“My fiancée was kidnapped by my rival, crying and begging me to save her. My rival taunted, “”Bet me. If you win, I’ll return your fiancée and transfer my assets to you. “”If you lose, I’ll take your assets, and your life!”” My fiancée, her face streaked with tears, subtly urged me to accept. I knew it was an elaborate trap they had set together. But I still accepted the wager. 1 “”Jason, save me!”” My fiancée, Selena, was crying, her face streaked with tears. She was bound to a chair, unable to move, her large eyes continuously shedding tears as she looked at me. Around her stood several burly bodyguards, each one incredibly muscular. There was no way for me to get close to Selena, let alone rescue her from such a heavy guard. The one who had kidnapped her was my sworn rival, Derek Jensen. He was my company’s biggest competitor. We had battled for years, countless business wars, and had long become thorns in each other’s sides. Previously, I had always bested him, building my company into the industry leader. He hated me to the core; every time he saw me, he wanted to flay me alive. A day ago, Selena had gone out alone for a nail appointment and hadn’t returned. Her phone was also off. It wasn’t until evening that I received a desperate call from Selena, saying she had been kidnapped by Derek. To save my fiancée, I came alone to the rendezvous. The location was a Jensen family construction site, a building not yet topped out. We were on the rooftop of the 20th floor. Derek sat on a sofa smoking a cigar, while Selena was bound to a chair not far away, surrounded by Derek’s men. He looked at me, applauding approvingly: “”Good, coming alone. You’ve got guts.”” “”What are your terms to release her?”” I looked at him coldly. What he wanted was nothing more than for me to give up the bidding for the land in Southfield, or perhaps to leave the industry entirely. Sure enough, Derek stood up, still exhaling smoke: “”It’s simple. You and I make a wager. If you win, I’ll release Selena and transfer all my assets to you, withdrawing from the real estate industry forever. “”If you lose, you give all your assets to me, and… your life.”” “”Of course, publicly, you’ll announce your successful retirement and take care of yourself. I’m a law-abiding citizen, you see, haha.”” With that, he pulled out a contract and waved it: “”I’ve already drafted the contract; it’s real and legally binding.”” “”A wager?”” I hesitated for a moment. Selena cried even louder, her face soaked with tears. “”Jason, save me, I want to go home.”” “”Please save me! It’s just a gamble, you can definitely win.”” Selena’s mournful cries echoed in my ears. Derek laughed: “”Time is running out for you. Decide quickly. If you don’t agree, I’ll throw her down.”” As he spoke, two burly bodyguards lifted Selena from the chair and forcefully suspended her from a crane hook, leaving her dangling 20 stories high. Selena screamed, terrified, continuously yelling: “”Save me, Jason, I’m so scared, put me down.”” “”It’s best not to struggle, or you’ll fall and splatter into a mess of flesh and bone,”” Derek chuckled, threatening her. Selena didn’t dare to open her eyes and look down. With that reminder, she stopped squirming. She stared straight at me, crying. “”I’m so scared, save me……”” “”So? Have you decided? She can’t hold on much longer.”” Derek turned his head to look at me, smugly. I was still hesitating. My father was known as the “”King of a Thousand Aces”” in the gambling world. With his incredibly skilled gambling, he had held the title of World Gambling King for over a decade. Afterward, he retired honorably and started in the real estate industry. It was then that he set a rule, forbidding his descendants from touching gambling. But now, I was about to violate the family rule. Seeing my prolonged hesitation, Selena’s face was etched with despair: “”Jason, actually, yesterday I wasn’t getting my nails done. I was at the hospital for a check-up… I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father, Jason.”” 2 At that, I froze, immediately turning to Derek: “”Put her down.”” “”You agree to bet with me?”” Derek raised an eyebrow. The first rule of my family was never to gamble, and never to reveal our skills in front of outsiders. But now, I had to choose between saving her and violating that oath. Seeing me still hesitate, Derek laughed heartily: “”If you don’t dare to gamble, then let’s skip that part. Just transfer all your assets to me. I won’t even take your life. You pack your bags and leave this city immediately.”” Selena choked up: “”Jason, my stomach hurts so much. The baby might not hold on much longer. Weren’t you looking forward to our baby? Please save me, I can’t take this anymore.”” “”But if I save you, I have to gamble with him. If I lose, I’ll become a disgrace to my family,”” I said with difficulty. Selena, hearing this, cried even harder: “”Are the baby and I not as important as your money? You might not even lose if you bet him. If you win, everyone will be happy.”” “”But you know I never play cards. Derek, he’s a veteran of many casinos, called the ‘Young Gambling King.’ How could I possibly win against him?”” I said helplessly. Selena looked at me affectionately, saying: “”Jason, I believe in you. Even if we lose, I’m willing to be a poor couple with you. We’ll never abandon each other.”” “”Enough with the nonsense, are you betting or not?”” Derek prompted, a little impatient. I closed my eyes, letting out a heavy breath: “”I’ll bet you.”” “”Gutsy. Have a seat!”” Derek smirked. “”Shouldn’t we sign the contract first? What if you go back on your word?”” I said calmly. Derek scoffed: “”I’ve been gambling since I was a teenager, always winning. Almost no one has ever beaten me. Are you so eager to sign the contract because you’re afraid you won’t lose your family fortune?”” With that, he tossed the contract onto the table. I sat across from him, picked up the contract, and meticulously reviewed every clause, ensuring there were no issues or hidden clauses. Finally, I signed my name and affixed my fingerprint. “”Your turn.”” I pushed the contract towards him. He sneered, a look of disdain on his face, as if certain he would win this time. After signing the contract, I took it back to photograph and video record it. He smugly pulled out a cigar. Derek held a silver lighter between his fingers, the flame flickering on and off. After taking a deep drag, he said: “”We’ll play Blackjack, simple rules. The dealer deals, everyone gets two starting cards. Points are the sum of the card faces. Aces are 1 or 11, Jacks, Queens, Kings are all 10. Whoever gets closest to 21 without going over wins. Best two out of three. Even if you’ve never played, you understand the rules, right? Don’t say I’m taking advantage of you.”” My fingertips tapped the table. I watched him expertly tear open a new deck of cards, the red and black faces fanning out and closing neatly in his palm: “”Who’s the dealer?”” “”We’ll take turns. I’ll deal the first round.”” Derek’s shuffling was mesmerizing, the backs of the cards colliding with a crisp “”swish-swish”” sound, like opening drums for this wager. This clearly showed he was a master of the casino. His deal was clean, two cards slapped in front of me, then two for himself, one face-up—the Diamond 10—and a face-down card tucked under the corner of the table. My starting hand was a Heart 5 and a Club 7, totaling 12 points, quite a distance from 21. “”Hit me.”” I pushed the cards forward. Derek glanced at me, his eyes showing his usual nonchalance. He drew a card and slid it to my hand—a Spade 8. My total instantly jumped to 20. This number was tricky. Another card might bust me, but standing pat put the pressure on the dealer. “”Stand.”” I arranged my three cards in a neat line. Derek’s gaze lingered on my cards for half a second. His slender fingers flipped his face-down card—a Heart Ace. His current total was 11. He said without hesitation: “”Hit me.”” The first additional card was a Diamond 3, bringing his total to 14. The second was a Spade 6, making his total exactly 20, matching mine. The air in the private room seemed to solidify. Derek’s fingertips rubbed the edge of his cards. The lighter flickered again. This time, he lit a cigarette. In the swirling smoke, his voice carried a hint of a smile: “”Another round. You deal this time.”” I took the cards he offered. When I shuffled, I deliberately slowed down, my fingertips feeling the texture of the cards. Although my family rules forbade gambling, my father had taught me knowledge and techniques of the card table since childhood. Just by touch, I could clearly know what card was under my hand. 3 When dealing, I intentionally revealed my face-up card slowly. My face-up card was a Heart Queen. Derek’s face-up card was a Club 9. He glanced at his own card, then at my face-down card under the table, raising an eyebrow: “”If your face-down card is an Ace, I’ll surrender immediately.”” I didn’t reply, flipping over my face-down card—a Diamond 2, making my total 12. Derek’s face-down card was a Diamond 5, totaling 14. He immediately raised his hand: “”Hit me.”” I drew a card and pushed it over—a Spade Jack. His total instantly soared to 24, a bust. “”Tsk, bad luck.”” Derek threw the busted cards on the table, extinguishing his cigarette butt in the crystal ashtray. Sparks flew up and quickly died out. My fingertip tapped the Heart Queen. My gaze fell on his ears, slightly reddened from losing, and I slowly spoke: “”Last hand.”” He chuckled at that, gathering the cards again. The shuffling sound was louder than before: “”Alright.”” I picked up the cards from the table, drew a Heart Ace, and placed it face down in front of him: “”I’m still the dealer.”” The shuffling sound resumed. This time, Derek’s gaze was fixed on my dealing hand, as if trying to see through my fingers to the suit of each card. I dealt him his cards first. His face-up card was a Diamond 9. I then dealt myself a Heart 6. My face-up total was just over half, not much of an advantage in Blackjack. Derek immediately flipped his face-down card. It was a Club 8. His fingertip tapped the card face: “”17 points, very stable.”” I glanced at my face-down card, a Spade 3, total 9. “”Hit me.”” I pushed the card forward. Derek scoffed, his action of drawing a card showing a hint of condescension: “”You dare to chase aggressively with 9 points? Be careful not to bust yourself.”” The card slid in front of me—a Diamond 5, bringing my total to 14. “”Hit me again.”” My words had barely finished. Derek’s laughter came through: “”There’s a limit to showing off. Look how stable I am at 17, standing pat. Unlike some people, who insist on gambling when they clearly don’t have the luck.”” He said, leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed high. His gaze swept over my cards with disdain. “”You’re bound to lose this hand. Why don’t you admit defeat now, call me ‘Daddy,’ and kneel to me? I might even consider leaving you two thousand to buy an electric scooter to deliver takeout, since you’ll be broke after losing.”” I didn’t pick up on his taunt, just raised my hand again: “”Hit me.”” Derek, this so-called “”Young Gambling King,”” was nothing more than trash in front of me. His little tricks were just entertainment I used to pass the time when I was bored as a child. Derek’s smile deepened. He deliberately paused for two seconds before drawing a card, as if savoring my final struggle. This card was a Heart 4. My total stopped at 18. “”Stand.”” I placed the three cards steadily. Derek immediately sat up straight, tapping the table with his fingers: “”18 points? Looks good, but unfortunately, it’s still a bit short compared to me.”” He said, about to collect the cards, but I gently pressed his wrist: “”What’s the rush? The dealer hasn’t finished drawing cards yet.”” Derek froze, then raised an eyebrow: “”Oh? You dare to draw another card at 18 points? I’d like to see how you bust.”” I drew a card from the deck. Instead of flipping it immediately, I pinched the corner of the card and spun it half a turn. Derek’s gaze was practically fixed on that card. The smile on his lips hadn’t dropped once: “”Hurry up and flip it! Are you scared? I told you early on that you’re no match for me.”” 4 Before he finished speaking, I had slapped the card on the table. A Spade 3, totaling exactly 21 points. The air instantly solidified. Derek’s smile froze on his face. He abruptly leaned forward, his finger pointing at the Spade 3, his voice changing pitch: “”Impossible! How did you get a 3?”” He frantically flipped over my cards one by one—Heart 6, Diamond 5, Spade 3. The sum of the numbers was clearly laid out before him. His earlier arrogant mockery was all caught in his throat. He stared wide-eyed, his ears turning from flushed to crimson, his fingers unconsciously clenching the tablecloth, his breathing becoming ragged: “”What’s wrong with these cards? Did you cheat?”” I gathered the cards again and pushed them towards him: “”A bet is a bet. Or are you going to go back on your word?”” “”This is impossible, you cheated!”” Derek roared, slamming his fist on the table. He glared at me, his eyes red: “”Didn’t you say you never gambled? Are you playing dirty?!”” “”I don’t gamble, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how. A bet is a bet.”” I smiled faintly, turning my head to glance at Selena. Selena was now stunned, her pupils dilated. She looked at me in astonishment: “”You won?”” “”Aren’t you happy I won? I can save you right away.”” I smiled slightly. Selena nodded: “”Happy. I’m really happy for you.”” Watching her force a smile, I remained silent, not exposing her true thoughts. “”Now, can we leave? When will Mr. Jensen transfer the assets to me?”” I looked at Derek, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Derek tore the contract in his hand into shreds. He laughed ferociously: “”Hahahaha, do you understand the law? From a legal standpoint, this contract has no legal effect whatsoever. The Civil Code explicitly prohibits gambling and civil acts for gambling purposes. An agreement centered around gambling is directly considered invalid because it ‘violates mandatory provisions of laws and administrative regulations.’”” “”Dream on about taking my family fortune.”” Derek smugly scattered the contract fragments across the floor. I raised an eyebrow slightly: “”I didn’t expect you to be quite clever, making thorough preparations, even thinking of an escape route beforehand.”” Such a gambling agreement, legally speaking, indeed had no legal effect. Even if both parties agreed, the old guard on the board wouldn’t approve. But with this agreement, I could make a big deal out of it. I had thought of a perfect plan from the beginning. “”I’m the Young Gambling King. How could you possibly beat me?”” Derek gritted his teeth. I chuckled: “”Because I can feel the value of each card with my fingers.”” “”That’s impossible!”” Derek countered, then fanned out the cards, looking at me. “”I don’t believe it, unless you demonstrate it now.”” “”Alright, to convince you.”” I reached out, touched a card, and said calmly: “”Spade Ace.”” “”Again.”” Derek was unconvinced. I touched three more cards, saying: “”Diamond Four, Heart Three, Club Six. How’s that? Did I get them right?”” “”Rumor has it that only the legendary ‘Ghost Hand’ Gambling King knew this trick of feeling cards with his fingertips. Could you be… the son of the Gambling King?”” Derek’s eyes widened in shock, looking at me incredulously. I stared back, not speaking, just smiling faintly. He swallowed, wanting to say something but closed his mouth, wary. Having grown up in casinos, he naturally knew my father’s name. Although my father had retired from gambling for many years, his legends and connections still circulated in the underworld. My father was famous in the gambling world back then, known to everyone, though few knew his real name, only revering him as the Gambling King. Thirty years ago, my father rose to prominence in the Hong Kong and Macau region, but he also secretly offended many enemies. After several assassination attempts, my father came to the mainland with his money, starting his business with his first pot of gold from gambling. The old poker deck with ivory edges in my father’s study was a testament to his reign in the entertainment city casinos. After his real estate business stabilized, my father married and had children. On the day I was born, he, in front of everyone, threw that deck of cards, which had won countless fortunes, into a brazier, completely retiring from gambling. He even chopped up the mahjong table at home for firewood. My father used to say that the card table was an abyss: however crazy you were when you won, that’s how miserable you would be when you lost. 5 “”A bet is a bet. Let her down.”” I looked at Selena, who was still dangling. Derek chuckled: “”I don’t care who you are, you’re not leaving today. I only wanted your assets initially, but if you insist on opposing me, I’ll have no choice but to be ruthless.”” “”Do you know about human sacrifice for building foundations? Today, I’ll use you to consecrate my family’s new development. Get him.”” Derek commanded, and several bodyguards immediately rushed towards me. I stretched my limbs and chuckled, “”Bring it on. You only get one chance to take me down.”” Derek retreated to a safe distance, watching me and yelling: “”So what if you have ghost hands? So what if you have a Gambling King for a father? Today, you’re going down.”” The bodyguards swarmed me, their moves vicious and aimed to kill. But I wasn’t to be underestimated. Every punch I threw landed with power, and in less than half an hour, I had knocked down a dozen bodyguards. I twisted my neck and walked towards Derek: “”Your turn.”” “”I underestimated you, you’re quite a fighter.”” Derek was shocked, then gritted his teeth and glared at me, seemingly not expecting my formidable skills. I had boxed underground for a few years, a fact many people didn’t know. “”Being a good fighter is useless, you bastard. You wait for me.”” Derek stood on the edge of the rooftop, gave me the middle finger, and then leaped off. Selena screamed, but then saw Derek had a paraglider strapped to his back. After jumping, he quickly deployed the paraglider and flew into the nearest patch of woods. A coward, thoroughly prepared. Even if he hadn’t anticipated my gambling and fighting skills, he had still made sure he was foolproof. The bodyguards on the ground, seeing their boss flee, also scrambled up and ran towards the stairwell. Only Selena and I were left. Selena’s voice was hoarse from crying. Her face was pale and distraught: “”Jason, please put me down.”” I gently lowered her and held her in my arms: “”Are you alright?”” “”I, I’m fine. I knew you would win,”” Selena said, reaching up to touch my face, forcing a smile. “”I’ll do anything for you. Thankfully I won, otherwise, you would truly suffer with me in the future. I didn’t know you would be willing to sacrifice so much for me. I failed to protect you, but I promise I will never let you get hurt again.”” I looked into her eyes, full of tenderness. Selena’s complexion was very poor, likely due to being suspended for too long. She was about to speak, but her eyes rolled back, and she fainted. I immediately took her to the hospital. The doctor said she was just traumatized and needed to be hospitalized for a few days for observation. When Selena woke up, it was already evening. I sat by her hospital bed, holding her hand. “”You’re awake. I was so worried about you,”” I said. “”What happened to me?”” Selena asked weakly. I poured her a glass of warm water, then said through gritted teeth: “”You were so frightened you almost had a miscarriage. The doctor said you must stay in the hospital for observation now.”” “”Is the baby okay?”” Selena immediately clutched her stomach in alarm. I comforted her for a while, telling her she had to stay in bed for a few days. Then I added: “”You rest well. I’m going to the police station now to report this. We absolutely cannot let that scoundrel who hurt you get away with it.”” “”No.”” Selena grabbed my hand, her voice clearly anxious. I frowned, looking at her in confusion: “”What’s wrong? That bastard Derek hurt you and almost killed our child. I must make him pay. I’m going to accuse him of kidnapping and assault.”” Selena shook her head. “”Can we report it after I’m discharged? Or, after the bid is over, then deal with these things. I don’t want you to be distracted because of me.”” At Selena’s repeated pleas, I agreed not to call the police for now. But I still gritted my teeth and said, “”I won’t let him off the hook.”””

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On New Year’s Eve, burning with a hundred-and-four-degree fever, I coughed up blood and begged my mother to take me to the hospital. She still produced that spinning wheel. “The old rule: if it lands on red, we go! If it lands on black, shut up!” I was the true daughter, swapped at birth. The night I came home, my mother said that from then on, all family matters would be decided by this red and black spinning wheel. It was the fairest way, she claimed. I nodded, full of hope. But for three whole years, thousands of spins, my sister always landed on red, and I, always on black. Not only did all the beautiful jewelry and the sunny room go to her, but even when I was sick in bed, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for her cartoon to finish. I gripped the edge of the wheel, my fingers trembling with fever. This time, I wanted to live. In the last split second, as the pointer was about to slide to black, I used all my strength to press my index finger against the back. For the first time, it stopped on the red section. “I landed on…” “Daisy!” My eldest brother seized my wrist. “Even if your luck is bad, you can’t cheat!” My second brother shoved me to the ground: “You came back with your bloodline, only to learn such despicable tricks?” My third brother broke my finger: “Being biological, you should follow the rules even more.” They left merrily. I lay on the cold floor, watching fireworks explode outside the window. So red was truly beautiful. I’m sorry. In my next life… I will definitely try hard to land on red. … I could still hear them as they prepared to leave. “Pearl, is your scarf on? It’s cold outside.” My mother’s voice was impossibly gentle. “The private dining room for New Year’s Eve dinner is all set up, with pink balloons everywhere. You’ll love it, I’m sure.” “Really? Mom knows me best!” My second brother chuckled, joining in: “Tonight, Dad even specially ordered a New Year’s Eve cake with your favorite ballerina sugar figurine on top.” My third brother’s voice was full of indulgence: “Little princess, the head chef at the French restaurant heard you were coming and specially prepared your favorite caramel crème brûlée tart, a three-tiered one.” “That’s great! What about my New Year’s gift?” Pearl’s voice was sickly sweet. “It’s all in the car.” My eldest brother said with a smile, “Tonight is a night of reunion. Whatever our Pearl wants, she gets.” Footsteps moved towards the door, the rustle of coats filling the air. Not a single person looked back towards the living room. Not a single person remembered that someone was still lying on the floor. Every time the wheel landed on black, my mother remained perfectly calm. “The probabilities are fifty-fifty. If your luck is bad, who can you blame?” “People with bad luck don’t deserve good things.” She had said these words countless times. But what was luck? I remembered when I first came home three years ago, my mother took out that red and black spinning wheel. “Daisy, you’re my biological child, Mommy loves you.” She knelt down to look me in the eye. “But Pearl has also been with us for ten years. For absolute fairness, from now on, all family matters will be decided by the spinning wheel, okay?” A one-in-two chance. I nodded vigorously, my eyes full of light. The first time. In late autumn, the cuff of my only sweater had a hole. As the cold wind seeped in, I quietly said, “Mom, can I have five dollars to buy some yarn? I’ll mend it myself.” Mom was trying on a cashmere coat for Pearl and didn’t even turn her head: “Five dollars isn’t money? Let the wheel decide.” The pointer stopped on black. My second brother scoffed: “Such a pauper. Pearl’s coat is enough to buy you a cartful of yarn.” Later, I tied a piece of discarded red ribbon around the hole and was laughed at in school for a whole week. The second time. I clutched my test paper, my palms sweating. “Mom, I got first place.” The dinner table fell silent for a moment. Dad grunted an “hmm,” and continued to serve Pearl shrimp. “Alright, what do you want this time?” Mom wiped her mouth. “A ten-dollar workbook…” “Old rules.” My third brother put an arm around Pearl, smiling grandly: “Hear that? Our true scholar is right here. Your first place was probably just a blind squirrel finding a nut.” The pointer stopped on black again. That test paper was tucked into the bottom of my bookshelf, never to be taken out again. … The 825th time, when the news of Grandma Willow’s passing came, I stood on the stairs, my blood running cold. “Mom, I want to go back and say goodbye to Grandma…” “Enough!” She cut me off. “The dead cannot return to life. What’s the point of going back? It’s unlucky!” My third brother rushed in, phone in hand, his face beaming with excitement: “Mom! Pearl won first prize in the piano competition!” Mom’s impatience instantly turned to ecstasy: “Really? What reward do you want, sweetie?” Dad also came out of the study: “We should definitely celebrate.” My second brother had, at some point, brought over the spinning wheel. “Spin it.” He placed it on the coffee table. “If it lands on red, you can go.” I looked at the distinct red and black wheel for a long time. My fingertip hovered above the pointer, trembling, but ultimately didn’t descend. That night, I kowtowed three times towards the direction of the countryside, standing before the spinning wheel until midnight. Because I knew the outcome. It would definitely be black. Always black. The door closed. The joyous sounds of reunion were completely cut off. Inside, the house was deadly silent, save for my gradually weakening breaths and the festive crackle of firecrackers from other homes outside the window. The moment the pain vanished, I floated up. Looking down, a small body was curled on the floor. Faded, worn pajamas, the right index finger bent at a strange angle, and on the pale face, un-dried tear streaks. That was me. Thirteen-year-old Daisy, no longer breathing. It turned out some people were born to be held in the family’s palms, with even the New Year’s Eve cake figurines prepared to their liking. Some people were born only to lie on a cold floor, their deaths silent and unnoticed. I don’t know how long it was, The door was pushed open again. Mother and daughter walked in, wearing identical cashmere coats. Pearl wore a dazzling diamond necklace around her neck; it was the welcome gift my grandmother had given me when I first came home. Because the spinning wheel landed on black, Mom said, “Such precious jewelry isn’t fitting for you,” so it ended up around Pearl’s neck. Pearl lifted her skirt and knelt, her voice innocent: “The floor is so dirty… why is Sister still lying here?” My eldest brother frowned: “Country folk are just like that. When they’re tired, they lie down anywhere, regardless of cleanliness.” My third brother lazily chimed in: “That’s why, even if Pearl isn’t biological, she has an inherent grace. While some people, well, genes can’t change that inherent peasant air.” Pearl curiously touched my face, but quickly recoiled. She gasped: “Mom! Sister’s face… it’s colder than ice!” Mom’s movement of taking off her coat froze. For some inexplicable reason. I felt a faint sense of anticipation. I wondered what their reaction would be when they discovered I was dead. Mom walked over. She first saw my twisted finger, her expression momentarily taken aback: “Her finger… why is it bent like that?” My third brother leaned against the entryway, saying casually: “I broke it.” Mom glared at him, with a hint of anger: “You really don’t know your own strength. She’s still your sister, after all!” I floated in the air, staring blankly at her. A warmth spread through my heart. I knew it, Mom still loved me. But it didn’t matter anymore, I couldn’t feel pain. My third brother raised his chin: “Mom, you set the rules yourself. Cheating deserves punishment. Pearl remembers it and always follows it obediently. Is it really fair to her if you indulge Daisy?” Mom’s lips moved, then she turned to look at Pearl. The young girl bit her lip, her eyes slightly red, like a startled bunny. In that instant, Mom’s voice softened: “Alright, just remember not to do it in front of Pearl next time. She’s easily frightened.” That flicker of emotion, sparked by me, was like a pebble thrown into a deep pond, creating only a trivial ripple. Mom reached out, but didn’t check my breath. Instead, she poked my shoulder with disgust: “Daisy, get up.” “Playing dead, are we?” She kicked my shoulder with the tip of her high heel. “To avoid the family dinner, to make us feel guilty, you’re full of tricks! You’ll stoop to any despicable means.” My second brother picked up the glass cup from the coffee table, his wrist flicking. Scalding water splashed half my face. “Can you wake up now? Can you stop always using such cheap tricks to get attention?” Water droplets rolled down my temples into my collar, yet my eyelashes didn’t even flicker. Pearl retreated a small step, timidly saying: “Mom, I feel like, Sister seems… really unwell.” To soothe Pearl’s wounded spirit. My second brother patted her back and tucked an exquisite gift box into her arms. “Good Pearl, big brother knows you have a kind heart, but some people are just born to play the victim and aren’t worthy of sympathy at all.” Mom rubbed Pearl’s head: “The more you indulge her, the worse she’ll get next time. Today she’s playing dead, tomorrow she’ll hang herself. She just wants to force us to apologize by doing this.” My third brother scoffed along: “This afternoon she was making such a fuss about going to the hospital, now she’s just lying here like a corpse. What else can she do besides upsetting the family and ruining the atmosphere?” Perhaps wanting to end this farce quickly. Mom crouched down and fiercely pinched my philtrum. Even when my lips turned white from her grip, I remained motionless. She completely lost her patience. Raising her hand, she slapped me across the face. “If I had known you were such a stubborn and malicious person, I never should have softened and brought you back!” Just then, Pearl’s sweet voice came from upstairs: “Mommy, look, isn’t the new dress second brother bought me pretty?” That voice was like magic. The anger on Mom’s face instantly melted away like snow. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s coming.” After a few steps, she suddenly turned back and dragged me up from the floor. “Daisy, listen carefully! In this family, Pearl came first, then you. Bloodline means nothing! Don’t think that just because you’re biological, you can do whatever you want.” My head fell back limply, my eyes half-open, pupils dilated and lifeless, staring at the ceiling. She stared into my unfocused eyes, as if wanting to see submission and fear there. But I was already dead; I couldn’t give any reaction. This seemed to infuriate Mom. She grabbed my collar, warning me fiercely: “Know your place! If you dare to have crooked thoughts and compete with Pearl again… you can go back to your village!” She let go. My head, losing its support, hit the floor with a “thud.” She didn’t look back, clip-clopping upstairs in her high heels. My second brother kicked me: “On New Year’s, who are you putting on this deathly display for? That’s enough.” My third brother, smiling, pulled out his phone and pressed the shutter button. “A souvenir. Next time you pretend, I’ll let everyone see what kind of person the real daughter of the Sterling family is in private.” Finally, it was my eldest brother. He stood there watching me for a long time, so long that I thought he would discover something. Finally, he sighed. Reluctantly, he dragged me back to my room and threw me onto the bed. Before leaving, he stood at the doorway and said, as if offering charity: “Daisy, if your finger hurts too much to bear, come find me, but don’t alarm Pearl. I can send you to the hospital without going through the spinning wheel. However, the medical expenses will be deducted from your next month’s allowance. You caused this trouble yourself, so you bear the consequences, understand?” I answered over and over: “Brother, thank you, but I’m already dead now. I don’t need to go to the hospital…” But he would never hear it. The door closed. Outside the window, fireworks bloomed, firecrackers popped, full of festive cheer. Next door, the family was joyous, laughing heartily, so lively. Only I, floating alone in the air, was dead and no one knew. I’m sorry. In my heart, I whispered to the me who, three years ago, first walked into this house, looked up at the crystal chandelier, and thought I had finally found a home. See? Pearl is the best, obedient daughter. And I, even being biological. In their hearts, I was just a stranger with the title of “true daughter.” The next morning, Dad walked through the door, looking travel-worn. He spent years developing overseas business, only returning for holidays. In his hands, he carried two gift boxes, one large and one small. “Daddy!” Pearl, like a cheerful butterfly, flew into his arms. “What good things did you bring me again?” Dad smiled, ruffled her hair, and scanned the living room: “Where’s Daisy? How come she didn’t come out to get my slippers this time?” Mom, who was brewing tea, paused: “On New Year’s, she insists on competing with Pearl. I said a few words to her yesterday, and now she’s probably sulking in her room.” Dad frowned, but didn’t ask further. He pointed to the two gift boxes: “Brought New Year’s gifts for the children. The big one is Bulgari’s new limited edition jewelry set, which took a lot of connections to get. The small one… is a souvenir keychain I bought casually at the airport.” Million-dollar jewelry, and a keychain worth at most five dollars. The disparity was comically vast. “Daddy! This one must be for me, right?” Pearl pounced on the opulent large gift box. Dad gently chided: “Pearl, don’t be silly. You know, our family always emphasizes fairness.” Then, he solemnly took out the spinning wheel and placed it on the coffee table: “Still the old rule. Spin to red, take the large one. Spin to black, take the small one.” Mom shouted towards my room: “Doesn’t someone always complain we’re biased? If you don’t come spin the wheel, then I’m letting your sister spin it, okay? Don’t you dare cry later and say the whole family ganged up to bully you!” “I’ll spin it, I’ll spin it! The result is always the same anyway.” Pearl happily ran over. She flicked the pointer, and it began to spin. Dad watched with a smile, Mom with doting eyes, and my brothers with an air of certainty. Only I, floating in the air, teared up uncontrollably—I really was just as Mom said, naughty and stubborn, still foolishly dreaming of landing on red even after death. Unwilling, I leaned over the spinning wheel, trying to flick it, blowing with all my might. Perhaps heaven also pitied me, the pointer slowed down, trembling as it approached black… Then, it stopped. The living room was silent for a moment. I froze, then was overcome with wild joy, jumping up excitedly—Oh my god! Red was finally mine! But I was already dead, and such precious jewelry would be a waste to be buried with me. It was better for Pearl to wear it. I thought to myself. It seemed I really just had bad luck. Had I misunderstood them? They actually hadn’t been biased all this time. Mom suddenly grabbed Pearl’s wrist and examined it, then said in surprise: “No wonder. My sweet Pearl, where’s the magnet on your bracelet? It’s gone?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. A magnet? So, Pearl’s bracelet… had a magnet hidden inside? Three whole years, thousands of blacks. I had knelt countless times, praying, secretly practicing in the dead of night, thinking it was my lowly fate, that I was despised by the gods, that I didn’t deserve a shred of special favor… “…I don’t know.” Pearl pouted, looking aggrieved. “Daddy, Sister isn’t here anyway. Can… can this time not count?” Dad’s face showed some difficulty. Just then, my brothers exchanged glances. My eldest brother immediately understood, walked over, and gave a gentle flick, and the pointer landed steadily in the red section. “See, it’s clearly red.” My eldest brother’s tone was flat. “Oh yeah!” Pearl cheered. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, big brother!” Dad nodded with a smile: “It seems the gods still favor our Pearl.” Mom also smiled: “Yes, Pearl always has good fortune.” The family was harmonious, as if that little “accident” had never happened. A profound sense of desolation and absurdity swallowed me. So in this family. Not only were the rules flexible, but even luck could be manual. After dinner, my third brother lost a game, and his punishment was to bring me food. He stood up, his face full of disgust, “I’m not going! It’s bad luck.” Pearl pouted playfully: “A bet is a bet, brother~” My second brother immediately frowned: “Go quickly and come back quickly. Would you really upset Pearl for that annoying person?” My third brother stood up irritably: “Tsk… This is so annoying.” Two minutes later, he threw a bowl of leftovers onto my bedside table: “Hey, stop pretending! That’s enough.” I lay motionless on the bed. He kicked the edge of the bed: “Daisy, I’m talking to you, are you deaf?” “Fine, you’ve got guts. Don’t eat, then. Starve to death.” He angrily poured the food into the trash can. “Brother! I’m not pretending! I’m really dead! Look at my face, look at my hand!” I floated in front of my third brother, waving my hands frantically, trying to catch his attention. My third brother seemed to sense something, his footsteps faltering. His gaze fell on my pale face and purplish lips. In that instant, my heart leaped into my throat. Was he going to discover it? Was he finally… going to see me? The next second, he scoffed: “Heh, your acting is damn good. You’re even so committed to playing dead.” He turned and left, the door closing crisply. …

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A trip to the mountains with my husband and best friend. Then the blizzard hit. Now, we’re trapped. The three of us were snowed in. My best friend, Zoe, suggested she and my husband, Mark, go out to find supplies, leaving me to rest in our rented cabin with a raging fever. I don’t know how much time passed before a frantic pounding rattled the door. Mark’s voice, raw with panic and pain, tore through the wood. “Ava! Open the door, please! Zoe’s lost it! She went crazy over the supplies, she… she cut me!” Just then, a text from Zoe lit up my phone. “Ava, run! Don’t you dare open that door! Mark is trying to kill us! I’m hiding outside, don’t trust a word he says!” I stared at the two conflicting messages, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. The first time this happened, I chose to trust Zoe. I didn’t open the door. In the end, Zoe hacked Mark to death with an axe, then broke into the cabin and strangled the life out of me. The second time, I chose to trust Mark. The moment I unlatched the door, he burst in, his eyes wild with madness, and stabbed me until I bled out on the floor. No matter who I chose, the outcome was always the same: death. And I never understood why. Why did they have to kill me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very same day. This time, I would find the truth. 1 I snapped back to reality, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I snatched it back as if the metal were white-hot. The ghosts of my two previous deaths were still fresh, a chilling dread coiling in my gut. Hearing my silence, Mark began to hammer on the door with more force. “Ava, hurry! You have to let me in before she gets back! If she finds us together, we’re both dead!” My phone buzzed again. It was Zoe, calling me. Her voice was a ragged whisper. “Ava! Don’t open that door! He’s lying! Think about it—Mark’s a gym rat. How could I possibly overpower him?” “Besides,” she continued, her logic sharp despite her panicked tone, “if I was the one who hurt him, wouldn’t I have gotten back here first? Why did he, the injured one, beat me to the cabin?” From outside, Mark must have heard her voice. His own tone shifted, laced with suspicion. “Ava, who are you talking to?” “Don’t listen to her, Ava! Zoe planned this! She had a fruit knife hidden on her. She told me to scout ahead, then attacked me from behind when my back was turned! I tried to fight her off, but it was too late. My arm is bleeding, and in this blizzard… if I didn’t run, I’d have frozen to death out there with her! I broke free and ran straight back to you!” His performance was drenched in sincerity. I fought against the fog of my fever, my eyes landing on the heavy wooden cabinet in the corner. With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed it against the door, barricading us in. Mark heard the scraping sound and his voice grew frantic. “Ava, what are you doing? Don’t you believe me? Open the door! I’m losing a lot of blood. If I don’t get warm soon, I’m not going to make it! And if something happens to me, you’ll be all alone when she gets here!” When I still didn’t answer, his voice cracked with desperation. “Look! I’ll prove it! I really am hurt!” A pained grunt followed, and then his voice turned weak. “I’m sliding a piece of cloth under the door. It’s soaked in my blood.” “It’s so cold… I was afraid the wound would get infected, so I ripped off a piece of my shirt to wrap it. It’s the only reason I made it back.” I knelt down and picked up the bloody strip of fabric. The coppery tang of blood filled the air, a stark reminder of the danger I was in. He was telling the truth. He was hurt. Just then, another text from Zoe appeared. Ava, he’s tricking you! Look closely at that scrap of fabric. It’s not from his shirt! 2 I rubbed my throbbing temples. She was right. The color and texture of the cloth didn’t match the flannel shirt Mark was wearing. My fever was making it impossible to think clearly. I could only hope their words would reveal the truth. Zoe’s next text came through: Mark wants to kill us to buy himself more time until rescue arrives! He’s the one who tried to hoard the supplies, and now he wants to use us as an emergency food source! A picture followed the text. In it, Zoe’s face was deathly pale. A long, gruesome gash ran across her stomach, the ripped fabric of her parka visible beside it. I didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t say anything before. This is what he did to me. I was lucky I reacted fast enough to get away. If I hadn’t, I’d be dead. A jolt went through me. She had been my friend for over a decade; my instinct was to worry. Are you okay? I typed back. I’ve patched it up. Don’t worry about me. Now do you believe me? I stared at the photo of the wound, my throat dry. “Send me a video,” I said out loud, as if she could hear me. A photo could be faked. After a moment of silence, a video file appeared. I played it. Zoe, looking exhausted, held up the camera and gave me a grim middle finger. The gash on her stomach was still weeping blood. It looked real. She was definitely hurt. But… I frowned, then carefully lowered myself to the floor, pressing my cheek against the cold wood to peek through the crack beneath the door. The moment I did, a single, bloodshot eye stared right back at me. A short, strangled scream escaped my lips before I clamped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry, Ava, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mark’s voice came, feigning concern. “You were so quiet, I was worried you’d passed out from the fever.” But the pounding on the door intensified, turning from desperate knocks into violent blows. I scrambled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs, my body slick with cold sweat. The look in Mark’s eye hadn’t been concern. It was the look of a man lost in the desert who’d just stumbled upon an oasis. It was pure, ravenous craving. We were in a tough spot, sure, but we weren’t desperate enough for… cannibalism, were we? What bothered me more was what I’d seen in that brief glimpse. There were indeed drops of blood staining the snow where he knelt. The cotton stuffing was spilling from a tear in his jacket. He hadn’t been lying about that. His voice turned into a pathetic plea. “Ava, please, let me in! I’m so cold… I think I’m getting hypothermia…” His words were faint, but I held my ground. “If you’re telling the truth,” I challenged, “then why isn’t Zoe back yet? It’s been ages.” Mark let out a series of weak coughs. “Did you forget? Zoe has a terrible sense of direction! Without me to guide her, she’s probably wandering in circles right now. If you don’t open this door, she’ll eventually find her way back. She has a weapon, and I’m too weak to fight. We’ll both be finished! I… I don’t have much strength left…” 3 I slapped my forehead, cursing the fever that was clouding my judgment. He was right. Zoe couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag. It’s why she’d insisted Mark go with her instead of them splitting up to search. Just then, a video call from Zoe came through. I hesitated for a second before answering. On the screen, her face was a ghostly white, her lips chapped and dry. Her voice was a hoarse, urgent whisper. “He’s lying! I know my sense of direction is crap, but the ground is covered in fresh snow! He ran off in a panic. All I have to do is follow his footprints! How could I possibly get lost?” “Ava, I’m begging you, don’t open that door! That bloody cloth he gave you? It’s from my jacket! I tore his when I was fighting him off. He’s the one who’s lost his mind, Ava. I don’t dare come back to the cabin. I found a small cave to hide in. I’m trying to call for help. Don’t let him in! Whatever you do, protect yourself!” “You have to wait for me!” She spoke with such intensity that her features seemed to strain with the effort. Her words sent a fresh wave of fear through me, and I backed away from the door, tears welling in my eyes. I grabbed a thick fireplace poker, the only weapon I could find. It wasn’t much, but it was something. My only real hope was that the old wooden door was strong enough to hold. Zoe’s face was ashen. “The knife is in his hand,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “He didn’t tell you that because he’s planning on using it the second you open the door.” When I didn’t respond, she quickly sent another video. This one showed Mark, a vicious sneer on his face, slamming his body against the door while clutching a small, gleaming knife. The sounds in the video perfectly matched the violent thuds coming from outside. My heart plummeted into my stomach. My head felt like it was about to split open. Mark, sensing my hesitation was gone, changed his tone again. It was now laced with a desperate, trembling sincerity. “Ava, don’t believe her! Please! Just open the door a crack. You’ll see.” After a moment’s thought, I cautiously slid the cabinet aside and opened the door just wide enough to peer through with one eye. Mark’s face was pale, his eyebrows frosted with ice. He held up his hands to show they were empty, even turning his pockets inside out. There was no knife. He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. He offered me a weak, painful smile. “Ava, I’m sending you a video. If you still don’t believe me after this, then… then I guess we’re all going to die here.” A video appeared on my phone. The footage was shaky, clearly filmed by someone terrified. It showed Zoe, a wild look in her eyes, holding a bag of supplies in one hand and a small knife in the other. “See?” Mark whispered from outside. “I risked my life to get proof. I knew you two were close. I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.” On my other phone, Zoe’s voice rose in panic. “No! Don’t listen to him!” “Ava, look at his throat! Is he swallowing over and over again?” “Mark learned some sideshow tricks when he was younger. That knife isn’t big. He’s hiding it in his throat!” My face paled. Every second I wasted was a second closer to disaster. Forcing myself to stay calm, I peered through the crack again. “Open your mouth,” I demanded. Mark let out a bitter laugh, already slumping against the doorframe. From the phone, Zoe screamed, “Ava! Barricade the door! Now!” Her terror was contagious. I slammed the door shut and shoved the cabinet back into place. At that exact moment, a blood-curdling scream erupted from Zoe’s end of the line, and the call abruptly cut out. Simultaneously, a heart-wrenching cry of anguish came from Mark outside the door. “She’s here!” he yelled. “Zoe found me!” A blurry photo hit my screen, clearly taken in a panic. A woman, her face a mask of rage, was charging at him with an axe. It was blurry, but I could still make out her features. It was Zoe. Mark hammered on the door, his fear palpable. When I still didn’t move, his voice broke into a bitter laugh. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to open it. I’m done for anyway. I’m going to charge her, try to buy you some time. When you see an opening, you run!” A guttural roar followed, then the sounds of a struggle—heavy footsteps in the snow, grunts of effort, the clash of something heavy. Tears streamed down my face. I thought of all the happy times we’d shared, unable to comprehend how everything had gone so horribly wrong. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t face it. I gripped the poker, my hand trembling. I would open the door. To hell with it. We would all die together. In my panic, the phone slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor. The last video Zoe had sent me flickered on the screen. My eyes locked onto a corner of the frame, and suddenly, everything clicked. The memories of my past lives, the lingering doubts—they all crashed together in my mind. My pupils shrank to pinpricks. A chill colder than the blizzard outside washed over me. Of course. That’s what this was all about.

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Flying home for the holidays with my girlfriend to meet my parents. After we took off, I went to the restroom. When I came out, the woman in the seat next to me was gone. I called a flight attendant, but she insisted I had boarded the plane alone. I asked the other passengers. They all said the seat beside me had been empty the entire time. But I know, I’m absolutely certain, that I got on this plane with my girlfriend. She had just peeled an orange for me, telling me to eat it when I got back from the restroom. How could she have just vanished? I stared at the peeled orange on my tray table and demanded they search the cargo hold and the cockpit. My outburst forced the plane to make an emergency landing at the nearest airport. The airport police came aboard. They searched every inch of the plane but found no trace of my girlfriend. They couldn’t even find a record of her ever existing. They called my parents. My parents told them I’d always been single, that I’d never had a girlfriend. In the end, I was committed to a psychiatric hospital. The other patients beat me to death. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the plane, on the day I was supposed to take my girlfriend home to meet my parents. 1 “Alex, what are you spacing out for? It’s time to board. Let’s get to the gate.” My girlfriend, Sarah, waved our two boarding passes with a smile. Seeing her gentle face, a shiver ran down my spine. I was back. I had been reborn. I’m twenty-seven, and Sarah and I have been together for three years. I decided to finally take her home to meet my parents for the holidays. I never imagined that this one decision would lead to her vanishing without a trace, and to my own death. Thinking back on my previous life, my mind is still a complete fog. I can’t figure it out. How could a living, breathing person like Sarah just disappear mid-flight? Why did the flight attendant and all the passengers, who I know saw us board together, all sing the same tune, insisting they’d never seen her? And my parents… they’ve always doted on me. They knew we’d been dating for three years. Why would they lie and say I’d never had a girlfriend? “Alex, you look terrible. Are you feeling okay?” Sarah was looking at me, her brow furrowed with concern. A pang of grief hit me. For three years, she had been nothing but good to me. She knew I had a sensitive stomach, and though she’d never cooked before, she learned just for me, preparing three meals a day without fail. In over a thousand days together, we never once had a fight. That’s why her disappearance in my past life had driven me mad, why I had risked everything to find her. I still don’t know what really happened then, but I refuse to let history repeat itself. I looked at Sarah, my voice tight with a fear that was all too real. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t take this flight. We could change it, or take a train instead.” Sarah blinked, then her expression softened into a fond smile. “What are you talking about, silly?” “It’s the holiday travel rush. There aren’t any other tickets.” “We spent three days trying to get these. If we cancel them, we won’t be able to go home at all.” She was right. Changing our plans was impossible. But the thought of getting on this specific plane, knowing it led to one of us dead and the other missing, made my stomach churn with anxiety. What could I do? Was there no other way? Wait. In my last life, the reason I was sent to a psych ward was because no one except me could prove Sarah had ever been on that plane. So this time, all I need to do is create undeniable proof that she boarded with me. With that thought, I pulled out my phone. Arm in arm with Sarah, I started snapping pictures of us as we walked through the gate, down the jet bridge, and onto the plane. I documented everything until we were in our seats and the cabin doors were sealed. Then, I posted a photo dump to my social media feed with the caption: “Boarded and ready to go! Taking the girl home to meet the parents.” The post immediately started racking up likes and comments: “So sweet! Wishing you guys the best~” “Wow, meeting the parents! It’s getting serious! Congrats!” “Safe travels! Can’t wait for the wedding!” Just to be safe, I took one more photo of us holding our boarding passes together and sent it to my family’s group chat. “Mom, Dad, Sarah and I are on the plane. We’ll land in three hours.” My mom replied instantly: “We finally get to meet our future daughter-in-law! Your father and I have already bought all the groceries. We’re just waiting for you to get home!” 2 Seeing my mom’s reply and the dozens of well wishes on my post, I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. There. Now no one could possibly say I didn’t have a girlfriend. As the plane began to taxi, the flight attendant instructed everyone to switch their phones to airplane mode. Then, she started beverage service. When she got to our row, the flight attendant, Jessica, had the same mishap as last time. Another passenger bumped into her, causing her to spill a little orange juice on me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Jessica apologized, reaching for some napkins. But Sarah was quicker. She was already dabbing at the stain on my shirt with a tissue. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” she said gently. Jessica offered a polite smile of thanks. Then she looked at me and said with genuine warmth, “Your girlfriend is so sweet.” I stared at Jessica, really stared at her. In my last life, she had said those exact words. But after Sarah vanished, when I frantically asked if she’d seen my girlfriend, she had just looked at me with a blank expression. “Sir, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” “I’m quite sure I saw you board alone.” To prevent her from changing her story this time, I immediately put on a friendly smile. “Could I ask you for a small favor?” Jessica looked at me, puzzled. “What is it?” I held up my phone. “Today is the first time I’m taking my girlfriend home to meet my parents, and I want to document the trip. Would you mind taking a quick photo with us?” “Just as a memento.” Jessica nodded without hesitation. “Of course.” We snapped a quick selfie: me, Sarah, and Jessica the flight attendant. I saved the photo carefully, then turned my attention to the elderly man sitting across the aisle, Mr. Peters. He was in his late sixties, and his seat was the closest to ours. In my past life, another passenger had bumped into him while he was finding his seat, and Sarah had been the one to catch him and help him get settled. He had thanked her profusely at the time. That’s why he was the first person I had asked. But his response had been chillingly firm. He claimed the seat next to me had been empty the entire flight. To make sure he remembered Sarah this time, I gently tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir.” He looked up. “Yes?” I feigned nervousness and gestured toward Sarah. “I was just wondering… what do you think of my girlfriend? My parents haven’t met her yet, and I’m a little anxious.” Mr. Peters gave Sarah a thorough, kind look, then nodded in approval. “She’s a very beautiful young woman. A perfect match for you.” “Your parents will be thrilled.” His answer was a small relief. I thanked him and sank back into my seat, lost in thought. Both Jessica and Mr. Peters had reacted naturally. There was no hesitation in their words, no shiftiness in their eyes. So where did it all go wrong? Why, after interacting directly with Sarah, would they later deny ever having seen her? I decided to take it a step further. I pulled Sarah to her feet. Under her confused gaze, I raised my voice and addressed the entire cabin. “Excuse me, everyone. Sorry to bother you for just a moment.” “Today is a very important day for me. I’m taking my girlfriend home to meet my parents for the first time. We’ve been together for three years, and we’re planning to get engaged right after this trip.” “To be flying with all of you at thirty thousand feet on such a special occasion feels like a unique kind of fate. So, I was hoping you could all give us your blessing. Would that be okay?” A ripple of interest went through the cabin as all eyes turned to us. They didn’t disappoint. A warm, friendly round of applause filled the air. “Congratulations! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness!” “You two are so cute together! All the best!” “Can’t wait for the wedding!” Amid the chorus of good wishes, Sarah beamed, her cheeks flushed a bright red. After thanking everyone, she quickly pulled me back into my seat. “Alex, what has gotten into you today?” she whispered, embarrassed but pleased. “You’re being so public.” I squeezed her hand tightly, my voice deadly serious. “I’m just so afraid of losing you.” Now the entire plane was our witness. Nothing could possibly go wrong this time. 3 Hearing my words, Sarah gently stroked my hair. “Silly. I love you so much. How could I ever let you lose me?” “You’re just nervous about me meeting your parents, aren’t you?” To calm my nerves, she pulled an orange, my favorite fruit, from her carry-on bag. She peeled it carefully and held a segment to my lips. “Stop overthinking. Have something to eat. We still have over an hour to go.” I looked at the piece of orange she offered, and my blood ran cold. This was the exact moment. In my last life, I felt the urge to use the restroom right then. When I came back, she was gone. Only the peeled orange remained. I felt the same urge now, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave my seat. I ate the orange slice, my grip on her hand tightening. “From this moment on, you are not to leave my sight for a single second.” Sarah gave a helpless smile. “Okay, okay. I won’t move an inch.” Just as she said that, the plane gave a violent lurch. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some turbulence. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened and hold on to your armrests.” As the announcement played, the shaking grew worse. The cabin lights flickered erratically, then went out completely, plunging us into absolute darkness. Everyone gripped their armrests, frozen in place. Two seconds later, the lights flickered back on. The plane stabilized. Still shaken, my first instinct was to grab the arm next to me. But my hand met nothing but air. I whipped my head to the side. Sarah’s seat was empty. The orange was still on the tray table. But Sarah was gone. She was just holding my hand a second ago! How could she have disappeared in the blink of an eye? A suffocating wave of panic washed over me. I tore off my seatbelt and jumped to my feet, my eyes darting wildly around the cabin. I checked the aisles, the restrooms, even under the seats. Nothing. She was nowhere. Sarah had vanished again. “Flight attendant! Flight attendant!” I yelled, my voice cracking. Jessica rushed over. “Sir, what’s wrong?” I pointed a trembling finger at the empty seat. “My girlfriend! She’s gone!” “She was here during the turbulence, but when the lights went out, she disappeared!” Jessica’s brow furrowed. She glanced at the empty seat, her expression one of pure confusion. “Sir, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” “We only saw you board the plane. We didn’t see a girlfriend with you.” There it was again. That same blank, bewildered look. Those same chillingly familiar words. My heart hammered against my ribs. I fumbled for my phone, scrolling frantically through my photo album. “How could you not have seen her?” I shouted. “You just took a picture with us…” My voice died in my throat. I froze. The photo of the three of us—me, Sarah, and Jessica—was gone. My social media post with all our pictures, my message to the family group chat… everything had vanished without a trace. What was happening? “Sir, I don’t know what photo you’re talking about, but I truly have never seen the girlfriend you describe.” “We are currently in flight. Please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt.” I ignored her and turned to Mr. Peters. “Sir, you saw her, didn’t you? You just saw my girlfriend!” “You even said she was beautiful and that my parents would love her.” Mr. Peters looked up at me, completely baffled. “Young man, what are you talking about?” “When did I say anything about your girlfriend? I’ve never even seen her.” “From the moment we boarded until now, I’ve only seen you sitting there by yourself. This seat next to you has been empty the whole time!” His tone was so certain, so matter-of-fact, as if he was stating the most obvious truth in the world. But that only made my fear spike. “That’s impossible!” “You just complimented her a few minutes ago! She’s been with me this whole time! You had to have seen her!” My outburst drew strange looks from the other passengers. “Hey, buddy, I remember you getting on alone, too.” “The seat next to you has been empty the whole flight. What girlfriend are you talking about?” “Are you okay? Maybe the turbulence scared you, and you’re… confused or something?” I looked at the sea of questioning faces, my mind reeling. “But you all just applauded for us! You wished us a lifetime of happiness! You congratulated us!” “Have you all forgotten?!” A wave of confused murmurs and shaking heads swept through the cabin. “Applause? For what?” “It’s been quiet this whole flight. No one was congratulating anyone.” “Hey kid, you don’t look so good. Maybe you should sit down and rest.” They spoke one after another, their expressions open, their gazes clear. It was as if the moment of shared celebration had never happened. 4 But how could that be? I remembered it all so clearly. The events, the images, they were burned into my mind. There was no mistake. How could a living person just vanish at thirty thousand feet? Why was everyone denying they had ever seen her? And why had all the photos on my phone disappeared? “Sarah, where are you?!” I was on the verge of a complete breakdown, screaming her name into the void. Jessica and the other flight attendants closed in, trying to calm me down. “Sir, your behavior is disturbing the other passengers. Please return to your seat and remain quiet.” I shook my head wildly. “No! My girlfriend is missing! I have to find her!” My continued shouting forced the pilot to divert the flight. We made an emergency landing at the nearest airport. The moment the cabin door opened, several airport police officers boarded the plane. Jessica immediately pointed me out to the lead officer, a stern-looking man named Detective Russo. “It’s him. He boarded alone but insists his girlfriend disappeared from the plane. He refuses to listen to reason and has been causing a disturbance.” Desperate to avoid being sent back to the psych ward, I forced myself to speak calmly. “Officer, I’m not causing trouble. I’m looking for my girlfriend, Sarah. She was on this plane with me, and now she’s gone.” “She has to be here somewhere. Please, I’m begging you, help me find her.” My pleas must have seemed genuine enough, because Detective Russo eventually agreed to search the plane. They were meticulous, but in the end, they found nothing. Detective Russo looked me over, his expression grim. “We’ve searched the aircraft from top to bottom, even checked every passenger’s luggage. There is no sign of the woman you described.” “A person can’t just vanish from a plane, son. Are you absolutely certain she boarded with you?” Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. “I’m certain.” “I took pictures of the entire boarding process and posted them online! I sent a photo to my family! I know the posts are gone now, but my parents and my friends, they all saw them!” My conviction seemed to sway him. Detective Russo took down my parents’ number and made the call right there. But when he asked my mother if she had seen the photo I sent to the group chat, her voice came through the speaker, laced with confusion. “What photo? I didn’t see any photo.” “And my son has always been single. He’s never had a girlfriend.” My world shattered. I grabbed the phone, my voice trembling with disbelief. “Mom, what are you talking about? You knew I was bringing Sarah home! You’ve known about her for three years!” There was a two-second pause, then my mom’s voice, even more bewildered than before. “Alex, what on earth are you saying? Your father and I have been nagging you for years to find a girlfriend, and you always said you weren’t interested in dating.” “You’ve been single all this time. How could you possibly have a girlfriend of three years?” What was happening? Why was my mom denying it all, just like last time? But I had my friends. My social media post. They could prove it. “My friends can vouch for me!” I said desperately to Detective Russo. “I posted about it! They all knew I was bringing my girlfriend home to meet my parents!” Detective Russo, patient but skeptical, contacted the friends whose names I gave him, the same friends who had commented on my post. Their responses were identical. “A social media post? I didn’t see anything.” “Alex? He’s famously single in our friend group. There’s no way he has a girlfriend.” “I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s never mentioned a girlfriend, let alone posted about one online. That’s impossible.” No matter who Detective Russo called, the answer was the same. No one had seen my post. And everyone was certain I didn’t have a girlfriend. But I saw their comments. I saw their blessings under my photos! What in God’s name was going on? As I stood there, utterly lost, the other passengers began to complain. “See? The guy’s got issues. He imagined a non-existent girlfriend and caused all this trouble.” “Yeah, even his own parents and friends say he’s single. How can he stand there and keep looking for someone who isn’t real?” “What a waste of time. I’m trying to get home for the holidays, and we’re stuck here because of some psycho.” “Just take him to a mental hospital already and let us get on with our lives.” The cabin was filled with angry murmurs. Detective Russo shook his head wearily and gave the order. “Take him to the hospital for an evaluation.”

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Before my father died, he arranged a marriage for me. The groom-to-be was Adrian Blackwood, the most untouchable tycoon in the city. Before I married him, I set three rules for myself: One: No emotions, only dividends. Two: He could do his thing, and I would do mine. Three: If his one true love ever showed up, I would step aside immediately—for double the alimony. Adrian was perfectly satisfied with my pragmatism. Until the day a seventeen-year-old boy with a striking resemblance to him knocked on our villa door and calmly announced, “Ma’am, I’m Adrian Blackwood’s son. He’s been raising me in secret.” 1 I froze for a solid two seconds. My first thought was, Adrian is better at keeping secrets than I thought. My second thought was to mentally review our prenuptial agreement. What was rule number three again? Oh, right. If his one true love ever shows up, I step aside for double the alimony. I immediately stepped aside, my tone all business. “Come in. He’s not home from work yet. Have a seat. What would you like to drink?” The boy was clearly not expecting this reaction. He hesitated. “You’re… not angry?” Angry? What was there to be angry about? I had been practically praying for Adrian to have an affair. Then he could throw a few million in alimony my way, and I could finally start my life as a wealthy divorcée. I watched him change his shoes. At seventeen, he already had the frame of an adult. His features were Adrian’s, but his aura was much cleaner, less severe. “What’s your name?” “Cole.” I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to him. “Cole,” I said, my voice reassuring, “your father and I have a contract marriage. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. I have no right to be angry about his private life.” The boy clutched the water bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He didn’t say anything. I sat down on the armchair across from him, the coffee table a safe distance between us. The resemblance was uncanny. It took me back three years, to my father on his deathbed, gripping Adrian’s hand and entrusting me to him. The Blackwood family owed my father a life, and Adrian repaid that debt with this marriage. The night before we registered our marriage, he handed me a prenup. I skimmed it, then held up three fingers. “I’d like to add three clauses.” “One: No emotions, only dividends.” “Two: You do your thing, I’ll do mine.” “Three: The day your true love comes knocking, I’ll step aside immediately for double the alimony.” He signed it without a moment’s hesitation. “Done.” We never spoke a single word of love. After the wedding, we lived in separate rooms, ate our meals separately. He was out of the country twenty days a month, and in the remaining ten, we saw each other less than he saw his secretary. Three years ago, at the courthouse, he walked in ahead of me, signed the papers, and got the stamp. He never once looked back. It didn’t feel like a wedding. It felt like the closing of a business deal. 2 Adrian came home while I was curled up on the sofa watching a reality show. His footsteps paused beside the couch. I turned the volume up a notch and kept watching. He didn’t go upstairs. I glanced over. He was just standing there, his gaze heavy on me. “Who did you see today?” I paused the TV and sat up straight. “Mr. Blackwood, your sources are impressive. A rather handsome young man came by. Said he was your son. You’ve done a remarkable job keeping him a secret.” The air went still. His face was a blank mask. But he didn’t deny it. “I’ll handle this.” I nodded and stood up. As I passed him, I hesitated. “Right. If you need me to cooperate with the divorce proceedings, just let me know.” I couldn’t help myself. I had to add, “You do remember the clause about double the alimony, don’t you?” He looked down at me, his eyes dark and intense. I waited a few seconds, the atmosphere growing stranger by the moment, then turned and fled upstairs. I leaned against the closed door, staring up at the ceiling light. All this time, while he was supposedly busy with business trips, I thought our marriage was a blank slate. Turns out, he already had a true love and an heir stashed away somewhere. I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. The initial transfer he’d made before our marriage was sitting right there in my account details. Ten million. Double that would be twenty million. He waited until his son was seventeen to reveal him. That had to be some form of fraud, right? So, asking for an extra five million wouldn’t be unreasonable, would it? 3 At one-thirty in the morning, I was still tossing and turning. After much hesitation, I opened my contacts and found the name “Mr. Anderson.” He was the lawyer I’d added three years ago when we signed the prenup. His profile picture was a golden retriever, and his posts were only visible for three days. I opened our chat. Type. Delete. Type. Delete. Finally, I sent a single message: [Mr. Anderson, I have a question. If you’re busy, feel free to ignore this.] He replied instantly: [Go ahead.] Quite the dedicated professional. I chose my words carefully. [Let’s say, hypothetically, I have a friend whose husband had a child before they got married and never told her.] [Mm-hmm.] [That would be considered concealment of a major fact, right? The verbal agreement for double alimony in case of an affair—could that apply here?] [This friend of yours, what were the specific terms of her agreement?] I stared at the screen. I couldn’t say it was me. I couldn’t be too specific. The name “Mrs. Blackwood” whispered in the city’s legal circles would be enough to socially kill me ten times over. I typed: [My friend didn’t have a written prenup. Her husband verbally promised to leave with nothing if he cheated.] Even as I sent it, I knew it sounded fake. The “typing…” indicator appeared and stayed for a long time. [Your friend is quite… trusting.] I was speechless. [Mr. Anderson, the point isn’t her trust issues.] [The point is what she can get now.] My fingers hovered over the screen. Twenty million… twenty-five would be even better. Adrian’s handsome face couldn’t pay the bills, but money could. [Alimony. Preferably double.] [Is there any proof that the husband acknowledged the child?] I thought of Cole’s face. I thought of Adrian saying, “His name is Cole. I’ll handle this.” He hadn’t denied it. Did that count as an admission? I typed: [She said her husband didn’t deny it. Does that count?] [A verbal admission counts, but it’s better to have a recording, chat logs, or a witness.] [A witness… do I count?] I dropped my phone onto the bed. Five seconds later, the screen lit up again. Mr. Anderson: [Mrs. Blackwood, I can’t take on a case involving the Blackwood family, but I can recommend a colleague who specializes in family law.] … I had to laugh at my own stupidity. 4 While I was busy contacting lawyers and looking into divorce proceedings over the next couple of days, Cole showed up again. I was decanting a bottle of red wine at the dining table when I heard a noise from the entryway. Adrian walked in first, with the boy half a step behind him. Adrian pulled out a chair. “Cole is transferring to a school here. He’ll be staying with us until the paperwork is finalized.” Well, well. Bringing the illegitimate son home for all to see. The true love can’t be far behind, demanding her rightful place, can she? Divorce. It was a must. As I mentally calculated the child support, I called out to the kitchen, “Anna, two extra dishes tonight, please.” A six-course meal with soup was served. I placed a piece of sweet and sour pork into the twenty-five-million-dollar—I mean, Cole’s—bowl. “Have you found a school yet?” I asked considerately. He looked down. “Yes.” “What grade?” “Eleventh.” “Are you keeping up with your studies?” His chopsticks paused. “It’s fine.” I added some vegetables to his bowl. “It’s getting cold. There are extra blankets in the guest room closet.” He didn’t respond or look up, his entire focus on the rice in his bowl. Adrian was silent too. A pair of clams, father and son. After dinner, as the dishes were being cleared, I went to the kitchen for some fruit. I sliced an orange with practiced precision, arranging the segments symmetrically on a plate. Footsteps stopped behind me. “Aren’t you going to ask about my situation? Don’t you care that he’s been fooling around outside?” Cole’s voice was a little hoarse. I arranged the eight orange slices on a white porcelain plate. “That’s between you two. I’m only here to cooperate with your father’s arrangements.” “…You really don’t care at all?” I turned off the tap and dried my hands on a towel, my smile flawless. “Kid, we have a contract marriage.” I hung the towel back on the rack, my smile enigmatic. “Caring too much would be a breach of contract.” He didn’t say anything else, his eyes fixed on my face as if searching for something. But as I turned to leave with the fruit platter, I saw Adrian standing in the kitchen doorway. 5 After that day, Adrian started coming home less and less. When the housekeeper asked how many place settings to prepare, I told her two. With the master of the house absent, no one found it odd that the wife and the illegitimate son were coexisting peacefully. On Friday afternoon, a file arrived from the lawyer I’d contacted, Ms. Chen. [Mrs. Blackwood, here is the initial draft of the evidence list for the divorce proceedings. Please review it.] I opened it. Clause seven: [The husband concealed the existence of a child born out of wedlock, constituting a major fault.] “Ma’am.” At the sound of Cole’s voice, I discreetly closed the file. He was standing at the entrance to the patio, his eyes fixed on me. “What were you looking at?” I put my phone face down. “Work stuff.” He didn’t move. “You’re lying. Adrian has been supporting you ever since you got married. You’ve never had a job. Ma’am, are you… are you divorcing him because of me? You can’t divorce him.” “Why not?” I asked. His back was to me, his voice low. “Because…” This little brat! Leaving me hanging! He turned and walked away without finishing his sentence. The next day, he was up early. I sat on the sofa, flipping through my notes. He watched me. I went to get a glass of water. He followed me to the kitchen doorway. I came back. He sat back down. Finally, I snapped my laptop shut. “Cole, is there something wrong with you?” He didn’t deny it, just repeated yesterday’s line: “You can’t divorce him.” I stared at him. “Isn’t that the whole point of you showing up? To let me know he cheated and to ruin our marriage?” He pursed his lips. “Well, yes, but…” “Then why are you trying to stop me?” He looked down, silent again. I got up and went into the study, shutting the door with a firm click, leaving him outside. Five minutes later, a piece of paper was slipped under the door. It was folded in half, torn from a notebook. The handwriting was heavy, piercing the paper in two places. 6 [I am not his son. You don’t need to divorce him.] [If you stay with the Blackwoods, at least you’ll have money. My mother was the same way. She refused to go back to them, and later, when she got sick, there was no money for treatment. I just don’t like Adrian, but I don’t want to hurt you.] I stood there for a long time, clutching the piece of paper. I opened the door. He was still standing in the hallway. “Your mother…” “She thought she could raise me without a title, without money, without disturbing his marriage. Later, when she got sick and had no money for treatment, she said it wasn’t anyone’s fault.” When Adrian came home, I called out to him. “Adrian.” He stopped. “That boy’s mother.” There was no moon outside. He stood in the sliver of light from the doorway, his silhouette blurred. “What really happened?” “Cole is my father’s son. My father only found out about him shortly before he died, so there was nothing left for him in the will. But his mother contacted mine before she passed. She said my father didn’t know, and she didn’t plan on telling him. She was just afraid she wouldn’t make it and the boy would be left alone.” I was taken aback. Adrian’s father had died in a car accident three years ago. His voice was low and flat. “His mother was my father’s mistress. The Blackwood family wouldn’t acknowledge her.” I leaned against the headboard. “So all these years…” “I tried to give them money, but his mother refused it. It wasn’t until she got very sick that she finally accepted.” He paused. “Before she died, she had someone bring the boy to me, with a message.” “What was the message?” He looked up, his gaze meeting mine across the half-open door. “Don’t let the boy go back to the Blackwood family.” 7 I didn’t say anything. Although Adrian rarely took me to the Blackwood estate, I knew it was a place that chewed people up and spat them out. He stood in the shadows, his expression unreadable. “My mother tried to help them once. But…” “When my grandmother found out, she used some flimsy excuse to make my mother kneel in front of everyone at a banquet. She knelt for a whole night. My father was at the card table that night. He never even glanced her way.” Adrian’s mother and my mother had been good friends. I vaguely remembered my parents discussing it at the dinner table when I was a child, sighing over her fate. Suddenly, I understood why Adrian had done what he did. He didn’t want Cole to suffer the same way he had. He lowered his eyes. “Cole doesn’t know any of this. He only knows that I’m his half-brother. He thinks I’m hiding him away, afraid he’ll come back and fight for the inheritance.” My mouth fell open. Blinded by the prospect of a massive alimony payment, I had overlooked a crucial detail. Adrian was twenty-seven. Cole was seventeen. If Cole were Adrian’s son, Adrian would have had to have a child at the age of ten. “So… Cole isn’t your son.” He looked at me. It wasn’t an accusation, just a calm, steady gaze. But there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You really thought he was my son?” I didn’t deny it. He was silent for a couple of seconds, then sighed. “Catherine, what goes on in that head of yours?” I closed my eyes, mourning my lost twenty-five million. “Really… just incredible.” That night, after we had both retreated to our separate rooms, I opened my phone. The chat with Ms. Chen was still open to her last message: [Mrs. Blackwood, the lawsuit materials can be submitted next week.] I typed four words. [Let’s put it on hold.] After sending the message, I buried my face in my pillow. Twenty-five million, gone. I could cry.

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1 For five years, Gideon Blackwood had never once truly looked at me. His heart belonged to a ghost. His lost love, Seraphina Monroe. It wasn’t until today, when I snatched the documents he’d been hiding, that the full truth crashed down on me. It was a Deed of Gift. Three properties in his name, along with forty percent of his shares in Blackwood Enterprises, were all being gifted, free and clear, to Felicity Monroe. Felicity. The younger sister of his dead first love. Tucked into the last page was another form. A bone marrow donation consent form. The recipient: Felicity Monroe. All it needed was my signature. I slapped the papers down in front of him. “What the hell is this, Gideon?” He didn’t even look up, just reached out and smoothly pulled the documents from under my hand. “Aurora, this is what we owe Seraphina. If you hadn’t insisted on marrying me back then, she would never have died.” “Now Felicity has leukemia,” he continued, his voice devoid of emotion. “We have to save her.” Five years. For five long years, I’d been his personal ATM, all to soothe his guilt over a dead woman. And now? Now he wanted to force me to donate my bone marrow. If Gideon Blackwood had no room in his heart for me or our daughter, then he could play the tragic, romantic hero all by himself. … When I pushed open the study door, Gideon was in the middle of locking a thick file into his safe. I moved like a flash, blocking the heavy door with my body and yanking the file from his grasp. The black ink on the white paper was brutally clear. Thirty percent of his shares in the Blackwood Corporation, three sprawling penthouse apartments overlooking the bay—all gifted unconditionally to Felicity Monroe. And tucked beneath it all was the bone marrow consent form, waiting for my signature. I slammed the file onto the polished mahogany desk, my eyes locking onto his. “Have you lost your goddamn mind, Gideon? Or did you sell your soul?” I demanded, my voice dangerously low. “It’s one thing to pour our marital assets into that bottomless pit, but now you want to drain my marrow? By what right?” Gideon’s brow furrowed, his eyes clouded with impatience. “Aurora, can you stop being so selfish for once?” “Seraphina was consumed by fire trying to save me. There wasn’t even a body to bury,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar, sanctimonious grief. “Felicity is her only sister, and now she has leukemia. If we don’t save her, who will? These assets are just material things. They’re worth it if they can save Felicity’s life.” A laugh, sharp and ugly, tore from my throat. “You’re the one who owes Seraphina a life. You go pay it back,” I spat. “You want to donate marrow? Go get typed yourself. Don’t you dare use my body to play the saint.” My words finally lit his fuse. He shot to his feet. “I’m not a match! You are. It’s the only one that’s viable. That has to mean something. It’s fate.” “You’re the lady of the Blackwood estate. You’ve enjoyed years of luxury. What’s a little blood?” he sneered. “Besides, if you hadn’t forced your way into this marriage, Seraphina would never have left town in despair. She never would have been in that fire. You’re atoning for your sins, Aurora.” My hand moved before I could think. The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the silent study. “If you’re going to act like a rabid dog, Gideon, go get a shot. Don’t stand here barking at me,” I said, my hand stinging. “You’re the one who knelt in the rain, begging me to marry you, begging for my family’s capital to save your company from bankruptcy. Now that you’re safe, you want to rewrite history and play the heartbroken lover?” He clutched his cheek, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me.” “And I’ll do it again to knock some sense into your thick skull.” I couldn’t stand the sight of his disgusting face a moment longer. I turned and stalked out, heading for the stairs. But as I reached the landing, our daughter Rosie’s heart-wrenching sobs drifted up from below. My heart seized. I flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The living room was a disaster. Felicity was sitting on the ruined sofa, a twisted expression on her scarred face. In her hand, she held a decorative, glass-handled feather duster. Rosie was huddled in a corner, trembling, a long, bloody gash marking her small arm. The blood rushed to my head in a blinding wave of fury. “Felicity, you are going to die today.” I lunged, ripping the duster from her hand and bringing it down hard across her back. Felicity let out a shriek like a butchered hog, tumbling onto the rug. “Aurora! What are you doing? I was just teaching Rosie a lesson!” “She deliberately broke the crystal glass my sister gave me! I was just helping you discipline her, what’s wrong with that?” she wailed, her face a mask of tear-streaked innocence, as if she were the one who’d been wronged. I swept Rosie into my arms, my heart shattering as I looked at her tear-stained face. “Mommy,” Rosie sobbed, her little arms clinging to my neck. “I didn’t touch her glass. She dropped it herself. And she pinched me.” I turned, my gaze a weapon aimed at Felicity. “What gives you the right to lay a hand on my daughter? Who do you think you are?” “I swear, I’m going to peel the skin from your bones today.” I raised the duster to strike again. Suddenly, a powerful force shoved me from behind. Gideon had stormed down and pushed me away. “Aurora, are you insane?” he roared. “Felicity is sick! How could you hit her so hard?” He knelt, gathering Felicity into his arms with painstaking care, then glared at me as if I were his mortal enemy. I steadied myself, holding Rosie tight, and met his furious gaze without flinching. “Are you blind, Gideon? Did you not see the blood on our daughter’s arm?” He didn’t even spare Rosie a glance, his attention focused on gently wiping away Felicity’s crocodile tears. “Kids get scrapes all the time. It’s normal. But Felicity is fragile. A blow like that could kill her.” His voice dropped to a menacing command. “Apologize to Felicity. Now.” Laughter bubbled up inside me, a hysterical, trembling sound. “You want me to apologize to her? The day I do that, Gideon, is the day I die.” I leveled a final, unwavering look at him. “From this day on, this house isn’t big enough for both of us. It’s her or me.” 2 Gideon’s face was a thundercloud, dark and menacing. “Aurora, stop being so dramatic.” “Felicity’s body can’t wait,” he said, his tone final. “At the charity gala next week, I’ll formally announce that I’m adopting her as my sister. At the same time, I’ll announce your marrow donation. Consider it a good deed. It will be good for your public image.” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “If you dare ruin that gala, don’t blame me for what comes next.” I looked at this man I had shared a bed with for five years and saw a complete stranger. “Who do you think you are, Gideon? God Almighty?” I shot back. “What you announce has nothing to do with me. I won’t sign the consent form. Let’s see which doctor dares to touch me then.” Nestled in Gideon’s arms, Felicity let out a series of weak coughs. “Gideon, please, don’t force her. Aurora already hates me.” “I won’t get the treatment,” she whimpered. “Just let me go. I can be with my sister in the afterlife. I’m just a burden here anyway.” Gideon’s arms tightened around her protectively. “Don’t say that. I will save you.” He turned his venomous gaze back to me. “Aurora, your family’s company is preparing to go public, isn’t it? A critical time.” “If the world finds out that the great heiress of the Croft family is so cold-hearted she’d watch someone die rather than get a simple marrow test… I wonder what the SEC would think of that.” “You can leave my family’s business out of this,” I said, my voice ice. I laid down the gauntlet. “You want to use public opinion to pressure me? Go ahead. Let’s see who ends up destroyed in the end.” Cradling Rosie, I went straight to the nursery on the second floor and locked the door behind me. After I soothed Rosie back to sleep, I pulled out my burner phone. Aurora Croft was no pushover. I had seen potential in Gideon, given him the resources and connections to climb to where he was today. If he was going to throw that all away, then I would be the one to drain him dry. I dialed the number for my private hacker, K. “K, I need you to trace the international transfers from an account.” For five years, Felicity had been wiring enormous sums of money overseas under various pretenses. She thought she was being clever, but I’d noticed long ago. I just hadn’t cared enough to investigate. Now, it seemed the destination of that money was about to become very interesting. Less than thirty minutes later, the files arrived in my encrypted inbox. I clicked them open, and the more I read, the more absurd it all became. All the funds were funneled into an Australian account under the name Vivienne. And this Vivienne’s spending habits were nothing short of decadent. One day it was limited-edition handbags, the next it was chartering yachts for wild parties. But the real prize was what K found next. He’d hacked into an international social media platform and unearthed Vivienne’s private account. It was a gallery of debauchery. Photo after photo of a woman in oversized sunglasses and a skimpy bikini, with a different blond muscle-boy on each arm. Even with half her face covered, I instantly recognized the distinctive beauty mark on her chin. This wasn’t some stranger named Vivienne. It was Seraphina Monroe. The very same Seraphina who had supposedly been burned to ashes in a tragic fire. I stared at the screen, a cold, sharp smile spreading across my lips. So much for the sainted woman who died in a blaze of glory. She and her sister had played Gideon for the fool, staging the perfect tragedy. They weren’t just after his money. They were after my life. “Having fun abroad, are we, Seraphina?” I murmured to the screen. “Since you’re not dead, allow me to prepare a special welcome-home gift for you.” The next morning, I showered, styled my hair, and applied a full face of flawless makeup. As I descended the stairs, I saw Gideon in the dining room, patiently feeding Felicity a bowl of expensive bird’s nest soup. His eyes turned cold as he saw me. “Have you come to your senses? If so, get to the hospital for your pre-op exam.” I walked to the dining table, poured myself a black coffee, and took a sip with unhurried grace. “Gideon,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “Let’s get a divorce.” 3 The spoon in Gideon’s hand paused mid-air. A cold sneer touched his lips. “Aurora, what game are you playing now?” he asked. “You threaten me with divorce every time we fight. You really think that old trick still works on me?” I took another sip of the bitter coffee, letting the taste flood my senses. “This isn’t a threat. My lawyer’s letter will be on your desk this afternoon.” I met his gaze. “You won’t get a single penny of my assets. And I’m getting full custody of Rosie.” He slammed the bowl down on the table, the soup splashing across the pristine tablecloth. “In your dreams!” “If you dare file for divorce now, I will ruin you,” he snarled. “You will donate that marrow, Felicity. You’ll do it whether you want to or not.” Felicity, on cue, began dabbing at her eyes. “Aurora, it’s all my fault. I’ll leave. Please, don’t fight because of me.” She made a show of trying to stand from her wheelchair, then her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap. Gideon rushed to her side, scooping her up with a look of pure fury directed at me. “Are you happy now?” “If anything happens to Felicity, I’ll hold you responsible.” I looked at the disgusting pair, a wave of nausea rolling through me. “Do whatever you want, Gideon. You’d better just pray your precious ‘sister’ lives to see the gala.” I walked out of that villa without a backward glance, got into my Porsche, and drove straight to the office. The first thing I did was assemble my legal and finance departments. We began a complete audit of all of Gideon’s projects and funds connected to Croft Industries. If we were making a clean break, it was going to be absolute. For the next few days, I didn’t return to that suffocating house. I worked from the shadows, orchestrating a little surprise for the Monroe sisters—a gift they would never forget. K sent another update. Felicity’s so-called leukemia diagnosis was a complete fabrication. The attending physician was an old admirer of Seraphina’s, bought and paid for with a hefty sum. And Felicity was already getting impatient to cash in on the Deed of Gift. She had secretly contacted underground lenders, planning to mortgage the properties and transfer the assets offshore. And Gideon, the brilliant fool, was completely oblivious. He was too busy posting his usual emo bullshit on social media, waxing poetic about the fragility of life and the weight of his responsibilities. I couldn’t help but sneer at his pathetic words. Soon, the day of the much-hyped “family recognition” charity gala arrived. To build momentum for Felicity, Gideon had invited every major socialite and media outlet in Crestwood. He was going to show the world what a deeply loyal and honorable man he was. And he was going to let the world pressure his cold-hearted wife into giving up her bone marrow. The day before the event, Gideon called me. His voice was hard, laced with an unquestionable command. “Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. The Grand Majestic Hotel. You will be there, dressed to the nines.” He added a final threat. “If you don’t show, I’m sending Rosie to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere.” My knuckles whitened around my phone. I forced down the rage, my voice emerging as smooth as glass. “Of course. I’ll be there on time.” Gideon seemed surprised by my easy compliance. He grunted and hung up. I stared at the dark screen of my phone, a chill smile playing on my lips. “Ready to face hell, Gideon?” “Oh, I’ll be there. And I’ll make sure that by the end of the night, none of you will ever be able to show your faces in this city again.” I dialed K and gave him his final instructions. All the pieces were in place. All I had to do was wait for the show to begin. 4 The grand ballroom of The Grand Majestic Hotel was dazzling. Gideon had booked the entire top floor, decorating it with an opulence that screamed new money. I made my entrance in a custom-tailored, wine-red haute couture gown, my hair swept up, my heels clicking purposefully on the marble floor. Every eye in the room turned to me. Whispers rippled through the crowd. “So that’s Mrs. Blackwood. I heard Gideon is giving away half his fortune to his ex-girlfriend’s sister tonight.” “And he’s forcing her to donate bone marrow, too. How tragic.” “I know, right? But she looks so powerful. It’s hard to believe she’s such a pushover at home.” I ignored their probing, pitying stares and walked directly to the main table. Gideon, looking smug in an expensive bespoke suit, was schmoozing with his guests. Felicity sat beside him in a specially designed wheelchair, dressed in a white tulle gown that made her look like a saintly, pure angel. If you ignored the sickly pallor she’d so carefully applied, she was the very picture of tragic beauty. His eyes flashed a warning as I approached. “Good, you have some sense. When you get on stage later, play along. Don’t embarrass me.” I shot him a look of pure ice and said nothing. Felicity, meanwhile, tugged timidly at the hem of my gown. “Aurora, thank you for coming. I promise I’ll repay your kindness for the rest of my life.” I snatched my dress away from her touch. “I wouldn’t be able to bear your ‘repayment’. Save it for when you’re in hell.” Felicity’s face went white, her eyes instantly welling with tears. Gideon immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her like a guard dog. “Aurora, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you have to cause a scene on such an important night?” “I’m not causing a scene. I’m just stating a fact.” I picked up a glass of champagne, swirling the golden liquid, my gaze as cold as a winter morning. “Gideon, I’m asking you one last time. Are you absolutely sure you want to transfer those shares to her?” He scoffed, his voice resolute. “I’ve already signed the papers. I’m announcing it tonight in front of everyone. You’d better not try any tricks, or I swear you’ll regret it.” “Good. That’s very good.” I nodded, then drained the champagne in one swallow. “Since you’re in such a hurry to greet your damnation, I’ll be happy to send you on your way.” Soon, the gala reached its main event. The host took the stage, recounting the touching, tragic love story of Gideon and Seraphina, painting Gideon as the most devoted, heartbroken man in history. Then, to a round of thunderous applause, Gideon pushed Felicity’s wheelchair onto the stage. He took the microphone, his gaze sweeping across the audience with manufactured emotion. “Thank you all for being here tonight.” “As many of you know, years ago, Seraphina gave her life to save mine. It’s a debt I can never truly repay.” “Now, her only sister, Felicity, is battling a terminal illness. As the man who loved Seraphina, it is my duty and my honor to care for her.” “Therefore, I have decided to gift thirty percent of my shares in the Blackwood Corporation to Felicity, unconditionally.” Gasps echoed through the ballroom. Thirty percent of the shares was a fortune in the billions. Gideon paused for effect, his eyes finding me in the crowd. “And I must also thank my wife, Aurora.” “She has graciously agreed to donate her bone marrow to Felicity, to use her love to give Felicity a new lease on life.” The spotlight swung, pinning me in its bright glare. The entire room was looking at me with a mixture of awe and pity. On stage, Gideon extended a hand toward me, beckoning me to join him. “Aurora, come up. Let everyone witness your selfless generosity.” Slowly, I set down my glass. Under the watchful eyes of hundreds, I walked, step by deliberate step, onto the stage. Gideon thought I had surrendered. A triumphant smirk spread across his face. But the moment I took the microphone from his hand, that smile froze solid. I scanned the faces of the guests below, my voice ringing out, crisp and clear. “Good evening, everyone.” “The story Mr. Blackwood just told was indeed very moving.” “However, it seems he forgot to mention one, even more moving, detail.” I turned to Gideon, my eyes like daggers. “The truth is, I never agreed to donate any bone marrow.” “And what’s more, the lovely Miss Felicity Monroe here… doesn’t have leukemia at all.”

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When Rosemary, who had a live streaming session scheduled, partied until 5 AM and submitted her third no-reason leave request of the week, I pressed the reject button without hesitation. Soon after, Rosemary dragged me online and incited a wave of cyberbullying. Netizens were attacking me, calling me a wage-slave simp for the capitalist overlords. Those seemingly kind colleagues also huddled together, whispering behind my back that I was annoying and hateful—the old witch who wouldn’t approve leave requests. Fine, everyone wants time off, right? Approved! I’ll approve every single leave request! But when I actually started approving all leave requests unconditionally, the company went bankrupt… When I saw Rosemary’s third no-reason leave request of the week, submitted at 5 AM, I pressed the reject button. I worked as an HR administrator at an MCN company, managing the streamers’ attendance and payroll. I was usually pretty easygoing. When colleagues had major or minor issues—headaches, fever, whatever—I basically never nitpicked about attendance. But this time, seeing Rosemary’s leave request, I was genuinely angry. Just then, Tommy from operations knocked on my office door. “Hazel, Rosemary has a brand live stream at 10 AM today, but she still hasn’t come to the office and I can’t reach her. Can you help me find out where she is?” Hearing Tommy’s words made my anger spike even higher. Without a word, right in front of Tommy, I dialed Rosemary’s number. The phone rang in the quiet office for a full two minutes, but no one answered. Not wanting to lose my temper in front of a colleague, I suppressed my anger and offered Tommy a solution. “She submitted a leave request this morning. I can’t reach her right now either. Go talk to the brand side and see if Hugo or Daisy are free to fill in as backup.” “Ah, it’s already been four days this week, and Rosemary’s only done one stream. How are we supposed to work like this…” Listening to Tommy’s complaints, I felt helpless too. “I’ll try contacting her again. The priority right now is implementing the backup plan—we absolutely cannot have any more slip-ups with this afternoon’s stream.” “Alright, Hazel. I’ll go prepare then.” Tommy closed the door and left. I dialed Rosemary’s number again. Once, twice, three times. By the eighth call, someone finally answered. “Hello? Who is this? It’s so early in the morning—can’t a person get some sleep!” Rosemary’s irritated voice came through, laced with the slurred tone of someone who’d been drinking all night and hadn’t sobered up yet. Combined with her 5 AM leave request, anyone could figure out she’d been partying and drinking all night and had probably just gotten home to sleep! “You have a brand live stream at 10 AM this morning. Get to the office now!” I suppressed my anger, trying to remind Rosemary of the work schedule arranged well in advance. But she actually said— “Do I look like I need the money from one stream? Stop looking for trouble!” Then, right before my widening eyes, she hung up.

When I called back, the phone was off—no one answered. I sat in my chair, staring at the rejected leave request on the work app interface, my head throbbing. I knew Rosemary came from a wealthy family. Maybe to her, a month’s base salary without streaming commissions was just pocket change. It probably couldn’t even cover the price of one of her designer bags. But still, this was a workplace. If everyone acted like her, taking three days off without reason during a five-day work week, how could the company possibly function! After rejecting the leave request, I marked Rosemary as absent without leave. Then I started dealing with the series of problems caused by her absence. Who would have thought that very afternoon, Rosemary stormed into the office. She burst through my office door and slammed her Hermès bag—the little house-shaped one I’d seen in magazines—onto my desk. “What’s the meaning of this, Hazel? Not approving my leave again and making things difficult for me? Marking me absent for no reason—what the hell are you trying to do!” I frowned, involuntarily covering my nose from the overwhelming smell of stale alcohol emanating from her. Then I opened the window for ventilation, turned on the air purifier, and pulled perfume from my drawer, spraying two pumps into the air. “What are you doing!” “Nothing much, just that the bad breath is pretty severe and the air smells terrible.” “You said I have bad breath! I…” Just as Rosemary was about to launch into a tirade, I cut her off. “This is your third no-reason leave request this week. If there were no issues, I wouldn’t say anything, but today there was a brand live stream that specifically requested you. Because you didn’t show up, the company had to substitute another streamer and pay hefty penalty fees. Just marking you absent and deducting $50 from your perfect attendance bonus—I think that’s already quite merciful.” “I just forgot! Why didn’t you remind me? If you’d reminded me in time, I wouldn’t have missed the stream, so this is all your fault!” Her self-righteous attitude made me laugh. “Am I your mother or your secretary? Are you paying my salary to remind you of everything? Those ten phone calls weren’t enough to wake you up?” “If you can do the job, do it. If not, submit your resignation now!” That evening when I got home, my phone pushed a “People You May Know” video recommendation. The video title was: “Leave Request Rejected and Marked Absent, Now I’m Stuck with Huge Penalty Fees.” And the person crying on camera was someone I knew all too well. It was Rosemary, who had just confronted me about being marked absent that afternoon. “Oh guys, you know I’m usually not in the best health…” “I really didn’t expect that when I’m not feeling well and want to take a day off, it would be rejected…” “HR marked me absent—that’s one thing, but she even made me pay hefty penalty fees and verbally abused me in the office…” “Luckily you know I have a habit of recording vlogs, so I happened to capture it all. See, guys, this is why work documentation is so important!” Then she played the “full confrontation” from my office that afternoon. Rosemary’s footage only showed me frowning and covering my nose, with subtitles reading “Workplace Bully Publicly Insults Employee.” She cut out all the dialogue where I reminded her about the live stream, leaving only the line “if you can’t do it, resign”on repeat. The sound of me pressing the perfume spray was amplified and labeled as “Deliberately Spraying Disinfectant to Insult Employee,” mixed with her tearful voice-over: “She called me stinking garbage…” The video quickly shot to the top of the local trending topics. Countless netizens passionately commented. 「A bloodsucking vampire in human form? So jealous seeing a female colleague with a Hermès bag that her cells are separating?」 「Suggest investigating this old witch’s employment history—definitely slept her way to the top」 「Already filed a real-name report with labor inspection, begging for the company address so I can send funeral wreaths」 「Feel so bad for Rosemary having to work with such a disgusting colleague!」 Watching the video play over and over, I was furious enough to laugh. First time learning that “work documentation” could be done this way.

The next morning, as soon as I arrived at the office, the boss called me into his office amid my colleagues’ strange looks. “Hazel, I saw the video Rosemary posted last night. The public opinion right now is really bad.” The boss looked troubled. I was an original employee he’d hired when he started the company, and I’d been with the company as it grew to its current size. Rosemary was currently the agency’s biggest streamer with the most followers and revenue. “It’s okay, Mr. Lee. I’m not…” I sympathized with the boss’s headache over the conflict between a veteran employee and his cash cow. I thought he was concerned about me as his long-time employee being wronged, but he cut me off mid-sentence. “Go apologize to Rosemary.” The boss stood up and patted my shoulder. “And don’t be so strict about attendance. It’s not like our company is about to go under and needs to dock employee wages over attendance. After you go back, adjust the attendance policy. Remember—prioritize employee care!” Back in my office, I clearly understood I was the only sacrificial pawn in this farce. After spacing out for a while, I stood up to get coffee from the break room. At the break room door, I clearly heard a discussion among three people inside. “Rosemary, you did the right thing! People who block leave requests like that deserve to be publicly criticized! Just because she didn’t approve my leave last time, my girlfriend fought with me and broke up!” That was Jerry from the team streaming group. But that time, there was an important work assignment and no one could be absent, which is why I didn’t approve the leave. Plus, during that period, Jerry had used up all his monthly time off trying to appease his long-distance girlfriend. “Right, Rosemary! I support you too! Once I requested sick leave and even brought hospital documents to get the leave verified, but she threw the documents in the trash and marked me absent! I’ve never seen anyone like that!” Another voice chimed in. This time it was Kiera from business development. But that time, she’d brought a badly Photoshopped fake hospital diagnosis for a perforated gastric ulcer, trying to fool me into approving sick leave. When she’d actually had surgery and been hospitalized before, not only did I approve her leave, but I also proactively offered to extend it a few days as employee care from the company. My hand froze mid-air, about to open the door. I suddenly felt that being conscientious and responsible about my work was such a thankless task. I opened my phone and sent a message to the headhunter who’d been trying to recruit me to a new startup. Then I opened my computer and started revising the new attendance policy. Since everyone wants time off so badly—fine, from now on I’ll approve all leave requests unconditionally.

“I’m here today to announce the new attendance policy we’ll be implementing starting next week.” At Friday afternoon’s summary meeting, I calmly walked up to the conference room podium and opened my prepared PowerPoint. I saw Rosemary below already had her phone out, either live streaming or recording video aimed at me. Jerry, Kiera, and other colleagues whose leave requests I’d previously rejected had excited gleams in their eyes. “In the spirit of humanitarianism and employee care, starting next week, all submitted leave requests will be unconditionally approved.” “Additionally, the monthly leave limit will be adjusted from three times to five times. We’re eliminating the monthly perfect attendance system, and all leave—whether personal, sick, or the 30 annual vacation days—will be treated equally as paid time off.” Thunderous applause erupted below. If everyone took the full five days of leave each month, combined with weekends, it would essentially give everyone an extra mini-vacation each month. Not to mention the existing 30 annual vacation days plus various national holidays. The boss looked at the smiling employees below and applauded approvingly as well. “Hazel, let’s drop the leave request issue, but what about you publicly insulting me last time?” Rosemary’s sarcastic voice cut through the entire office, even prompting some people to start jeering. “Exactly! Rosemary fought for everyone’s legitimate right to request leave. I’m voting for Rosemary!” “Rosemary only voiced what we working people are thinking. What right do you have to insult her in that video! Apologize to Rosemary!” Looking at those indignant faces below, I thought of the job-hopping approval I’d just received before the meeting. Under everyone’s astonished gazes, not only did I not look upset, but I actually smiled. “I’m sorry.” Cheers erupted below. On the phone screen next to my computer, Rosemary’s live stream was also flooded with netizens’ cheers. 「The old witch apologized to our Rosemary!」 「Congrats to our Rosemary for fighting and winning an apology from the unscrupulous company plus legitimate rights!」 「Rosemary is the most amazing little lamb!」 Within minutes of submitting my resignation, the boss messaged me. “Hazel, you don’t need to do this. It’s such a small matter—is it really worth resigning over?” “The company really needs talented people like you! You don’t need to resign just because I asked you to change the attendance policy. That would make me seem too unreasonable as a boss.” Reading the boss’s message at this moment, I only felt it was hypocritical and pathetic. As a hands-off manager, he probably couldn’t imagine what kind of upheaval the new attendance policy would cause. “No thanks, Mr. Lee. Thank you for nurturing me all these years. Let’s part on good terms!” The boss didn’t say anything more to retain me and directly approved my resignation. I decided to give myself a proper vacation during my last month before leaving, now that the new attendance policy was in place. Right then and there—the remaining 30 days of annual leave for the year? Taking them! The five remaining leave opportunities this month? Using them! That evening at home, I started packing and booked flights, hotels, and a tour group for a 30-day European trip. I even turned off my work phone completely. From today on, whether those colleagues showed up to work or not had nothing to do with me!

After my 30-day European trip ended, I completed the company’s exit procedures and seamlessly started at my new company. On my first day, I was shocked by the new company’s atmosphere. The receptionist at the entrance greeted me with a big smile, handed me a small desk plant, and stuffed some stress-relief squeeze toys into my hands. “Good morning, Hazel! Your office is all cleaned up. HR also prepared these super stress-relieving toys. Please, please go easy on attendance!” The office workstations were messy, but from those desks covered in reminder notes and notices, you could tell how detail-oriented the people sitting there were. Further in, at the content creator streaming rooms, people were already there early setting up and cleaning. It was completely different from the lifeless atmosphere at my previous company. Looking closer at the company’s existing attendance policy—flexible work hours. Though the attendance rules were strict, there were rewards and penalties balanced. It maximized the idea that employees should work hard during work hours, but after clocking out, they could do whatever they wanted, ideally keeping work and personal life separate! Thinking back to my last company where streamers and creators always needed to be coaxed and begged to come clock in, and where department employees were constantly trying to take leave and slack off—I felt my job-hopping decision was exceptionally correct. I thought after resigning, I’d have no more connection to my former company. Until Tommy, Rosemary’s operations manager, reached out to me. “Hazel, I miss you so much! Can you package me up and take me to your new company too?!” “What happened?” “Hazel, you don’t know—once that unconditional leave approval attendance policy started, the company turned into total chaos!” Then Tommy started venting about how Rosemary, who was already reluctant to come to work, became completely unreachable for half a month straight. Several previously negotiated collaborations fell through because of this, and other streamers started following her example. When called to ask why they weren’t coming in and why they were requesting leave— The answer was always: requesting leave is my inherent right. The attendance policy clearly allows paid time off. Making me come to the office is stripping my benefits and workplace abuse of workers! I nodded. These were all consequences I’d anticipated would happen. Attendance was meant to constrain both parties, but when the balance tipped to either side and equilibrium was broken, there was no point talking about development. Tommy was very capable personally and always had a serious attitude toward work. After getting approval from my new boss, I directly rescued her from that placeand brought her to work at the new company together. But these actions seemed to be the final straw that broke the camel’s back. The second week Tommy started at the new company, I saw another video from Rosemary. “Workplace Black Widow PUA!” “Former executive teams up with the ‘ungrateful wretch’ I raised to precisely target me after resignation!” “This workplace bullying move is absolutely ruthless!”

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Dad Clara and mom Michael always gave me everything I wanted. They would always tell Nathan to go easy on me. When relatives called me a “walking bone marrow bank,” they’d shield me with their bodies, point at the door, and tell them to get lost. They’d hold me in their arms and tell me: “You and your brother are equally important to us. Don’t listen to anyone’s gossip.” Until I turned eight, I grew tired of the constant pain from bone marrow extractions. I refused to cooperate with them, to continue treatment for Nathan. For the first time, my always soft-spoken mother lost her temper with me. “If it weren’t for your brother’s serious illness, you would never have been born! You’ve taken away so much love that should have been his, and you won’t even give him this small compensation?” Michael didn’t say a word. He forcibly held me down on the bed. “Doctor, don’t worry about her. Just do the extraction!” I cried out in pain and struggled. Clara found me too noisy. After the needle was removed, she locked me in the sauna room and took Nathan to the hospital. But they didn’t notice—the sauna’s high temperature setting had been turned on. I pushed desperately at the door, but Clara had already locked it from the outside. Clara, Michael, I know I was wrong. I’m willing to help treat Nathan. Please don’t abandon me.

The temperature in the sauna room kept rising. I was soon drenched in sweat. I heard the front door close outside. Clara and Michael had already left with Nathan. I used all my strength to push at the sauna room door. Each time I pushed, the sharp pain in my lower back grew worse. But the door still wouldn’t open. Clara had locked it from the outside. The floor temperature had already blistered the soles of my feet. The pain brought tears to my eyes. The combination of heat and pain left me nearly collapsed. Suddenly, I heard sounds from outside again. Hope rekindled, I forgot about the heat. I ran to the door, standing on tiptoe to reach the window on the sauna room door. “Clara! Michael! Save me!” “It hurts so much! I know I was wrong!” I kept apologizing, banging on the glass. Hoping to get their attention. But what I heard was Clara and Michael’s muffled conversation. “This kid made me so angry I forgot to bring the documents. Now I have to make another trip.” “The bone marrow has such a short preservation time, and she’s still making trouble!” Michael sighed. He was about to say something when his eyes caught sight of the glass on the sauna room door. “Honey, I think Riley’s crying. Maybe we should let her out.” Only then did Clara turn around to look at me. I quickly tried to smile at Clara and Michael. My intention was to apologize to them. To act cute like I used to. Before, whenever I did something wrong, if I admitted my mistake and smiled and acted cute, they would always forgive me. But this time, for some reason, Clara got even angrier. She frowned and glared at me fiercely. Her volume suddenly shot up. “What’s that look? You call that crying?” “Look at her—completely unrepentant. She even has the nerve to smile!” I shook my head frantically. “Clara, that’s not it! I won’t do it again!” The heavy door swallowed my voice. They could only hear faint cries but couldn’t make out what I was saying. Clara walked toward me. My heart pounded with excitement. I thought she had finally forgiven me. Clara loves me after all. She was just too anxious earlier. It must be that! But Clara stopped about two meters from the door. She pointed at me and said to Michael: “This door is so soundproof, yet she’s still this loud. If we let her out and she disturbs the neighbors, should we come back or not?” “And if we take her along, what if she makes trouble during treatment?” Seeing Michael’s hesitation, feeling the temperature in the sauna room continuing to rise, I panicked. I reached for the metal handle on the door, trying to pull it open just a crack. So my apology could slip through the gap. The moment my hand touched it, a layer of skin was instantly scalded off. The pain made everything go black. I screamed until my throat was raw. But it only seemed to confirm what Clara had just said about me making noise. Michael looked at me, then at the documents in Clara’s hand. “Forget it. Treating Nathan is what matters. We’ll talk to her properly when we get back.” With that, Michael put his arm around Clara’s shoulders and they left together. The sound of the front door closing again extinguished my last glimmer of hope. I took off my clothes and placed them on the floor to separate my skin from contact with the ground. I curled up into a ball, hugging my knees. “This way it won’t hurt. If it doesn’t hurt, I won’t cry.” “As long as I’m quiet and well-behaved, when Clara and Michael come back and see me being good, they’ll let me out.” I murmured to myself. Even though every inch of my skin was burning with pain, I bit my teeth and didn’t make another sound. I don’t know how long passed before I completely lost consciousness.

I was awakened by Clara and Michael’s voices. When I opened my eyes, I saw Clara holding Nathan, gently placing him on the bed. Her eyes were full of heartache. “Look how pale his little face is. When will this ever end?” She carefully tucked in the corners of his blanket, patting him soothingly. “If only Riley understood… but now she won’t even do the bone marrow extraction to help Nathan…” Her eyes reddened, her voice choking with sobs. I ran to Clara’s side, hugged her leg, and looked up at her. “Clara, don’t cry. I’m willing.” “I won’t complain about the pain anymore.” But my hand passed straight through Clara’s body. She seemed unable to hear what I was saying either. Michael patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.” “Actually, Riley is usually very obedient. Let’s let her out and talk to her properly. Maybe she’ll understand our difficulties.” “I hope so. She’s not young anymore. She should be more sensible.” Michael walked toward the sauna room. I stood in front of him. But he walked right through me as if he couldn’t see me. I stood there stunned for a moment, looking at my nearly transparent hands. Finally understanding. It seemed I had already died. Michael peered through the glass into the sauna room. But because I was sitting behind the door, there was a blind spot in his line of sight. He didn’t see my figure. I, however, easily passed through the door. I saw the small corpse curled up behind the door, skin blistered all over from the heat. Michael turned to call Clara. “Honey, Riley’s not in the sauna room?” Clara paused, then got up and walked to the sauna room. “How is that possible? I locked it! She can’t get out!” She pushed the door. “It’s still locked. That child must be hiding in a corner sulking at us!” As she spoke, she knocked hard on the door several times. “Riley, if you come out now and apologize to us, we’ll forgive you and let you out. You’ll still be our good daughter.” “But if you keep sulking and throwing a tantrum, then you can stay in there! No dinner, no toys!” I apologized desperately. “Clara, I really know I was wrong. I’ll help Nathan with his treatment from now on.” Clara still couldn’t hear me. She and Michael stood there listening for my answer. Only silence responded to them. After a long while, seeing that I still wasn’t answering, Clara’s expression hardened. “Fine! You’ve got backbone! Keep it up!” “I really don’t understand where I went wrong as a parent. You used to be such a good child!” “I don’t want you anymore!” I stamped my feet anxiously. Clara, I already apologized! I want to keep being your good girl too. I want you to love me like you did before. Really. Tears rolled down my face and hit the carpet. They didn’t spread into water stains like they normally would. Watching Clara and Michael’s backs gradually fade into the distance, I cried even harder. This time, they wouldn’t comfort me like they used to. Clara was tough on the surface but soft underneath after all. That evening, she still made my favorite fried fish for dinner. Michael filled a bowl of rice, added some food, and was about to bring it to me in the sauna room. Clara didn’t stop him. She sat silently at the table picking out fish bones for Nathan. Michael took out the key to open the door and pushed it open a crack. “Riley, time to eat. We have your favorite fried fish today.”

The sauna’s temperature setting automatically shut off after reaching maximum heat. So after a full day of cooling, the scalding steam in the room had dissipated. Only some stuffiness remained. But Michael thought it was because the sauna room was an enclosed space, and with the door’s excellent seal, the air conditioning couldn’t get in. He didn’t think much of it. Getting no response from me, he turned on the light. “Riley, we need to—” Before he could finish, he realized that in the sauna room he could see from end to end, there was no sign of me. He panicked immediately. He went back to the living room to call Clara. “Honey, Riley’s really not in the sauna room!” Clara followed Michael and pushed open the sauna room door again. But like Michael, she only pushed it halfway. I circled around in front of them. “Clara, Michael, I’m right here! If you push the door a little more, you’ll touch my body!” “Or… or if you just look behind the door, you’ll find me!” I pointed it out to them. They had no reaction. Clara thought for a moment, then turned to Michael. “Aren’t there two keys to the sauna room?” Michael nodded. “I think so. You have one, I have one.” Clara asked again. “You’ve been using mine all day today. So where’s yours?” Michael searched all his pockets and briefcase. He found nothing. “Strange, where did it go?” While Michael was still puzzled, Clara looked like she had it all figured out. “What else could it be? Your precious daughter must have taken it!” “When we used to play hide and seek at home, she would often cheat by locking herself in a room. We indulged her—when we couldn’t open a door, we just wouldn’t search that room. She probably took it then.” “So all our kind words this afternoon fell on deaf ears. She had her own plan. She already took the key and opened the door, and didn’t forget to lock it again to make it look like she was still inside.” The more Clara talked, the angrier she got. She pointed at the sauna room door and asked Michael: “Can you believe how scheming she is! I really can’t deal with her anymore!” Michael tried to comfort her while going to my bedroom door and knocking. “Riley, we’re really getting angry!” He pushed open the door. Inside was still empty. Clara didn’t look into the room again. She turned and went downstairs. “Learning to run away from home at such a young age? She better never come back. It would be better if she died out there!” “I am completely disappointed in her right now!” I shook my head desperately. I really didn’t. This time, even Michael didn’t speak up for me. That evening, Clara told Nathan a story and put him to bed. Nathan asked Clara: “Mom, you’re telling me a story so early today. Don’t you need to put Riley to bed?” Knowing that Nathan still cared about me, my heart lifted with a little joy. Nathan is so good to me. I’ll definitely help him get better. Before I could think further, Clara’s words completely chilled my heart. “Don’t worry about her anymore! I’m acting like I don’t have that daughter.” She patiently and tenderly stayed with Nathan for a long time. It wasn’t until Nathan’s breathing became steady that she reached up to turn off the light. I wanted to stop Clara. I was most afraid of the dark, always feeling like something scary would emerge from the pitch-black night. I never dared to sleep with the lights off. But now I couldn’t touch the switch, and Clara couldn’t hear me. Clara always used to leave a light on for me in the living room. Today she didn’t. I could only curl myself into a trembling ball. I sat by Nathan’s bed, watching everything around me warily. I didn’t sleep all night. Early the next morning, Clara and Michael first took Nathan to school, then went to work. Everyone tacitly avoided mentioning me. As if it made no difference to this family whether I existed or not.

It wasn’t until nine o’clock that the teacher called Clara. “Mrs. Thompson, Riley didn’t come to class today. Is she sick?” Clara was so angry she slammed down her pen. She suppressed her emotions and apologized to the teacher. “I’m sorry, teacher. This child had a little conflict with us yesterday. I didn’t expect her to skip school out of spite today.” “I understand. I’ll find her and have her apologize to you.” After explaining to the teacher, she called Michael. “Your daughter is now skipping school!!” “Hurry up. You go to your mom’s house, I’ll go to mine. We have to bring her back today and set some rules for her!” “So irresponsible! Nathan’s medical bills, her food and clothes—how much does all that cost? If she makes us lose another day’s wages, I’ll dock her allowance for a year!” Then they split up to look for me at their parents’ houses. But no one was there. They also called the homes of several of my good friends. Everyone said they hadn’t seen me. In a flash, the whole day passed. Clara and Michael came up empty. On the way to pick up Nathan from school, Clara received a call from Michael. “Honey, I asked at Madison’s house too. There’s really no one left to ask.” “Do you think she might have been tricked by some creep… Should we call the police?” Clara opened her mouth. From the shape of her lips, she seemed about to say “okay.” Just then, Nathan walked out of the school. Clara swallowed her words and waved at Nathan. “Nathan, over here!” Nathan walked to Clara’s side and looked up at her. “Mom, I told my friends today that our house is so fun! We have a pool, a playroom, a home theater, and even a sauna room!” “They didn’t believe me. They said no one’s house has that many rooms. Mom, can I bring them over to see?” He pulled Clara’s hand and shook it. I was the one who taught him this trick. Clara froze for a moment. I wondered if she was thinking of me. Then she snapped back to attention at Nathan’s urging. She nodded at Nathan, then said to Michael on the phone: “I know. We’ll talk when you get back.” “The chance she was tricked is low. We’ve always taught her not to trust strangers.” “Nathan wants to bring his classmates home. He’s been taking time off constantly—it’s not easy for him to have friends. We can’t ruin this for him. Hurry home and tidy up the house, cut some fruit and have it ready. We need to treat the kids well.” Michael agreed and hung up. I wanted to stop Clara, afraid it would scare them. But I couldn’t do anything. Half an hour later, Clara brought Nathan and his classmates home. They saw the pool, played with the toys, and toured the home theater. Finally, everyone’s footsteps stopped at the sauna room door. One of the classmates spoke up. “I’ve never used a sauna before. Nathan, can we try it at your house?” As soon as this suggestion came out, the others chimed in. Nathan agreed without hesitation and pressed the heating button. Michael called them to eat fruit while Clara called the parents of the classmates. First to ask if their children could use the sauna, and second to tell them the kids might come home late so they shouldn’t worry. Everyone was busy with their own tasks. Nathan went to the sauna room to test the temperature. The moment he walked in and closed the door, he screamed.

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I was rushed to the ER with excruciating abdominal pain. The diagnosis: appendicitis. The doctor was typing up my prescription when his hand suddenly froze. He looked up at me. “Why would you have an IUD inserted when you haven’t even had a child yet?” An IUD? That was impossible. I had an infertile constitution. I’d spent hundreds of thousands trying to conceive, enduring treatment after treatment. “Doctor, are you sure you’re reading that right?” The doctor turned the monitor toward me, tapping his pen on the shadow on the screen. “Look right here. How could you forget your own procedure?” I stared at the screen, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. For seven years, my mother-in-law had blamed me for being unable to have children. I’d endured endless humiliation. But looking at that IUD that should never have been there… Turns out I wasn’t infertile. Someone just never wanted me to get pregnant! Staring at the shadow on the screen, my hand instinctively pressed against my lower abdomen. Seven years ago, when we were trying to conceive after marriage, I was diagnosed not only with an infertile constitution but also with small cysts. I’d looked at Harrison in panic then. He’d quietly comforted me. “Honey, don’t be scared. We’ll remove the cysts first. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Over the next seven years, Harrison accompanied me to that hospital countless times. Snapping back to reality, I asked the doctor to remove the IUD during my surgery. After the procedure, I was lying in the hospital bed when Harrison called. “Honey, where are you? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” “I’m at the hospital. I just had surgery.” I said quietly. Panic filled his voice on the other end. “The hospital? Which hospital?” Seeming to realize his overreaction, he changed his tone. “Honey, what surgery? Are you not feeling well?” I couldn’t quite describe what I was feeling. I answered briefly and hung up. Soon, the hospital room door swung open. Harrison rushed in. “You had appendicitis surgery? Why didn’t you go to the hospital where my uncle works? He could have looked after you.” He was talking while carefully observing my expression. I clutched the copper IUD in my hand, careful not to show anything unusual, and smiled at him. “It hurt too much. This hospital was closer.” My mother-in-law pushed through the door just then. Hearing my words, she immediately scolded loudly. “How much could appendicitis hurt? Can’t even handle that. How will you handle childbirth later?” “Oh wait, we don’t even know if you can have children.” “Mom, say less. Anna just had surgery. She’s not feeling well.” Harrison poured me a glass of water. After confirming I hadn’t discovered the IUD placement, he hurried to leave again. “Honey, the company’s been struggling lately. I need to get back to work. Mom will stay here to take care of you.” I nodded, watching his figure disappear behind the door. “I don’t have time to serve a barren hen like you.” My mother-in-law said mockingly before leaving as well. The hospital room fell quiet again. I let out a soft sigh. Three days later, I was discharged. During those three days, Harrison and my mother-in-law visited only a handful of times. It was the nurses who occasionally helped me out of pity. I didn’t go home. Instead, I went to the hospital where Harrison’s uncle worked—the hospital where I’d had my cyst surgery. After confirming his uncle was off today, I went to the medical records department. Soon, a nurse pulled up my file. I flipped through it page by page. Seven years of spending hundreds of thousands on medical tests, medications, and IVF treatments. Yet all that showed here were a few simple routine checkup reports. Flipping to the very first page, the record showed not a cyst removal surgery but a sterilization procedure! My hands shook uncontrollably. How ironic. Seven years of torment, seven years of guilt—all because someone had deliberately robbed me of my right to be a mother. I forced a bitter smile, but tears still fell. After a long moment, I wiped my tears and took out my phone to save the evidence. Then I suddenly noticed the family consent signature page was missing. I didn’t alert the hospital staff. I closed the file, thanked them, and left. Walking out of the hospital, I immediately called my classmate, Victor. After explaining the situation, he readily agreed and told me to wait. Soon, he called back. “Anna, I sent you the missing page on SnapChat.” “Thanks so much.” He paused before continuing. “Your husband deleted the records too thoroughly. Out of curiosity, I checked using his information.” “I found something. I sent it to you too. You…” “You need to prepare yourself mentally. Anna, if you need anything, you can always reach out to me.” “Okay…”

I walked to a bench by the roadside and sat down, opening SnapChat. The first image was the missing page. The signature on it belonged to Harrison. I knew this was coming, but it still hurt so much. Harrison’s patient, comforting voice seemed to echo in my ears. What had he been thinking then? Did he feel even a shred of sympathy for me? Or was he laughing at me? I opened the second photo—a birth certificate. My heart contracted painfully. I looked at the father’s name. Harrison! I compared the handwriting on both signatures. Identical. One signature had severed my chance at motherhood. The other had made him a father. Tears streamed down uncontrollably. Hatred surged through my chest. I sat outside for a long time before going home. My mother-in-law was watching TV on the couch. Seeing me return, she immediately ordered me to cook dinner. Because I couldn’t have children, I’d always felt guilty. I once cooked dinner even with a 104-degree fever. But this time, I refused. Seeing I wouldn’t obey, my mother-in-law immediately went to my father-in-law’s portrait and began crying. She wailed that I couldn’t give them children, leaving their family without an heir. She sobbed that Harrison wouldn’t listen to her and refused to divorce me. Over seven years, I’d heard this accusation over and over. Each time, I’d felt guilty while being grateful my husband hadn’t abandoned me. Now, watching her performance, I suddenly wondered—did she know she had a grandson out there? I must have stared too long and too intently. My mother-in-law couldn’t keep crying. She turned and called my husband instead. I ignored her and walked into the bedroom. After searching carefully, I couldn’t find any of my medical records from the checkups. I’d undergone IVF three times, all failures. Each time I wanted to see my medical records, Harrison would say he didn’t want to upset me and wouldn’t show them to me. I’d been so touched then. Now I realized it was all a joke. I closed my eyes and lay on the bed, completely drained. Before long, Harrison pushed the door open. He walked naturally to my side, trying to kiss my cheek. I turned my head away. He didn’t seem to mind. “Honey, feeling better? Come eat dinner first.” He reached out to pull me up. Looking at his outstretched hand, I had an impulse to reveal everything. But no—there were still things I hadn’t investigated. I couldn’t tip him off. I obediently took his hand and let him lead me out. After dinner, Harrison crouched in front of me, looking at me with deep affection. “Honey, you just had surgery. I didn’t want to bring this up, but the company really can’t hold on anymore.” “What’s wrong?” I played along. “A rival company cut off our supply chain. The bank pulled our loan. The company’s going bankrupt.” Before I could respond, my mother-in-law erupted in fury. “Why did the bank pull the loan? Because you can’t have children!” “Mom, this isn’t Anna’s fault.” He turned back to me. “The bank assessed that I have no heir, making it too risky. When problems arose, they immediately pulled the loan. Honey, this company is our life’s work. I don’t want it to go bankrupt.” Yes, this company was started with my father’s investment. As soon as he established the company, he immediately gave me eighty percent of the shares. That’s why I never doubted him all these years. “No heir? Then adopt one. People find solutions.” My mother-in-law’s booming voice rang out again. “Right, honey. Could we adopt a child from an orphanage? With a child, the bank will continue lending to us.” His gaze held pleading and pain. But I no longer believed him. “I’m tired.” I lowered my eyes. “Okay, honey, rest first. We’ll talk about this later. I’ll think of another way.”

These past few days, Harrison had been drowning his sorrows at home. Meanwhile, I’d been investigating the company’s finances. One day, Harrison didn’t drink. He left early in the morning. I received a message from the private investigator with evidence of him transferring company assets. I held the evidence, waiting for him to come home so we could negotiate the divorce. In the afternoon, Harrison returned. “Honey, I found a way to solve the company crisis!” His excited voice interrupted my unspoken divorce request. “I have a distant cousin who died in a car accident, leaving behind a widow and orphan. His wife, Zoe, can’t afford to raise the child and is willing to let us adopt him.” “Oh my, that’s perfect! The boy, Ryan, at least shares some blood relation with our family. This continues our family line.” My mother-in-law said happily beside him. Ryan? The name triggered a memory. “What’s your cousin’s wife’s name?” “Zoe Smith.” I smiled coldly. Zoe Smith—the mother’s name on that birth certificate. “Honey, what do you think? We adopt this child, hold a ceremony, and solve the company crisis first.” “If we have our own biological child later, the company will still go to our child.” “Sure.” I nodded. A ceremony sounded perfect. Lots of people, lots of excitement. I gripped the evidence in my hand. The day before the ceremony, Harrison brought home the widow and orphan. Zoe entered and immediately pulled the child down to kneel. “Quick, kneel to the lady. She’s taking you in. From now on, she’s your new mother.” “I won’t kneel! I don’t want a new mother!” Ryan screamed and lunged at me, scratching my arms until they bled. Harrison was busy helping Zoe up. “Anna, Zoe is giving you her child. Instead of being grateful, how can you let her kneel?” Zoe leaned weakly against Harrison. “It’s fine, Harrison. As long as you treat Ryan well.” Unable to dodge in time, I was pushed hard to the ground by Ryan. A crisp crack—the bracelet on my wrist shattered. This was my mother’s keepsake. My eyes reddened as I slapped him. Harrison immediately pulled Ryan behind him. “Anna! Have you lost your mind? You’re fighting with a child!” “He broke the bracelet my mother left me!” A flash of sympathy crossed his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. “It’s just a bracelet. I’ll buy you another one in a few days!” Harrison brushed it off with one sentence, then busied himself checking Ryan’s face. But he’d forgotten—when he proposed, he’d held that very bracelet and vowed to protect me for a lifetime in my mother’s place! At dinner, Ryan put all the good dishes in his own bowl and spat in mine. Harrison and my mother-in-law turned a blind eye. The family of four enjoyed themselves, making me look like a maid. After dinner, Harrison came to me with a document. “Honey, to enroll Ryan in school, we need proof of residence from that downtown property under your name.” “Sign here so he can start school soon.” I took the document and tried to flip through it. Harrison pressed down on my hand. “Honey, don’t you trust me? Just sign.” In the past, I never questioned what he did. But now… “Are you sure this document is just proof of residence for school enrollment?” Under the surveillance camera, I asked loudly. “Don’t worry, honey. When have I ever lied to you?” Watching his triumphant expression, I lowered my head and saved this surveillance footage to the cloud. That afternoon, when I logged in to check, the video had been completely deleted as expected. That evening, Ryan cried and insisted on sleeping with Harrison. Harrison looked at me apologetically. “Honey, Ryan’s still little. Could you sleep on the couch tonight? Just one night.” Before he finished speaking, I turned and left. That bed—I found it filthy. In the middle of the night, going to the bathroom, I heard moans from the guest room—Harrison and Zoe. “Honey, when can we be together openly?” “Soon. I’ve transferred most of the company assets. After the ceremony, once I get the house, I can divorce her.” Harrison laughed quietly. “My mom can’t wait either. She’s been dying to hold her grandson.” I clenched my fists. If that’s how it is, don’t blame me for being ruthless.

At the banquet hall, we got out of the car and walked inside. Ryan shoved me aside and grabbed Harrison’s hand. “I want to go in with Daddy and Mommy.” He smirked at me provocatively. Harrison just patted his head affectionately. “Honey, kids don’t know better. Don’t take it to heart. We’ll go in first.” I stood under the scorching sun, watching the backs of their family of three. It felt utterly absurd. Walking into the hall, some clueless people came forward with compliments. “Mr. Walker, is this your wife and child? What a beautiful couple, and such a smart kid.” Zoe smiled and thanked them. Harrison just smiled without speaking. My mother-in-law beamed with a kindness I’d never seen before. But when she turned and saw me, her smile immediately faded. “Why are you just standing there? You’re in the way. If you have nothing to do, go help serve the food.” I didn’t move. “Hurry up! Can’t even have kids and just causing trouble. If you won’t help, get out.” I gripped the evidence in my hand, silently telling myself to hold on a bit longer. Not everyone was here yet. The show needed a full audience. I silently carried dishes. Walking past Zoe, I was tripped. Scalding food spilled on me, but Zoe screamed first, clutching her wrist where a few drops of soup had splashed. “Harrison, it hurts so much.” Harrison rushed over, tenderly blowing on Zoe’s arm. “Anna, how can you be so careless?” “We’ll go rinse it off first.” He glanced at me and frowned. “You should go change too. The ceremony’s about to start. Try not to be so clumsy next time.” Ignoring the various stares around me, I endured the pain and walked to the bathroom. Hold on, just hold on. This pair of cheaters will go to hell. By the time I changed and came out, the ceremony had already begun. Harrison was giving a speech on stage. “Thank you all so much for coming to this ceremony. Due to my wife’s health issues, we haven’t been able to have children since our marriage.” People around looked at me sympathetically. I kept my head down. “Ryan’s arrival is a gift from heaven, our future support.” “Everything I have will be his inheritance.” Enthusiastic applause erupted. Someone brought a bouquet of red roses to the stage. Harrison accepted them, knelt on one knee, and presented them to Zoe. “Thank you so much for giving birth to this child. You’re welcome to visit him anytime. He’ll always recognize you.” Zoe smiled shyly and accepted the roses. The applause grew even louder. Watching their interaction on stage, I had the surreal feeling I was attending a wedding. Zoe glanced at the host, who turned to look at me. “Ms. Anna, how do you feel about getting a grown son for free?” Harrison followed the host’s gaze to me and said perfunctorily, “The auspicious time is almost here. Come up on stage.” I walked forward step by step. Harrison instructed from the side. “Zoe gave you a child. You need to repay her properly.” “Now that you have a child, you need to put him first in everything. You can’t be as willful as before.” “You’ve never raised a child, so you’ll need to learn from…” Hearing this, I laughed coldly, stepped forward, and snatched his microphone. Facing everyone below the stage, I enunciated each word: “Learn from her?” “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ll have my own children in the future.” “But the reason I haven’t gotten pregnant in seven years—I think everyone here will be very interested in that!!”

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I was the most valued heir in my family. My parents were extremely strict in raising me. At two years old, I had just learned to walk when they made me practice my posture on a balance beam until my feet were swollen, red, and bleeding. At three, I practiced piano from dawn to dusk. Miss a single note and they wouldn’t give me food. All year round, I had to wear black long sleeves and long pants. Every night, I had to bathe in milk heated to 140 degrees Fahrenheit. My meals were always boiled vegetables and chicken breast. Even the length of my hair had to be precisely calculated. Any violation of these rules would result in severe beatings and scolding. In contrast, my twin sister Jennifer didn’t have to do anything. She could enjoy life to the fullest. When I was suffocating under the pressure and vented online, one comment caught my attention. “Do you know what a groomed companion is? Your family doesn’t seem to be raising an heir—it’s more like they’re grooming a mistress for some rich man.”

My heart jumped. I quickly asked what he meant. He explained at length: “A groomed companion is a product customized to satisfy a wealthy person’s preferences. He gives your parents money or other benefits, and they raise you according to his requirements to become exactly what he wants.” “When you come of age and meet his standards, you’ll become the rich man’s mistress.” I instinctively resisted accepting this, but thinking carefully, my sister and I were twins, yet our parents educated us completely differently. For example, Mom bought Jennifer all kinds of pretty clothes, but always made me dress like a nun. She said: “Claudia, this is for your own good. Your clothes are all silk—they guarantee your skin stays delicate and smooth.” Mom glanced at my sister with disdain. “Jennifer isn’t like you. She’s vulgar, she likes these flashy rough fabrics. She deserves the bumps they leave all over her skin.” I clutched the black clothes in my hands, not daring to make a sound. Actually, I also wanted to wear pretty clothes like a normal little girl. But whenever I brought it up, my parents would look severe. “Claudia, we’ve spent so much effort raising you, and you’re learning bad habits from others, only thinking about looking pretty. How disappointing!” In middle school, after gym class, I secretly went to the school store and bought a bottle of cold soda. When I got home, Dad found the empty bottle. He stormed to school, dragged me out of the classroom, and made me stand under the scorching sun as punishment for three hours. Students passing by pointed and whispered about me. I lowered my head in embarrassment, but Dad insisted I keep my neck straight. He gripped my back and made me recite loudly with him: “I promise never to drink any beverage except water again, or may I die a horrible death.” I bit my teeth in grievance, tears welling in my eyes. But Dad showed no mercy. “Say it!” Like a wooden puppet, I stood stiffly under the sun, making that vicious oath over and over. When school finally let out, Jennifer drank a big gulp of Coke in front of me, then poured the rest over my head. The brown liquid soaked my hair and ran into my mouth. She laughed mockingly: “Claudia, now that you’ve drunk a beverage, why aren’t you dead yet?” The ridicule and mockery around me crawled into my ears like poisonous snakes. I clenched my fists hard, letting my fingernails dig into my palms. Remembering every incident over the past eighteen years, my fingers flew across the keyboard. “Please, how can I confirm whether or not I’m a groomed companion?”

The reply came quickly: “Rich men who keep mistresses don’t want them too educated, and don’t want them exposed to the public.” “If you do these two things and your parents react strangely, it means they have ulterior motives and aren’t genuinely trying to help you.” From elementary school until now, Dad always insisted teachers seat me in the very back row of the classroom. I constantly squinted to see the board, and before long I became nearsighted. When I carefully told my parents about this, they refused to get me glasses or take me for laser surgery. Instead, they said: “If you really can’t see, you don’t have to go to school. I never wanted you poisoned by school education anyway. After the SAT, we’ll send you straight to Europe—that’s where you’ll learn real skills.” In the end, I insisted on attending school, so they didn’t process my withdrawal. Thinking of this, I walked into Dad’s study. He was in an unexpectedly good mood, looking up from his documents. “Claudia, what is it?” I asked: “You mentioned sending me abroad to study before. The SAT is in a month—have you found a school yet?” Dad was clearly stunned, as if he’d completely forgotten about it. Recovering, he forced a relaxed laugh. “Claudia, there’s no rush. Your SAT scores aren’t out yet, so it’s pointless for me to look now.” “Don’t worry. Once the scores come in, Dad will definitely find you a good school.” He enthusiastically ushered me out, but my heart felt cold. I’d decided to study abroad long ago. If Dad truly had plans for my future, he wouldn’t be this flustered when asked about studying abroad, much less completely clueless. They’d deliberately held me back academically for over a decade. If I did poorly on the SAT and couldn’t study abroad… An heir turned into a useless person would become everyone’s laughingstock. Having gotten my answer, I walked to school in a daze. While running on the track, I suddenly heard screaming ahead. Getting closer, I saw a classmate from class had fallen and broken open their head and arm. The homeroom teacher looked anxious. “Bob has hemophilia. The wound won’t stop bleeding. This is very critical.” Everyone wore shorts and short sleeves in summer—only I had more coverage. I immediately took out the small knife I carried and cut off both pant legs. “Tie them tight to stop the bleeding first. Stay here and wait for the school nurse.” My long pants became shorts, exposing two legs so pale they were almost blinding. Someone said in surprise: “Claudia, your legs are so beautiful. Why don’t you ever wear skirts?” I smiled awkwardly without answering. But immediately, she understood why. As soon as Bob was carried away, Mom rushed over. Without a word, she slapped me across the face. “Claudia Morrison, how can you be so shameless, so cheap? Do you need everyone to see your body to be satisfied?” Someone tried to explain: “Ma’am, Claudia only did it to save someone…” One slap wasn’t enough for Mom. She grabbed my hair and violently threw me to the ground. “Claudia, you’ve really grown bold, even teaching others to speak up for you. Who is she? Is she your friend? Didn’t I tell you not to make friends!” “You little slut, I’ll beat you to death today!” Mom first wrapped my legs tightly with her jacket, then slaps rained down like hail. Feeling my burning cheeks and the numbness spreading across my back, I was finally certain—my parents didn’t love me. Not at all. I could never be the Morrison family heir.

After my own mother called me cheap in front of my classmates, I covered my face and fled. Back home, my mind was in chaos. What benefits had my parents received to cruelly sell their own daughter? If I really was a groomed companion, who had reserved me? Was it one of Dad’s two friends, or some corporate CEO? Lost in thought, my head gradually grew heavy. I realized something was wrong—there was something in the water Dad had given me earlier! When I woke again, I found myself on a theater stage with all the Morrison family relatives sitting below. Mom held a white dress, smiling as she walked toward me. “Claudia, I was too impulsive at school yesterday. I apologize. If you’ll forgive me, put on this white dress and dance for everyone, okay?” I clutched my sleeve, looking up at the bright spotlight overhead, extremely uncomfortable. The relatives below looked at me like I was an exquisite commodity. “Claudia, your mother worked so hard raising you all these years. Just dance for everyone so we can see the results. Don’t embarrass your mother in front of all these people.” “That’s right. Claudia is the Morrison family heir. Your sister was sacrificed to achieve what you are today. Be generous about it, don’t be difficult.” Mom moved a high-definition camera in front of me, her smile eerily strange. The camera’s red light blinked in the dim seating area, particularly glaring. I felt like I was being dissected for everyone’s viewing pleasure, every inch of skin, every movement exposed with nowhere to hide. Under dozens of watching eyes, I panicked and tried to flee. “No, I won’t dance. I want to leave.” Mom reached out. Years of malnutrition made me easy prey—she caught me effortlessly. “Claudia, this camera is for recording your competition video. Why are you so resistant to it?” “Listen to Mom. Come back and put on this white dress.” Mom’s smile grew even warmer. To outsiders, she looked like a devoted mother planning for her daughter’s future. My scalp prickled with fear. “No, you’re lying. The video is clearly being recorded for that person. I won’t let you manipulate me!” The moment I finished speaking, Mom’s smile vanished and her expression turned cold. “Claudia, I’m warning you—Take care of yourself. If you don’t dance today, you’ll never leave this place!” She clapped her hands. Immediately, two rows of bodyguards rushed out from backstage, ready to drag me away and lock me up. I had no choice. Humiliated, I put on the custom-made tight white dress. Since childhood, my pants had never shown my ankles. But now this dress was so short it nearly exposed the lace on my safety shorts. I bit my teeth and struggled to stand on tiptoe, dancing before the camera. Mom harshly stopped the music. “Smile! Why do you look like a corpse!” The video finally finished. The relatives applauded half-heartedly with occasional compliments. But most of their comments were about my lotus-white legs. I fled the scene in shame and cried hard in my bedroom. My phone vibrated. The anonymous user had sent another message. “Girl, you’re turning eighteen this year, right? Your birthday is the delivery date. To cover their tracks, something will definitely happen. Be careful.” I stumbled out of bed and grabbed the calendar from my desk. A certain date was circled in red pen. My eighteenth birthday was tomorrow!

No, I couldn’t just sit and wait. I packed my documents, planning to escape from home. Looking down from the second floor, I saw bodyguards on patrol everywhere. My sister was leisurely eating watermelon and teasing them: “Are you all here to guard that sickly thing? Makes sense—she’s the Morrison family heir, precious as gold.” After her taunts, the bodyguards wouldn’t engage with her. I couldn’t find any opening. I opened my bedroom door to check the situation when Dad suddenly appeared from outside, right in front of me. “Claudia, where are you going this late?” His voice was deep, making my heart tighten. “Nowhere, just getting some fresh air.” His lips curved slightly in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You can get fresh air on your room’s balcony just as well.” With no other options, I retreated back inside and reopened the post I’d made earlier to continue editing. “I’m Claudia of the Morrison family. My parents have imprisoned me and seem to have sinister intentions. Tomorrow I’ll livestream everything. If the situation looks wrong, please help me call the police!” I paid to boost the post. Comments immediately started refreshing. “Claudia? The Claudia who was designated heir at just 100 days old? Your parents treat you so well—what could possibly happen? Stop wasting our time.” I ignored the sarcastic comments and kept scrolling. “If you think you’re in danger, why not call the police now?” I quickly replied: “It won’t work. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Even if I report it now, they won’t admit anything.” The wealthy family secrets attracted many onlookers. Most came to watch the drama, hoping the livestream would proceed. “Girl, don’t worry. We’ve got your back.” After posting, I attached an inconspicuous camera to the skin on my wrist. I connected remote AI glasses to my phone’s livestream screen. To prevent being drugged unconscious again, I got fully dressed at midnight and started the livestream. Recording video on a phone could be destroyed, but people appearing in a livestream would be recorded for real. With so many witnesses, all criminal activity would have nowhere to hide. This time, I would find out who had reserved me as a groomed companion! Right after finishing these preparations, I grew drowsy and fell asleep again. When I woke, I was bound hand and foot in an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by three masked men in black. Among a flood of “Holy shit, something really happened, already called police” comments, I found the anonymous user’s comment. “Girl, this is a hero-saves-beauty setup. The kidnapping isn’t the goal—watch out for whoever comes to rescue you.” “He’ll use his position as your savior to make you repay him. In the eyes of the world, he’ll successfully turn you into a mistress who’s willing to throw herself at him.” My breathing quickened with the content of this comment. Listening to my drumming heartbeat, I waited quietly for that person to arrive. The kidnapper took a phone call, then raised his club to swing at my head. At the critical moment, the door burst open and a familiar face appeared. The person who had reserved me for eighteen years, who’d treated me like a commodity—it was actually him!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371035”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn #狼人Werewolf