Every single Thanksgiving, my sister-in-law and her family hitch a ride in my car to go back to my husband’s hometown. This year, I asked her to chip in for gas just once. She immediately went on Facebook and blasted me. “Need advice: My sister-in-law is forcing me to pay for gas, what should I do?” “Hey everyone, do you actually have to pay to ride in your own brother’s car?” When the comments started calling her a freeloader, she doubled down and reported my car to my employer as a “bribe.” She almost cost me my career. My in-laws called me petty and demanded I apologize to her. I snapped. I literally flipped the Thanksgiving dinner table. Did they really think I was just some pushover they could walk all over? 01 Right before Thanksgiving week, my sister-in-law, Chloe, sent her usual request to hitch a ride. “Hey Harper, we’re riding with you guys again this year. When are we heading out?” “My brother said we’re leaving on the 24th, just wanted to check with you.” Reading the message, a wave of intense irritation washed over me. Just thinking about them freeloading in my car again made me wish the engine would just spontaneously combust. I replied bluntly, “Wouldn’t it be faster for you guys to just buy train tickets? It’s only a two-hour ride.” Chloe, sensing my annoyance, quickly tried to smooth things over. “Train tickets are so hard to get around the holidays! I’m so sorry, Harper, I really am.” I scoffed inwardly. Before Chloe got married, giving her a ride wasn’t a big deal. But since she got married, her family of three brings multiple huge suitcases, packing the trunk so tight I barely have room for my own things. To make matters worse, her husband, Greg, has zero social grace. The moment he gets in the car, he glues his face to his phone. The moment we stop, he runs off to the bathroom. Treating us like a free taxi service is bad enough, but he also spends the entire trip backseat driving and complaining. Their three-year-old son is a nightmare, too. The back of the front seats are always covered in his muddy footprints. When we stop at rest stops, they actually have the nerve to ask me to buy snacks and drinks for their kid. As for the gas and tolls for the entire trip? They pretend those expenses don’t exist. I’m not against giving them a ride. Once or twice is fine. But every single year? And acting so entitled about it? Does my money grow on trees? 02 When my husband, Ben, got home from work, he asked cautiously, “Honey, did you and Chloe get into a fight?” I glared at him, feeling even more annoyed. Even though we don’t live with my in-laws, having a sister-in-law who constantly complains to them is exhausting. They both have their own families now, but they still can’t establish normal boundaries. I sat on the couch, crossing my arms. “Every year we go back to your hometown for Thanksgiving, your sister’s family hitches a ride. Can’t they just buy their own train tickets?” Ben scratched his head and leaned in with a goofy smile. “Babe, you know tickets are hard to get during the holidays!” “Be the bigger person. It’s just a ride, no big deal.” Right then, my coworkers were sending links in our work group chat, asking people to help them get waitlisted train tickets. “Hey guys, click the link to boost my spot in line. Getting home depends on you all!” “Just need two more clicks, thanks everyone.” … I clicked on the profile of a coworker heading to a city near my in-laws’ hometown and messaged him privately. “Hey Mark, did you manage to get your train ticket home?” Mark replied quickly, “Got it, Harper! Tickets were easy to get this year. They added two extra train lines to that route.” “So jealous of you, Harper, getting to drive home.” I opened the Amtrak app and searched for tickets to my in-laws’ town. There were seven trains, and three of them still had plenty of seats. I immediately took a screenshot and sent it to Chloe, telling them to buy tickets fast. “These three trains still have seats. You guys can buy them right now.” “The cost of three tickets is less than the gas for the drive, and it’s safer.” Last time we drove back, her son accidentally slammed his head into the car door, leaving a massive, swollen lump. It terrified me. If something serious actually happened, selling the car wouldn’t even cover the lawsuit. I had constantly suggested she take the train with the kid because it was safer and more convenient, but she always ignored me. Thinking about it, I forwarded her an article about child car safety. The author emphasized the absolute necessity of car seats for children. I added a helpful reminder: “Chloe, I don’t have a car seat in my car. It’s fine for adults, but it’s genuinely really dangerous for a kid.” Chloe didn’t reply. I had no idea if she even read it. Shortly after, I received a Venmo transfer for $50. The note read: Gas money. I replied: “?” Chloe still didn’t reply to me directly, but she posted a screenshot of our chat in the family group text. “Having to pay gas money to ride in my own brother’s car… that’s a new one.” “But whatever, I won’t make a fuss. I paid the gas money.” “I guess some families just have to nickel-and-dime everything. Lol!” That “Lol!” felt like a needle in my eye. I was just about to type a furious response when Ben walked out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. He wrapped his arms around me, his hands wandering over my waist. “Watcha looking at, beautiful?” I angrily shoved him away and shoved the phone in his face, telling him to look at what his precious sister had said. “Look at what your sister wrote! What does she mean I ‘nickel-and-dime’ everything?” “I was genuinely concerned for her kid’s safety. If something happened, your whole family would tear me apart.” “Besides, we’ve been married for five years. They hitch a ride every single time and never contribute a dime. Why should I put up with it?” The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I stood up, ready to list every single offense. But Ben just frowned and looked at me with absolute disdain. “Why can’t you just be generous for once? Why do you have to be so petty about every little thing?” “Are we really hurting for fifty bucks of gas money?” “If you act like this, how are we supposed to face my parents when we go back?” Looking at his aggressive, accusatory face, I was stunned. So, in the eyes of his entire family, I was just a petty, vindictive shrew? It wasn’t enough that his sister’s family constantly took advantage of us; I was also expected to bow down, smile, and be at their beck and call? I reminded him, “This car was a gift from my parents before we got married. It’s not a company car for your family.” Hearing that, he completely lost it. He violently threw the towel in his hand right at my face. His expression twisted into a snarl I had never seen before. I dodged it. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm, his voice cold. “How much longer are you going to hold this stupid car over my head? Do you look down on me?” I just wanted to remind him that the car belonged to our household, and I had the right to decide who used it. But he felt emasculated, assuming I was looking down on him. Dealing with such a childish, fragile husband was exhausting. When we were dating, I only cared about how much he seemed to care about me. I completely ignored his family dynamic. My parents had given me enough financial security that I didn’t have to act like a subservient, walking-on-eggshells wife. But after we got married, his true nature slowly revealed itself. His paranoia and sensitivity constantly left me unable to defend myself against his ridiculous accusations. Looking at his furious face, it looked like he was a second away from hitting me. I was terrified. I quickly shook my head. “No, you’re overthinking it. I was just stating the facts.” Just then, an obnoxious ringtone blared. He let go of me and answered his phone. “Hey Mom, yeah, we’re driving back on the 24th.” “No, no, I was just kidding! Why would I ever make Chloe pay for gas?” “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” He hung up the phone and glared at me coldly. “Harper, behave yourself when we go back for Thanksgiving. Don’t start any drama.” 03 The next day at work, my department director called me into his office. “Harper, have you been meeting with anyone unusual lately?” I was confused. I’m just a mid-level employee in a state government agency; who would I be meeting with? But I answered honestly, “Just a few contractors to discuss the project guidelines for next quarter.” The director poured me a cup of water, his tone cautious. “Um… did they happen to give you anything?” It hit me. In our line of work, the biggest fear is improper relationships with contractors. Bribery is a career death sentence. I immediately stood up to defend myself. “Sir, all my meetings with contractors are recorded on security cameras. I can absolutely stand up to any investigation.” Seeing how agitated I was, the director quickly told me to sit down. I then learned that someone had submitted an anonymous tip accusing me of accepting bribes, and even claiming my recent promotion was rigged. The whistleblower was highly informed about my financial situation, specifically pointing out my $40,000 Mercedes. “How can a mid-level state employee afford such an expensive car?” “I have evidence of her accepting bribes. I hope management strictly investigates this bad apple.” The “evidence” was a blurry video shot in a hotel hallway. In the video, I was standing at my hotel room door, taking a delivery bag from a courier. The bag had a luxury brand logo on it. The whistleblower had zoomed in heavily on the logo. I watched the video two or three times before finally remembering what happened. A while ago, I was on a business trip in the city where my aunt lives. She was rushing to catch a flight overseas, so she hired a courier to drop off a gift for me at my hotel. That scarf was still hanging in my closet. How did this end up as a bribery accusation? Even though I had proof, the director decided it was best to put me on paid leave to avoid any negative optics. “Just take the vacation time you’ve accrued. Come back when the dust settles.” “Don’t overthink it. Just relax. It’s a good time to focus on getting pregnant.” The director patted my shoulder, noticing my gloomy expression. He called it “vacation,” but in reality, it was a soft suspension. If I actually got pregnant during this time, I probably wouldn’t have a job to come back to. Having worked here for years, I knew how the corporate politics played out. I felt completely defeated, both at work and at home. And just to make things worse, Chloe was still causing a scene in the family group chat. She forwarded a viral TikTok video about a college student getting a ride home for the holidays with her uncle, but her aunt demanded gas money. The comment section was filled with people calling out freeloaders, defending the college student. “I gave my uncle a few hundred bucks when I rode with him. If it was more than that, I wouldn’t have given him a dime.” “Remember to tell your mom about this.” “I relate to this so much, I’d get yelled at by my sister for sure.” But occasionally, there were one or two comments sarcastically calling the poster a “freeloader.” … Coupled with the $50 she had sent me earlier, it was hard not to conclude she was targeting me, the “aunt” in her scenario. In the family group chat, my mother-in-law fired the first shot: “What does this mean? Asking for money to ride in your own uncle’s car? What kind of logic is that?” An aunt chimed in: “It’s just a ride, why be so calculating? What, does having an extra person in the car burn more gas?” Chloe played the innocent victim: “She’s probably just tired of us riding with her, so she’s getting annoyed.” My mother-in-law fired back immediately: “Even if you rode with her every day, she shouldn’t complain! Does your kid call her ‘Auntie’ for nothing?” Every word, every sentence implicitly pointed at me, and everyone knew it. I was so annoyed I just started typing: “So, calling someone ‘Auntie’ means you get a free ride for life?” “Being a freeloader and acting so entitled about it… what kind of upbringing is that?” “When parents don’t know basic manners, their kids learn the exact same thing.” I didn’t know the full context of the video she posted, but based on the original poster’s reaction, I could guess they had probably never offered to pay before. The poster’s mother probably didn’t have a great relationship with her brother and sister-in-law either. Otherwise, why would the aunt make things difficult for her niece? Putting myself in the aunt’s shoes, I felt like the sky was falling. The older generation and the younger generation all thought I should just be a free chauffeur. Asking for money meant I was being petty. The kids were unhappy, the elders were oblivious, and they all felt entirely entitled. How many times could this so-called “family bond” endure this kind of wear and tear? Seeing me push back so hard, Chloe got sarcastic. “Wow, you have a car, so you’re better than everyone else? Now you’re bringing ‘upbringing’ into this?” “It’s just a dirty car anyway, what’s there to be so proud of?” My eyes locked onto the words “dirty car,” and a spark of realization flashed in my mind. I seized on her words and demanded, “What do you mean? What do you mean ‘dirty car’?” “My parents bought me this car! Watch your mouth!!!” Triggered by my response, Chloe stopped hiding behind veiled insults and went fully on the offensive. “Your parents are just ordinary office workers! Where would they get that kind of money?” “You have an older brother! Why would they buy you a car?” “Anyone can see that car was a ‘gift’ from someone else. You probably opened a lot of ‘back doors’ for people, didn’t you?!” Seeing her so boldly and confidently admit it, a sharp pain shot through my chest. To pass the civil service exam, I had locked myself in my room for three straight months, barely stepping outside. After getting hired, I worked tirelessly, extremely careful not to make a single mistake. To audit accounts, I practically lived at the office. Among the new hires in my cohort, I worked the most overtime, and I was the only one without political connections. Six months later, my results were undeniable, and my promotion was a given. All my financial records and interpersonal dealings could withstand any audit. And now, just because I didn’t want her freeloading anymore, she threw dirty water on me. With a report like that on my record, my career was stained. Future promotions would definitely pass me over. I was shaking with anger, words tumbling out recklessly: “My parents bought me that car because they love me! You don’t have parents who love you, go cry to them about it!” “This year, even if I have to smash the car to pieces, I am not taking your family.” “Get lost, freeloader!” 04 When I got home, I was so furious I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to just drive the car back to my parents’ house and buy a train ticket to my in-laws’ town. But when I got to the garage, it was empty. Ben stammered and avoided my eyes, finally claiming that a good buddy of his was going on a blind date and borrowed our car to look impressive. “My buddy is a great driver, nothing will happen to it.” “He just took it to pick up the girl for dinner, he’ll bring it back soon.” I felt a sharp pain in my chest. How many times had this happened? Five years ago, when Ben and I got married, my parents gifted me a $40,000 Mercedes. From that moment on, the car seemingly became public property for his family. If anyone in Chloe’s family had a minor headache, they’d run over and borrow the car. When we went back for Thanksgiving, every single relative felt entitled to order Ben around as their personal chauffeur. For weddings, funerals, whatever major event, his friends and family would ask to borrow our car. Fine. Let them borrow it. I couldn’t really say no. But they would borrow a perfectly clean car and return it absolutely filthy. Speeding tickets, toll fees, and gas money—we always ended up paying out of pocket. A few times, people even threw up in the car. I had to swallow my disgust and pay for detailing. Once, halfway through washing the car, the detailer found a few used condoms stuffed in the back seat crevices. I checked the dashcam footage and almost threw up. On the custom floor mats I had carefully picked out, Ben’s cousin was hooking up with some random woman. I exploded on the spot. I blasted the cousin in the family group chat. Ben’s aunt actually blamed me for being petty, saying the young couple was just “being romantic” and I was making a big deal out of nothing. I laughed coldly and dropped a screenshot from the dashcam video into the chat. “Auntie, take a closer look before you speak. That’s not his wife in the video.” “If you want to screw around, don’t you know how to get a hotel room? Doing it in my car, that’s disgusting!” In the end, the cousin and his wife almost got divorced over it, and Ben blamed me. “Look at you, making a massive scene over a minor issue!” “Now my cousin’s family is falling apart. Are you happy?” That Thanksgiving was a chaotic disaster. The entire extended family treated us like a reality TV show. What left me even more speechless was that they didn’t end up divorcing. The cousin’s wife even sent passive-aggressive messages in the group chat targeting me: “Some people get a little money and think they’re better than everyone else.” “Do too many wicked things, and not being able to have kids is your karma.” I was so furious I was about to go to war with her, but Ben jumped in front of me to play the hero. “Our car won’t be loaned out anymore. Everyone needs to respect that.” “Every time you borrow it, it leaves with a full tank and comes back empty. We aren’t your personal ATMs.” Once, his cousin borrowed the car to go partying and brought it back with the gas light on. I was in a rush to get somewhere and didn’t check the gauge. I ran out of gas halfway there and was stranded on the side of the road for hours. The car stalled in the middle of a lane, causing a huge traffic jam and making me miss an incredibly important contract signing. When I finally got back to the office, my boss screamed at me until I was deaf. After that, I strictly forbade Ben from lending the car out behind my back. I even threatened him with divorce. But he treated it like empty air, secretly lending it out anyway. This time, Chloe wanted to hitch a ride again. With all the old grudges and new offenses, I firmly refused. And as a result, she almost cost me my job. Not only that, she seemed intent on destroying my reputation and getting me permanently kicked out of government service. 05 After I went off in the family group chat, Chloe stayed quiet for a while. I directly bought two train tickets and announced that we weren’t driving this time; everyone was taking the train back. My mother-in-law called me, and her entire conversation was just a thinly veiled demand for a grandchild. We’ve been married for five years, and I’ve been entirely focused on my career. I truly haven’t had the energy to have a child. Ben and I had agreed before we got married that we would discuss kids once my career was stable. It’s hard enough for women in the workplace; pregnancy is an unavoidable hurdle. Many capable women enter the workforce with the potential to climb to management, even executive levels. But because of pregnancy and childbirth, they are forced to give up promotion opportunities. I didn’t want that. I wanted to stand at the top to justify all my years of grueling academic study. But Chloe’s tantrum made all my past efforts feel like a joke. My mother-in-law was very direct: “You’ve been married for five years. If you don’t have a baby soon, how is my son supposed to show his face?” “People in the neighborhood are calling him a mule. If you have no shame, I still do.” It was hard not to suspect that the mother and daughter had planned this together. One sabotages my career, the other swoops in to pressure me for a baby. A one-two punch designed to make me stay home peacefully, prepare for pregnancy, and completely abandon my career. Even my boss had cautiously asked if I was planning to have a kid. I broke down. I started wondering if I had been cursed. What wire in my brain crossed that made me agree to this marriage? I furiously yelled at my mother-in-law: “Nag, nag, nag! All you do is nag with your mouth!” “If you’re so good at nagging, why don’t you go sit in a fertility clinic? Just by talking, you could probably produce a whole litter.” It was the first time my mother-in-law had ever been clapped back at by me. She instantly started crying. She immediately called her son, claiming I bullied her, called her an old hag. She said I looked down on their family, that I thought they were poor and beneath me. Listening to her twist the truth, I felt a surge of dark satisfaction. Bet you didn’t expect your son to be standing right next to me. What an incredibly satisfying performance! Ben’s face went from pale to flushed. He brushed his mom off with a few vague words and hung up. Being called a “mule” by his own mother probably didn’t feel great for him either. But because of his male ego, he absolutely refused to go to the hospital for a check-up, stubbornly insisting that I was the one who couldn’t conceive. I was more than happy to play dumb. I didn’t want to have a kid with him anyway. 06 On the 24th, I had my suitcase packed and was ready to head out, but Ben stood rooted to the spot. I urged him, “Let’s go, we need to line up for the train.” That’s when he finally told me he lost his ID. “I don’t know when I lost it, but I can’t find it anywhere.” “Let’s just drive back.” I dropped my suitcase and stared at him, expressionless. He looked away guiltily, not daring to meet my eyes. Sharing a bed for over five years, how could I not know what he was plotting? But the train was leaving in an hour. It took 30 minutes to get to the station by cab. There was definitely no time to go get a temporary ID now. That wasn’t even factoring in traffic and lines. I said coldly, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You absolutely insist on driving that car back, don’t you?” He dropped the act and sat down, waving the car keys. “We have a car, why wouldn’t we drive it? Do you know how many people back home are jealous we have a Mercedes? It’s so much easier for me to drive around and visit relatives during the holidays.” I was about to explode, but my phone rang. Chloe and her family were already waiting downstairs, rushing us to come down and hit the road. I looked at my deadbeat husband, feeling utterly, hopelessly disappointed in his entire family. Ben grabbed my suitcase and pushed me toward the door. “Let’s go, let’s go. We don’t want to hit traffic.” 07 Once we got in the car, Chloe apologized to me first, and then proactively handed over the $50 for gas. Seeing my dark expression, she also bought me a Red Bull. “Harper, I really couldn’t get tickets. I’m so sorry.” Her husband scoffed, plopped down in the back seat, and immediately started scrolling on TikTok. I found out later that after she fought with me, she realized the tickets were actually sold out. She tried a bunch of scalpers but couldn’t get any. She looked into ride-shares, but when the drivers heard it was a family of three with a mountain of luggage, they quoted her the price to charter the whole car. Not wanting to pay the fare, she swallowed her pride and came crawling back to me. I was so disgusted by the siblings’ manipulation my chest physically hurt. I just prayed nothing else would go wrong on the drive. Next time something like this happened, I was just going to sell the car. Then no one could covet it. The car got on the highway quickly, and Chloe’s son started whining in the back. “Mommy, I gotta pee. I gotta pee.” I heard rustling as Chloe dug out a folding toddler potty. “Here, buddy, pee in this.” Immediately followed by the sound of a kid peeing. I had been trying to catch up on sleep in the passenger seat. I was suddenly jolted awake by the overwhelming stench of urine. “Ugh…” The smell made me so dizzy and nauseous that the two steamed buns I’d eaten for breakfast came right back up. We were flying down the highway at 70 mph, the scenery blurring past. The sour stench of vomit mixed with the sharp smell of urine, assaulting the nostrils of everyone in the car. Everyone looked green. I was pale as a sheet, pulling out a can of air freshener and spraying it like my life depended on it. Chloe’s son couldn’t handle the smell. He started crying, demanding we open the window, and even reached for the door handle. “It stinks! Open the door, open the door!” Chloe’s husband, whose massive bulk took up two-thirds of the back seat, kept scrolling through TikTok, oblivious to everything else. The piercing shrieks of the kid and the obnoxious laugh tracks from the phone assaulted my eardrums simultaneously. I was just about to tell him to turn it down or use headphones when suddenly, the unmistakable smell of shit wafted up from the back. “Ahhh! Buddy, did you poop?!” “Babe, quick, get the diapers! Hand me the wipes!” The family of three in the back was in total chaos. I silently pulled out a face mask, put it on, and started scrolling furiously on my phone to distract myself. Once Chloe had dealt with the literal shitstorm, she finally seemed a bit embarrassed. She laughed nervously, “I’m so sorry, Harper. He just ate a bit too much before we left this morning.” Fearing I’d get angry, she slapped her kid’s butt and scolded him loudly, putting on a show of disgust: “Why are you trying to open the window?! Is this your car? Why do you think you can open the window?!” “I asked you if you had to go before we got in, and you said no! The minute we’re on the road, it’s nonstop pissing and shitting! Are you doing this on purpose?!” The kid wailed as he was hit, and Chloe alternated between comforting and yelling at him. I turned around, frowning. “Stop hitting him. We’ll pull into the next rest stop and take a break.” The suffocating stench, amplified by the car’s heater, evenly coated every square inch of the interior. The kid’s shrieks and the blaring TikTok comedy tracks from the back seat were a relentless assault on my sanity. I already had a problem with neurasthenia, and now I had a splitting headache. Ben couldn’t take it anymore either. He checked the GPS. “Next rest stop is in ten minutes.” But then, about 300 feet from the exit for the rest stop, there was a massive accident. The rest stop was temporarily closed. No entry allowed. The next rest stop was another half-hour away. I snapped. I told him to get off the highway and take local roads immediately. I couldn’t stand being in this literal toilet of a car for another minute.

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My boyfriend’s mother was in a car accident. He said he was away on a business trip and couldn’t come back. I gave up a concert of my favorite idol to take care of her. Only to then see a new post from his secretary on social media. In the photo, the two of them were beaming under dazzling lights, and my boyfriend’s gaze at her held an undeniable tenderness. The caption read: “Want to hold your hand, from first blush to old age, and to the very end.” I quietly liked and commented: “Humans have sorrow and joy, separation and reunion. Cattle and horses adorn life.” 1. When I caught Karl Miller taking another woman to a concert, I was still diligently taking care of his mother in the hospital. All because, before he left for his trip, he had said, “When I get back, we’ll go get our marriage license. Our life is our own; if we don’t get blessings, so be it.” Our families were vastly different. His was an intellectual, high-society family, with parents who looked down on humble backgrounds like mine. They always thought I was with Karl for his money, so they disliked everything about me. This time, his mother had an unexpected car accident and was hospitalized, with no one around to care for her. Karl saw this as a good opportunity for me to prove myself, so he specifically told me about it. At the time, I thought that no matter what, she was still Karl’s mother. After marriage, we’d see each other often, so helping to take care of her was no big deal. But I never imagined that the man who had solemnly promised to marry me would now use a business trip as an excuse to accompany another woman to a concert. It was truly ironic. “Autumn, given your excellent performance recently, I’ve decided to grant you and Karl my blessing. You two aren’t getting any younger, don’t keep waiting. Go get your license when he comes back.” Karl’s mother said this with an arrogant air, her words implying it was a great favor. My thoughts snapped back, and I composed myself. I stared at her unblinkingly. “No need, ma’am.” “What?” She gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief, apparently not expecting my immediate refusal. “Didn’t you come to care for me recently just to earn my favor? Now I’ve given my approval…” My initial intention was indeed to gain her acceptance. But now, none of that mattered. I slowly stood up, took a deep breath, “Because I broke up with him. On second thought, we truly weren’t a good match. I’m sorry, we’re broken up now, and I can’t continue to care for you. You should hire a caregiver as soon as possible.” With that, I grabbed my bag and left. Walking out of the hospital room, I pulled out my phone. My messages with Karl stopped at my query from half an hour ago, asking when he would return. He still hadn’t replied. My heart felt like it was blocked by a large stone, neither rising nor falling. After two seconds of daze, I sent another message. Brief and to the point, I said we were breaking up. And this time, he replied instantly. But it was only a question mark. I glanced at it, ignoring it. Since I had broken up with him, there was no reason for me to stay at his place. I quickly packed my bags and moved out. The apartment he lived in alone was bought only after we started dating, and the interior decoration was all according to my preferences. No exaggeration, every corner of that home bore my personal touch. It was just a shame, if it wasn’t mine, it wasn’t mine in the end. I couldn’t find an apartment to rent temporarily, so I decided to move in with my single best friend. Seeing my sudden arrival, her eyes flashed with surprise. “Are you moving?” “Yes, Karl and I broke up.” I stated the fact calmly. Candy Vance sighed, about to ask something. Karl suddenly called. 2. As soon as I answered the phone, his accusing words came through from the other end. “Autumn, what on earth is wrong with you? You just left my mother alone. She’s all alone in the hospital, isolated and helpless. If anything happens, can you take responsibility?” I don’t know if it was because my idealized image of him had shattered, but hearing those words felt incredibly grating. My face turned cold, and I said nonchalantly, “Are you dead? Why should I, an outsider, take care of her?” Karl froze. A moment later, he softened his tone and gently appeased, “I know you’ve been wronged by my mother. You’ve worked hard these past few days. I’ll compensate you well when I get back. Can you please go back to the hospital to take care of your future mother-in-law?” In the past, hearing the term ‘future mother-in-law’ would make me shy. But now, it only disgusted me. “Are you illiterate? If so, let me remind you again: we’re broken up. Do you understand what ‘broken up’ means?” My words were laced with cold sarcasm. Karl heard the finality in my voice and fell silent. Finally, he said stiffly, “You’re unstable right now. Let’s talk after you’ve calmed down.” With that, he directly hung up the call. And I immediately deleted all his contact information. From then on, I completely exited his life. Candy hesitated for a moment, then asked, “You worked so hard for so long, are you really willing to give up?” Karl and I had been together for four years. Couples who’d been together for four years. Either they were already married, or they had long gone their separate ways. But we were still stuck. He always said that if we didn’t have his parents’ approval, I would be easily bullied if I married into his family. So he wanted to try harder, to get the blessings of both parents. It was precisely because of this that he suddenly changed his tune this time. I was overjoyed, even beginning to fantasize about our future together. But after finding out what I did, I started to doubt myself. “What’s there to regret? It’s just like you said before, if he really wanted to marry me, he would have done it already. Why does he always come up with various excuses?” “But didn’t you just say you were going to get your license when he came back from this business trip?” I calmly told her about him taking another woman to the concert. Candy first froze, then became furious. “What does he mean by this? You’re working like a dog for his mother, while he’s out having a blast with someone else? Does he think he’s some kind of emperor, wanting to have his cake and eat it too?” “So, I gave up.” I gave up on this four-year relationship. I gave up on any future involving him. I let out a long, clear sigh. “It’s fine. It’s not like I can’t live without him.” These words sounded more like self-comfort. I stayed at Candy’s place, and that night, we drank to our heart’s content. The next morning, I woke up having thrown all the unpleasantness out of my mind. I fully immersed myself in my work. “Dr. Hayes, I have good news for you. The department’s advanced training spots are out, and you’re one of them! The head of the department should be coming to talk to you soon.” I had just finished my morning rounds when a colleague excitedly brought the news. I wasn’t surprised by this result. But I couldn’t help but feel happy. “That’s indeed good news. Thank you for telling me. Once the official notice comes out, I’ll treat you to dinner.” “Then I’ll be waiting! But if you go for advanced training, won’t you be in a long-distance relationship with your boyfriend? Long-distance relationships are the hardest.” I pursed my lips, shaking my head. “I broke up with him.” 3. “What? You and your boyfriend have been together since college, such an enviable couple, why would you suddenly break up?” “It just suddenly felt like we weren’t a good match…” My words hadn’t even finished when there was a knock on the office door. I looked up to see a tall, elegant figure standing in the doorway. Karl Miller exuded an inherent coolness, with a hint of detachment in his handsome eyes. My colleague gasped, then chuckled awkwardly, “You two chat, I’ll be going now.” She hurried away. Suddenly, only the two of us were left in the office. I composed myself, stating indifferently, “This is my break time. Please make an appointment after 2 PM if you need to see me.” “Autumn, we need to talk.” He walked over with light steps, his deep black eyes fixed on me. “There’s nothing for us to talk about.” I calmly took off my white coat, grabbed my ID badge, and headed for the cafeteria. But as I passed him, he grabbed my arm. Karl’s expression was tense, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “What exactly are you making a fuss about?” “Let go.” I said coldly, not even bothering to look at him properly. “Autumn, my patience has limits. While I’m not angry yet, speak properly.” Hearing that, I laughed in anger. I cast a cold glance at him. “I’ll just ask one thing: what exactly were you doing the day before yesterday?” Karl’s expression stiffened, a fleeting hint of guilt in his eyes. “I was on a business trip. What else would I be doing besides work?” I clearly caught his guilt, and a coldness seeped into my heart. We used to tell each other everything. But I don’t know when it started. It seemed there was a transparent barrier between us. We began to have our own secrets. “Karl Miller, honestly, you’re quite disappointing.” The four years I invested, because of his words, now felt like a complete joke. I didn’t ask him to be completely transparent about everything. I just asked for a bottom line on such fundamental issues. But he still disappointed me. Karl’s face showed impatience, his brows tightly furrowed. “Just say what you mean, why beat around the bush?” I looked him directly in the eyes, stating each word clearly: “Because of you, I missed my idol’s concert. And you, you took another woman, using tickets I bought, to see it. Karl Miller, if it were you, how would you feel?” Upon hearing this, he seemed to grasp the situation, then looked at me with an unreadable, complex expression. “My business dinner just happened to be near the concert venue. After the dinner, I figured I shouldn’t waste the ticket money, so I just went to watch.” “Such a small matter, and you’re still nitpicking?” I pressed my lips together, not speaking. In his eyes, such a small amount of money was insignificant. But these were front-row tickets I had painfully bought with a month’s salary. Just so I could go to a concert with him. A hint of mockery flashed in my eyes, and I said with disgust, “Karl Miller, sometimes you truly sicken me.” Karl was stung by my words; his breathing grew heavier, and the way he looked at me also changed. He was wondering why I was suddenly being so unreasonable. “Autumn, can you please change this petty, small-minded attitude of yours? It’s just two concert tickets, tell me how much, and I’ll pay you back.” 4. “Four hundred and eighty dollars. PayPal it.” Saying that, I directly pulled out my phone, found my QR code, and handed it over. Karl’s eyes clearly held disbelief, seemingly not expecting me to actually ask him for money. I’m generous with my own people, but that doesn’t mean I’m a pushover. Moreover, we’ve already broken up; there’s no longer any relationship between us. He owed me this money. “Hurry up, I need to go eat.” I gestured with my phone, urging him to be quick. Karl laughed in anger, then, as if in a fit of pique, he transferred a thousand dollars to me. Hearing the PayPal notification. My eyebrows twitched. I did the math and refunded him the excess money. At this, his face flushed with irritation, and he gritted his teeth, looking at me. “Are you really going to draw a line between us?” “We broke up. I won’t take what’s not mine.” “Fine, then you give me back everything I’ve ever given you.” He nearly bit through his teeth, his eyes burning with fury as he glared at me. I said without changing my expression, “Those things are at your place. I didn’t take them. You can go back and count them. As for the money, you can send me the bill, and I’ll repay what’s owed.” Hearing him say that, not a ripple stirred in my heart. I even felt a little relieved that I hadn’t taken those things when I moved out. Otherwise, returning them now would have been incredibly undignified. Karl’s face completely darkened. “Autumn, do you really want to make a scene?” After saying so much, I was also getting impatient. I glanced at the time; if I didn’t go to the cafeteria now, I probably wouldn’t even get soup. I couldn’t be bothered with him, so I pulled my hand free and turned to walk towards the door. Just then, a delicate figure peeked through the doorway. “Mr. Miller, I’ve finished my check-up.” It was his secretary, Maya Vance. Maya’s eyes flashed with surprise when she saw me. Then she straightened up, smiling as she greeted, “Ms. Hayes, long time no see.” Hearing her feigned words, I showed no mercy. “Didn’t I just see you on social media the day before yesterday?” At these words, the smile on her face almost faltered. Her eyes, bright and moving, shifted between Karl and me. She bit her red lip and said, “Ms. Hayes, you seem to be in a bad mood. Am I interrupting you?” “No, I’m interrupting you two. You both take your time.” Saying that, I was about to step away when Karl’s angry voice came through, “Don’t mind her. She’s been acting crazy lately.” As his words fell, he strode quickly to the doorway. After giving me a cold glance, he said in a deep voice, “Autumn, I’ll give you three days. Think it over and then come find me.” With that, he quickly left with Maya. However, I didn’t miss the challenging look she gave me as she departed. He was always like this, never realizing his mistakes. No matter whose fault it was, it was always me who had to swallow my pride, admit I was wrong, and coax him. Because he knew I liked him, that’s why he was so reckless. But now, I was tired. Thinking this, I took a deep breath. I cast aside the unpleasantness and went to the cafeteria for lunch. As soon as I finished getting my food and sat down at an empty table, I pulled out my phone to scroll through social media. I saw Maya’s post from a minute ago. She had posted a photo from Karl’s mother’s hospital room. I don’t know what they talked about, but Karl’s usually stern mother was beaming with a genuine smile. And her caption read: “So happy to be praised by my boss’s mom! She said she wished she had a daughter-in-law like me. Thank you, ma’am, for your recognition.”

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Seven years into my marriage, the day I finally discovered I was pregnant, I went to the airport myself to pick up my husband, who had been away for three years. I waited four hours at the airport for Julian Goldsberry, but he didn’t appear. Instead, the girl he kept outside did. “Are you Julian Goldsberry’s secretary? No need to wait, your Mr. Goldsberry was exhausted last night and is still catching up on sleep abroad. Just drop me at the usual place.” I acknowledged her as an assistant, handed her my phone, and watched as she typed in the address of a thirty-million-dollar villa in the suburbs. All the way, she leaned back in the leather seat, playing voice messages from her best friend aloud. “Who says being pretty is useless? Was spending forty thousand on plastic surgery and breast implants worth it? I’ve totally got Mr. Goldsberry wrapped around my finger!” “He not only gave me three fully paid apartments downtown and a Lamborghini, but most importantly, he’s sending me to New York for grad school when I graduate!” “He even promised that if I get pregnant, he’ll give me even more!” Facing her best friend’s skepticism, the girl pouted, looking smug: “The devoted husband persona is all fake, of course. His wife at home is nothing special either.” Suddenly, her phone camera pointed at my face. “See, someone like this, working for Julian Goldsberry, old and faded, probably no one would want her even if she tried to climb into bed, right?” Then the girl nudged my shoulder. “Hey, wouldn’t you say so?” 1. I nodded, agreeing with her words. Then my gaze slowly fell upon her face. The girl’s name was Maya Vance, very young, in her early twenties. She was exquisitely doll-like; the forty thousand dollars had indeed been well spent. She continued talking to her best friend, her voice completely unhidden, “Don’t forget, we’ve known each other for three years!” “Besides, doesn’t Julian Goldsberry like highly educated women? His wife is doing a master’s-doctorate program, right? When he came to our school to give a lecture, he stared at me the whole time, wasn’t it also because I was an outstanding student representative?” Listening to the sweetness in her words, my fingers, gripping the steering wheel, tightened slightly. Just then, Julian Goldsberry called Maya. “You’ve landed? Why didn’t you communicate with me before you left?” To my surprise, Julian Goldsberry’s tone was as if he were talking to a subordinate, his business-like manner showing no hint of being on the phone with his mistress. Less than a minute after the call ended, my phone vibrated again. This time, it was mine. Julian Goldsberry’s voice came through my Bluetooth headset, syrupy, as if he were a different person. “Sweetheart, I have an impromptu meeting today, really can’t make it back.” “Are you home yet? Have you eaten? How’s your appetite lately? I’ll stew you some soup when I get back…” But just ten minutes ago, another girl’s bragging voice still echoed in my ears. “You haven’t seen him in bed! He’s completely different from his usual cold, aloof self!” A wave of nausea suddenly surged in my stomach. It wasn’t morning sickness, but a disgust that churned from the depths of my being. I removed my headset and took a deep breath. Then, Maya held her phone up to me; the screen showed Julian Goldsberry’s chat window. “Miss, your Mr. Goldsberry told you to take my luggage inside. Did you hear?” I said nothing, turned off the engine, and got out of the car. I admit, it was my curiosity at play; I also wanted to see their love nest. The moment I pushed open the door, a youthful vibrancy washed over me. Everywhere I looked was pink. The sofa was piled high with plush toys, and every cabinet displayed action figures. I instinctively looked for Julian Goldsberry’s traces—there were none of his favorite green plants. Nor his beloved wine cabinet or cigar wall. I inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief. The painful truth was, I could only rely on finding these seemingly insignificant pieces of evidence he didn’t care about, to barely maintain the illusion that he still loved me. Maya casually tossed her discarded jacket at her feet. “Nice, isn’t it? It’s all decorated in my favorite style.” I clearly saw the necklace above her V-neck, my lips trembling slightly. “That necklace…” Hearing this, Maya leaned closer. “Your boss is quite generous, isn’t he? This is his birthday gift to me. I heard it’s really hard to order.” When Julian Goldsberry gave me mine, he said it was a limited edition, and he only managed to get one. Now, staring at that identical necklace, I suddenly couldn’t tell who between Maya and me was the secondary one. As I turned, my peripheral vision caught the entryway. A huge sticky note was plastered on the wall, stinging my pupils. It was Maya’s class schedule, with several key classes circled in red pen. Beside it were the exam times, precise down to the minute. Julian Goldsberry’s friends always teased him about being a “dad-type” husband. His memo app stored my dietary restrictions, the refrigerator had notes of my monthly check-up times, and he even helped me organize my family members’ medicine boxes. I always thought that was his instinctive love. Turns out, it was just a hobby. Not tired enough being a dad at home, he had to raise another one outside. “Do you want some?” Maya tore open a bag of local jerky. “I just love this beef jerky! The school cafeteria food is so bad, and your Mr. Goldsberry found out, so every Sunday night he has his housekeeper make these snacks and pack them for me.” She took a bite. “I wonder if his wife knows about it.” I stared at the beef jerky in her hand, my nails digging into my palm. Of course not. I even thought Julian Goldsberry liked it, and sometimes I would help the housekeeper cook it. “Miss Vance, do you know that Mr. Goldsberry and his wife have been together for seven years?” “Yes, I know.” Maya blinked, looking innocent. “What does that matter? I don’t want to marry him anyway.” “He gives me money and resources, I make him happy. We both get what we want, you know?” She leaned closer to me. “And think about it, his wife is just a frumpy housewife at home, dealing with daily chores. What passion can a man have when he comes home? I’m different. I’m young and pretty. It’s so much more respectable to bring me out.” She suddenly became excited as she spoke: “A while ago, I accompanied Mr. Goldsberry to a wine tasting, a very high-end one.” “Do you know why he brought me and not his wife?” I looked at her, not taking the bait. “Of course, it’s because I’m presentable.” She tossed her hair. “You probably don’t know what Mr. Goldsberry’s phone wallpaper is, do you? It’s me!” “But his lock screen is his wife, tsk tsk.” “So, men, they’re all good-for-nothing. They want face outside and stability at home.” I lowered my eyes, suddenly feeling a bit ironic. “Alright, you can go upstairs.” Maya waved her hand. “I’ll handle the luggage myself. Thank you, assistant sister.” 2. I turned to leave. But Maya’s words were like a thorn, piercing my mind, causing pain at every turn. In seven years of marriage, I had never checked Julian Goldsberry’s phone. His wallpaper was me; I had always known that. But I never imagined that a woman would live with such a mindset, believing that being young and pretty justified intruding on someone else’s marriage, and saying it so calmly. I felt it wasn’t worth it for her, nor for myself. And even less for the tiny life forming in my belly. As I started the car, my mind was filled with all of Julian Goldsberry’s good qualities. All those good things I thought were unique, belonging only to me. I didn’t sleep well, so he would warm milk for me before bed—a habit he kept for seven years. His phone also had a recipe app. It was full of my favorite dishes, like when to add sugar to sweet and sour pork ribs, and how many minutes to steam crabs. He would also collect movie ticket stubs we’d seen together, like a teenager. How could such a man not love me? But he did the same things for someone else. He delivered meals to Maya, remembered her class schedule to meet her, went shopping with her, and gave her identical gifts to make her happy. I blinked, swallowing the stinging tears back into my eyes. Three days later, Julian Goldsberry returned. Kisses rained down on my face, trailing downwards. “Sweetheart, I missed you so much.” His lips pressed against the hollow of my neck. “Why are you so thin? Were you missing me too much to eat properly?” Who would have thought that the stern man at the company would be like this at home? “I brought you a gift.” He proudly produced a bottle of red wine. “It’s your favorite brand. I went out of my way to pick it up.” “Shall we have some tonight?” I looked at the bottle of wine. Every time he went on a business trip, he would bring back a thoughtful gift for me. I used to ask him how he knew what I liked. Once, he brought back a bracelet, saying he’d overheard me mentioning it casually on the phone with Chloe. He had kept it in mind. But after seeing all those “matching surprises” at Maya’s place, I started to find this bottle of red wine an eyesore. At this very moment, would a bottle also appear simultaneously at that girl’s apartment? Just then, my phone rang. Julian Goldsberry glanced at it, then quickly pressed ignore. It rang again, and he pressed ignore again. When it rang for the third time, I silently brushed his hand away and walked towards the dining table. Julian Goldsberry answered the phone and walked to the balcony. In less than a minute, he returned, offering an explanation. “Company matters, an intern, always causing problems.” I nodded. “Sit down and eat first.” I was ready to confront him. After all, the fate of the baby in my belly needed a decision, right? But just as I was about to speak, his phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message. He looked down at it, his face instantly changed, and he shot up from his chair. “What’s wrong?” Julian Goldsberry’s voice was urgent. “Something urgent came up at the company. I need to go out.” With that, he was already putting on his coat, fumbling for his car keys. I looked at his retreating figure and suddenly spoke, “Let Leo go with you. It’s late, and it’s not convenient to drive alone.” Julian Goldsberry nodded, not refusing. After the door closed, I sat at the dining table and smiled faintly. Leo was my confidant. I also wanted to know what kind of trouble Maya Vance was really brewing, causing such a frantic rush in the middle of the night. “Shay, that girl is pregnant.” Leo called, his tone serious. “Mr. Goldsberry went because of that. They met at the hospital last night and are now eating at a private restaurant.” “Shay, are you okay?” I relaxed my fingers, which had been digging into my palm, and let out a forced sigh of relief. “Where is that private restaurant?” When I arrived, they were still in the private room. The door was ajar, and Maya’s voice drifted out. “Mr. Goldsberry, do you really love your wife that much?” “Her belly hasn’t shown any movement for so long. Have you… have you considered divorce?” A few seconds of silence passed inside. I stood at the doorway, my hand clutching my bag strap. “Mr. Goldsberry, what if you don’t divorce, and she doesn’t accept the baby in my belly? I’m serious. I want to keep this child.” Julian Goldsberry’s voice was filled with exhaustion. “Maya, stop it.” “I’m not making a fuss.” She sounded deeply wronged. “I just don’t understand, what is it about her that you can’t let go of? Didn’t you say she had been with someone else back then? If you despise her so much, why not divorce her?” My whole body stiffened. “Don’t you feel disgusted when you lie beside her?” “Maya.” “Alright, alright, I won’t say it anymore. So, are you going to divorce her or not?” “Not now.” “Then when?” Another stretch of silence. I stood at the doorway, utterly cold. 3. I still remember that night when I received Julian Goldsberry’s call, saying he’d been in a car accident and I needed to come quickly. Later, I was stuck in an alley for nearly an hour. My clothes were torn, but nothing substantial happened. Finally, Julian Goldsberry called the police to rescue me. He even hugged me and said it was okay, it wasn’t my fault. I thought he truly didn’t care. It turned out that incident was a thorn in his heart. Perhaps not getting a clear answer, Maya Vance stormed out angrily, her high heels clacking loudly. I pushed open the door and walked straight in. Julian Goldsberry looked up, a flicker of surprise on his face. When my slap landed, his appeasing hand was still frozen in mid-air. “Were those words just now sincere?” Julian Goldsberry froze, his face instantly changing. “Shay, you’ve misunderstood me. We don’t have that kind of relationship.” “I’ve already caught you. At this point, are you still going to lie to me?” Seeing my serious expression, Julian Goldsberry’s shoulders gradually slumped. “I… those weren’t my true feelings. I was just trying to appease her. I’ll tell you the truth: she’s pregnant and emotionally unstable. I was afraid she’d make a scene, so those were just thoughtless words!” “Shay, don’t you know how good I’ve been to you? It’s been so long since that incident, when have I ever resented you?” “Sweetheart…” His voice trembled as he reached out to pull me closer. “I just wanted a child. I wasn’t serious about her.” I stepped back. “Two choices.” I stared into his eyes, like an detached observer. “Come home with me now, and in front of me, break up with Maya Vance completely.” “Second, we meet at the city hall for divorce.” At my words, Julian Goldsberry grew anxious. “Sweetheart! Listen to me, Maya is emotionally unstable right now, and she’s pregnant!” “You know how much I’ve wanted a child all these years.” “Please, okay? Give me some time. I’ll definitely break up with her…” I took a deep breath. “How long?” “How much time do you need?” “A month? Two months? Or until she gives birth?” Looking at his evasive eyes, I suddenly didn’t want to ask anything anymore. I turned and pushed open the door. An hour later, I was sitting on a hospital bed in the obstetrics and gynecology department.

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After the big finale, my villainous husband was crushed by the hero and went bankrupt. My husband, heartbroken, walked to the rooftop to commit suicide. I grabbed him by the back of his collar, yanked him back like a chick, and he landed with a thud. “Don’t die. I’ll earn money to support you.” My strength was too much; I slammed him onto the ground. His head buzzed. “Aside from swiping cards at luxury stores, have you done anything serious all these years? How are you going to earn money?” My husband married me because once at a banquet, he took the wrong medication. We were caught in a compromising situation. For so many years, there was no affection, only cold, hard cash transactions. The coldness warmed my heart, and I decided to pull him out of this. I picked up my fish-killing knife, returning to my old profession. “Once those annoying people are ‘dealt with,’ and they stop making trouble, won’t you be able to earn money?” The big villain: ? Who’s the villain here? 01 At the end of the story, the big villain was about to jump off a building. No, not from when I just stopped him. Now his head was about to crack open, ending his villainous life. My husband, Sterling Vance, stood up, brushing dust from his shoulders. “Stop with these jokes.” “My life is already over.” I looked at Sterling’s despondent face and patted his shoulder heavily. “Husband, you still have me. I can gut fish; at least it’s a living. You won’t go hungry.” “Gut fish?!” Sterling looked at himself, then at me. The wind on the rooftop made both of us a bit disheveled. He reached out to touch my forehead. “Do you have a fever? One fish at most earns ten dollars, and I owe a mountain of debt. Don’t be so naive.” “Oh, and let’s get a divorce first, then I’ll jump. That way, these debts won’t fall on you, and you’ll even get some insurance money.” He pulled me, ready to go file for divorce. I forcefully covered his mouth and dragged him downstairs for dinner. “Why so much talk? The food will get cold if we wait any longer.” Sterling looked at me as if I had just escaped from a mental institution. But he wasn’t as strong as me, so he could only be dragged down to eat. Once I, the fishmonger, clean up the hero and heroine, won’t the big villain be able to earn money? Simple! 02 I forcibly brought him back from the rooftop to our rented apartment. This apartment was rented by me after selling off my old luxury bags. Now Sterling couldn’t earn a penny; he relied entirely on me. Actually, I had quite a bit of money in my bank account, but I couldn’t explain it to Sterling. I could only make do for now. I rummaged through drawers and cupboards, pulling out my fish-killing knife. It had been too long since I’d practiced my old trade. The knife wasn’t sharp anymore, so I found a whetstone and polished it until it gleamed. Sterling was utterly shocked. “I’ve seen your file. Before you married me, you were an orphan with a fish stall. Are you going to support me by selling fish?” Ah, we’d been married for so many years, yet we were strangers to this extent. Sterling was looking at my superficial resume. An orphan from a welfare home became a fish stall owner. This was the best way to hide my identity. No family, no attachments, just cold-blooded fish gutting. The light in Sterling’s eyes dimmed again. “Take a break. The last time you made fish soup, you couldn’t even fillet the fish properly… You can’t sell fish like that. No one will buy it.” I earnestly held up the fish-killing knife and explained to him. “No, I don’t earn money by selling fish. I earn money by gutting fish.” 03 A fish’s third spinal vertebra is the most fragile, and so is a person’s. I’m an orphan, and that’s what I learned since childhood. Master Lin, with ten years of experience, has an excellent reputation. With a swift stroke of the knife, clean and precise, never a botched job. “Alright, tell me, which fish first?” Sterling showed a strange expression. “Do you have to choose a fish?” If he wouldn’t choose, I would. I raised the fish-killing knife and brought it down heavily on the cutting board. “Then let’s start with Andrew Chen.” The hero, Andrew Chen, was like a direct contrast to Sterling. Now Sterling was so down and out, while Andrew was on his way to becoming a billionaire. He was the main driver of Sterling’s bankruptcy, and he hadn’t stopped his suppression and humiliation even after Sterling went broke. That’s why Sterling couldn’t find any decent job, and could only go to construction sites every day to move bricks. Sterling’s eyes widened, full of disbelief. “What did you say?! What are you going to… kill?!” I paused. Sterling’s heart couldn’t take any more shock. I smiled at him. “Just kidding. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to my fish stall and start gutting fish again. We’ll spend the money we earn.” 04 Sterling buried his head, utterly despondent and lost. “Don’t comfort me. How many fish can you gut in a day? I’m still burdened with endless debts… I’ll only drag you down.” “Let’s get a divorce. You can find someone else to buy you bags, alright?” Sterling wasn’t wrong. After marrying him, I spent most of my time at luxury counters. I used to be too busy! After retirement, I started my revenge spending! But the person in front of me was too dejected; I felt a pang of pity. Sterling was clearly a golden boy, a man who commanded the commercial empire. Now he was being suppressed to a dead end. What Sterling didn’t know was that we both lived in a book. After marrying Sterling, I used his card to buy too many bags at once, and accidentally hit my head while moving them. I awakened. It turned out Sterling was the big villain in this book, and I, the fishmonger, was a nobody, a mere extra. No matter how much Sterling struggled, he was destined for failure. He couldn’t win; the more he fought, the more he’d be pushed back. This was the villain’s fate. I hugged Sterling tightly. “Losing isn’t your fault. I’ll help you flip this table.” Sterling’s eyes widened. “Huh?” “By gutting fish?” Is this right? 05 Of course, it’s right. I don’t just gut fish the usual way. I set up my fish stall again. In our line of work, you don’t just kill; someone also needs to clean up the scene. There’s a complete process. When I set up my stall, they knew I was back in business, and organized people would contact me to place orders. I was worried that Sterling would jump off the building again if he stayed home alone, so I forcibly brought him along to the stall with me. As soon as he arrived, he inevitably reverted to his business world analysis. “Your stall is in the most inconspicuous spot in the market, and your prices are so expensive. Who on earth would come here to buy fish?” I sat on my small stool, looking perfectly composed. “You don’t understand. Those who understand will naturally buy.” Sterling was now penniless and desperate. Aside from his good physique and handsome face, he had nothing else, yet standing there, he even attracted a few customers for me. However, these people all left as soon as I told them one fish cost a hundred thousand. “A three-pound carp costs fifty at other places, and you want to sell it for a hundred thousand?” Sterling tugged at my sleeve, again looking at me as if I was a mental patient. “Do you want to earn money or not? Customers want to buy, why don’t you just sell to them?” Sterling’s gaze at me was overly strange. There were fewer than ten fish on the stall, and I wasn’t at all anxious to sell them. I grunted a few words. “They’re buying because of your good looks. If I sold to them, wouldn’t that be like selling you? Don’t worry, I have my own plan.” Sure enough, Sterling stopped talking. I finally waited for the person I was expecting: black hat, black mask, fully armed, wanting just one fish. “One fish.” My hand went up, then down, chopping off the fish’s head and handing it to him. “Here, a hundred thousand dollars.” The person opposite quickly scanned the code, paid the money, and left with the plastic bag. Sterling was stunned. “You didn’t even fillet the fish for him, just chopped off the head and sold it for so much money? Isn’t this robbery?” He didn’t understand the rules of our trade. A hundred thousand dollars for one fish was very cheap. I also had to bear the risk, and the organization had to provide people to clean up the aftermath for me. This was just a “friendship price” for making a comeback. In the past, I wouldn’t sell this fish for anything less than a million. “One willing buyer, one willing seller. Honest trade, excellent reputation.” “Didn’t I tell you selling fish is very profitable?” Sterling: …The world had turned fantastical. 06 After making a hundred thousand dollars, I treated Sterling to an all-you-can-eat barbecue buffet that evening. In the past, Sterling would never have set foot in a smoky joint like this. But now, he was devouring the food ravenously, long gone was the image of the refined gentleman he once was. The grilled meat in front of me was piled into a small mountain, all grilled by Sterling. “Eat slowly, we have money now.” Sterling, full and satisfied, felt a pang of guilt and buried his head. “I wasn’t that good to you either. You should leave now.” I picked up a piece of meat and put it on his plate. “Eat. Why talk about all this? I’ve swiped so much of your money; when disaster strikes, I can’t just fly away alone, can I?” Sterling: “Don’t say that. That money didn’t mean much to me then, but now I don’t have a penny.” Sterling had hit rock bottom; everyone had left his side, leaving only me, the wife he had haphazardly married. A big villain, after all, has no friends. If I weren’t just an extra in the book, I might have been influenced by the plot and left him too. But. Before I met Sterling, I had just completed an extremely dangerous mission. The target was a powerful and influential figure with many bodyguards. I watched the man slowly fall before me, then swiftly ran to the hotel where the banquet was being held. After they realized what happened, they all chased after me. I was anxious to avoid them but was pulled into a hotel room by Sterling, who had been drugged with an aphrodisiac. To evade pursuit, I was also somewhat lust-struck. I almost instantly accepted this setup. Barely halfway through my stumbled retreat. Audrey Shaw and Andrew Chen entered the room with a group of people. Sterling had been set up, and so had I, who happened to need to hide my identity. At the time, his marrying me might have had an element of spite. So many people witnessed us, and Audrey publicly accused him, then consequently broke off their engagement. Sterling: “If you don’t mind, I can marry you, but we won’t be like a normal married couple.” I nodded furiously. My last mission had been extremely dangerous, and I desperately needed a legal identity to hide me. Wasn’t this a pillow arriving just as I felt sleepy? “Thank you, husband!” Sterling: …“Don’t call me husband.” “Thank you, boss!” 07 After the marriage, Sterling continued to battle with the hero and heroine, while I spent my retirement enjoying his card privileges. Even though I was a wife he married without affection, inexplicably, he never insulted or bullied me; instead, he gave me money to spend. He was practically my benefactor. Now that my benefactor was in trouble, I had to step in. When Sterling first went bankrupt, Andrew Chen immediately ordered a complete shutdown of his businesses and even threatened to break his legs. He wanted to make it impossible for Sterling to even do simple labor. I dealt with the people who came to break his legs. Andrew Chen also sent various thugs, gangsters, and kidnappers, big and small, trying to completely eliminate Sterling, but I quietly handled them all. However, I couldn’t prevent his downfall. Andrew Chen always found ways to humiliate Sterling. Every time Sterling went out to earn money, he would be suppressed. I thought the key lay with the hero and heroine. As long as they kept suppressing Sterling, Sterling would never be able to rise again. Don’t worry, soon there will be no annoying people left. I casually offered a few words of comfort to Sterling. “You’re very handsome, be more confident! Look how many people are looking at you!” “Actually, if you became a male model, you could probably earn a lot of money, but I wouldn’t want you to.” “Ah, it looks like I’ll have to return to my old trade.” Sterling’s ears turned red all the way to his neck. “Then maybe I should just die.” Die, die, die. Such inauspicious talk. Sterling used to be very confident; now he had none left. The person in front of me still had that broad shoulders and narrow waist, with an authoritative face, but his eyes were lifeless. I tried to persuade him. “The bad guys aren’t dead yet. If you die, wouldn’t you be losing out? Better to live badly than die well. Maybe one day you’ll bounce back and your luck will turn.” Sterling: “Andrew Chen can’t die. He said he’s the favored child of destiny… All the methods I used before never worked.” I sighed. “What if something unexpected happens to him? Can you still return to the capital market?” Sterling’s expression also changed. “Then I should still be able to find an opportunity.” Sterling paused. “If I can rise again, I’ll definitely give you a better life.” “I know this sounds like an empty promise. Autumn, I apologize for my actions in our marriage before.” I thought for a long time. What did Sterling do that wronged me? It dawned on me that he was probably referring to his coldness in the marriage. He took on the role of husband but didn’t fulfill spousal responsibilities. But this was something we had agreed upon before; I hadn’t taken it seriously at all. “Huh? No, our marriage was fine.” His authoritative face still needed to stand at the top, dressed in a suit, stirring up the capital market. That’s when he’s handsome! Sterling inadvertently blushed. “Thank you.” Walking home from the barbecue restaurant, he held my hand the entire way. Sterling’s fingers were long and slender, clasped with mine as he led me home. His ear tips were slightly red. An old married couple, yet acting surprisingly innocent. 08 The organization made contact; it was still the same organization. I had retired after finishing that last mission, marrying Sterling to hide my identity. It was a perfect retreat from the underworld. Now that I was back, they were all surprised. Not only was I back, but I had sold a fish. A successful sale meant a successful order. “W: Didn’t you say you married a rich man and retired? Why are you back?” “A: Which unlucky soul is about to suffer?” “A: Are you really back for good? Can you please kill that fake heiress for me first? I can’t stand her, oh my god, what a manipulative drama queen, playing dead.” It took me a tremendous effort to retire, and now I was back in the fray, stirring up trouble again. I made up my mind: once I dealt with the hero and heroine, I would agree to divorce Sterling. As long as he wasn’t affected by the plot, he had a great life ahead of him. The group chat was full of exclamations, wondering who was so foolish as to provoke me, the bringer of doom. My fish-gutting technique was unique, and I worked swiftly. Now the knife was sharpened, all that was left was to strike. Tonight, Audrey Shaw and Andrew Chen would be at a banquet. That evening, I heated up a glass of milk for Sterling, adding a sleeping pill. I would leave after he fell asleep. From a professional standpoint, I didn’t want to bring him along for the job. We had a strict procedure for these things; an extra person meant an extra risk. From a personal standpoint, I didn’t want Sterling to see the hero and heroine again. Every time he met them, he had bad luck. He had the villain’s constitution; if I didn’t protect him, he would have lost limbs long ago. “I can’t drink any more. I ate too much tonight.” Tonight was not a peaceful night. “Drink it~ I went to all this trouble to make you milk. I even treated you to dinner; you can’t even agree to such a simple request?” I rarely acted coy, giving Sterling goosebumps. “Okay, I’ll drink it.” Sterling drank the milk under my watchful eye, then lay down in bed and fell asleep. I changed my clothes, grabbed my knife, and went out. Unbeknownst to me, Sterling quietly opened his eyes. He went out too.

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1 My wife, Victoria, brought her young assistant into our bed. When I caught them, she just pulled up the comforter and stared at me with bored eyes. “Toby doesn’t want your spot. Why are you so suffocating?” After ten years, I swallowed my anger, wrote a hefty check, and sent him away. Less than a minute later, my phone buzzed. My father’s emergency heart surgery was halted by the hospital board. All my accounts were frozen. In a panic, I rushed to find a specialist and raced to the hospital, only to see the underground parking lot barricaded by roaring supercars. Victoria leaned against a sleek Lamborghini. “Ryan, you love throwing money at problems. Why not pay to move these cars?” I glared at her, nails nearly piercing my palms. “You became CEO because my father gave you his patents. Is this how you repay him?” She melted into Toby’s arms and laughed softly. “One million per car. Better start counting, honey.” Tracing his chest, she added, “Hurry, or our dad might die on the table.” My jaw clenched. I typed a message I’d sworn never to use: [Chief Defense Scientist compromised. Priority Alpha life in danger. Requesting immediate tactical extraction.] … I hit send. I shared my GPS coordinates. Then I looked back at Victoria. “All this because I sent him away?” She shrank against Toby, letting him wrap his arms around her waist. Her eyes were wide, playing the perfect victim. “Honey, I already told you. You can just pay to move them…” It was at least a thirty-minute drive to the nearest available hospital. Every second we stood here was draining the last drops of life from my father. His heart condition was incredibly rare. There were exactly two surgeons in the entire country qualified to perform this procedure. Victoria had already bought off the first one. Now, she was trapping the second one here with me, treating a dying man’s life like a party game for her new toy. I took a step forward, my voice shaking with fury. “Victoria, you froze my assets yourself. You know damn well I don’t have a single cent on me right now. You are deliberately murdering my father.” The moment the words left my mouth, her circle of rich, spoiled friends erupted into laughter. “Forget a million bucks. I bet this loser couldn’t even scrape together cab fare right now.” “That’s what he gets for messing with Toby. The boss lady protects her own.” Amidst the grating laughter, Toby flashed me a triumphant smirk. He laced his fingers with Victoria’s. She raised their joined hands high into the air, a public declaration of absolute ownership. Looking at them pressed together, a wave of sheer absurdity washed over me. Years ago, when she held my hands in a quiet church and made her vows, I never could have imagined this. I never thought the passionate, sincere woman I married would push my father to the brink of death just to protect her cheating mistake. I ground my teeth together so hard I heard a pop in my jaw. The surgeon standing next to me reached into his pocket, pulling out a black card to bail me out. But before he could even swipe it, two of Victoria’s private security guards slammed him against a concrete pillar, wrestled him to the ground, and pinned him against the hood of a car. My phone vibrated violently. It was the ICU. “Mr. Reynolds, where is the surgeon? His vitals are dropping! He isn’t going to make it!” My Adam’s apple bobbed. I stared at the exit ramp. The only man who could save my father was pinned down. A wall of multi-million dollar metal blocked every possible path. Without moving those cars, leaving was a physical impossibility. The call dropped. Victoria’s voice floated over, dripping with synthetic sweetness. “Like I said, honey. One million per car.” My entire body trembled. The knuckles gripping my phone turned bone white. But they had the numbers, and fighting them barehanded would only get me locked up while my father bled out. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. I slowly raised my hands and unfastened my cufflinks. During our first year of a startup, we were crammed into a tiny, drafty apartment. She had cried and promised that once she took over the Sinclair empire, she would give me the best the world had to offer. She kept that promise, but her soul had rotted along the way. I threw the cufflinks on the concrete. Next, I unclasped my watch. The Sinclair family built their fortune on luxury timepieces. This was a family heirloom. On the night before our wedding, she had kneeled in her family’s private chapel until dawn to convince her grandfather to give it to me. It was only because of that gesture that her snobby relatives stopped treating me like trash. Finally, I twisted the wedding band off my finger and hurled it directly at her feet. It hit the pavement with a sharp clink. “Is this enough?!” Victoria looked down at the glittering metal scattered near her designer heels. Something flickered in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak. But before she could form a word, Toby let out a soft snicker. He looked at me, feigning perfect innocence and surprise. “Ryan, man… I think you got scammed. These are all fakes.” Toby slowly rolled up his tailored sleeves and unfastened his own cufflinks. Then he took off his watch. The designs were exactly the same as the ones I had just thrown into the dirt. But the weight, the blinding clarity of the diamonds, the flawless polish. The difference was night and day. He met my gaze, offering a sickeningly sweet smile. “Victoria gave them to me last week. Said they were one of a kind.” My pupils dilated. I snapped my head toward Victoria. She pressed her lips together tightly, staring at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes. It felt like a cold hand had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it bruised. I took a ragged breath, forcing down the suffocating pressure in my lungs. My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Victoria. Everything you made me wear… it was all fake?” She finally looked up. Her gaze slid over my face, dismissive and soft. “Toby is young. He likes shiny things. What is the big deal if you just let him have this one win?” Let him have this win. Those words floated in the air, light and effortless, like she was pacifying a toddler throwing a tantrum. Toby’s lips curled upward. He leaned into her shoulder, his tone dripping with fake empathy. “Come on, Victoria. Ryan meant well. Let us just pretend his little trinkets are the real deal. Move three cars for him.” Engines roared. Three sports cars at the outer edge slowly backed up. But the gap they left was barely wide enough for a stray dog to squeeze through, let alone a vehicle. Victoria looked back at me. Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she was actually struggling with a moral dilemma. Then she spoke, her tone coaxing. “Ryan, if you just get on your knees and give Toby a proper apology… I will call this whole thing off.” I looked into her eyes and suddenly wanted to laugh. On our wedding day, she refused to let me kneel even to her own parents. Now, she wanted me on my knees on filthy concrete, bowing to the boy who destroyed our marriage. She seemed to catch the sheer disgust radiating from me. Her eyes lingered on my reddened rims, and she hesitated. My phone vibrated again. A text message illuminated the screen. [Mr. Reynolds, you have ten minutes! He is crashing!] Below the text was a photo. My father, tangled in a web of plastic tubes. The surgical sheets beneath him were soaked in dark, thick crimson. The world tilted. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. I opened my mouth, ready to swallow my pride and drop to my knees, but Toby gently tugged at Victoria’s sleeve. His eyes locked onto the silver guardian pendant resting against my collarbone. His eyes crinkled into a smile, playing the merciful saint. “If Ryan does not want to kneel, we can just keep bartering. I think that silver necklace looks pretty cool. How about we trade that for a few more cars?” My hand shot up defensively, wrapping around the cold metal of the locket. My mother gave this to me. Years ago, during a catastrophic flash flood in our town, I was locked inside a basement classroom. She came back for me. She was swept away by the raging water trying to pry the door open. Before the current took her, she managed to slip this locket through the crack beneath the door. She was exhausted, bruised, and dying. Her lips mouthed two words before the water pulled her under. “Stay alive.” My knuckles turned white holding it. Thinking of my father bleeding out on the operating table, the pressure in my skull became unbearable. I lifted my head and stared dead into Victoria’s eyes. “Victoria. You really think I should use this to pay him?” Her eyes dropped to the silver locket. Her pupils shrank. She knew exactly what this piece of metal meant to me. She knew the nightmares that still woke me up in cold sweats. Toby glanced at it, feigning ignorance. He leaned in and pressed his lips against her ear, whispering something so quietly I could not catch the words. Whatever trace of hesitation Victoria had vanished in an instant. She stopped looking at me. She reached out, grabbed the thin silver chain, and yanked it with brutal force. The metal bit into the back of my neck, slicing the skin. A sharp sting flared. The guardian pendant, now smeared with a drop of my own blood, dangled from her fingers. She tossed it to Toby without a second thought. He caught it, tossing it lightly in his palm, a victorious smirk playing on his lips. He slipped it into his designer pocket and stared at me, pure malice shining in his eyes. Victoria finally met my gaze. Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it felt like shards of ice. “Ryan, your mother refused to foster him when he was a kid. She left him in that trailer park to be beaten by his stepfather for years. Your family owes him this.” My mother had volunteered at a low-income school district years ago. She had mentioned a boy named Toby who was incredibly attached to her. Looking at Victoria’s cold, righteous face, the puzzle pieces finally snapped together. Toby was that boy. But the truth was, my mother had begged social services to let her take him in. It was Toby himself who lied to the police, crying that he loved his parents and didn’t want to leave. I was so blinded by the sheer audacity of the lie that I almost laughed. Before I could correct her, Toby stepped closer, his face twisted in a mask of “concern.” He leaned in, bringing his mouth just inches from my ear. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper meant only for me. “Ryan, aren’t you curious how Victoria knows all this? I whispered it to her. Piece by piece. When we were tangled up in bed.” “You have no idea how good it feels. Telling her these tragic little stories… and watching her look at me with so much pity while she rides me.” I whipped my head around, glaring at him with pure murder. He flinched, genuinely startled by the raw hatred in my eyes. But he didn’t back away. His smirk widened, his voice dropping even lower. “Oh, by the way. You should thank your wife for protecting me. Because the person who locked you in that basement while the water rose… that was me.” “And watching your mother cry and beg me to find the key… God, she looked like a pathetic wet dog.” My mother’s death had been a chain around my neck for over a decade. Victoria knew this better than anyone on earth. No wonder every time I hired private investigators to look into the “accident” with the locked door, they hit brick walls. No wonder evidence kept disappearing. They had been sleeping together for years, covering his tracks. The last thread of sanity holding my mind together snapped cleanly in two. I swung. My fist connected squarely with his jaw. The impact sent him flying backward. He slammed hard against the hood of a Ferrari with a sickening thud. He wiped the corner of his mouth, staring at the bright red smear on his hand, completely silent. Victoria shrieked. She threw herself in front of him, shielding his body with hers, turning to look at me with a gaze full of blazing hatred. Before she could scream, my phone rang. It was the surgeon. His voice was frantic, distorted by panic. “Mr. Reynolds! Your father is in hypovolemic shock! If I do not have a blade in my hand in three minutes, he is dead! Where the hell are you?!” The extraction team. They still weren’t here. The ground seemed to vanish beneath my feet. I was falling into a black, bottomless pit. I clamped my jaw shut, slowly bending my knees toward the concrete where Toby stood. “Victoria. I will apologize. I will kneel. I will do whatever you want. I am begging you…” A soft chuckle cut me off. Toby laced his fingers through Victoria’s. He tilted his head, looking down at me with casual cruelty. “Victoria, if Ryan is that desperate, let’s let him earn his way out.” His eyes dragged up and down my body, a predatory glint in his gaze. “After all, he doesn’t have any valuables left to trade.” Victoria turned her face, gently rubbing her nose against his cheek, her eyes soft and full of affection. When she looked back at me, all the warmth was gone. “Honey. I think you know exactly what you need to do.” I stared at her. Every syllable felt like chewing glass. “You want me to strip?” Victoria said nothing. She just played with Toby’s fingers, a faint, cruel smile lingering on her lips. Humiliation, rage, utter despair. A toxic cocktail exploded in my chest. I closed my eyes and drew in a long, ragged breath. When I opened them again, the fire was gone. There was only dead ash left. I raised my trembling hands and unbuttoned the top of my shirt. Victoria’s calm facade shattered. She surged forward, grabbing my wrist and slamming her fist against my chest. “Ryan! Why can’t you just lower your head to me for once?!” Thinking of my father dying on that cold metal table, my heart turned to absolute ice. I pushed her away. I moved to the second button. “Is this enough?” Victoria’s face darkened completely. The mask of the loving wife dissolved into pure malice. She stared at me, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness that made my blood run cold. “Alright. Since you are feeling so generous, let us go all the way. Take it all off. Strip bare, right here, and I will make every single car disappear. Deal?” I looked at the woman I used to love. There was nothing left but a stranger. I glanced at my phone. Thirty minutes had passed since my distress signal. Still nothing. I couldn’t wait another second. I ground my teeth together. “You keep your word.” I gripped the fabric of my shirt and ripped it open. Buttons tore loose, clattering against the concrete floor. Toby stood beside her, his eyes raking over my exposed skin. He leaned in and bit her earlobe playfully. “Victoria, tell me the truth. Who has the better body? Him or me?” The leering, judgmental eyes of her friends felt like razors carving into my flesh. The autumn wind bit at my skin, but the sheer, crushing shame was tearing my soul apart. I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and reached for the buckle of my belt.

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The maid’s daughter slapped her own face hard, then pointed a trembling finger at me, accusing me of hitting her. My two personal bodyguards immediately turned on me, their faces twisted with righteous anger. “Blair, so what if we didn’t stay to watch the stars with you last night?” “How dare you lay a hand on Phoebe?” “Exactly! Get on your knees and apologize to her right now, or we are done with you!” A cold laugh escaped my lips. These two bodyguards had been trained by my family since they were kids. They grew up alongside me. And now, they actually thought they ran this house? I stepped forward and delivered a vicious, backhanded slap across both of their faces. The sharp crack echoed through the massive foyer. “Since when do two stray dogs get to bare their fangs at their master?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “Arthur,” I called out without looking back. “Doesn’t our diamond mine in the blistering heat of the Australian Outback have a severe labor shortage?” “Pack these two blind, ungrateful mutts onto the next cargo plane and send them straight there.” Arthur, our silver-haired butler, broke into a wide, deeply satisfied smile. “Right away, Miss Blair!” The two bodyguards froze, touching their stinging cheeks. This… this wasn’t how the script was supposed to go. 1 Seeing Carter and Jaxon get slapped, Phoebe immediately threw herself in front of them, acting like a martyr. “Blair, it is fine if you want to hit me, but how could you strike them?” She let out a pathetic, breathy sob. “I know this is all my fault. I twisted my ankle last night. I never should have called them away…” Listening to Phoebe’s manipulative, sugary whining, my mind rapidly processed the plot of the world I had just awakened in. The original Blair was the sole heir to a multi-billion dollar corporate empire. Yet, she was written as a pathetic, cowardly doormat. Last night was her birthday. Carter and Jaxon had promised to take her camping in the wilderness to watch the meteor shower. But the moment the tent was pitched, the two brothers received a frantic call from Phoebe, the live-in maid’s daughter. Hearing that Phoebe had slightly twisted her ankle, the two men panicked. They jumped into the only SUV and sped off, abandoning the heiress in the middle of a pitch-black, freezing forest. Since Blair’s parents died in a tragic car accident, this was far from the first time they had ditched her for the maid’s daughter. They had promised to take Blair to a sold-out stadium concert. She waited at the gates clutching the VIP tickets until the stadium went dark. They never answered their phones. Later, she saw their social media posts. They had spent the entire day at Universal Studios, flanking Phoebe with wide smiles. The caption read: Spending a magical day with our little princess! Always keep smiling, Phoebe! The comments beneath were filled with sickeningly sweet inside jokes. Blair had stood in the empty, windswept plaza, freezing and entirely alone. When Blair and Phoebe both caught severe pneumonia last winter, the two bodyguards stayed by Phoebe’s hospital bed for seven days and seven nights. They never once checked on Blair. And last night, they left her completely stranded in a dangerous, howling wilderness. Terrified of the rustling shadows and wild animal cries, she had to call the estate butler to send a rescue team. By the time she made it back to the mansion, the sun was rising. She walked through the doors only to be met by the smug, triumphant face of the beloved heroine, Phoebe. Without a word, Phoebe slapped herself and started crying, perfectly framing Blair just as the bodyguards walked in. Which led to this exact moment. Carter and Jaxon were technically employees, but Blair had always treated them like family. She never spoke a harsh word to them. Now, her palm had left bright red welts on their jaws. They stared at me, their eyes wide with utter disbelief. “Blair, you actually hit us?” 2 Jaxon’s voice trembled with absolute fury. “All because we went to take care of Phoebe last night?” Carter’s eyes darkened, stepping forward aggressively. “It seems we have spoiled you too much, Blair. It has made you arrogant and utterly toxic!” Seeing the tension, Phoebe immediately dropped to her knees on the marble floor, her tears falling perfectly on cue. “It is all my fault! Blair, please! I know I do not deserve their attention. Please do not take your anger out on them…” Before anyone could stop her, she raised her hands and slapped her own cheeks, creating a loud, dramatic smacking sound. The two brothers looked like their hearts were being ripped out. They rushed to her sides, desperately grabbing her wrists. Carter pulled her into his chest, glaring at me. “Stop it, Phoebe! It is not your fault! Blair is just an entitled brat who thinks she owns the world.” “You are just too kind and pure,” Carter whispered, brushing a tear from her cheek. “That is why she always gets away with bullying you.” Jaxon turned to me, his jaw clenched so hard a vein popped in his neck. “Blair, get on your knees and apologize to Phoebe right now, or we will never speak to you again!” Phoebe’s eyes were red and swollen. She weakly tugged at their sleeves. “Jaxon, Carter, please do not ruin your relationship with Blair over me. It is my fault… I am just the daughter of a maid…” Jaxon shushed her gently, then shot me a look of pure venom. “Are you deaf, Blair? I said get on your knees!” Peeking out from Carter’s embrace, Phoebe shot me a fleeting, arrogant smirk. I looked at these two ungrateful parasites, and the rest of the novel’s plot flashed through my mind. In the original story, these two exact bodyguards teamed up with Blair’s adopted brother and her fiancé to murder her. The day after her wedding, the four men locked her in a pitch-black basement and tortured her to death. After she died, her fiancé inherited her billion-dollar empire as her widower and happily married Phoebe. The adopted brother and the bodyguards stood at the altar, smiling and clapping. A perfect happy ending. When I read that trash ending in my past life, I cursed the author for being a sociopath. And then I woke up in Blair’s body. Watching the two brothers continue to bark at me like rabid dogs, a dark, dangerous smile spread across my face. “Jaxon. Carter. You two are nothing but leeches.” “You eat my food. You live in my house. My family paid for your education and your clothes. And now, you want me, your employer, to kneel to a maid’s daughter?” 3 I turned my gaze to the silver-haired man standing quietly by the door. “Arthur. Back in the old days, what happened to disloyal servants who forgot who owned the house?” Arthur was a veteran of the estate. He had watched Blair grow up and had always secretly despised her tragic weakness. Hearing my cold, authoritative tone, his eyes lit up with a dangerous spark. His posture straightened instantly. “Miss Blair, a betrayal like this would normally result in them being beaten to a bloody pulp.” I let out a soft, regretful sigh. “Shame we live in modern times. I suppose a severe lesson in respect will have to do.” “Slap them. Do not stop until they finally remember their place.” A deeply satisfied grin stretched across Arthur’s weathered face. “With pleasure, Miss.” He had loathed these two arrogant brats for years. They constantly paraded around the estate, treating the actual staff like garbage, never showing him an ounce of respect. He had always wanted to put them in their place, but the old Blair would have just cried and forgiven them. Now, the true heiress was finally awake. Arthur raised his hand. Instantly, eight massive, heavily muscled security guards stepped out from the shadows. They grabbed Jaxon and Carter, pinning their arms behind their backs with bone-crushing force. “What are you doing?! Get your hands off us!” Jaxon thrashed wildly, but he could not move an inch. Carter glared at me, his eyes burning with defiance. “Blair! Have you lost your damn mind?! You wouldn’t dare touch us!” A sharp, explosive SMACK echoed through the room. Arthur stood directly in front of them, lowering his stinging palm. “You do not address the young miss by her first name,” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a lethal gravel. “You lack basic manners.” “Miss Blair was kind enough to treat you well, and you confused her grace for weakness. You forgot who the master is, and who the servant is.” Arthur stepped back and looked at the guards. “Hit them. Keep hitting them until they learn the rules of this house.” Smack! Smack! Smack! The heavy hands of the estate’s elite security detail swung without mercy. 4 These two had never experienced an ounce of physical discipline in their lives. At first, they were just stunned. Then, sheer humiliation and rage boiled over. “Blair, you are going to regret this! We will never forgive you!” “Ah! You psycho!” “Make them stop! When your brother gets home, he is going to destroy you for this!” Oh, Preston? The adopted charity case? I am the true bloodline of this family. I hold the keys to the empire. No matter how loud they cursed or struggled, it only earned them a harder, more brutal strike across the mouth. Soon, the pain finally broke through their massive egos. Their arrogant glares morphed into genuine, panicked terror. “Blair… please, stop…” “We won’t ask you to apologize anymore, okay? Just make them stop…” “Ah…” Seeing their faces swell with dark purple bruises and blood trickling from the corners of their mouths, Phoebe was entirely paralyzed with shock. This was completely wrong. Usually, Blair would be weeping right now, desperately trying to explain herself. She would be offering them expensive watches or cars just to make them smile again. But today, Blair was sitting in an armchair, watching them bleed with eyes as cold as dead winter. Panic seized Phoebe’s chest. She threw herself toward my feet, crying hysterically. “Miss Blair! Please! It is all my fault! Have mercy on them, please do not hit them anymore…” 5 Martha, the head maid and Phoebe’s mother, rushed out from the kitchen. Seeing the violence, she dropped to her knees beside her daughter, wailing. “Miss, please stop this madness! When the young master returns, he will be furious with you…” I ignored her crying. My eyes locked onto the glittering diamond bracelet wrapped around the maid’s wrist. That bracelet was worth ten million dollars. It was my late mother’s absolute favorite piece of jewelry. And now it was casually strapped to a servant’s wrist? It seems they really thought this mansion belonged to them. How fascinating. “Martha,” I said slowly, letting the silence command the room. “If my memory serves me right, that bracelet is my mother’s heirloom.” “I am just terribly curious. How did it end up on your arm?” “My father fought a ruthless bidding war at Sotheby’s to win that for her. It cost ten million dollars. The transaction records and certificates of authenticity are locked in the family vault. You certainly have expensive taste.” “What?” “Ten million?” The other maids and staff gathered in the hallway gasped, covering their mouths in shock. “Is Martha insane?” “Oh my god! She is a thief!” “How dare she steal something that expensive? It belonged to the late Madam!” Martha froze. All the color drained from her face. She had only stepped out to play the loyal servant and beg for mercy, never expecting the fire to instantly catch her own clothes. She desperately tried to pull her sleeve down over the diamonds, her eyes darting around in sheer terror. She slammed her forehead against the marble, sobbing wildly. “Miss… Miss, I am so sorry! I swear I did not know it was worth that much! I just borrowed it to feel pretty for one day.” “Please, considering how many years I have served you, please forgive me this one time!” “I swear I will never do it again!” I did not even blink at her. I turned my head to the butler. “Arthur. Take a team to Martha’s living quarters. Tear the place apart. Let us see what else she decided to ‘borrow’.” A sharp, vindictive glint flashed in Arthur’s eyes. He bowed deeply. “Right away, Miss! I always suspected this woman had sticky fingers, but in the past…” He let the sentence hang. In the past, the original Blair was so desperate for love and peace that she let the servants walk all over her. If Arthur had spoken up before, Blair would have just brushed it off and made him look like the bad guy. But seeing the new, ruthless fire in his employer’s eyes, Arthur felt his spine straighten with pride. 6 Arthur waved his hand. Two massive guards immediately stepped forward, ignoring Martha’s screeching. They pinned her to the floor, dragging her off to the side like a sack of garbage. Several other guards marched directly toward the servant quarters. Watching this unfold, Carter and Jaxon momentarily forgot the blinding pain in their faces. They stared at the scene, absolutely dumbfounded. Phoebe’s face turned the color of ash. She knew her mother regularly skimmed from the grocery budget and occasionally pawned off small, unnoticeable silver trinkets to buy her designer clothes. Phoebe had even encouraged it. But she had no idea her mother was stupid enough to steal a ten-million-dollar heirloom right after the owners died. And she never expected Blair to publicly execute them for it. “Blair! Please, no!” “My mom just made a stupid mistake!” “She has taken care of your family for years! Even if you do not respect her, she has poured her blood and sweat into this house!” Phoebe lunged forward, trying to grab my legs, but I kicked her away with the sharp point of my heel. “Trash,” I sneered, looking down at her crumpled form. “You think pouring some coffee and doing laundry gives her the right to steal a ten-million-dollar piece of my dead mother’s soul?” “And she raised a daughter who boldly frames the owner of the house to her face?” Footsteps echoed down the hall. The guards returned. They placed an exquisite velvet jewelry box on the coffee table, followed by a pile of limited-edition designer bags and silk garments. “Miss, Arthur. We found all of this hidden inside a false bottom in her closet trunk.” A guard popped the velvet box open. Inside sat several breathtaking pieces of fine jewelry and a vintage, one-of-a-kind Patek Philippe watch. Arthur picked up a heavy emerald necklace, his hands trembling with rage. His face turned an alarming shade of purple. “This… the Madam wore this all the time! And this watch was the late Master’s favorite collectible!” He glared down at Martha, his voice shaking with absolute disgust. “You vile, wretched woman!” “The Madam took pity on you. She allowed you to raise your daughter in this mansion, eating our food, living in luxury. And this is how you repay them? You are worse than a stray rat!” With the undeniable evidence displayed on the table, the entire room erupted. The other maids had hated Martha for years. After the parents died, Martha acted like she was the new lady of the house because her daughter was surrounded by wealthy men. She refused to do chores and treated the junior staff like slaves. Seeing her finally fall was sweeter than honey. 7 “My god! Look at how much she took!” “She is a complete sociopath. A leech!” “The Madam treated her like family. She treated Phoebe like her own niece, and this woman robs her grave?!” Martha collapsed completely, her eyes vacant and filled with doom. I glanced at the pile of stolen luxury goods. I sneered internally. The original Blair was so blindingly stupid to let these two manipulate her into an early grave. “Arthur, call the police.” My voice was dead calm and freezing cold. “Hand all the evidence to the detectives. Press maximum charges. I want her in a federal cell.” “No! Please, do not call the cops, Miss!” “I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” “Please… for the sake of all the years I spent brushing your hair and making your meals, spare me!” “I will give it all back to you! It is all right here, I swear there is nothing else!” Martha finally realized her life was over. She crawled toward me, smashing her forehead into the marble floor, leaving smears of blood. Phoebe was hyperventilating. If they called the cops, her mother would be a convicted felon! Phoebe’s reputation in high society would be permanently destroyed. She frantically joined her mother, slamming her head against the floor. “Blair, it is my fault! I never should have made you mad!” “Punish me! Beat me! Do whatever you want, but please do not call the police!” I stared down at them from my chair, my lips curling in disgust. “Do not call me by my first name. You are a maid’s daughter. Learn your place.” “Now you want to beg and bleed on my floor?” “Where was this regret when your mother was looting my dead parents’ bedroom? Where was this regret when you were smiling while setting me up to be attacked?” “It is too late.” “Arthur, drag them out to the driveway. They are staining my floors.” Arthur waved his hand. The guards grabbed the two women by their hair and clothes, dragging them toward the heavy oak doors. Martha shrieked like a slaughtered pig. A guard finally slapped her hard across the mouth, and the screaming stopped. Phoebe thrashed wildly, trying to grab onto her mother’s hand, but a guard yanked her back effortlessly. 8 Just as the chaos reached its peak, the front doors flew open, and a furious voice thundered through the hall. “Stop this right now!” I looked up. A young man in a sharp, bespoke Italian suit stormed into the foyer. His jaw was tight, his face dark with rage. It was Preston. The adopted son. My so-called brother. He was supposed to be at a critical corporate summit today. Clearly, someone had tipped him off, and he had abandoned his duties to rush back. The moment he stepped inside, he saw Martha being dragged by her hair, Jaxon and Carter kneeling with bloody, swollen faces, and the entire staff watching in silence. His eyes locked onto me, burning with hatred. “Blair! What the hell is going on here?!” He pointed a harsh finger at my face. “I leave for one morning, and you turn the house into a slaughterhouse?!” “It seems my leniency has turned you into a complete monster!” “Release Martha and Phoebe instantly!” The guards hesitated. They looked at Preston, then looked back at me, unsure of whose orders to follow. Seeing their savior arrive, Phoebe and the bodyguards felt a surge of hope. Phoebe sobbed dramatically. “Preston! Save us!” They immediately began wailing, twisting the story to make me look like a tyrant. “Release them?” I laughed out loud. The sound was sharp and mocking. “One is a thief who stole tens of millions of dollars from my parents. The other is a manipulative liar who tried to turn my own security against me.” “You want me to let them go? Who gave you the authority to make demands in my house?” Preston paused. He clearly hadn’t grasped the full situation yet. “What nonsense are you spewing?!” Arthur stepped forward smoothly, bowing his head but keeping his voice rock solid. “Sir, the young miss is telling the absolute truth. The evidence is right there.” “We found roughly twenty million dollars worth of the late Master and Madam’s personal jewelry and watches hidden inside a false floorboard in Martha’s closet.” “The young miss was simply handing them over to law enforcement.” Preston looked at the dazzling pile of jewels on the table. He looked at Martha’s deeply guilty, terrified eyes. His face twitched. He was at a loss for words, but his ego refused to let him back down. He glared at me, his tone shifting from angry to condescending. “Even… even if Martha made a mistake, we handle things internally! Do you have to destroy the family’s reputation by involving the police?” “Do you have no shame?” He then pointed fiercely at Carter and Jaxon. “And what about them? What crime did Carter and Jaxon commit?” “You humiliate your own personal protection detail like this? They are practically family!” “You are completely out of control!” “Out of control?” 9 The temperature in my eyes plummeted to absolute zero. “These two mutts eat my food and spend my money, yet their loyalty belongs entirely to a maid’s daughter.” “They tried to force me, the owner of this estate, to drop to my knees and apologize to a servant.” “Am I out of control? Or did they forget who holds their leash?” “You!” Preston’s chest heaved with rage. “If they told you to apologize, you should have just apologized!” “If you did not constantly bully Phoebe out of jealousy, they would not be forced to discipline you!” “If you were even half as sweet and understanding as Phoebe, none of this would be happening!” I stood up, walked directly up to him, and slapped him across the face with everything I had. CRACK! The explosive sound silenced the entire mansion. “Preston, do not forget exactly what you are!” “I am the eldest daughter of this family. I am the sole legal heir to the empire.” “You are just a stray dog my parents took pity on and brought inside!” “They gave you a life of luxury, an elite education, and a respected name. They did not raise you so you could bite the hand that feeds you and disrespect their only actual child!” “This house belongs to my bloodline!” “It is not your place to teach me anything!” Every word I spoke struck like lightning. The entire room was paralyzed with shock. Preston stood frozen, his hand hovering over his stinging cheek. His face turned a sickly pale green. Anger, profound humiliation, and the deep, buried terror of having his adopted status thrown in his face collided in his eyes. His biggest insecurity was that he wasn’t related by blood. The old Blair was so desperate for family that she never, ever brought it up. She worshipped him. But today, I ripped off his mask and beat him with it. “You… you…” His finger trembled as he pointed at me. He couldn’t form a coherent sentence. After a long, suffocating silence, he gnashed his teeth together. “Fine. Perfect.” His eyes filled with a dark, venomous threat. “I am the CEO of the corporation now. Since you want to play this game, do not even think about setting foot inside the company headquarters ever again!” I actually paused. Did I hear that right? Did the author of this trash novel lack basic legal knowledge? Ban me from the company? I calmly pulled out my phone, opening the digital copies of the share transfer agreements and my father’s iron-clad will. I shoved the glowing screen inches from his face. “Preston, open your dog eyes and read.” “I am the sole inheritor. I hold the absolute majority of the voting shares.” “Stripping you of your title takes exactly one phone call from me.” “You are going to ban me from my own company?” “Are you mentally deficient, or am I?”

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1 Seven months pregnant. That was how far along I was when I fell asleep in the passenger seat on the way home from my prenatal checkup. When my eyes fluttered open, the heavy, comforting weight in my belly was gone. Panic exploded in my chest. I scrambled up, screaming, but my husband only looked at me with a sickeningly tender smile. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, honey? You are not pregnant. What baby are you talking about?” I thought it was a sick joke. I forced him to turn the car around and sprinted back into the clinic. But the triage nurse simply shook her head. She told me I had come in for a routine annual physical, not a maternity visit. The obstetrician I had just seen looked at me with blank eyes, swearing she had never met me in her life. Even my own mother called me, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Sweetheart, is the stress of trying to conceive getting to you? Why don’t we go see a psychiatrist?” It was impossible. Two hours ago, I had watched my baby’s tiny heartbeat fluttering on the black and white ultrasound monitor. How could a living, breathing child vanish into thin air like a magic trick? Refusing to believe I was losing my mind, I called the police. I demanded they check the security cameras and pull my medical records. Nothing. There was not a single trace of my pregnancy. The entire world looked at me with pity, whispering that my mind had finally snapped. Lost in a haze of forced medication and absolute despair, I slipped. I tumbled from the edge of the hospital rooftop, the wind rushing past my ears. And then, my eyes snapped open. I was back on the morning of my prenatal checkup. “Sophie, time to get up. We cannot be late for your ultrasound today.” Alan’s voice drifted through the bedroom door, warm and gentle, exactly as it had always been. I blinked against the morning light. Driven by pure instinct, my hand shot down to my stomach. I froze for two seconds before ripping the blankets off and pulling up my silk nightgown. There it was. Round and full. The little life inside me must have been startled by my sudden movement, rewarding me with a sharp, distinct kick against my palm. Tears instantly flooded my vision. In my previous life, today was the exact day Alan took me to the maternity clinic. I had felt drowsy on the ride home and dozed off in the passenger seat. When I woke up, my stomach was completely flat. My child was gone. My husband claimed I had never been pregnant. The nurse insisted I was there for a general checkup. My own mother told me I was hallucinating from fertility anxiety. I had screamed until my throat bled, tearing the hospital waiting room apart, only to be dragged away by security and locked inside a psychiatric ward. Even as I fell to my death, I never understood. How does a seven-month-old fetus simply cease to exist? Everyone swore my baby was a phantom of my broken mind. But right now, right at this very second, I could feel my baby safe inside me. I stroked the tight skin of my belly, letting the tears fall freely onto the sheets. “What is wrong, honey? Did you have a nightmare?” Alan leaned halfway into the room. Seeing my red, tear-stained eyes, a look of genuine concern washed over his face. I stared at him, my heart twisting into a thousand knotted threads. In my past life, he looked exactly like this. Gentle, attentive, the picture-perfect husband. But the moment my baby vanished, he was the one who firmly declared I was delusional. He was the one who signed the papers committing me to the asylum. I did not know if I could trust the man standing in front of me. But one thing was certain. Until I unraveled this horrifying mystery, I could not let him know I remembered anything. “It is nothing. I just slept poorly.” I forced the corners of my mouth to lift. “I really do not want to leave the house today. Can we reschedule the appointment?” Alan paused, walking over to press the back of his hand against my forehead. “Are you feeling sick?” “Just incredibly tired.” “Alright. I will call the clinic and move it to Wednesday.” He looked down at his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen. “That works out well. The top specialist is in on Wednesdays anyway.” Watching his handsome profile, my mind raced. If I refused to go to the clinic today and hid inside this house, would my baby be safe? But how long could I hide? I had to figure out what truly happened in my past life. Why did an entire network of people universally deny my pregnancy? I closed my eyes, keeping my palm flat against my stomach, feeling the tiny flutters within. This was no hallucination. I had exactly three days to uncover the truth. But after the first day, I found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. 2 With time running out, I started gathering an ironclad paper trail. I photographed every single ultrasound scan, blood test result, and doctor’s note from the past seven months, uploading them all to a secure cloud drive. I remembered the aftermath of my baby’s disappearance in my past life. I had frantically searched the house for my medical files. Every single piece of paper had been wiped clean from the house. Even the hospital’s internal servers showed zero security footage of me in the maternity ward. To be absolutely certain, I booked a last-minute maternity photoshoot at a high-end downtown studio. During the session, I specifically asked the photographer to record behind-the-scenes video clips on my phone. The footage perfectly captured me walking around, heavily pregnant, smiling in flowing gowns. Only then did my racing heart begin to settle. Next, I picked up my phone and dialed my mother. “Mom, I am craving your famous homemade pot roast.” “Of course, sweetie. I will make a huge batch and bring it over. A pregnant woman needs to eat well.” “Mom, do you remember exactly how far along I am?” “Seven months, Sophie. Do you really think your own mother would forget?” I tapped the record button on my screen, capturing every single word of our conversation. In my past life, my own mother had sat in front of a police officer and sworn I was never pregnant. Whatever twisted conspiracy I was walking into this time, these audio files and videos could not simply vanish into thin air, right? Wednesday arrived. Alan went to the reception desk to handle the copay while I sat on the padded bench in the waiting area. A young nurse in pink scrubs walked past. She glanced at my belly and offered a warm smile. “You are carrying pretty high. Looks like it might be a boy.” Alan returned just in time to hear her. He slipped his arm around my shoulders, his voice dripping with affection. “Boy or girl, it does not matter to me. If it is a boy, the two of us will protect his mom. If it is a girl, I get to protect my two princesses.” The nurse covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh, you are so lucky. Your husband is an absolute sweetheart.” I could not bring myself to smile. I remembered this nurse vividly. In my past life, she had made the exact same passing comment. But when I ran back into the clinic screaming for my child, she had stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Ma’am, you must be confused. You were here for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam.” This time, my phone was resting in my lap, the voice memo app quietly running. I captured every single syllable she spoke. The examination room was on the third floor. The ultrasound technician was a middle-aged woman with glasses and a soft, comforting aura. She was the exact same doctor from my nightmare. When I confronted her in my past life, she had looked utterly perplexed. “Ma’am, I have never seen you before in my life. Are you sure you have the right clinic?” But my memory was flawless. She was the one who held the probe. I stared at her face. She was busy adjusting the knobs on the machine, entirely oblivious to my piercing gaze. “Alright, lay back and lift your shirt for me.” I laid down. The cold gel touched my skin, and the familiar little silhouette materialized on the monitor. “Developing beautifully,” the doctor murmured. “The head circumference is slightly above average. Just keep an eye on your sugar intake so the baby does not get too large.” Watching the screen, my vision blurred with fresh tears. “Doctor, do you mind if we take a picture together?” She paused, looking surprised. I quickly offered an excuse. “It is my first baby. I just really want to document the whole journey.” The doctor smiled warmly. “Of course. Go ahead.” I raised my phone, switching to the front camera, and leaned close to her. Click. I glanced down at the image. The doctor’s face, my face, and the glowing ultrasound monitor in the background. Crystal clear. If the nightmare repeated itself today, let us see them try to deny this. Stepping out of the exam room, I actively sought out the nurse in the pink scrubs. “Nurse Rachel, would you mind taking a quick photo with me?” I held up my phone. “I am putting together a pregnancy vlog for my family.” Rachel was more than happy to oblige. “Where is your husband? Let him take a full-body shot of us.” I pulled Alan over, having him snap several photos of me standing next to Rachel. 3 In every single photo, my heavy, pregnant belly was undeniable. “You are in a really good mood today,” Alan noted, chuckling as he handed my phone back. I slipped the phone into my purse. “First-time mom excitement. I just want memories to look back on.” In reality, I wanted an arsenal of evidence. Photos, videos, audio recordings, and a lobby full of witnesses. There was no physical way they could wipe my existence clean this time. Walking out of the clinic, Alan gently guided me into the passenger seat. “You must be exhausted. Close your eyes. I will wake you up when we pull into the garage.” I shook my head firmly. “I do not want to go home yet. I am craving that popular brunch spot downtown.” He blinked, clearly surprised, before letting out an indulgent laugh. “Whatever the queen wants. You are the boss.” In my past life, I fell asleep in this exact seat on the drive home. When I woke up, my world had ended. This time, I absolutely refused to sleep. And I was going to surround myself with hundreds of witnesses. The restaurant was only twenty minutes away, located in a bustling downtown plaza. But when we walked in, the waiting area was completely packed. There were at least six parties ahead of us. “Want to try somewhere else?” Alan asked. “No. I want to eat here.” I walked straight to the waiting benches, my belly leading the way, and sat down heavily. Alan offered a helpless smile and went to the hostess stand to put our name down. The lobby was chaotic and loud. A young hostess walked over, carrying a small tray. “Ma’am, please have some complimentary snacks while you wait. We cannot have a pregnant mother going hungry.” She handed me a small bag of artisan crackers. I thanked her profusely, feeling a deep wave of relief wash over me. With all these people watching, with a complete stranger acknowledging my pregnancy, nothing could go wrong. I leaned my head back against the wall, watching the blur of people moving around me. Slowly, a heavy, unnatural weight began pressing down on my eyelids. I had barely slept the night before. Now, sitting in the warm, buzzing restaurant, waves of extreme exhaustion crashed over me. I fought desperately to keep my eyes open, but the world around me began to smear into dark, muted colors. … “Sophie?” A hand gently shook my shoulder. I jolted awake, gasping for air. My first instinct, honed by pure trauma, was to grab my stomach. Flat. I froze, the blood draining from my face. I pressed both hands down hard. It was completely flat. Panic tearing my throat apart, I ripped my sweater upward. My stomach was smooth, pale, and entirely empty. “What is wrong?” Alan was kneeling in front of my chair, looking at me with total bewilderment. I opened my mouth, but my jaw trembled so violently the words barely formed. “The baby is gone…” “What?” “The baby is gone!” I screamed, pointing a trembling finger at my own torso. “My seven-month-old baby is gone!” Alan paused. And then, a sickeningly familiar smile spread across his face. “Sophie, are you still half-asleep? Since when were you pregnant?” My eyes widened in sheer horror. I shrieked at the top of my lungs. “What do you mean I was not pregnant?! We literally just walked out of the maternity clinic!” Alan’s brows drew together, his expression shifting into deep, convincing concern. “Sophie, we went to the clinic today, yes. But it was for your routine annual physical. Not a maternity exam.” Those exact words. Again. My entire body convulsed with terror. I scrambled off the bench, shoving past Alan, and sprinted toward the hostess who had given me the crackers. I grabbed her by the shoulders. “You! Ten minutes ago, you called me a pregnant mother! You gave me crackers so I would not go hungry! Tell him!” The hostess recoiled, looking at me like I was a wild animal. “Ma’am, what are you talking about? Our restaurant does not serve complimentary snacks in the lobby.” I stood there, paralyzed. My hands dove into my purse, frantically pulling out my phone. I opened my photo gallery. The selfies with the doctor. The full-body shots with Nurse Rachel. They were gone. The screen showed nothing but old photos of my dog. Refusing to surrender, I opened my social media. Yesterday, I had posted a behind-the-scenes video of my maternity shoot. My friends and coworkers had flooded the comments with congratulations. The post did not exist. “Impossible…” I muttered feverishly, my thumb swiping desperately across the blank screen. Alan stepped up behind me, resting heavy, comforting hands on my shoulders. “Sophie, the fertility treatments have been stressing you out for months. You are hallucinating again.” I violently threw his hands off me and bolted out the glass doors of the restaurant. I was going back to that clinic. I was going to drag that doctor and that nurse into the light. 4 They had to remember me. I burst through the glass doors of the clinic, my chest heaving. I spotted Rachel immediately, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around another pregnant woman’s arm. I lunged forward, grabbing her wrist with a vise grip. “Nurse Rachel, you remember me, do you not?” Rachel gasped, taking a frightened step back. Her eyes were blank and confused. “Ma’am, I think you have the wrong person.” “How could I have the wrong person? Just this morning, you posed for photos with me!” Rachel frowned, thinking for a second before shaking her head. “I have been stationed in the inpatient recovery ward all morning. I just stepped down to the lobby five minutes ago. Are you here for an appointment?” My breath hitched. “Then what about the female doctor who did my ultrasound?” Rachel pulled a clipboard from the desk, glancing at the roster. “All the attending physicians on duty for maternity today are male. We do not have a female doctor on the floor.” A deafening, high-pitched ringing erupted in my ears. The world tilted violently. A pregnant woman waiting nearby muttered to her husband, “Is she mentally ill?” “Probably lost her mind trying to get pregnant,” the husband whispered back. “My cousin was like that. Married three years, barren, started walking around claiming she felt kicks…” “Exactly. Look at her stomach. It is completely flat. Who is she trying to fool?” I spun around and bolted into the public restroom. I slammed the stall door shut and ripped my shirt over my head, staring into the harsh fluorescent mirror. My skin was tight and smooth. There was no stretch marks, no linea nigra, no swelling. It looked as if the last seven months of my life had been completely erased from the timeline of the universe. I slid down the cold tile wall, collapsing onto the bathroom floor. My mind was a blank, terrifying void. No. That was impossible. I must have missed a crucial detail. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was my mother. I fumbled with the screen, answering it with shaking, desperate hands. “Sophie? Did you get the package of pot roast I overnighted?” I gasped for air, a tiny, fragile spark of hope igniting in my chest. “Mom… Mom, do you remember that I am pregnant?” The line went dead silent for two agonizing seconds. Her voice returned, thick with confusion. “Pregnant? Sweetie, you and Alan have been trying for a year without any luck. Did you finally get a positive test?” My fingers went numb. The phone nearly slipped from my grasp. “Mom… I sent you photos of my maternity shoot yesterday. Do you not remember?” Her voice shifted from confused to deeply worried. “No, you didn’t. The only time we spoke recently was when you called to ask for my pot roast recipe.” I pulled the phone away from my ear and opened our text thread. The photos I had sent her yesterday were completely gone from the chat history. My mother’s voice echoed through the speaker. “Sophie, are you working yourself to death again? Please do not put so much pressure on yourself. If a baby is meant to be, it will happen…” Sitting on the filthy bathroom floor, my blood turned to ice. Was I truly doomed to repeat this nightmare? Was I trapped in some inescapable psychological prison? No. I refused to die like a trapped rat again! I splashed freezing water on my face and pushed the restroom door open. Immediately, a wave of loud, angry voices washed over me. “That is the woman. She has been screaming at the staff…” “Someone call security. She is clearly unhinged…” I looked down the hall. A crowd had gathered outside the maternity ward. In the center of the chaos stood Alan, apologizing profusely to a nurse. The moment he saw me step out of the restroom, he rushed over. “Sophie! Where did you go? I have been terrified.” I stared up at him. This man, whom I had been married to for five years. This man, who had always been the epitome of a loving, devoted partner. Right now, his eyes were swimming with the perfect mixture of anxiety and heartbreak. I looked dead into his pupils. “Alan. Do you truly not remember me being pregnant?” Alan let out a heavy, defeated sigh. He reached out to hold my hands. “Honey, let us go home. You need to rest. We can talk about this later, okay?” “Answer the question!” He flinched, his eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. “Sophie, you were never pregnant.” I closed my eyes. There it was. “Ma’am, I need to ask you to stop disrupting the hospital.” Two large security guards pushed through the crowd, their expressions stern. “We received multiple complaints that you are harassing the medical staff. Please cooperate and vacate the premises immediately.” I took a slow step backward.

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“I’m coming back. Are you still waiting for me?” The text from my first love came with a picture of a flight ticket from London. Just ten seconds earlier, I had typed and sent my own reply: “I’m married.” My husband, Griffin, walked out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower. He saw the screen, and in one swift motion, he snatched the phone from my hands. “Is your jealousy really this out of control? I’ve told you, Isabelle is the only one for me.” His voice was laced with contempt. “I promised I wouldn’t divorce you. What gives you the right to grab my phone and stake your claim like this?” I was silent for a few seconds before I said, “That’s my phone.” He had his ghost, the one he could never let go of. But as it happened, I had my own untouchable memory. 1 My mind went blank for a moment, staring at the message that had arrived just two days ago. After all these years, I still knew his number by heart, but I never imagined I’d actually hear from him. A wave of indescribable emotion washed over me. Just then, the sound of footsteps approached from behind, stopping right at my back. The phone was ripped from my grasp. Griffin glared at the screen, at the message I had sent ten seconds before. “I’m married.” His head snapped up, his eyes filled with disgust. “When did you start snooping through my phone? Are you really that insecure? I’ve already told you, Isabelle is the only one who has my heart.” He continued, his tone sharp and accusatory, “I gave you my word that I wouldn’t divorce you. You’ll always be Mrs. Vance. So what gives you the right to reply on my behalf, to mark your territory?” He was even trying to un-send the message I had sent. Looking at him, I felt a bitter irony. It was his constant trips abroad after our wedding that had forced him to confess about the idealized love he couldn’t forget. He had promised me he wouldn’t divorce me, as if it were a favor. Now, the way he spoke made it all sound like my fault. As his brow furrowed deeper in frustration, I finally broke the silence. “The phone you’re holding… it’s mine.” “What did you say?” He paused, stunned. This time, he looked down and examined the chat window properly. When he saw the name on the plane ticket, he realized his mistake. His expression became unreadable. “Who is Noah Scott?” he asked. His fingers tapped a light rhythm on the tabletop, but his eyes were locked on me. I met his gaze, feeling a prickle of discomfort but refusing to show it. “My ex-boyfriend.” More than just my ex. He was my first love. We were together for four years. Griffin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “When did he go abroad?” “Three years ago,” I answered without thinking. The tapping on the table stopped. He nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. “So, less than a year before we got married.” I nodded. The thought of Noah, no matter when, still left a dull ache in my chest. “So what’s your plan?” I looked at him, surprised by the question. My plan? Since when did he care about my affairs? He continued, “He’s obviously coming back for you. You need to remember you’re a married woman. If this gets messy, you know what my parents will say.” His words were a veiled threat, and it made me want to laugh. Was there anyone better at making things messy than him? He’d shown up late to our own wedding because of Isabelle. He’d flown across the world at a moment’s notice for her. He’d even plastered her face on every billboard in the city for her birthday. Who could possibly be more scandalous than him? Everyone in our circle knew my title as Mrs. Vance was just for show. They all knew his heart belonged to someone else. But what they didn’t know was that I also had a memory I couldn’t let go of. I shrugged. “I know what I’m doing. Weren’t you the one who told me not to waste all my energy on you?” 2 Griffin was clearly not expecting that response. He just stood there, momentarily speechless. I’ll admit, I couldn’t let go of Noah. But Griffin and I were married, and I had genuinely wanted to make it work. I tried everything—bringing him lunch at his office, picking him up from late nights out with his friends. All it earned me was a frustrated sigh and his cutting words: “Can’t you find something to do with your life? No matter how hard you try to please me, I’ll never have feelings for you. Why don’t you just find someone on the side? We can do our own thing, stay out of each other’s way. Wouldn’t that be easier?” His words had left me burning with humiliation. “You have someone else, and so do I,” I said now, my voice even. “I want to see him again. You said it yourself, right? We stay out of each other’s way. So let’s do that.” His brow tightened instinctively before smoothing out again. “Fine. Do what you want.” He paused. “If I remember correctly, Noah Scott is with Apex Industries, right?” I nodded. A short, sharp laugh escaped him. “And you really think he’s coming back for you?” I looked at him, confused. He was being unusually talkative tonight. I never thought Noah was coming back just for me. Our breakup hadn’t been clean; it had been ugly and painful. I never imagined I would see him again in this lifetime. He was probably just returning to take over the family business. But the condescending smirk on Griffin’s face was so pronounced it silenced me. “Apex is on a major upswing. He’s coming back to take the reins. You don’t actually believe he’s making a special trip for you, do you? It’s been years, Audrey. Just because you can’t forget him doesn’t mean he feels the same. For all you know, he’s just looking for a little fun, and you’re taking it seriously.” My jaw tightened. I kept my voice neutral. “You don’t need to worry about that.” “Whether he’s looking for me or not, that’s between him and me. You don’t have to talk about him like that.” I had never used this tone with Griffin before. But I couldn’t stand it. He could belittle me, look down on me all he wanted, but I would never let him say a single bad word about Noah. I had already hurt him enough when we broke up. Griffin finally looked at me, his expression serious. “You love him that much?” “Yes.” Our eyes met and held. After a long moment, he looked away. “Fine. It’s your business.” With that, he walked out of the room. As his back disappeared, I let out a long, slow breath. Noah still hadn’t replied. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I typed another message. “Noah, is it really you?” Still no response. My mind started racing. Did he send the first message to the wrong person? Or was he angry at my reply? The more I thought, the more my heart sank. Finally, I gave up, put my phone aside, and got into bed. 3 The phone remained silent all through the night. I lay in the darkness, my eyes fixed on the nightstand where my phone rested. Just as a hint of drowsiness began to take over, the bedroom door creaked open. Griffin lifted the covers and slid into bed. I was stunned. Since our wedding day, we had always slept in separate rooms. We only put on a show when we visited the family estate, and even then, he’d sleep on the floor. I could feel his breath on my back, and my spine went rigid. I had no idea what he was thinking anymore. The next morning, he was already gone to work when I woke up. I picked up my phone and saw a message from my father. “Come home this morning.” I frowned, wondering what was going on. I switched to my texts, but there was nothing from Noah. Not a single word all night. A bitter laugh escaped me. Of course. I’d told him I was married; why would he waste his time? Shaking the foolish thoughts from my head, I got up and drove to my parents’ house. As I stepped into the living room, I heard voices. My parents were laughing, chatting warmly with someone. And the other voice… It was so familiar. My heart began to pound in my chest. I walked further in, and our eyes met. Noah. Our gaze held for only a second before he looked away. My mother rushed over, beaming, and pulled me in. “You just woke up, sweetheart? Have you had breakfast?” Seeing her and my father fawning over him, I understood everything. Years ago, they had looked down on Noah, forcing us to break up. Now, with Apex Industries soaring, far surpassing our own family’s company, they had invited him here. Their motive was painfully obvious. I pulled my hand from her grasp, a wave of nausea washing over me. She pretended not to notice, dragging me in front of him. “Noah, you remember Audrey, don’t you? It’s been a few years!” My father chimed in with a grin. “That’s right! You two old friends should catch up. We’ll leave you to it.” With that, my mother gave me a little push toward Noah and a meaningful look. The message was clear. They turned and walked away. The silence in the room was deafening. He was sitting, I was standing. Finally, looking at his face, more mature and defined than I remembered, a familiar ache settled in my heart. I was the one to break the silence. “How have you been these past few years?” “Fine.” “Yesterday… I saw your message…” My voice was strained. He cut me off, his tone casual. “And you replied, didn’t you? You’re married.” He paused. “So what else is there to say?” I stared at him, a thousand words trapped in my throat, but I didn’t know where to begin. “Our… our marriage isn’t like that… It’s just a business arrangement, I had no choice. He doesn’t love me, and I don’t love him.” Noah’s dark eyes stared straight at me. He began to speak, his voice low. “You know, a part of me really hates your parents. The things they said to me back then… they looked down on me, thought my family’s company was a dead end that would never amount to anything.” “But look at us now. My company did alright for itself, didn’t it? So well that even though you’re married, they still call me over, hoping to use you to get something from me.” 4 He let out another short laugh. “You’re a smart girl, Audrey. You knew that, didn’t you?” My hands clenched into fists, my teeth digging into my lip. I felt stripped bare, exposed and humiliated. He had every right to hate me. But it was only in this moment that I realized how much I couldn’t bear it. Tears I couldn’t control began to fall, hot and shameful. I tried to wipe them away, but I didn’t know what to say. The years of pent-up frustration and sorrow erupted all at once. He watched me in silence as I cried, the tears flowing endlessly. Finally, he sighed, a hint of helplessness in his voice. “What are you crying for? You have everything now, don’t you?” “No… it’s not like that…” I choked out, the words broken and incoherent. Why did everything have to be so complicated? What was I supposed to do? Just then, a low rumble of thunder sounded outside. Rain began to pour down, a sudden, violent downpour that mirrored the storm in my heart. “I’m sorry… If my parents contact you again, just ignore them…” He stood up, straightening his clothes. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I won’t be coming here again.” He turned to leave. In a panic, I grabbed his arm. He looked down at me, his eyes cold and distant. The look was enough to make me let go as if I’d been burned. “I’m sorry.” My parents, who had just started down the stairs, saw him about to leave and hurried to intercept him. “Noah, leaving so soon? It’s pouring out. Why don’t you wait a little longer?” my mother pleaded. “We asked Audrey to chat with you. That girl doesn’t know how to talk. If she said something to upset you, please don’t hold it against her,” my father added, shooting a harsh glare in my direction. A chill ran through me, and I felt so weak I could barely stand. Noah looked from my parents back to me, a faint, cynical smile on his lips. “I have work to do. I should get going.” I quickly followed him out, my parents’ eyes boring into my back. Once the front door closed behind us, I faced him. “Can you give me a ride home? I took a cab here.” The rain was a torrential downpour. His car was parked in the driveway. He gave me a curious look. “What, you’re Mrs. Vance now and he doesn’t even get you a driver?” I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. The wind blew raindrops onto my hair, blurring my vision. We stood there in silence, our eyes locked. Finally, he spoke. “Get in.” A flicker of relief went through me. I nodded quickly and followed him. As we stepped out from under the porch, Noah suddenly took off his jacket and draped it over my head before walking unflinchingly into the rain. The jacket still held his warmth, his scent. For a moment, I let myself indulge in the feeling. Once we were in the car, he asked, “Where to?” I snapped back to reality and typed the address into the GPS. I stared out the window at the rain streaming down the glass. “Your husband won’t have a problem with me dropping you off?” he asked. His question felt like a twist of a knife. He always knew how to get under my skin, how to pull at every one of my emotions.

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After the State Compatibility Program assigned me a pair of Feline sisters as mates, I started preparing two glasses of milk every night. Celeste, the older sister, was cool and distant, but she would always accept her glass with a polite, quiet “thank you.” Rhea, the younger one, had a temper like a storm. She usually smashed the glass and spat insults at me. I prided myself on treating them both with perfect fairness, on maintaining an impeccable balance. Until my friend Mark saw it one day. He hesitated, then finally said it. “Don’t you think that kind of ‘fairness’ is actually unfair to the one who’s nicer to you?” I thought about it all day. He was right. That evening, when I came out of the kitchen, I was only holding one glass of milk. 1. Celeste was the first to notice the change. She didn’t say anything, just took the glass as she always did and thanked me. Rhea was sprawled on the other side of the couch, bored, tapping at her game console. It wasn’t until I stood up, said goodnight, and started for my bedroom that the subtle difference finally registered. “Hey, are we out of milk? Or are you too broke to afford two glasses now?” Compared to Celeste’s quiet detachment, Rhea was a feral kitten: explosive, defiant, and sharp-clawed. She set down her console, her eyes hostile. Her words were as barbed as ever. “Donate your eyes if you’re not using them. Can’t you see I’m here too?” She never spoke to me without a fight. Any desire I had to explain myself evaporated. My smile faded as I gave a short reply. “No.” “No? Then who are you trying to piss off by only bringing out one glass?” Piss off? My mind flashed back to a few nights ago. Celeste and Rhea had been called out on an emergency mission for the Agency. They didn’t get back until almost one in the morning. I’d waited up for so long that I’d fallen asleep on the couch, only to be woken by the sound of the door. I shot up, rushing to heat the dinner I’d saved for them. Just like always, I had two glasses of milk ready. Rhea’s eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. I spotted a gash on her shoulder and moved closer to ask about it, but she shoved me away impatiently. The strength of a Feline is no small thing. The push sent me stumbling back, and the glass of milk went with me, shattering on the floor. Rhea froze for a second, but the irritation quickly returned to her face. “Shit, are you blind? Can’t you see I’m texting? Always trying to cling to me. Serves you right.” Her voice dripped with scorn. “I could handle your pathetic fawning before, but I’m dead tired tonight. The second I get home, you’re in my face like a damned lapdog.” So that’s what my waiting and worrying looked like to her. Pathetic fawning. The disgust in her voice was a physical blow. A hot wave of shame washed over me. My face burned, and without looking up, I stumbled back to my room. From the living room, I heard a sharp slap. It was Celeste hitting Rhea. A few moments later, Celeste came in with a first-aid kit and knelt in front of me. Only then did I realize a shard of glass had sliced open my shin. Blood was already trickling down to my ankle. 2. I always knew the sisters resented me. By anyone’s standards, I was punching far above my weight. They were the prodigies of the Feline Academy, top-tier in both looks and ability. They were proud, dazzling, and worshipped by everyone. And I was… bland. Average. A common weed on the side of the road. If it weren’t for our ridiculously high compatibility scores, the State Program never would have paired us. Our paths never would have crossed. At first, I was ecstatic. Growing up in a group home, all I ever wanted was a family. I naively believed that Celeste and Rhea were the family the universe had finally given me. So no matter how cruel their attitude or how dismissive their words, I acted like I didn’t feel it, continuing to offer them my warmth and affection. Every time I saw them eat the food I’d prepared, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. It was as if I was needed. In this world, you need connections. Celeste and Rhea were my connection to everything. The first six months were hell. They were furious about the assignment. Their old rivals finally had a chance to mock them, laughing about the unimpressive human they were stuck with. For two women used to being on top, it was the ultimate humiliation. So they took all that pent-up anger out on me. Celeste, being more composed, mostly just ignored me, treating me with a cold, detached distance. Rhea, on the other hand, was a volcano. She constantly ridiculed me, criticizing everything from my looks to my job. In her eyes, I was a useless, pathetic waste of space. Then, somewhere along the line… things started to change. Their attitudes softened. Especially Celeste’s. She stopped treating me like I was invisible. She would accept the milk I offered, and even thank me. Sometimes, she would look at me and suddenly pull me into a hug, an affectionate gesture like the ones other Feline mates shared. I’d never experienced anything like it and was utterly overwhelmed. Even Rhea’s taunts became less frequent. She’d occasionally pull me into a game with her, though she’d spend the whole time yelling at me for being a dead weight while simultaneously head-shotting anyone who dared to attack me. I thought I was finally winning them over, that my persistence was paying off. I thought that while I was trying so hard to please them, they were trying to accept me. Until that shattered glass of milk. It was like a beautiful dream, torn to shreds without warning. All my years of effort, affection, and devotion were reduced to a single word. Lapdog. The most common, most shameless, most pathetic lapdog. 3. For days after that, I barely slept. Shame and humiliation consumed me. I started actively avoiding them. When my friend Mark found out, he was furious. I just lowered my head, fidgeting with my sleeve. “It’s over now. I’ve figured it out. I’ll just keep my distance from now on.” The worst-case scenario was a polite, cold coexistence. Our high compatibility scores meant that only I could soothe them during their Cycle. And the status they earned at the Agency provided me with a comfortable life. It was just… an exchange. “So are you still going to bring them milk?” Mark asked. I thought for a moment. “I guess so.” Maintaining a façade of civility felt necessary. Mark looked like he wanted to say more. Finally, he did. “But don’t you think it’s a little unfair to keep bringing two glasses, treating them exactly the same?” Unfair? Because Celeste and Rhea were twins, and their compatibility with me was exceptionally high, the Program official had stressed one thing above all else: balance. “Multi-Feline pairings like yours are rare, but not unheard of. The most important thing for stability is fairness. You can’t favor one over the other. You have to be the glue that holds the family together. Your every action will affect their moods and upset the balance between them.” I had taken that to heart. I prepared two of everything. Two glasses of milk, two gifts for every occasion. When I packed their lunches, I even counted the shrimp in each container to make sure they were equal. After all that, it was still unfair? Seeing my confusion, Mark elaborated. “Rhea was the only one who was cruel to you that night, right? Celeste didn’t say a thing.” I nodded. Not only did she not say anything, she’d slapped Rhea, almost as if to defend me. And… I looked down at the scar on my shin. Celeste had knelt before me, her expression more serious than I’d ever seen it, and carefully tended to the wound. Before she left, she pulled a piece of chocolate from her pocket and gave it to me. She had wiped my tears, coaxed me to sleep, and even apologized on her sister’s behalf. But it had nothing to do with her. The only one who had hurt me that night was Rhea. “Exactly,” Mark said. “Think about it. The two sisters treat you completely differently, but in the end, they both get the same glass of milk, the same gifts. For Celeste, the one who’s kinder and better to you, isn’t that unfair?” I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came. Later that night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I remembered something from the group home. A volunteer came to visit, and I helped him with his work all afternoon while the other kids played. My palms were red and raw from carrying boxes. At the end of the day, he gave me a new backpack as a reward. But everyone else got one too. Even the laziest kid, the one who spent the whole afternoon chasing butterflies, got the exact same backpack. As the volunteer was leaving, he pulled me aside. With a magician’s flourish, he produced two small pins and pressed them into my hand with a smile. “The backpacks are for everyone,” he said. “But these pins are an extra gift, just for you.” He told me, “The good kids deserve an extra reward. That’s what’s truly fair.” The words of the Program official and the volunteer battled in my head. Slowly, the scales tipped in favor of the latter. The volunteer was right. The one who behaved better deserved a bigger reward. That was real fairness. 4. The milk was just the beginning. When we watched TV in the evenings, I no longer sat perfectly in the middle. I shifted closer to Celeste, putting a clear distance between myself and Rhea. I stopped saying good morning to Rhea. I only smiled my warm greeting when I saw Celeste. When I had a question, I only asked Celeste. When we went out, I only took Celeste’s hand. Even at meals, my favoritism was blatant. Ten shrimp in the pan, eight went to Celeste. At first, I was anxious. Abandoning my long-held practice of perfect balance made me uneasy. But I soon realized the consequences weren’t nearly as bad as I’d feared. Celeste, despite her cool demeanor, never embarrassed me. When I sat next to her, she would naturally take my wrist and ask if I wanted a snack. When I said good morning, she would reply immediately and ask how I’d slept. She would taste every dish I made and praise them with genuine sincerity. And by no longer clinging to Rhea, I was no longer shoved off the couch. My greetings were no longer met with silence. I was no longer violently shaken off in the middle of the street because she was ashamed to be seen with me. The meals I worked so hard to prepare were no longer condemned as too salty or disgusting. I retreated into Celeste’s shadow like a turtle into its shell, savoring the rare warmth and peace. But the atmosphere in the house grew strangely tense. Several times, I felt a pair of eyes drilling into my back. But whenever I turned, I’d only see Rhea staring blankly at the television. Sensing my gaze, she would turn her head, her tone hostile. “What are you looking at? You want to play games again?” In the past, my foolish self would have taken that as an invitation and eagerly scrambled over. But now, I just shook my head, refusing to set myself up for more humiliation. Celeste walked over just then, and I followed her, grabbing my badminton racket as we headed for the door. It was a new hobby of mine, and I’d often play with Celeste for hours. We had just stepped outside when a loud crash echoed from the living room. I turned back to see that Rhea had smashed her game console. Shards of plastic were scattered everywhere. Her gaze was venomous, fixed on where my hand was clasped around Celeste’s wrist. She gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “This isn’t fun anymore, sis.” “You’re getting addicted to playing the nice one, acting like you actually like this ugly freak.” 5. How long had it been since I’d heard that name? Back when we were first paired, Rhea made no attempt to hide her disgust for me. She’d even gotten into a massive, shouting argument with the officials at the Pairing Center. Ugly freak. Parasite. Those were her favorite names for me. I think it stopped after the first time I helped them through their Cycle. The usually cold and arrogant geniuses of the Agency became incredibly clingy during their Cycle. It was the only time I could touch their true Feline forms. The fierce, powerful warriors became giant, purring cats who only wanted to rub against me. They’d call me their husband, desperately trying to snuggle into my arms, rumbling with contentment. It was as if they couldn’t live without me. Their heads were always tucked into the crook of my neck, and they’d even fight each other for who could get closer to me. I’d be flushed and flustered, embarrassed by their husky whispers of “husband.” After she returned to normal, Rhea would always stare at me with a look of pure mortification, speechless. But she did stop attacking my appearance after that. A friend once told me that after that kind of intimacy, even the most cold-hearted Feline will soften. Those were some of the few sweet memories I had. The truth is, I’m not ugly. I’m decent-looking, maybe a little plain. It’s just that the sisters are so stunningly beautiful that I fade into the background next to them. I tried to console myself. That’s just Rhea’s personality. She’s young, she’s always been put on a pedestal, and she’s always been cruel. I rejected her invitation to play games, which bruised her ego. It was only natural for her to lash out and call me an ugly freak again. But even with that reasoning, I still couldn’t sleep that night. Maybe, deep down, I still felt wronged. I got out of bed to get a glass of water. A faint light glowed from the balcony. It was Celeste and Rhea. One stood at the railing, the other leaned against the wall. The tiny orange spark of a cigarette ember glowed between them. They were talking. I slipped into the shadows of the hallway, staying silent. 6. “That’s the second time you’ve hit me, sis.” Rhea exhaled a cloud of smoke. There was a faint bruise on her lip. She smirked, but there was no humor in her eyes. “Just because I called him an ugly freak?” Across from her, Celeste’s expression was so cold it felt foreign. She had been so gentle with me lately that I’d almost forgotten. This was the true nature of a Feline: cold, alluring, with a core of ice. She and her sister were the same. “If you don’t like him, you can avoid him,” Celeste said, her voice calm. “But if I see you bullying him again, I’ll hit you every single time.” Rhea laughed as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Are you serious, sis? Weren’t you the one who filed a joint appeal with me, trying to reject the assignment? And now you’re protecting him? Are you addicted to this act?” She laughed for a long time before stopping, her posture relaxing slightly. “Alright, I get it. The trial period is almost over. This is your strategy, right? Play nice with the ugly freak so he’ll agree to a divorce without a fight? If we hadn’t already agreed on the plan, I might have actually been fooled by you.” Trial period?

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1 Delivery room, 1:15 AM. I’ve just been born. In a little while, a nurse named Brenda Wallace will come in, steal me, and swap me with another family’s baby. Last time, she succeeded. I spent twenty years suffering in a cramped apartment. After I discovered the truth and came back to reclaim my family, the impostor served me a cup of poisoned tea and sent me right back to the Underworld. This time is different. I worked in the Underworld for ten years, saving up enough merit points to buy this one chance to do it all over again. I stared at the clock on the wall, calculating silently. One hour and forty-five minutes until Brenda makes her move. … In one hour and forty-five minutes, Nurse Brenda Wallace will push open this door. She’ll say she’s taking the baby for a newborn screening. My mother, exhausted from labor, won’t suspect a thing. Brenda will then carry me to the supply closet at the end of the hall. Her cousin, Megan Fischer, will be waiting there, holding another newborn baby girl. Two wristbands, a quick swap. Three minutes. Sophie Summer becomes Sophie Fischer. Jessica Fischer becomes Jessica Summer. That’s how they stole twenty years of my life. But right now, I’m just a newborn. I can’t talk, can’t roll over, can’t even hold up my own head. There are only three things I can do: cry, grab, and stay awake. But that’s enough. Ten years in the Underworld taught me one thing very clearly: a mother’s intuition about her child is the most sensitive alarm system in the world. I just need to activate it. My mother held me for a while, her eyelids drooping. My father whispered beside her, “Honey, you sleep first. I’ll watch her.” No. Last time, my father couldn’t stay awake and went to lie on the sofa for a bit. That’s when Brenda found her opportunity. I don’t need my father to watch me. I need my mother to hold me, pressed tightly against her, so no one can separate us. Just as my mother was about to put me back in the bassinet… “Waaaahhh!” I let out an ear-splitting scream. Not a normal cry, but a gut-wrenching shriek. My mother flinched and quickly pulled me back into her arms. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Don’t cry, don’t cry…” The moment she held me close, I went silent. My big eyes were filled with tears, and one tiny hand was clenched tightly around the collar of her hospital gown. My mother paused. “Look how tight she’s holding on. It’s like she’s afraid I’ll put her down.” My father reached out to take me. “WAAAAAHHH!” Louder this time, and sharper. He snatched his hand back, startled. I snuggled back into my mother’s arms, instantly quiet, still clutching her gown. My father didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “She’s only two hours old and already a mama’s girl?” Tears welled in my mother’s eyes. “It’s like she only wants me.” She tightened her arms, holding me firmly against her chest. “Then I won’t put her down. I’ll sleep with her in my arms tonight.” The minutes ticked by. At 2:00 AM, my father was snoring on the sofa. My mother was getting drowsy too, but I made sure to let out a little whimper every ten minutes, just enough to keep her in a state of half-sleep. 2:30 AM. 2:40 AM. 2:50 AM. My heart started to beat faster. 2:55 AM. Faint footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. The rubber-soled nurse’s shoes made almost no sound on the linoleum. But I heard them. The footsteps stopped outside our door. The doorknob turned slowly. A woman in a white coat pushed the door open. She was in her mid-thirties, with an average build and a standard professional smile. She was pushing a baby transport cart. Brenda Wallace. I’ve waited ten years for you. She lowered her voice. “Mrs. Summer, sorry to disturb you. It’s time for the baby’s newborn metabolic screening. We just need to draw a little blood from her heel. We’ll have her back in a minute.” My mother opened her eyes blearily. “A screening? Now?” “It’s usually done between two and four hours after birth. It’s easier while the baby is calm.” Her words were smooth, her tone gentle and professional. That’s how she had fooled my mother last time. My mother’s grip started to loosen. Now. “WAAAAAHHHHH!” My explosive cry ripped through the quiet room. I cried, kicked, shook my head, my whole body trembling. I curled into a tight ball, clinging to my mother’s chest. All ten of my tiny fingers dug into the fabric of her gown, as if they were welded there. My mother was startled and instinctively pulled me closer. “What is it, sweetheart?” My father shot up from the sofa. “What’s going on?” Brenda’s smile faltered for a second before she regained her composure. “Mr. Summer, it’s just a routine screening. The baby was probably just startled by our voices.” My father looked at me, wailing my heart out, then back at Brenda. “Does this screening have to be done right now?” “It’s hospital policy…” “My daughter doesn’t seem well. Can we do it tomorrow during the day?” Brenda’s mouth twitched. “And,” my father added, walking to the door and glancing down the hall, “I don’t think you’re the nurse on duty for this floor tonight.” The air froze for two seconds. “I… I’m covering for a colleague. She had an emergency.” My father said nothing, but his expression hardened. “Then please have the head nurse arrange it for tomorrow. Tonight is not convenient.” Brenda opened her mouth, as if to say more, but my father had already sat down next to my mother, one hand on her shoulder, the other patting my back. The message was clear. You can go. Brenda’s eyes lingered on me for a few seconds. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw the coldness in her gaze. Then she turned and pushed the empty cart out of the room. I quieted down, snuggling into my mother’s warm embrace. She gently patted me, humming a tuneless lullaby. My father didn’t go back to the sofa. He stayed right there, sitting by the bed, watching us. 2 The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains. I had slept in my mother’s arms, though I hadn’t really closed my eyes all night. I acted like a perfectly well-behaved, angelic baby. The first thing my mother did when she woke up was look down at me. She found me looking right back at her. “Honey, look! She’s been watching me,” she said, delighted. My father leaned in, about to touch me. I immediately scrunched up my face, my lip quivering, my eyes turning red. His hand froze mid-air, and he sheepishly pulled it back. “Okay, okay, Daddy won’t touch. Daddy’s just looking.” My mother couldn’t help but laugh. “This little girl is my shadow. She won’t let anyone else near.” Exactly. I needed everyone to know: this baby only wants her mother. No one was taking me from her arms. During the morning rounds, the attending physician came in with a team. They gave me a full check-up and confirmed all my vitals were healthy. The newborn screening was also scheduled. It was done during the day, by the book, with the head nurse performing the procedure herself. My father watched the entire time, never leaving my side. I noticed his expression was different from the night before. Last night, it was instinctual caution. Today, it was conscious observation. After the doctors left, he said he was going to get breakfast and made a call in the hallway. His voice was low, but nestled in my mother’s arms, I could hear every word. “I need you to look into someone for me. Brenda Wallace, a nurse at this hospital. And pull the security footage from the third-floor maternity ward hallway from last night.” Good. My father wasn’t a fool. The founder of a security tech company, he had a natural sense for these things. He was already on it. At two in the afternoon, we had an unexpected visitor. A woman in her early thirties, wearing a simple floral-print hospital gown, with a round, friendly face. She peeked her head in and knocked softly on the doorframe. “Hi, Mrs. Summer. I’m Megan, from room 206 next door. I just had a baby girl yesterday too.” She smiled warmly. “Born on the same day, it must be fate. I thought I’d pop in and say hello.” My mother, still weak from childbirth, was happy for the company. “Please, come in!” Megan Fischer. Brenda Wallace’s cousin. The biological mother of the impostor, Jessica Fischer. Last time, she was the one who slipped her daughter into the Summer family and stole my life. Now, she walked in, her eyes scanning the room and landing on me with a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. “Oh, your daughter is so beautiful and well-behaved. Can I hold her?” She reached out her hands. The hair on my arms stood on end. I let out a piercing cry, my face turning red, my limbs flailing wildly. My mother quickly pulled me back. “Oh, I’m so sorry. She’s very shy around strangers. She cries if anyone but me holds her.” Megan awkwardly withdrew her hands. “Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay. That’s normal for babies.” She didn’t insist, and instead started chatting with my mother about parenting. They talked about formula, diapers, and postpartum meals. As she talked, she subtly inched closer to my mother. Every time she got within three feet of the bassinet, I would start to whimper. When she backed away, I’d go quiet. After the third time, my mother noticed too. She didn’t say anything, but she unconsciously held me a little tighter. Megan stayed for about half an hour. As she was leaving, she said, “If you ever get tired, just call me. I can watch the baby for a bit. I’m right next door.” My mother politely agreed. But after the door closed, she looked down at me thoughtfully. “Sweetheart, do you not like that lady?” I nuzzled her hand and blinked quietly. My mother smiled, but there was a new seriousness in her eyes. “Okay, Mommy hears you. We’ll keep her away from you from now on.” That evening, my father returned. His expression was grim. He closed the door tightly and spoke to my mother in a low voice. “I had someone look into that nurse from last night, Brenda Wallace. She was only hired three months ago. Her resume, her education, her work experience—all fake.” My mother’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?” “And the security footage from the hallway last night—the cameras were malfunctioning during that exact time. Nothing was recorded.” “I’ve been in the security business for twenty years. I’ve never seen a malfunction that convenient.” The color drained from my mother’s face. She instinctively clutched me tighter, her voice trembling. “Are you saying… that person last night wasn’t here to do a screening?” My father didn’t answer directly. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking my mother’s hand in one of his and gently stroking my head with the other. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve already had my assistant file a police report and have the hospital upgrade its security.” “From now on, when I’m not here, no one—and I mean no one—is to touch Sophie.” My mother nodded vigorously. I closed my eyes and pressed my face against her chest. My father was already in motion. Twenty years earlier than last time. And all I had to do was continue being the perfect, mama’s-girl angel. 3 The day we were discharged, my father brought four bodyguards to pick us up. Two vans, a seamless transition. During the twenty-minute drive from the hospital to the Summer mansion, my mother held me without letting go for a second. My father sat in the front passenger seat, making one call after another. “Upgrade the entire home security system. I want zero blind spots.” “Install a smart alarm in the nursery. Real-time notifications to my phone anytime someone enters or leaves.” “Yes, re-screen all the nannies. Full background checks, including relatives three generations back.” I nestled in my mother’s arms, listening to his commands, feeling a deep sense of security. Last time, I was stolen because the Summers, despite their wealth, were too complacent about security. The idea of a baby swap was something they had never even considered. This time was different. My father was already in battle mode. Arriving at the Summer mansion, I entered this home as its rightful heir for the first time. Last time, I was twenty when I first walked through these doors. I was wearing a cheap dress, clutching a crumpled DNA test, shaking from head to toe. The security guard at the gate stopped me three times. “Who are you looking for? You don’t belong here.” Now, the butler respectfully opened the car door. The nanny rolled out a red carpet. My grandfather stood at the entrance, his face a web of smiling wrinkles. “My granddaughter is home! Let Grandpa have a look!” He reached out to hold me. As usual, I scrunched up my face. But this time, I managed not to cry. After all, my grandfather had been very good to me last time. After I was reunited with the family, he was the first one who wanted to give me a share of his inheritance. I just turned my head slightly and buried my face in my mother’s neck. My grandfather wasn’t offended at all. He just chuckled. “This little girl is just like her mother. Once she’s set on someone, you can’t pull her away. Good! She’s got character!” My grandmother stood behind him. She was wearing a dark red traditional dress, a polite smile on her face. But I noticed the way she looked at me was completely different from the way she looked at my grandfather. When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with attentiveness and deference. When she looked at me, there was only scrutiny. “Oh, she’s such a lovely baby. Just like her mother,” she said, reaching out to touch my cheek. I started crying without hesitation. A soft, pitiful whimper. Her hand froze. My mother quickly soothed me. “It’s okay, sweetheart, don’t be scared. It’s just Grandma.” My grandfather smoothed things over. “Haha, she’s just shy. She’ll get used to us in a couple of days.” My grandmother withdrew her hand, her smile unchanged, but a flicker of coldness crossed her eyes. That expression. I knew it so well. Last time, after I came back to the family, my grandmother had looked at me with that same expression. Polite, but with a deep-seated distance. I later learned that she had been against my father marrying my mother from the start. She thought my mother’s background wasn’t good enough for the Summer family. She had always wanted my uncle, Robert Summer, and his family to take over. Because my uncle’s wife was her niece. In other words, my uncle’s family were her people. The days after moving into the Summer mansion were quiet on the surface. For the first month, I maintained my “only-mommy” persona. Wherever my mother went, I was quiet. The moment she was out of my sight, I’d start to cry. This meant she barely left my side, and it also meant no one—not the nannies, not the butler, not even my grandmother—had a chance to be alone with me. My father’s investigation was also moving forward. He had someone pull Brenda Wallace’s phone records. There was one number she contacted frequently. The calls were short but regular. It was an unregistered burner phone. But through cell tower triangulation, they found that 70% of the time, the phone was used near the Summer mansion. My father’s face was grim as he spoke to his assistant in the study, his voice low. “So the person who hired Brenda is inside the Summer family.” An inside job. I already knew. But I couldn’t speak yet. I couldn’t tell my father who it was. All I could do was wait. Wait for him to find out himself. Or wait for the mole to slip up. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long. Two days before my one-month celebration, at eleven at night. My mother was fast asleep, and my father was in his study working. The nanny was off duty. I was alone in the nursery. It was quiet. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting pale patches of light on the ceiling. I lay with my eyes open, counting my breaths. One, two, three. Click. The sound of the doorknob turning. Someone pushed the nursery door open. The footsteps were light, deliberately so. A dark figure approached my crib. I couldn’t see her face, but I recognized the scent. It was Mrs. Davis, my grandmother’s housekeeper of over twenty years. She bent down and reached into the crib to pick me up. The moment her hand touched my blanket… “WAAAAAHHHHH!” I let out the loudest cry of my life. At the same second, the nursery’s smart alarm system was triggered. A piercing siren blared through the entire mansion. A notification popped up on my father’s phone. Mrs. Davis’s face, flickering in the red alarm light, was deathly pale. Less than twenty seconds later, my father burst into the room, my mother right behind him. “Mrs. Davis? What are you doing?!” She was trembling, her hand still frozen in mid-air. “I… I heard the baby crying, so I came to check…” My father pulled out his phone and played back the nursery’s security footage. The video was clear: Mrs. Davis entering the room, walking straight to the crib, bending down, and reaching in. It didn’t look like she was just checking. It looked like she was taking. “The truth,” my father’s voice was as sharp as a knife. “Who sent you?”

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