to strain yourself.” I discreetly pulled my hands away and pointed to the cake box on the table: “Today is our sixth anniversary. I wanted to surprise you.” Liam glanced at the cake, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s my fault I have to travel on a day like today.” “This is from your favorite bakery, right? Thank you so much.” Just then, the phone in his suit pocket vibrated. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly, and then naturally hit ‘decline’ right in front of me. “Just a spam call.” He explained, but his eyes couldn’t meet mine. Watching his guilty demeanor, I sneered inwardly. My gaze swept over his collar. Even though he had purposely buttoned his shirt all the way up to the top. As he looked down, my sharp eyes still caught the edge of a hickey on his neck. Liam seemed to notice my gaze. He instinctively adjusted his collar, stood up, and said: “Honey, I have an incredibly important overseas conference call this afternoon.” “How about you go sit in the café for a bit, maybe get some hot milk? Once my meeting is over, I’ll come right down and take you out for a massive dinner, okay?” I abruptly stood up and grabbed the cake from the table. “No need. Since you’re busy, I won’t bother you.” With that, I turned and headed for the hotel entrance. Liam obviously didn’t expect this reaction and hurriedly chased after me, grabbing my arm. “Rylee, are you mad because I don’t have time to be with you right now?” “Be good, don’t throw a tantrum. This project is really critical for the company…” As he spoke, he leaned in, trying to kiss my cheek to coax me. As he got closer, the smell of baby lotion drifted into my nose. “Don’t touch me!” I violently shook off his hand and stepped back twice. Liam froze, his outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. “Rylee?” I stared at him, forcing down the bitterness in my heart. “I’m tired. I want to go home. Go do your work.” Liam checked his watch, hesitated for a moment, and still chose that mother and son. “Honey, please don’t be mad. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back. That necklace you had your eye on? I already had someone buy it for you.” With that, he quickly turned and walked briskly back into the hotel. Watching his eager, retreating back, I stood on the sidewalk, trembling all over. Two cleaning ladies passing by were chatting. “Wow, the guy in the presidential suite really dotes on his wife and kid.” “Yeah, every time he comes, he specifically asks for the baby crib with rounded edges. Says he’s afraid the kid will bump his head.” “Just now I saw him peeling shrimp for the woman. Tsk, makes you jealous.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I raised my hand and threw the cake box directly into a nearby trash can. 3 I flagged down a cab and headed straight for the train station. Along the way, my hands and feet were freezing, but my mind was exceptionally clear. I opened Instagram, searched the location tag for the hotel, and typed in keywords: “baby,” “anniversary.” Quickly, a mommy-blogger account named “Chloe’s Darling Life” popped up. Her latest post was from half an hour ago. In the photo, a man was holding a little boy, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the city skyline. The caption read: [Daddy finally finished work and came to celebrate our sixth birthday with us! Baby wished that Daddy and Mommy would be together forever. Love you, hubby~] The background was unmistakably that presidential suite. I kept scrolling down, my thumb swiping faster and faster, my heart growing colder and colder. This account had documented an entire six years. From prenatal checkups, giving birth, postpartum recovery, to the boy learning to walk and starting kindergarten. At every major milestone, that man—always shown only from behind or in profile—was there. Finally, I scrolled to her pinned post. It was a photo of a pink diamond tennis bracelet, with the caption: [Someone insisted on buying me this flashy thing, saying it’s a limited edition. But how am I supposed to hold the baby wearing this? It’s too scratchy. It’s just sitting in my jewelry box now.] I looked closely. It was the exact limited-edition pink diamond bracelet I had been obsessing over but couldn’t bring myself to buy. A follower commented below: [Wow, Chloe, your husband loves you so much! So jealous!] Chloe replied: [He said six years ago that he chose us, and he would love us for the rest of his life.] Large drops of tears smashed onto the phone screen, blurring my vision. Right then, Chloe posted a new update. The camera panned over a floor covered in red roses, ending on a nightstand with an opened box of condoms. In the video, Chloe’s sickly-sweet voice could be heard: “Hubby, for our next baby, do you want a boy or a girl?” Immediately after, Liam’s deep, laughing voice replied: “As long as it’s yours, I don’t care.” My entire body was shaking uncontrollably. Unable to stop myself, I dialed Liam’s number with trembling fingers. It rang for a long time. Just as it was about to go to voicemail, the call connected. “Hello? Honey?” Liam sounded slightly out of breath. I took a deep breath, forcing down the tremor in my voice: “Liam, if… if I was pregnant, would you be happy?” There was a two-second silence on the other end. Then came Liam’s gentle, reassuring laugh: “Silly, didn’t I get a vasectomy? How could you be pregnant?” “Besides, giving birth hurts too much. I couldn’t bear to see you suffer.” Just then, Chloe’s seductive, urging voice could be faintly heard in the background: “Hubby… the bath is ready, hurry up…” Though the voice was quiet, in the dead of night, it was incredibly loud. Liam obviously panicked for a second, speaking hurriedly. “Honey, the signal is bad here. What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll take you out after my meeting.” I stared at the pregnancy test results in my hand and spoke flatly. “No need. I suddenly lost my appetite.” I could practically hear Liam let out a sigh of relief on the other end: “Then get some rest early, honey. I pulled a few all-nighters for this project and I’m really exhausted. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. Be good.” Hearing the dial tone as he hung up, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. When the train arrived, I took a cab straight to the clinic. I lay on the operating table, watching the anesthesia slowly push into my IV. “Ms. Miller, are you absolutely certain? The fetus is developing very healthily.” The doctor asked for final confirmation. “I’m certain.” I closed my eyes, tears sliding silently down my temples. After the procedure, I lay in bed at home for two full days. During those two days, Liam called dozens of times. I didn’t answer a single one. On the third day, my mother-in-law called. “Rylee, tonight is Liam’s 30th birthday, we’re having a family dinner at the estate. Your parents and your brother are already here. Get ready and come over.” 4 I agreed, put on a full face of makeup, slipped into a striking, crimson evening gown, and pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Thorne estate. My mother grabbed my hand, frowning at me: “Rylee, where have you been these past two days? Liam said you were throwing a tantrum and you wouldn’t answer your phone.” My brother, Ethan Miller, walked over, his brow furrowed: “Why are you so pale? Did Liam do something to you?” Before I could answer, Liam walked over briskly. He naturally wrapped an arm around my waist, coaxing me in a low voice: “Honey, are you still mad that I didn’t spend the day with you?” “I promise, I’ll never go to another meeting like that again.” Saying that, he pulled out a velvet box and opened it like presenting a treasure. It was the exact limited-edition pink diamond bracelet Chloe had called “flashy” and “scratchy.” “I pulled a lot of strings to win this at an auction. I think only my wife is worthy of its beauty.” Liam looked at me with deep affection. I didn’t take it. I picked up a glass of red wine from a passing waiter and threw the contents directly into Liam’s face. “Rylee! What are you doing!” My mother gasped, standing up and rushing over to grab my hand. My mother-in-law froze, and when she recovered, her face was ugly: “Rylee, Liam treats you so well! Even if you have a little temper, you need to know when and where to show it!” Liam wiped the wine off his face, surprisingly not angry at all. He gave a bitter smile and waved it off to the elders: “It’s fine. It’s my fault I neglected Rylee on my business trip. She’s upset, let her get it out of her system.” My mom quickly tried to smooth things over, smiling and changing the subject: “Rylee went to the hospital for a checkup a few days ago, and we have good news! Liam has been talking about it non-stop these past few days. If you guys can have a baby, he says his life will be complete.” Liam froze, then looked at me with an expression of wild ecstasy. “Honey, you’re pregnant? I’m going to be a dad?” I sneered, pulled the abortion clinic paperwork from my designer clutch, and slapped it onto the table. “I was pregnant. But I already had it aborted.” The ecstasy on Liam’s face instantly froze. He stumbled backward, his eyes turning bloodshot. “Why?” I pulled the divorce papers from my clutch and threw them in his face. “Liam Thorne, I’ve already seen Chloe Davis and your six-year-old son.” “After six years, aren’t you exhausted from all the acting?”

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In the fifth year of my banishment to a lawless, off-the-grid compound deep in the backwoods, my brother finally showed some mercy and came to pick me up. He arrived in a private helicopter, stepping out in immaculate designer clothes alongside the “real” sister of the family. He stood before me, looking at my withered, hollowed-out face. To make this so-called “welcome” a spectacle, Maya even invited people who used to be my friends. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, she gasped dramatically. “Sister, what happened to you?” she asked, her voice dripping with venomous intent. “Is this what happens when you miscarry over thirty babies?” Disgust and mockery flashed in the eyes of the onlookers. I slowly raised my eyes and stared at her, my gaze as cold as ice. Maya instinctively went quiet, shrinking behind my brother’s back and whining, “Arthur, she’s looking at me so meanly.” Only then did the man, who had been frowning in silence this entire time, finally speak. “Do you know what you did wrong now?” I nodded. Of course I knew. Being kind was my mistake. Loving him with all my heart and soul was my gravest mistake. A complex emotion flashed through his eyes, instantly replaced by a look of grim satisfaction. “It seems these five years have been effective. You’ve learned your place.” I forced the corners of my mouth to twitch upward. I wouldn’t scream or throw a hysterical fit anymore. And I certainly wouldn’t beg for his love ever again. The moment I stepped onto the helicopter, a sharp beep echoed in my mind, followed by a mechanical voice. [Host has successfully survived twenty-five years in the body-swap mission. Mission complete. Soul extraction will commence in three days. Reward: $100 Million USD.] I lowered my eyes, clenching my twisted, deformed fingers, and smiled. …… Sitting across from me, Arthur stared intently. He caught the fleeting smile on my lips. His tone was freezing cold. “When we get back, as long as you behave and don’t try to hurt Maya, I won’t send you back to this place.” “And I promise to keep the… punishments you endured here a secret from high society.” I finally lifted my head, taking a long, careful look at the brother I once loved and relied on the most. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his hair styled without a single strand out of place. He was just as radiant and untouchable as he was five years ago, the day he ruthlessly dumped me in this hellhole. Meanwhile, my eyes were dead. I was so emaciated I looked like a walking corpse. I was utterly unrecognizable. “Okay,” I replied, my voice completely devoid of emotion. The other people on the helicopter perked up their ears. The people I once called friends covertly pinched their noses, terrified the stench radiating from me would pollute their lungs. Maya did the same. Suppressing her disgust, she sat next to me and put on a sickeningly fake performance. “Sister, is your body holding up okay? Miscarrying over thirty times… you must have suffered so much.” Hidden beneath my mud-caked sleeves, my hands slowly clenched into tight fists. Five years ago, Maya, the true biological daughter of the Sterling family, was found. The very next day, she framed me, claiming I tried to kidnap and murder her. Arthur, who had just been reunited with his long-lost sister, flew into a blind, explosive rage. Showing absolutely no mercy, he banished me to a brutal, lawless compound deep in the wilderness. He told the savage men there to punish me well—as long as they kept me breathing. On my very first day there, at eighteen years old, I was violently stripped of my innocence. A month later, I was pregnant. They beat and kicked me until I miscarried. I got pregnant again. They beat it out of me again. This cycle repeated until I lost exactly thirty children. Today, my body is nothing but a hollow shell on the verge of collapse. I ignored Maya, afraid that if I engaged, I might accidentally rip her hypocritical face clean off. Arthur spoke up from the side. “I’ve arranged for the best private hospital and doctors for you. Focus on your recovery. As long as you’ve learned your lesson, the past is in the past.” A flash of mockery crossed my eyes. “Thank you so much, brother.” His brow furrowed slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but swallowed the words back down. I turned my head and looked around the cabin. Only then did I realize something. This private jet was the birthday gift he gave me when I turned eighteen. It was the only custom model of its kind in the world. I never even got the chance to enjoy it before Maya showed up with her blood test results. And now, look at what I’ve become. By my ear, Maya’s obnoxiously affected voice chimed in again. “Arthur, let’s have the jet deep-cleaned when we get back,” she pouted. “It smells a bit foul in here.” She covered her mouth, looking at me with feigned apology. “Sister, I’m just the kind of person who speaks her mind. Please don’t take offense.” Arthur coaxed her in a soft, gentle voice. “Alright, whatever my princess wants. And you’re not wrong, the smell is unpleasant.” Maya giggled, throwing herself into Arthur’s arms like a spoiled child, but shooting me a provocative glare. My eyes didn’t shift. There wasn’t a single ripple of emotion in my gaze. Five years ago, I would have screamed, demanded answers, and fought desperately for his affection. Five years later, I couldn’t care less. Arthur thought of something and turned to me. “If you want a jet, I’ll buy you a new one. This one belongs to Maya now. Don’t fight her for it.” I met his gaze, genuinely confused. “Did I say I was going to fight her for it? If she likes it, she can keep it. I don’t care.” His eyes instantly darkened. He even pushed Maya out of his arms. He scrutinized me, a complex look washing over his face. “You don’t care? I picked this jet out myself for your eighteenth birthday. Didn’t you treasure it above all else?” I smiled, my tone flat. “People change.” Just like how he used to treat me like I was more important than his own life. And then threw me away without a second of hesitation. He choked on his words, his chest suddenly feeling inexplicably heavy. I turned my gaze out the window. Suddenly, the System’s interface appeared. [Because the original owner of this body failed her life mission and died long ago, her physical vessel must be destroyed before your soul can return to your original world.] My fingers paused. I nodded, understanding what it meant. It just meant I needed to die a dramatic death. That was easy enough to arrange. Two hours later, the jet touched down on the helipad of the Sterling estate. As Maya stepped off, a swarm of servants immediately rushed forward, offering her water and showering her with excessive care. A young maid rolled her eyes at me. “The fake heiress who stole the nest actually has the nerve to come back? Shameless.” Maya heard it and smiled, not reprimanding her. Instead, she accept a cup of hot tea from the maid as a silent reward. Seeing this, the other servants instantly understood the dynamic. They started whispering and gossiping loudly about me. “I heard Mr. Sterling’s assistant say she was passed around by all those backwoods hicks and miscarried thirty times…” “That many?! She must be carrying some kind of filthy disease! Is it contagious?!” Hearing that, the crowd hurriedly backed away, frowning and covering their mouths in disgust. My footsteps halted. I turned a dark, icy glare toward them. I slowly walked up to the maid who spoke first. “W-What are you doing?” She panicked slightly but kept her chin raised. “I didn’t say anything wrong! You’re ruined goods!” My fingers itched, but I didn’t slap her. I just let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Bridget, six years ago, when your family went bankrupt and you were about to be put on the streets, don’t forget who brought you into the Sterling estate and gave you a job to survive.” “If you speak too many words that go against your conscience, be careful lightning doesn’t strike you dead.” Her breath hitched instantly. “I…” Maya opportunistically interrupted me. “Sister, they’re just gossiping. There’s no need to get so angry.” As she spoke, her eyes turned red with manufactured grievance. “Or… do you just have a problem with me? Do you still think I stole your place…” Arthur, who had just stepped off the jet behind us, heard this. He rushed forward, pulling Maya into his arms to comfort her. “What silly things are you saying? You are my blood sister. You can have whatever you want in this house. No one has the right to say you stole anything!” Then, he turned a dark, warning glare at me. “Acting up the second you get back?” “Chloe, do you want to go back to the compound?!” My spine stiffened. I didn’t even have the energy to defend myself. “It’s my fault.” Hearing this, he froze. An inexplicable wave of discomfort washed over his heart. “You don’t have anything else to say? You’re just admitting it? What if I’m falsely accusing you?” I let out a soft, airy laugh. “There’s no point. People who don’t believe me never will. Words are useless.” His lips pressed into a tight, thin line, his expression turning ugly. But I had already turned around and walked away. Arthur caught up with me. As we walked into the front courtyard, I saw that the orange tree I had planted with my own hands as a child had been entirely uprooted. It had been replaced by a sprawling garden of roses—Maya’s favorite. Arthur frowned. He instinctively glanced at me and explained. “Maya is allergic to citrus. If you really can’t bear to part with it, I can have it replanted in the backyard.” I stopped walking. A memory echoed in my mind. On the day we planted it, Arthur had smiled and said: “This little sapling will grow up with my favorite sister. Let’s see who grows taller first.” The memory shattered. I spoke with cold detachment. “No need. Uprooted is uprooted. Better that it dies.” A flash of irritation crossed his eyes. Suppressing a sudden, inexplicable surge of anger, he said: “In three days, I’m hosting a Welcome Gala to officially announce Maya to high society.” “Since you’re the one who occupied her place for so long, it’s crucial you attend. Otherwise, people will gossip about her.” Three days… The corners of my mouth twitched upward. “Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be able to make it in three days.” After all, by then, I’d already be dead. Hearing this, it was as if Arthur finally found an outlet for his suppressed anger. His face turned thunderous. He grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip, squeezing so hard I could hear my bones grinding against each other. “I am not asking for your permission! Not unless you haven’t suffered enough over the last five years!” My face drained of color. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out in pain. Thud. He shoved me away and looked down at me with a lethal warning. “If you don’t show up in three days, I will show you what real consequences look like!” I fell hard onto the pavement. My wrist, already nothing but skin and bone, twisted at an unnatural angle. Watching his cold, retreating back, my eyes stung with unshed tears. Walking upstairs, I followed my memory to push open my bedroom door, only to freeze in the doorway. The decor was completely changed. Photos of Maya were plastered everywhere. She happened to walk up behind me. “Sorry, sister. Your room became mine five years ago.” “Do me a favor and go sleep in a guest room. Or the maid’s quarters.” I pressed my lips together, offering no resistance, and turned to walk down to a first-floor guest room. Maya was incredibly frustrated. It felt like punching cotton. She was winning at every turn, yet she felt suffocatingly unfulfilled. What she wanted to see was me fighting back, screaming hysterically, and begging for mercy. Not this dead, apathetic shell. Staring at my retreating back, a vicious, cruel light flashed in Maya’s eyes. She pulled out her phone and made a call. I picked a random room, stood under the showerhead, and took my first real shower in five years. When the hot water hit my skin, I flinched in terror, completely unaccustomed to it. I reached out and slowly wiped the steam off the mirror. The woman’s body in the glass was covered in horrific ruins. Before the old whip marks and burn scars could fade, terrifying new layers of scar tissue had already formed over them. I didn’t sleep well that night. My dreams were filled with scenes of torture and violation. The disgusting laughter of those animals echoed in my ears. It wasn’t until dawn that I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. “Thank you, Miss Maya, Mr. Arthur. It was our pleasure to do what we were told.” My entire body went rigid. I snapped my head toward the door. The blood in my veins turned to ice, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably. That voice—I wouldn’t forget it if I lived a hundred lifetimes! I burst out of the room like a madwoman. And there, standing in the middle of the grand living room, were the absolute animals from the compound, fawning over Maya and Arthur like loyal dogs! Cletus raised an eyebrow, his sticky, repulsive gaze scanning my body. “Well, look who it is. Chloe! You’ve changed so much, Uncle Cletus almost didn’t recognize you.” The string holding my sanity together snapped. Whatever fragile, forced rationality I had left was instantly obliterated! “Why the hell are you here?!” I screamed, lunging forward like a lunatic. I grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray and hurled it at his head with all my might. “Get out! Get the fuck out!” The heavy glass struck Cletus. Blood poured down his forehead. “You crazy bitch!” He instinctively raised his hand to beat me like he always did, but catching sight of Arthur’s deep frown on the sofa, he held back. My eyes were bloodshot. The nightmare I just woke from was playing out in reality. I sprinted into the kitchen and grabbed a butcher knife! “I’ll kill all of you!” The man on the sofa finally moved. Smack! My breakdown was brought to a violent, abrupt halt. I felt a rush of wind, and then my cheek exploded with blinding pain. I collapsed onto the floor, my eyes brimming with tears of absolute despair. “Calm the hell down!” Arthur lowered his raised hand, his face filled with irritation and disgust. “Maya invited them. Considering you finally learned how to behave thanks to their efforts, I agreed it made sense.” “They will be attending Maya’s Welcome Gala. Don’t you dare throw a psychotic fit!” All the strength drained from my body. Looking at the brother I used to love more than anything, a hoarse, broken sob ripped from my throat. “Why…” “Why are you doing this to me… Arthur, just kill me.” His pupils contracted sharply. “What did you just say?” But before he could process it, I coughed up a mouthful of black blood. Under his trembling gaze, I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Arthur was sitting beside me, his eyes lowered, completely motionless, lost in thought. Seeing me open my eyes, he quickly leaned forward. “Does it hurt anywhere else? I’ve scheduled a full-body scan for you.” I looked away. “There’s no need. I know my own body. It’s nothing serious.” He hesitated. “Those men… if you’re really that repulsed by them, I’ll have them leave.” My hands curled into tight fists under the blanket. Just as I was about to speak, Maya walked in. She glanced at me, hiding the malice in her eyes, and immediately turned to whine at Arthur. “Arthur, I really like them. They’re so genuine and real. Please let them stay for my gala, okay?” “But…” He glanced at me. Maya let go of his arm, her tears falling like broken pearls. “I knew it! The second sister came back, you stopped loving me! I’m just an extra in this family!” “If that’s how it is, I’ll just leave!” Of course, she didn’t leave. Because the guilt Arthur had just felt toward me was instantly thrown out the window the second he saw her cry. He rushed to comfort her. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. They can stay.” Tears still hung on Maya’s eyelashes. “I want them to stay in the mansion, too.” Arthur nodded without a second thought. “Alright. Whatever you want.” My heart spasmed violently, shrinking and throbbing with agonizing pain. I let out a bitter, desolate smile. At that moment, Arthur received a phone call and hurried out of the room. Leaving just Maya and me in the hospital room. She stopped hiding her true colors, laughing with vicious delight. “See? You can never take what’s mine. Not my brother, not your friends, not even the servants.” “As long as I ask, even if I tell him to throw you back to those men, Arthur will agree.” She stepped forward, pinching my chin hard. “Just like back then. All it took was a staged kidnapping I orchestrated myself, and he believed me without a single doubt.” My eyes widened in horror. My breath hitched. “It was you?! You set the whole thing up?!” “Yep,” she smiled smugly. “Go ahead, tell him. Go tell him the truth. Let’s see if he believes you.” I felt like my eyes were going to bleed. Thinking of the five years of dark, agonizing torture I endured, a surge of pure, unfiltered hatred rushed to my head. “Maya, I swear to God, I am going to kill you!” She gave a contemptuous laugh. “Oh, I’m so scared.” Then, she turned and strutted out of the room.

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