When I found out my husband had been assigned to work out of state for another seven years, I made the long trek to visit him. Upon arriving at his job site, I was stopped by an older security guard. When he heard I was looking for Arthur, his face drastically changed: “What are you looking for my son-in-law for?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Maybe it was just someone with the same name. But a worker chatting nearby laughed: “Mr. Miller, what are you panicking for? Everyone for miles around knows Arthur is totally whipped by his wife.” “Anyone else might fool around, but not your son-in-law.” He jutted his chin toward me: “She’s probably just someone sent from corporate for work.” I feigned composure and pulled up a photo of Arthur on my phone: “I have some business to discuss with him. Is this the Arthur you’re talking about?” The security guard relaxed his guard: “Yep, that’s my son-in-law.” The blood froze in my veins. A short while later, a well-dressed woman approached me with a bright smile: “You’re here to talk business with my husband?” “Let’s go wait at the house. Our son has a fever, so he took him to the hospital in the city.” … It felt like a thunderbolt had struck me. I stared at the woman in front of me, feeling like I was suffocating. Seeing me frozen, the woman enthusiastically beckoned me: “I’m Arthur’s wife, Chloe Miller. Just call me Chloe.” She was very friendly, a constant smile on her face, waving for me to follow her: “It’s all rough guys out here, and every one of them is a creep. It’s not safe for a woman to be out here alone.” “Come wait at my house. He won’t be back for a while.” As she spoke, she familiarly grabbed my arm. As if possessed, I followed her footsteps. I quietly assessed this woman out of the corner of my eye. Her skin wasn’t great, and her makeup skills were poor, with foundation caking around the corners of her eyes. But I could still tell she was easily more than ten years younger than the 37-year-old Arthur. “Oh my, you city folks really are different. Your skin is so good, smooth like a peeled hard-boiled egg.” She stared openly at my face. Her eyes filled with envy: “My husband has skin just like yours, so soft and smooth.” She smiled warmly and casually: “Looks like the city water and environment really do nourish people.” I forced out a strained smile, pretending to be unbothered. She wasn’t wrong. Both Arthur and I had the kind of skin that was naturally clear and smooth. Even though I was significantly older than her, because I took good care of myself, I still looked like I was in my early twenties. I certainly didn’t look like a middle-aged woman who had been married for 12 years. But what did that matter? Even though I was pretty, had a good job, and took care of both the elderly parents and our child… My husband still stabbed me in the back by keeping a second family behind my back. She was very chatty, talking endlessly. A couple riding a motorcycle approached us and stopped when they passed. The woman on the back of the motorcycle handed Chloe a bag of roasted chestnuts: “Look how much your husband thinks about you. He took the kid to the doctor, but still remembered you like chestnuts and asked me to bring you a bag.” Chloe smiled, used to the attention: “He just worries too much.” I deliberately interjected: “Your husband treats you really well.” The woman on the motorcycle chimed in: “He doesn’t just treat her well, it’s beyond that. If she tells Arthur to go east, he wouldn’t dare go west.” “Arthur isn’t afraid of anything, except Chloe glaring at him or shedding a tear!” Chloe’s smile remained casual: “Oh stop teasing me, Mary.” A sour, bitter feeling surged in my heart. It felt like God was playing a massive, cruel joke on me. My highly educated husband, who demanded equality in every aspect of our marriage, was actually acting like a whipped husband for someone else. We arrived at Chloe’s house. Although it was in a rural area, it didn’t look like a typical rural house at all. It was a very chic, modern, country-style villa. “My husband built this. Nice, right? It’s the only one like it in our town. He’s also the first son-in-law to move into the wife’s family home here.” My heart skipped a beat, shocked by the concept of him “moving into the wife’s family home.” Entering the living room, I immediately saw a family portrait hanging on the wall. A family of six, everyone smiling brightly. There was a 5-year-old boy and a girl around 3 years old in the picture. We had a family portrait just like this in our living room back home. Except, we only had one 10-year-old son, no daughter. The year he was assigned out of state by his company, he confidently held my face and said: “Honey, trust me. Two years max, and I’ll find a way to transfer back.” “When I get back, if your health permits, we’ll have a second child. And our family will never be separated again.” But he ended up being gone for 7 years. Aside from coming home for a few days around the holidays, he was practically a ghost year-round. Last year when he visited, I even expressed my regret to him about not having a daughter. Uncharacteristically, he replied: “The economy is bad right now. Smart young people aren’t having kids anymore.” “We have one son, and that’s great. Why put ourselves through the hardship of having a second one?” It turned out his mindset hadn’t changed; he just already had a son and a daughter elsewhere. “We have Wi-Fi. You can connect to it so you don’t use up your data.” “The password is 110913. My husband specially set it as my birthday.” She said this with a smile as she brought me a cup of tea. My heart jolted again. Arthur had told me there was no internet or cell reception in this mountainous area. So every time, it was him finding a way to contact me; I could never reach him. I opened my phone and connected to Chloe’s Wi-Fi. Full signal. Lie after lie was unraveling before my eyes, each one a knife stabbing into my heart. I pretended to be calm and asked: “You guys seem to have a great relationship. I heard he’s an out-of-state transfer. Aren’t you worried he might be transferred back?” Chloe kept her smile: “Not worried. To be honest, my husband almost did get transferred back this time.” My heart tightened as I listened closely to her next words. “My husband called in a lot of favors just to stay here.” “He’ll probably be able to stay for another 7 years. Once all the projects here are finished, my husband said he’d rather quit than go back.” My heart felt like it had been violently thrown to the bottom of a cliff. So it wasn’t the company forcing him to take another out-of-state assignment; he had applied for it himself! Even though he knew his mother was hospitalized with a stroke and his father had broken his leg, and they needed their son by their side. Even though his son had cried time and time again, suffering because he rarely got to see his dad. Even though he knew I, his wife, was exhausted managing both work and the household, to the point of being hospitalized for fatigue several times. He still had the peace of mind to live a carefree life thousands of miles away with another woman. A chill washed over me, making my shoulders tremble slightly. Chloe thought I was cold and immediately turned on the AC: “It’ll warm up in a bit. The AC my husband bought me is a top brand.” Even while she was being accommodating, she always found a way to brag about Arthur’s love for her. “In our town, no one has AC, only my house does. Actually, AC costs a lot in electricity, and I didn’t want to install it, but my husband insisted. He said he was afraid I’d be cold in the winter.” I kept a forced smile on my face and asked indirectly: “I feel like he’s quite a bit older than you. Is this his second marriage?” “He’s 10 years older than me, but it’s not his second marriage. It’s just me scoring a huge catch.” The smile on Chloe’s face grew even more blissful: “God has been good to me, letting someone like me with only an elementary school education find a guy with a master’s degree.” “He’s the project manager sent here to develop the area, practically the boss’s right-hand man. I never dreamed I could be the wife of such a capable man.” “My husband also says the luckiest thing that ever happened to him was meeting me.” She kept chattering on: “Actually, having an age gap is nice. He knows how to take care of me. My husband isn’t just responsible at work; he’s responsible for the family too.” “He gives me every single penny of his salary every month. I only give him two hundred bucks back for cigarette money.” Bitterness churned in my stomach. All these years, Arthur would send exactly three thousand dollars back home every month. He said his room and board were covered here, and a hundred bucks was enough for his personal expenses. Their company’s accountant was my college roommate. I knew for a fact his monthly take-home pay was over thirty-one thousand dollars. I tested the waters: “With his high salary, he can definitely provide a good life for the family.” “Yeah, that’s why I say I found a treasure. Not only is he good to me, he’s even better to my parents.” “My mom has a bad back.” She pointed to the expensive massage chair next to the sofa: “That massage chair cost over two thousand dollars. He bought it without blinking an eye.” “My dad likes to drink. He buys cases of liquor that cost hundreds of dollars a bottle.” “He also gives me five thousand dollars every month to spend however I want.” Hearing this, I was certain Arthur was embezzling and taking bribes. The bitterness in my heart was like raw gall, and my heart ached for his parents. Three months ago, my mother-in-law was critically ill from a stroke. I cried outside the emergency room while calling him: “Arthur, you have to come back. Mom is in resuscitation. She keeps murmuring that she wants to see you.” But he lied to me, saying: “It’s been hard on you, honey. The project is at a critical stage; I really can’t get away.” “Mom will be fine. Heaven protects the good.” There were so many times when I was panicked, helpless, my legs so weak I could barely stand. His phone would either not connect, or he wouldn’t come back. He showed zero concern for his own family, completely ignoring his parents and child. Yet he played the role of a good husband, a good father, and a good son-in-law in another family. It was incredibly ironic and soul-crushing. Chloe’s phone rang. She didn’t try to hide it from me. The volume was loud enough that sitting next to her, I heard every word clearly. He called her: “Honey.” The gentle tone of his voice was exactly the same as when he called me. “Our son’s fever hasn’t gone down yet. The doctor says we need to stay overnight for observation.” “I don’t have enough money on me. Honey, can you transfer me some? Thirty bucks should be enough.” I sneered inwardly. He really is the picture of a dedicated family man. Chloe smiled and said: “Got it. I’ll transfer it to you in a bit.” On the other end, Arthur worriedly reminded her: “I won’t be able to hold you to sleep tonight. You have to be a good girl and go to sleep. Make sure you cover yourself with the blanket so you don’t catch a cold.” “Being away from you for even one day makes my whole body feel off.” These words were like sharp swords stabbing directly into my heart. In our 12 years of marriage, we only had this kind of intimate sweetness in the first few years. Now, he didn’t even show this much care for our own son. Time had turned us into an old married couple. And now it had turned us into the most familiar of strangers, drifting further and further apart. She hung up the phone. Chloe looked at me with a smile. Just as she was about to say something, she remembered: “Oh right, I forgot to ask your name.” “Stella Thorne.” “That’s a beautiful name. City folks really know how to pick names.” She maintained her chatty, enthusiastic demeanor. Up until this moment, I still believed it. That she was highly likely an innocent woman being kept in the dark, just like me. “By the way, my husband won’t be back today. Why don’t you stay over? When he gets back tomorrow, you guys can talk business.” I agreed. That evening, Chloe cooked a table full of delicious dishes, a good mix of meat and vegetables. I met their daughter, whose features strongly resembled Arthur’s. Chloe’s parents weren’t as enthusiastic toward me, just superficially polite. They even looked at me with a bit of wariness, acting slightly strange. At the dinner table, the person they brought up the most was Arthur. In their mouths, Arthur wasn’t a son-in-law; he was a biological son. Chloe was an only child. In this remote area where boys were heavily favored, the old couple had never been able to hold their heads high their entire lives. It was Arthur’s arrival, becoming the son-in-law who moved in with them, and treating them with the filial piety of a biological son. That finally allowed them to straighten the spines they had kept bent their whole lives. Chloe’s mother said: “Arthur is the pillar of our family. Our family couldn’t survive without him.” It felt like a thorn had been lodged in my throat, impossible to pull out. He didn’t support the roof of his own house, instead supporting someone else’s, year after year. When it was time for bed, Chloe put me in the guest room next to her parents’ room. After turning off the lights, I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. I listened to Chloe’s parents whispering in the next room for a very long time. After much deliberation, I still sent a whistleblowing letter and video to the headquarters of Arthur’s company. I also sent a message to my brother, who was a police officer: “It’s going to be a hassle, but you need to come arrest Arthur. He broke the law.” These two decisions didn’t relieve my anger, but they were the only way to answer for my life. It was also the punishment he deserved. The next morning. Chloe brought me her clothes to wear, afraid I’d mind, she specifically added: “My husband just bought this for me. I only washed it once, haven’t even worn it.” “It’s pretty cold here, and you’re dressed a bit thin, you’ll freeze.” I looked at the down jacket she brought over. A long, pure white, fitted coat from a designer brand, costing nearly six hundred dollars. I had looked at it all winter but couldn’t bring myself to buy it, adding it to my cart and deleting it several times. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it, but I had elderly parents and a young child to support. I always had to budget my spending. In the past, I had also complained to Arthur: “Other husbands buy clothes for their wives. I’ve been with you for so many years, and I’ve never seen you buy me anything.” He always smiled warmly and said: “The money is all with you. You can buy whatever you want.” “I’m afraid you won’t like what I pick, and I don’t know how to pick women’s clothes anyway.” It turns out he didn’t lack the ability to pick; he just didn’t want to pick anything for me. “Thank you.” I took the coat and put it on. It was beautiful and warm. She paused, a second of surprise flashing in her eyes, unexpected that I hadn’t politely declined. During breakfast, I listened again to her endless chatter showing off their affection. She also asked me what life was like in the city. She even asked: “How’s your life?” I gave a faint smile and answered truthfully: “It’s alright, just that my man doesn’t know how to dote on his wife as well as yours does.” She grinned happily. Finally, noon arrived. The door was opened from the outside, and Arthur’s familiar voice came through: “Honey, I’m home.” Chloe and I stood up from the sofa at the same time and looked at him. “Which wife are you calling ‘honey’, husband?” I asked him, my face cold.

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Marcus Cole forgot everything. He forgot me. His memory is frozen in the year he was most in love with his ex-wife, Tiffany. No matter how hard everyone around him tried to convince him otherwise, he truly believed I was the homewrecker who came between them. The doctors said there was a chance his memory could return, so I held onto that sliver of hope, refusing to let go. Over the course of three years, we divorced and remarried. We became the laughingstock of the entire elite circle in the city; people were even placing bets on us. Betting on when I would finally give up, betting on when Marcus would remember. Until the news of our eighth divorce went viral on social media. Reporters stormed into my law firm, cameras blazing. They shoved microphones in my face, their words dripping with provocation. “Ms. Harper, as a divorce lawyer yourself, having been divorced eight times now, how does it feel?” My professional reputation was shattered, my personal commendations trampled underfoot. Before I could even respond, my boss fired me on the spot for bringing disrepute to the profession. “Chloe, let me give you a piece of advice: have some self-respect. Stop throwing yourself at Mr. Cole.” I clenched my trembling hands, and suddenly, a profound weariness washed over me. They were right. This time, I really should give up. … It was pouring rain when I left the firm. Clutching the cardboard box filled with things from my desk, I arrived home in a daze. The front door wasn’t fully closed. Laughter—Marcus’s and Tiffany’s—drifted out from inside. I surveyed my surroundings. The place was a total disaster: clothes scattered everywhere, stained carpets… The television in the living room was looping the news about the scene at my law firm earlier today. Seeing me return, the smile on Marcus’s face faded noticeably. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing up here again.” His sarcastic words cut through the air, hitting my ears clearly. Tiffany smiled and planted a kiss on the corner of Marcus’s mouth. “Alright, honey. You two were together for seven years, after all. Show a little grace.” Then she looked up, raising an eyebrow at me with an intimate, suggestive smile. “Marcus missed me so much, so I came over. You don’t mind, do you?” Rainwater dripped from my hair onto the floor, drop by drop. A wave of exhaustion rolled through my heart. I didn’t spare another glance at the two of them on the sofa and turned toward the master bedroom. But when I pushed the door open, I froze mid-step. “Oh, right, I forgot to tell you.” “This house is also under my mom’s name. It has nothing to do with you. I threw all your stuff out.” “It should still be in the trash bins by the curb.” Arthur’s lips curled up as he leaned against the wall, watching me. It seemed that seeing me in a wretched state was the only thing that made him happy. A sharp pain shot through my chest. My soaked shirt made me shudder from the cold. “You bought the trending top story today, didn’t you?” “We’re already divorced. Why did you have to make me lose my job too?” Faced with my questioning, Arthur raised his hand and violently knocked the box out of my grip. Files and documents scattered all over the floor. That was nearly seven years of my life’s work. “Chasing after me for three years wasn’t enough? Even if something really did happen between us in the past, I have amnesia now.” “The fact that I forgot you proves you’re completely worthless to me!” These words undoubtedly stabbed right into my old wounds once again. Three years ago, his sudden amnesia caused him to forget everything about me. Just the day before the memory loss, he was enthusiastically helping me decorate the nursery, fantasizing about whether we would have a boy or a girl. But later, he forgot. He only remembered Tiffany. “You just forgot! You have no idea what Tiffany did back then…” Resentment and fury nearly drove me mad. Marcus’s face turned ashen as he forcefully grabbed my hand. He shoved me out the door. The pouring rain soaked me again. “I don’t care what Tiffany did. I only remember that I love her. That’s enough.” I opened my mouth, but all the questioning and resentment seemed utterly pointless. Irritated, Marcus avoided my gaze, reaching out to rip the wedding band off his ring finger. The edge of the diamond ring sliced his hand. He hurled the wedding ring to the ground by my feet. As he slammed the door shut, he threw one last line at me. “Don’t come crawling back, begging me to remarry you again.” I stood there for a long time. Finally, I crouched down and picked up that wedding ring. Marcus had personally designed this before our wedding. He wore it for seven years, never taking it off once. By the trash bins at the curb were our shattered wedding photos, the scarf he had hand-knitted for me. And all the photo albums filled with memories of us. My phone suddenly rang. I looked at the contact name and answered. Marcus’s mother’s excited voice came from the other end. “Chloe, I just got Marcus’s physical exam results. The doctor said his memories are starting to loosen.” “As long as he continues treatment, there’s an eighty percent chance he can be cured!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. The ‘okay’ that was on the tip of my tongue never came out. Finally, I softly said, “Mom, don’t proceed with the treatment. If he forgot, he forgot.” Chapter 2 The next day, I went to the Cole family estate. I placed those eight divorce certificates on the coffee table in front of Marcus’s mother. “Mom, Marcus and I are divorced again.” Marcus’s mother looked at me with pity and let out a long sigh. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Arthur has wronged you. You two were so happy back then.” “But this time it really is different. I’ve contacted several doctors, and they all say the chances of a cure are high.” Marcus’s mother pushed a business card toward me, her eyes filled with anticipation. “I’m getting old. I just want you two to live a good life together.” “He’s been remembering quite a few things lately…” Before she could finish her plea, I interrupted. “But he has never remembered anything about me.” I lowered my head, avoiding her pitying gaze. The atmosphere grew silent until she suddenly spoke. “If you leave, and Marcus remembers you but can’t find you, he’ll go crazy.” For these past three years, every time we divorced, Marcus’s mother would say this sentence. And because of this sentence, my heart softened time and time again. We remarried time and time again. Before I could respond, there was a commotion in the entryway. Marcus walked in, his brow instantly furrowing when he saw me. “Chloe Harper, did you come to tattle on me to my mom again?” “I already kicked you out, and you’re still sticking around like a ghost. Can you seriously not survive without me?” Marcus’s mother was so furious her chest heaved violently. She abruptly stood up. Her hand shot out, delivering a resonant slap across Marcus’s face. “Have you caused enough trouble? Just how much further do you want to push Chloe?” “Without her, you would have died long ago.” Sitting on the sofa, my hands clenched into fists. I couldn’t help but think back to seven years ago. His marriage with Tiffany was painful. Tiffany enjoyed all his love, but she already had other men on the side. His wife was cheating; he became the laughingstock among the young elites overnight. When he took people to confront them. Tiffany also made off with ten million dollars, vanishing without a trace. After that, Marcus fell into depression. Just as he was preparing to commit suicide by jumping into the river. I was the one who saved him. “So what? Isn’t she just looking for money?” Marcus still stared stubbornly at his mother. “I don’t care what Tiffany did in the past. I just love her. It’s impossible for me to love anyone else.” “And I won’t regret it.” Marcus’s mother seemed to be drained of all her strength in an instant. She turned to look at me apologetically. Marcus rubbed his temples, finally raising his head as if in compromise. “Chloe, you can remarry me if you want. We’ll just end up divorced later anyway. The one losing face is you, not me.” “Since you seriously can’t leave me, then let’s go to City Hall right now.” “This must be your eighth divorce, isn’t it?” The corner of my mouth twitched. I couldn’t match the person in front of me with the Marcus in my memory. “This time, I came to make things clear to Mom.” “You’re free, Marcus.” Marcus froze. The hand hanging by his side trembled involuntarily. He looked at me in astonishment, then quickly regained his composure. “Playing hard to get, are we? Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on me.” “Fine. You said it. Don’t you dare come back begging me later.” Marcus spoke almost through gritted teeth. Ignoring his mother’s attempts to stop him, he threw his things on the floor. And stormed out. Marcus’s mother was so angry she nearly blacked out. She shouted at Marcus’s retreating back. “You are going to regret this!” Chapter 3 I no longer cared whether Marcus would regret it. After completely giving up on the treatment, my taut nerves relaxed a bit. After leaving the Cole estate, I was preparing to ask Marcus to return my passport and ID. All my identification documents had been with him these past few years. Just as I reached the street corner. A sudden, sharp pain struck my forehead. Hot blood gushed from the wound. Dizzy, I hadn’t even realized what was happening. Before I was aggressively pulled and kicked by a group of people. “It’s her! She’s the homewrecker!” “Marcus and Tiffany belong together. Why do you have to force yourself in as the other woman?” “Spit. You’re a disgrace to the legal profession. Specializing in other people’s divorce cases, but you can’t even get your own house in order.” The commotion instantly drew the attention of passersby. Instead of intervening, they pointed their phones at me, recording continuously. Due to excessive blood loss, I didn’t have the strength to fight back. Seeing that I had no energy to resist, the crowd eventually dispersed with disappointment. They spat on me. “We’re going to beat you up every time we see you!” As my vision blurred, I saw Marcus in the distance. He was holding hands with Tiffany, both smiling sweetly. They looked truly happy. When our eyes met, Marcus’s expression stiffened. His footsteps instinctively ran toward me. “Wh… What happened to you?” The blood flowed unstoppably, staining my clothes red. Marcus’s mind went blank. He seemed to panic. With a trembling hand, he pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. But Tiffany stopped him. “Don’t get involved. Maybe she directed and acted this whole thing herself just to get your sympathy?” “It just looks scary, she’s fine.” “Didn’t you say you were taking me to pick out a birthday present?” Tiffany pulled him away. Marcus hesitated for a moment, then turned his phone off. He didn’t look at me again. I leaned against the wall, gasping for air. The blood still hadn’t stopped. In the end, I dialed for an ambulance myself. But before the ambulance could arrive, I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, it was already a week later.max The doctor said if I had been even a little later, I might have died from excessive blood loss. Upon hearing about this, Marcus’s mother specially came to the hospital to see me. She covered all the medical expenses. “Chloe, those people’s aggressive behavior… Mom has already handled it for you.” “Marcus, he…” “He just forgot that you have a blood clotting disorder.” Marcus’s mother tried to advise me again, but looking at my pale face. The words that were on the tip of her tongue were swallowed back down. I gave a faint smile. “Mrs. Cole, I’m divorced from him, and I won’t be staying in the city.” “I’m never coming back.” Hearing the change in address, Marcus’s mother’s eyes instantly turned red. Ultimately, she just nodded. “Chloe, whatever you want to do, I’ll help you.” Chapter 4 Over the course of a month, I tried to contact Marcus. After all, all my identification documents were with him. But he was busy preparing for Tiffany’s birthday and had zero time to attend to me. It wasn’t until the day before Tiffany’s birthday that he hurriedly returned. Marcus had forgotten about the incident a month ago. “Tiffany’s birthday is tomorrow. She likes things lively and invited you to go racing.” I paused, remembering that Tiffany was a professional racer before her retirement. Inviting me to play with them was clearly to establish her dominance over me. “I’m not going.” I calmly refused. Marcus seemed prepared for this. He pulled my identification documents from his bag, waving them in front of me. “Aren’t you looking for these? Be a good girl and listen, and I’ll give them back to you.” “Otherwise…” My gaze darkened. I knew Marcus meant what he said. I had no choice but to agree. The racing event Tiffany organized mostly included playboys from the elite circle. When they saw me, it was like they were looking at a monkey in a zoo. They giggled and made sarcastic remarks. “Marcus, why is your ex-wife still so persistent, chasing you all the way here?” Before Marcus could speak, Tiffany hooked her arm through his, her lips curled in a smile. “I invited Chloe. The more people, the livelier, right? Besides, she knows how to drive too, so I thought we could all race.” The fragmented taunts of the crowd fell unmistakably on my ears. “Just a disbarred divorce lawyer. Racing against her is beneath us.” “Who knew the eighth divorce drama would actually manifest in reality.” I sighed inwardly, thinking about those passports and ID cards. Finally, I closed my eyes. “How do you want to race? Say it.” The corner of Tiffany’s mouth turned up, and she bent down into the driver’s seat. “Very simple. Whoever reaches the finish line first wins.” “However… if something happens and you lose your life, you can only blame your own bad luck.” Tiffany spoke the last few words extremely softly. My heart skipped a beat, and I instinctively gripped the steering wheel. Everything went smoothly at the beginning of the race. Until halfway through a turn, Tiffany’s wheels suddenly slid. My brakes were unresponsive, and I slammed straight into her, flipping the entire car. The screams and cries for help from the crowd rose one after another. My legs were trapped in the driver’s seat. Shards of glass had pierced my thigh. I wasn’t sure if an artery had been severed. The blood flowed without ceasing. The racetrack had its own medical team. They rapidly provided emergency care to both me and Tiffany, sending us to the hospital. It wasn’t easy for the doctor to help me stop the bleeding. Marcus approached me, his eyes red. He violently slapped me across the face, gripping my collar as if he were tearing it apart. “Chloe Harper! You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Do you know Tiffany is still in emergency resuscitation right now? If anything happens to her, you and I are done!” But clearly, she was the one who crashed into me. My vision was still very blurry. I only saw several doctors suddenly walk out of the operating room. “The patient is hemorrhaging and needs a blood transfusion, but the blood bank resources are limited…” “Draw from her! Use her blood! Please, you must save my wife…” Marcus violently yanked my hand. The force was so great it nearly caused my wounds to rupture again. The doctor responsible for me immediately intervened. “She can’t. She has a blood clotting disorder. She nearly severed an artery just now; we barely got the bleeding stopped.” “If you insist on drawing blood, something might happen.” Marcus couldn’t hear a word. He continued to roar. “Just draw it! Who cares if she dies? I just want Tiffany to live.” I raised my head, looking at Marcus’s back. “Chloe, I only want you to live.” I vaguely heard Marcus’s voice from the past. Because of the blood clotting disorder, in Marcus’s eyes, I was like a porcelain doll. Once when we went mountain climbing, we encountered a mudslide. He had said that to me too. As long as I lived. With bloodshot eyes, Marcus ignored all interventions and directly drew my blood. Bag after bag of blood was sent into the operating room. Marcus threw the passport and documents by my hand. I struggled with all my might to keep from passing out. Ignoring the nurse’s attempts to stop me, I took my passport and left the hospital. This time, Marcus and I were completely and utterly finished.

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When we went to the impoverished mountain area to sponsor a child, my best friend, Chloe, couldn’t wait to choose the autistic boy. “This kid looks so pitiful. Mia, you have a weak constitution, you should sponsor that genius boy. You’ll enjoy a good life with him later!” Everyone praised my best friend’s loyalty, but only I knew she had been reborn. In our previous life, two children in the mountain area stood out. One was an exceptionally intelligent genius, and the other was a silent, autistic child. Chloe rushed to take the genius boy. But the boy turned out to be an ungrateful wretch. After getting into an Ivy League university, he completely ignored her. When he eventually became a billionaire doctor, he even played the victim, accusing her of molesting and abusing him. My best friend was cyberbullied, lost her job, went bankrupt from lawsuits, and her parents died of anger because of her. Meanwhile, the autistic child I sponsored later became a renowned designer, winning countless international awards. When Chloe had nothing left, seeing the respectful and loving way the boy treated me drove her mad with jealousy. She hit me with her car and killed me. Opening her eyes again, she definitely wouldn’t repeat her past mistakes. But looking at her smug face, I couldn’t help but laugh. Doesn’t she know that autism, when it reaches a certain level, can turn into psychopathy? 1 “Liam has had autism since he was little. It’s not just that he doesn’t speak; his emotions are highly unstable. He hits people over the slightest displeasure. The teachers at the orphanage have been beaten by him several times.” “He also suddenly screams and cries at night, staying awake all night. You really need to think this through.” As she spoke, the orphanage director pushed the straight-A student, Arthur, forward. “This child has been incredibly smart since he was little. Not only are his grades top-notch, but he also knows how to handle things and is very sensible!” Arthur, wearing a white shirt and jeans, smiled brightly at Chloe, looking exactly like the male lead in a campus romance novel. But Chloe backed away repeatedly as if she had seen a ghost. “No!!” “Arthur is so excellent, he should go to Mia. Taking care of Liam is too exhausting, I couldn’t bear to see her suffer.” I rolled my eyes hard inwardly at her hypocritical display. In our previous life, Chloe wasn’t like this at all. Back then, she couldn’t wait to pull Arthur to her side, terrified I would fight her for him. Arthur indeed lived up to expectations: he got into an Ivy League, earned his Ph.D., started a business after graduation, and became a billionaire doctor at a young age. During that time, Chloe showed off to me every chance she got. “Mia, what can the kid you’re raising do besides hit people and scream?” “I guess this is it for you in this life—serving an idiot, with no hope of ever getting ahead.” “Unlike me. Arthur is worth hundreds of millions now. I won’t have to do anything from now on, just lie back and enjoy life.” But no one expected that the glamorous Arthur was actually an ungrateful wretch. He accused Chloe on camera of molesting and abusing him since childhood, and later forcing him to marry her. Overnight, Chloe became a pariah. Netizens photoshopped her pictures into funeral portraits and splashed paint all over her front door. Her company couldn’t withstand the pressure and had to fire her. On her way home, she saw her own parents killed in a hit-and-run. Finally, Arthur sued her for a massive sum in compensation. She emptied her savings but still couldn’t fill the hole, eventually ending up on the streets, begging to survive. Meanwhile, the Liam I sponsored not only stepped out of the shadow of autism but also became a famous designer, eventually gifting all his assets to me. Chloe went mad with jealousy and drove her car straight into me, killing me. Reborn into this life, she naturally couldn’t wait to get rid of Arthur. I looked at Chloe in front of me and asked softly: “If you choose him, aren’t you afraid you’ll regret it?” Chloe immediately waved her hand dismissively, her face full of contempt. “What do you know! Liam looks quiet, but he’s definitely a genius in his bones. Don’t fight me for him!” “Only certain people look like decent human beings but are actually ungrateful, backstabbing wolves. I wouldn’t want that.” I sneered inwardly at her determined look. Fight her for him? I couldn’t wait for her to take him away quickly. No one knew that behind Liam’s glamorous facade was an endless nightmare I endured. After he recovered from his autism, he developed a severe, paranoid possessiveness. He would secretly delete all male contacts from my phone while I was asleep, calling it “afraid you’ll get scammed.” He installed bars on all the windows in the house under the guise of safety, keeping me trapped like a bird in a gilded cage. When I was sick, he stayed by my side constantly. But then he turned around and fired a male doctor who had just handed me a cup of water. He always said: “Only I can protect you.” Yet, when I tried to contact my family, he smashed my phone and roared with red eyes: “You have me, that’s enough! You don’t need anyone else!” The suffocating feeling wrapped in that “gentleness” made me despair even more than his fists did when he was a child. Even if Chloe hadn’t run me over with her car, I wouldn’t have lasted much longer in that kind of life. Since Chloe wanted a paranoid psychopath in this life, I’d let her have him. I absolutely didn’t want to suffer the pain of being imprisoned and abused again! As soon as we got home, Arthur put down his luggage and started studying. But when I woke up from my nap, I found that dinner, with meat and vegetables, was already laid out on the dining table. Looking at the cautious and eager-to-please Arthur in front of me, I felt incredibly comfortable. In my previous life, when I first brought Liam through the door, he suddenly went crazy. He not only smashed everything in the house to pieces but also strangled me tightly. If I hadn’t prepared a sedative in advance, I wouldn’t have survived that day. Now, having an obedient, sensible, and good-looking Arthur, how could I not be happy? Seeing me staring at the food without moving, Arthur lowered his voice even more. “Is it not to your taste? Should I go make something else?” I quickly shook my head, picked up my chopsticks, took a bite, and nodded, saying: “It’s very good, no need to change it.” “If you need anything in the future, just ask me. I will help you with whatever I can satisfy.” Hearing this, Arthur’s eyes lit up. He hesitated for a few seconds before saying, “I want to participate in the National Physics Olympiad…” I instantly remembered that in my previous life, Arthur won the gold medal in this very competition, earning him an exceptional admission to a top Ivy League school. From then on, his reputation as a physics genius spread nationwide, and he only had coldness and disgust for Chloe. I hesitated for a moment, but then thought that sponsoring a child was a good deed to begin with. Cultivating a talent is a good thing; I never expected him to repay me with anything. I nodded immediately. “Of course you can. I’ll help you prepare, and I’ll handle whatever you need.” A bright smile immediately bloomed on Arthur’s face. He turned and headed back to the kitchen: “Then I’ll get you another bowl of soup, drink more to nourish your body.” Looking at his joyful back, I really couldn’t figure out how he turned into the ungrateful wretch he became later. Just after I finished eating, a video call from Chloe popped up on my phone. When connected, the screen showed Liam sitting at a desk, holding a paintbrush. On the paper was a crude drawing, messy lines showing absolutely no talent. Chloe leaned into the camera and said triumphantly: “Mia, look how good Liam is! He can even draw!” “What’s the use of a physics genius? He might just turn out to be an ungrateful wretch. You’ll regret it sooner or later.” “Liam is a true genius. I’ll stick with him from now on and enjoy endless good days.” I rolled my eyes at her incessant chatter. Even though she deliberately angled the camera away from the smashed-up house, the bright red slap mark on her face was still clearly visible. I truly couldn’t endure the “blessing” of being tortured by a psychopath. Besides, she probably didn’t know yet that Liam’s later talent in painting was all thanks to my father, a master of traditional painting, guiding and teaching him bit by bit. Without the guidance of a professional teacher in this life, given his condition, he probably wouldn’t even be able to speak complete sentences, let alone become a famous designer. I couldn’t be bothered to waste my breath on her, just gave a few perfunctory responses, and hung up the phone. In the following days, I used my family’s resources to find many physics experts to tutor Arthur every week, and even managed to get him exclusive competition exercise books. Arthur studied exceptionally hard and became increasingly considerate of me in daily life. He would prepare meals in advance morning and night, remembering I don’t eat cilantro, and even rushed to do chores, never letting me worry too much. Watching him handle everything so thoughtfully, I became even more confused: how could someone so sensible suddenly turn into a backstabbing wretch in the previous life? Before I could sort out my thoughts, my phone suddenly rang. When I answered, Chloe’s heart-wrenching crying instantly came through. “Mia, come quickly to the police station! Save me!” When I rushed to the police station and asked around, I found out that Chloe had insisted on sending Liam to learn painting. The result? On his very first day, Liam went berserk, grabbed an inkstone, and broke two of the teacher’s fingers! The other party demanded a ten-thousand-dollar compensation. Chloe couldn’t come up with the money, which was why she frantically called me for help. I didn’t hesitate much, fronted the medical expenses for her, and told her to take Liam away first. Before she left, I couldn’t help but remind her: “His emotions are completely unstable right now. He’s not suited to interact with the outside world. You need to find a professional for intervention first.” Unexpectedly, Chloe flew into a rage out of humiliation, pointing at my nose and cursing: “Mind your own business! You just can’t stand that Liam is a genius!” “What do you have to be so smug about? That ungrateful wretch Arthur will turn on you sooner or later, and then you’ll taste what it’s like to have your family destroyed!” As soon as she finished speaking, Liam, who had been silent all along, suddenly stepped forward and hugged her waist, rubbing his fuzzy head against her neck. Chloe immediately beamed with joy. “See? Look how clingy he is with me now. His autism is much better.” I shivered, terrified by the fleeting look of resentment I caught in Liam’s eyes. This wasn’t an improvement; it was clearly the onset of twisted paranoia! I was afraid of getting burned, so I didn’t say another word, turned around, and headed home. From then on, every time I heard news of Chloe, it was either her being beaten into the hospital by Liam, or Liam smashing up another art class. I felt she was a total jinx and even avoided walking near her. But I never expected that during Arthur’s first summer break after getting into an Ivy League, Chloe would actually show up at my house uninvited. As soon as she walked in, she raised her chin, her tone full of mockery. “Mia, what did I tell you?” “That ungrateful wretch Arthur stopped contacting you after he started college, didn’t he? He doesn’t even come home; he doesn’t care about you at all!” I froze for a moment, and thinking carefully, it really was as she said. After Arthur reported he had arrived safely at school, there had been no news from him. All the messages I sent were left on read with no reply. Seeing that I didn’t refute her, Chloe grew even more smug. “Liam is much better than him. He sticks to me every day and is completely obedient to me.” “You better watch out. When Arthur needs startup capital in the future, who knows how badly he’ll scam you!” “When the time comes, you’ll become a rat everyone wants to beat. Don’t regret choosing the wrong person when your family is destroyed.” After she finished, she smiled even more triumphantly. Although I never asked for anything in return when I sponsored Arthur, Chloe’s words were like a thorn, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. I took out my phone, wanting to call Arthur to ask about the situation, only to find out when I dialed that he had already blocked me. Clicking on his social media, it was full of photos from college activities. He was smiling brightly, living a very exciting life. And his latest post prominently read: [Getting ready to start a business with my best friend. Let’s go!] I suddenly remembered my previous life. When he first started his business and was short on cash, he smoothly borrowed money from Chloe. But once the money was in his hands, he immediately blocked her. For five years after that, he completely ignored Chloe. And the next time he came looking for her, it was when he had become one of the top, wealthiest doctors in the country. To expand his hospital’s reputation, he wildly proclaimed online that he had been abused and molested by his sponsor. Chloe tried to find him to clear her name, but was blocked in the hospital by reporters he had hired, thoroughly cementing the narrative that she was an abuser. Before I could recover from my shock, my phone suddenly vibrated. Arthur had sent a message. “Sister, I want to start a business, but I’m still a bit short on startup capital. Can you lend me some money?” Chloe leaned over, saw the message on the screen, and instantly burst into uncontrollable laughter. “I told you he was an ungrateful wretch! Asking for money as soon as he starts college; he’s a bottomless pit!” “Who knows what he’ll do to you for money in the future!” I stared at the screen, hesitating for a few seconds, but still replied: “How much do you need?” The smile on Chloe’s face froze instantly, and she stared at me as if I were an idiot. “Are you crazy? You actually believe the nonsense this little animal says?” “He just treats you like a sucker, a walking ATM!” I ignored Chloe’s words. Since I sponsored him, I should fulfill my responsibility. Without saying much, I directly transferred ten thousand dollars. Chloe was stomping her feet in anger beside me. Just as she was about to speak, her phone suddenly rang. When she answered, the art teacher’s voice was loud enough to hear even without speakerphone. “Come pick up Liam immediately! This kid can’t be a genius; he’s a piece of trash!” “He can’t even distinguish basic colors, and he’s always throwing tantrums! No one can teach him!” Chloe’s face instantly turned green. She hung up the phone, glared at me fiercely, grabbed her bag, slammed the door, and left. That same day, I saw on the news that Chloe caused a huge scene at the art institute for Liam, resulting in her being taken to the police station again. Only this time, she couldn’t find me to rescue her. It wasn’t until half a month later that the two were released, looking disheveled. By that time, Arthur’s company was already somewhat famous, and major newspapers were rushing to report on it. That evening, I had just finished washing up when I heard my front door being violently banged on by Chloe. “What are you doing?” She smiled sinisterly, and I backed away in fear. “Why? Why does everything go smoothly for you no matter what you choose?” “I can’t wait to see that ungrateful wretch Arthur trample you under his feet and ruin your reputation! I want you dead right now!” As soon as she finished speaking, she grabbed my neck like a madwoman. Just as I was about to struggle, she sprayed something blindly in my face, and my vision went black as I fainted. When I woke up again, the living room was packed with people. Camera shutters clicked continuously, and the flashes blinded me. “Are you a psychopath? Did you sponsor a genius boy just to satisfy your own desire for control?” “I heard you forced Arthur to work like a slave, and even beat and scolded him. Is it true?” “Does a woman like you deserve to be called human? You sponsored a child just to vent your dark thoughts!” My mind was completely blank. Before I could even react, my phone started vibrating like crazy. My mom’s panicked voice rang in my ear. “Mia, what is going on? So many people came to the house.” “They are smashing and looting… Honey, what’s wrong with you…” Before my mom could finish, the call disconnected. I turned my head stiffly and looked at Chloe, who was standing among the reporters. She triumphantly waved her phone at me. Only then did I realize that Chloe had used my account to post a long article. In it, she not only detailed fabricated accounts of me abusing Arthur but also wrote about many perverse fantasies I supposedly had about him. The comments underneath were already unbearable. [Trash like this should be arrested and shot!] [A demon cloaked in kindness. That poor child!] [I’ve already doxxed her address. I’m going to go ask her parents how they raised such an animal!] I felt a chill all over and practically roared: “These are all lies! Where is Arthur? He knows the truth!” Chloe smiled even more triumphantly, leaned close to my ear, and said in a voice only we could hear: “Where do you think those fake injury photos came from?” “As long as Arthur sues you, he’ll have all the money he needs for his startup. Do you think he’ll help you?” Hearing this, my heart sank heavily. Does it really mean that even if I poured my heart out for Arthur, it was all for nothing? Right at that moment, a voice suddenly rang out from the crowd. “Everything she said is true.” Chloe and I turned our heads at the same time. When we saw who it was, Chloe and I both widened our eyes, faces full of disbelief. Seeing this, the reporters all swarmed forward, almost shoving their microphones into Arthur’s mouth. The clamor of overlapping questions instantly drowned out the surrounding noise. “Mr. Vance, regarding Ms. Chloe’s previous statement that you suffered long-term suppression and mistreatment from Ms. Mia, is that true?” “Are you wearing a lab coat because you just came from the lab? Did Ms. Mia interfere even with your work?” “Ms. Chloe said you once asked her for help, accusing Ms. Mia of atrocities. Now that you’ve suddenly appeared, were you coerced by Ms. Mia?” “Ms. Mia has been silent this whole time. Does that mean she admits to all the allegations? As the person involved, can you detail the specific things Ms. Mia has done to you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394851”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was slacking off in the office pantry when I stumbled upon a cry-for-help post. The OP claimed I was trying to seduce him every single day. [How far will a female subordinate go to climb the corporate ladder? When presenting proposals, her eyes practically spin sugar threads.] Looking at the blurry photo attached, showing the corner of a desk, I almost spit out my hot coffee. The scratch on that desk, and that chipped mug—no matter how you looked at it, it was my workstation. This blogger went by the handle “Structural Mechanics Fanatic.” In his post, he complained that when his female subordinate presented proposals, she used the blueprints to hide half her face while smiling, calling it pure workplace seduction. I thought to myself, this guy is really overthinking it. I only hid behind the blueprints because I wasn’t confident in my proposal and was afraid of breathing in the boss’s face. Who the hell was trying to seduce him? To test this guy, I deliberately changed my outfit the next day. I wore a black pencil skirt with an edge cut so straight it looked like it was done with a scalpel. I also tied my long hair into a high ponytail, completely exposing the back of my neck. I knew the designers in our company all had OCD when it came to “precision lines.” Sure enough, before my coffee even finished brewing, the post updated. 1 [This woman is playing a high-level game. She knows I have a thing for precision lines, so she deliberately dressed like this today and exposed her neck. Is she trying to challenge my self-control?] The blogger even attached a photo, taken from a high angle, capturing my shadow as I bent over by the printer. I stared at my phone, stunned. That shadow was definitely mine. The angle of the skirt in the light was indeed sharp, but I genuinely wasn’t trying to challenge anyone’s self-control. I clicked into his profile, intending to dig up who this guy actually was. His profile used to be entirely about architectural mechanics and material textures—all specialized jargon I couldn’t understand. But from a certain day onward, the tone completely changed to complaints about a “female subordinate.” [There’s a girl in the company, her eyes sparkle, and she greets me with a smile, while other colleagues hide when they see me. What’s going on?] A netizen replied: [She likes you, obviously.] He replied: [Our company forbids office romances.] He added: [In an architect’s eyes, there are only precise proportions. This kind of seduction is useless against me.] Yet, yesterday’s post had over five thousand likes. [The female subordinate keeps seducing me, affecting my drafting. What should I do?] He wrote a long paragraph underneath, claiming that the frequency with which my fingertips brushed over the matte blueprints during presentations perfectly replicated his habitual points of force application, and that I was inflicting “aesthetic poisoning” on him. Reading this, my suspicion immediately zeroed in on Arthur. His photos frequently featured a custom-made German fountain pen and a specific angle of a building spire outside the window. I had only ever seen that pen on the desk of Arthur, the founder. And that specific angle outside the window could only be captured from the two adjacent top-floor offices belonging to Arthur and Mr. Sinclair, the big boss. They even shared the same assistant team. Could it be that Arthur, the handsome boss who was usually as cold as ice and always kept a straight face, was secretly such a narcissistic drama king behind our backs? To thoroughly verify this, I planned to introduce another “experimental variable.” The next day, I didn’t wear that sharp black skirt, switching back to the most ordinary white button-down and blue skirt. This basic outfit couldn’t possibly be misconstrued as seduction, right? That day, Arthur happened to call a brief meeting. Not long after the meeting ended, the OP blew up again. [This woman’s methods are incredible! Dressing with such visual deception!] I replied to him using my burner account: [How is this basic NPC outfit deceptive? Post a picture.] To slap the netizens’ faces, the OP immediately dropped a photo of my back. It was me, white shirt tucked into the skirt, the lines so flat there wasn’t a single wrinkle. The OP typed frantically below: [You guys don’t understand this aesthetic of alignment! Today, to see me, she even calibrated the seams of her shirt to the millimeter! And the curve of her updo perfectly matches the dome curve from my award-winning project last year. It’s explosively sexy!] This time, it was basically confirmed. That comment about the curve of the back of the neck was indeed the copy from Arthur’s award-winning project last year. Thinking about Arthur’s usual aloof and ascetic demeanor in the office, and then looking at these overly-imaginative essays on my phone, gave me goosebumps. I sat at my workstation, looking at Arthur’s all-glass office not far away. He was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, staring intently at his computer, looking incredibly rigorous. I thought to myself, Boss Arthur, since you think I’m baiting you, if I don’t actually do something real, I’d be doing a disservice to all these posts you’ve made. I took a deep breath, grabbed an inconsequential draft, and prepared to go to his office for a final confirmation. If he really was the OP, the moment I walked in, the post would definitely update instantly. Netizens were still causing a ruckus in the comment section. [OP, you’re being a bit too full of yourself.] [Get back to work, stop staring at your female subordinate all day.] The OP seemed anxious, posting several replies in a row. [Forget it, I can’t explain it to you guys. You don’t understand the attraction of mechanics.] [I reiterate, I have no interest in her. My sole focus is architecture.] Netizens mocked him even harder: [Lmao, OP could be cremated and only his mouth would be left unburned because it’s so hard.] I looked at the screen. Even though the evidence lined up, it was still hard to connect the aloof ice block in front of me with the over-imaginative weirdo online. Arthur was a partner in our company. Single, undeniably handsome, but with a personality as cold as ice. He rarely even cracked a smile in the office—the standard, emotionless capitalist. Rumor had it he only loved architecture and money, keeping women at arm’s length. This guy’s contrast with the “over-imaginative” blogger in my mind was simply too jarring. To find definitive evidence, I decided to take the initiative. Hiding in the company’s transparent pantry, I sent a private message to “Structural Mechanics Fanatic.” [Boss, are you at that top-tier architecture firm?] He replied at lightning speed: [How do you know?] My palms got a little sweaty, and I continued typing: [Can the center of mass distribution on your limited-edition German fountain pen really create mechanical resonance?] This time, he went silent. I looked inside through the bright floor-to-ceiling windows. Arthur was sitting in that all-glass office, and surprisingly, the big boss, Julian Sinclair, was there too. The two were discussing something in low voices. The setting sun poured through the blinds, gilding their sharp silhouettes. Arthur, wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, was focused on his computer screen. That rigorous, ascetic look was indeed quite intimidating. My gaze shifted to the desk. Next to the neat stack of documents, the custom German fountain pen rested steadily on its holder. But what made my heart skip a beat was that between Julian’s long, elegant fingers, he was also twirling an identical pen. My heart pounded. Could there really be more than one of these in the entire company? For the final experiment, I grabbed an inconsequential draft, steeled my resolve, and knocked on the office door. The room was covered in thick gray carpet; stepping on it made no sound. A faint, cold cedar scent floated in the air, creating a strong sense of pressure. When I entered, Arthur looked up at me, while Julian beside him coldly turned sideways, his eyes as deep and temperatureless as a dark pool. “What is it?” Arthur’s voice was deep and weighty. Forcing a smile, I walked over, spread the draft out in front of Arthur, and deliberately leaned in a little closer to them. “Mr. Vance, I’m a bit unsure about the load-bearing structure on this draft.” My fingertips lightly brushed the edge of the matte blueprint, making a faint scratching sound. Immediately after, I deliberately lowered my head. A lock of long hair slid down my shoulder, but due to a miscalculated angle, it accidentally swept across the back of Julian’s hand, which was resting on the desk. I felt Julian stiffen completely, his hand visibly tensing. But he maintained his expression flawlessly, his eyes still icy cold, unmoving. “Leave it here. I’ll look at it later.” Arthur’s tone was stiff, clearly rushing me out. I quickly gathered the blueprints, turned, and left the office. As soon as I was out the door, my legs felt a bit weak. Arthur looked so aloof, and Mr. Sinclair was even more intimidating. Neither of them looked like the type to post narcissistic rants online. But the moment I sat back down in the pantry and refreshed my phone… the post had updated three seconds ago. [She’s back! Tapping her fingertips all over the blueprints, her hair even flirting with the back of my hand. Bringing inconsequential drafts just to report to me… this woman has too many tricks. I’m having a hard time holding back from exposing her.] I stared at the phone screen, my brain crashing for three seconds. This description, this timing… wasn’t this exactly what just happened? But just now… the hair brushed against Mr. Sinclair’s hand! I was losing it. Could it be that the big boss Julian Sinclair, who was so sharp-tongued in meetings he could make people doubt their existence, was actually such an over-imaginative weirdo in private? During the day, he pretends to be an ascetic god in the office, but behind our backs, he frantically records how I’m “strategizing” to win him over? This world is truly insane. I used to think the over-imaginative weirdo online had to be Arthur. After all, that custom pen had indeed appeared on his desk. Just to be completely safe, I decided to give Arthur one final test to thoroughly eliminate him as a suspect. Early the next morning, I bought him a sandwich and brewed a cup of black coffee on my way in. “Morning, Mr. Vance. You look busy lately, brought you some food for a quick energy boost.” I tried to smile appropriately, like a diligent subordinate. Arthur looked up, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, and took it with a look of mild surprise: “Thanks, Chloe. Just leave it there.” His tone remained cold as he turned his attention back to the construction detail drawings on his computer, frowning, too busy to even look up. His phone lay at the corner of the desk, the screen never lighting up. I observed him from the doorway of his office for the entire morning. He was either in video conferences with top-level clients or rapidly typing on his keyboard reviewing bidding contracts. Both of his hands were in my line of sight the entire time; he had absolutely no opportunity to touch his phone and post. I took the chance to check the post. “Structural Mechanics Fanatic” had updated again. Sure enough, Arthur was ruled out. I finally confirmed that although Arthur was also a founder, the big boss next door—Julian, who appeared less often and was more unfathomable—was the real mastermind. The two shared an assistant team, and many office supplies were even custom-made in pairs, which caused my previous misjudgment. So, the over-imaginative weirdo who spent every day online fantasizing that I was secretly in love with him and trying to seduce him was actually the most aloof, quiet, top-level core of the company—Julian. The moment this thought crystallized, a chill ran down my spine. Mr. Sinclair was the true paranoiac obsessed with structural aesthetics. The core logic of Arthur’s usual proposals actually mostly came from Julian’s hand. But then, an uncontrollable excitement bubbled up within me. Who would have thought that Mr. Sinclair, usually as cold as a block of ice, could have such an active imagination in private? Since he thought I was scheming to bait him, wouldn’t it be a disservice to all the posts he’d made if I didn’t actually do something real? I made up my mind. I was going to be the hunter for once and force him out of hiding. I began implementing my “Reverse Baiting” plan. Step one: Cater to the symptom. Since he liked precision lines and minimalist aesthetics, I changed up my outfits every day to match. I used to dress more casually, but now I had to iron my clothes until there wasn’t a single wrinkle before leaving the house. Especially that black pencil skirt; the tailoring was very stiff, and the curve of the neckline perfectly hit his architectural aesthetic sweet spot. Sure enough, the post updated more frequently. [She wore that outfit again. The line of the neckline is exactly the same as the dome I designed.] [This woman is definitely doing it on purpose. She knows this texture distracts me the most, so she deliberately struts around in front of me.] [Today, she even adjusted the curl of her hair to match my aesthetic. This is a precision strike.] The netizens below were dying of laughter. [Boss, you’re in too deep. She might just be a neat freak.] [This guy is hopeless. Dating purely through imagination? She hasn’t even spoken and you’ve already surrendered?] [Daily check-in: Has the boss been conquered by the female subordinate today?] I held back my laughter at my desk so hard my stomach hurt, my hands shaking as I typed. Step two: Create coincidences. I figured out Julian had an unshakeable habit. Every day at 3 PM sharp, he would go to the convenience store downstairs and buy a bottle of iced black coffee from the very back row of the fridge. So, timing it perfectly, I followed him down two minutes after he left. The fluorescent lights in the convenience store were a bit glaring. I strode over to the chilly glass doors of the fridge. Just in time, Julian also arrived there. His incredibly handsome hand was just about to touch the last bottle of iced Americano. I moved faster, snatching the bottle away right before his fingers touched it. I turned my head, raised an eyebrow at him, and deliberately let a few strands of hair brush against the back of his hand. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m so sorry, but this last bottle is mine.” I gave him a sweet smile. Julian froze completely, his hand suspended in mid-air, unsure whether to retract it or grab something else. He stared at me for a few seconds, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and he forced out two words: “You drink.” With that, he turned and left, walking so fast he almost bumped into a shelf. Carrying the iced coffee, I went back to my desk and started frantically refreshing the webpage. Less than five minutes later, the post exploded. [Help! She just fought me for coffee at the convenience store! It was the last bottle!] [She not only stole my coffee but also copied me by drinking the most bitter black coffee. Is this a display of dominance, or does she want me to remember her taste?] [And the look she gave me just now… the hook in that smile was pulled to the max! I’m about to lose it!] The comments below flooded in: [Boss, it’s a shame you aren’t writing novels with that imagination.] [She clearly just wanted coffee, and you’re insisting she wants to spend her life with you? You really dare to dream.] I looked at my phone, laughing so hard in my seat that my hands shook. Netizen: [Oh boy, the boss got his coffee stolen and his soul hooked. So weak!] The next day, I lined up in front of him and ordered the exact same iced Americano he always got. Julian stood right behind me, staring at the dark liquid with complex eyes. I turned around and gave him a sweet smile: “Mr. Sinclair, what a coincidence. You also like it without milk?” He didn’t speak, just nodded with a cold face, but I saw the tips of his ears, hidden in his hair, quietly turn red. The post updated again. [She’s copying me by drinking iced Americanos! She wants to have the same sensory perception of taste as me! She wants to seep into my life through the same frequency of bitterness! Her love is too aggressive!] Netizens: [Help, I’m dying of secondhand embarrassment from the boss’s imagination. What kind of new workplace literature is this?] [Say no more, lock it down! I’m bringing the civil affairs bureau over right now!] My plan was proceeding very smoothly. Julian’s posts literally became my daily source of joy. But when you play with fire too much, you’re bound to get burned eventually.

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The night before my father’s final appeal, Elias Vance didn’t show up to deliver the key evidence as agreed. Instead, he sent someone to deliver a sexy, lace prisoner costume. He was leaning back on his sofa, casually swirling a glass of red wine when I confronted him over video call. “Wear it. Beg me,” he drawled. “Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I can get your dad’s sentence reduced by a few years.” I knew he was humiliating me. He was doing this because his childhood sweetheart had sobbed in court, claiming my father had sexually harassed her. He believed her. He wanted to get revenge for his precious first love. When Elias crushed the USB drive containing the security footage that could have proven my father’s innocence beneath his heel, I just quietly picked up the fragments. A flicker of astonishment crossed his eyes, followed by a light chuckle. “That’s right. Learn to be obedient, and your father might actually have a chance to survive.” I forced the corners of my mouth into a stiff, mocking smile. “No need.” What he didn’t know was that during those hours he was busy administering ‘justice’ for his childhood sweetheart… My father, unable to bear the humiliation, had already bitten off his own tongue and committed suicide in the detention center. The dead do not need settlements. Chapter 1 “Harper, don’t be stupid.” “Submitting a video that is so obviously forged will only get you thrown in prison too.” “I’m trying to protect you. I’ve already smoothed things over with Sophia.” “As long as your father confesses, I can pull strings to get him probation.” I didn’t fight him for the drive. I just bent down and scooped the crushed plastic fragments into my palm. The jagged edges cut deep into my skin, blood beading up, but I just stared blankly at the floor. Elias pulled a document from his briefcase and tossed it onto the coffee table. The bold words Application for Psychiatric Evaluation glared back at me. “Sign it. This is the best solution right now.” “I’ll convince the judge that your father has severe dementia, that the harassment was just a pathological response to his illness.” “Once the evaluation is out, Sophia will issue a letter of forgiveness, and this whole thing will blow over.” I dumped the sharp debris into the trash bin and pushed the application form back across the table. “No need, Elias. The dead don’t need psychiatric evaluations.” Elias frowned, his patience wearing thin. “Why are you still throwing a tantrum at a time like this?” “Do you know how many favors I called in for this evaluation?” “With your father’s stubborn temper… if I hadn’t been managing things on the inside, they would have broken his legs by now.” I looked at the expensive pen on the table. He once told me it represented justice. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. On the screen was a notification from the county jail. [Ms. Stone, the autopsy report for the deceased, Robert Stone, is complete. Please come immediately to sign the confirmation to waive further autopsy.] Elias’s phone rang at the exact same time. He glanced at the screen, and his harsh expression instantly softened. He picked up the call, and a woman’s soft sobbing echoed through the receiver. “Sophia, don’t be scared. I’m here.” “I’ve already destroyed that so-called ‘evidence’ video. No one can throw mud at you anymore.” “Okay, I won’t hang up. I’m coming over right now to be with you. Don’t do anything stupid.” He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and walked toward the door. “Don’t leave tonight,” I said, my voice hoarse. Elias stopped in his tracks. The look he gave me over his shoulder was full of raw disgust. “Harper, do you even have a soul?” “Sophia’s depression has relapsed because your father harassed her. She almost cut her wrists just now.” “When you were screaming at her outside the courtroom, calling her shameless, why didn’t you think about where that would lead?” “Her psychological defenses have completely collapsed. If anything happens to her, your father deserves the death penalty.” He adjusted his tie, his voice cold and commanding. “Stay home and reflect on yourself tonight.” “Before the appeal hearing tomorrow morning, I want to see that signed confession.” The front door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I looked around the empty room, slowly sank to the floor, and buried my face in my knees. Elias, there’s no need to wait for tomorrow. The man who needed to confess has already closed his eyes forever. Chapter 2 Outside the window, a torrential storm was raging. Elias had taken the only car. I stood in the freezing rain for twenty minutes. The rideshare app showed a queue of over a hundred people. Rain poured down my collar, making me shiver uncontrollably. I scanned a rental city bike and began pedaling toward the detention center on the outskirts of town. Mud and rainwater splashed across my entire body. Halfway there, a speeding truck sent a tidal wave of dirty water over me. I crashed, tumbling into the flooded gutter, bike and all. My knee slammed against the asphalt. Blood seeped through my jeans and down into my sock. I crawled back up, righted the bike, and kept riding. At 2 AM, I arrived at the detention center morgue. The medical examiner on duty pulled back the white sheet, revealing my father’s face. I covered my mouth, my legs giving way as I sank to my knees on the cold floor. My father’s mouth was half-open. His tongue was severed. His prisoner uniform was soaked in dried blood. The examiner handed me a file and a pen. “The deceased committed suicide by biting off his tongue. He died of shock due to excessive blood loss. If you confirm there are no issues, sign here and you can claim the body.” My hand trembled violently as I signed my name. A guard handed me an evidence bag. It contained his cracked reading glasses, a broken watch that had stopped ticking, and a confession letter soaked in his blood. I knew that confession was his final plea of innocence, written with his life. My phone vibrated. It was a call from Elias. I answered, and the audio was filled with Sophia’s crying and Elias’s furious interrogation. “Harper, log onto your social media account immediately and make a public statement.” “Admit the facts of your father’s sexual harassment and apologize publicly to Sophia. Now. Right now!” I held my father’s cold hand and said calmly: “I’m outside. It’s not convenient right now.” “What could possibly be ‘inconvenient’? Don’t think running away will let you escape responsibility!” “Sophia’s relatives are already blocking the law firm door. This is blowing up, and it won’t be good for anyone.” “Sophia’s reputation is ruined because of this. How is she supposed to live? Can you please just show a shred of decency?” I looked into my father’s lifeless eyes. “Then what do you want?” “If you don’t want your father to be beaten to death in prison, if you don’t want the final appeal to be a prison sentence without parole, do as I say.” “If you don’t make the statement, I will file a plea of temporary insanity at the appeal. I’ll prove your father is a severe mental patient and have him locked up in a closed asylum.” “Okay. I’ll post it.” I looked at my father’s corpse, my expression completely blank. After hanging up, I hugged his final belongings and walked out of the morgue. The rain was still falling. When I got home at dawn, the living room lights were on. Sophia was sitting on the sofa, wearing Elias’s oversized white dress shirt. Elias was holding a glass of water, gently feeding her medicine. As I walked in, Elias frowned and pulled Sophia protectively behind him. “You smell like death. Stay away from Sophia. Don’t bring your bad luck near her.” Chapter 3 Elias’s mother was sitting in the main hall, her fingers working a rosary. When she saw me come in, she slammed a newspaper directly into my face. “Look at the ‘good work’ your father did! The daughter of an old lecher is, unsurprisingly, a disrespectful piece of trash!” The edge of the paper sliced across my cheek, leaving a stinging red line. Printed on the front page was my father’s photo and a glaring headline: UNIVERSITY PROFESSOR’S GRACELESS FALL: ACCUSED OF HARASSING OLD FRIEND’S DAUGHTER. WHEN WILL THE BEAST FACE JUSTICE? Elias handed me a tablet. “Read off of this. Record a video and post it.” “I’ve already calmed Sophia’s family down. As long as you apologize, they won’t pursue criminal charges.” “This is the best outcome for your father; it saves him from suffering in that place.” I didn’t take the tablet. I just looked at Sophia. Sophia shrieked and burrowed into Elias’s embrace, trembling like a leaf. “Elias… I’m so scared… I really didn’t seduce Uncle Stone. I was just taking him some fruit.” “It was him, he suddenly grabbed my hand… I shouldn’t have worn a skirt. It’s all my fault.” Elias stroked her back, then turned a cold glare on me. “Hurry up. Are you really going to force Sophia to her breaking point before you’re satisfied?” He stepped forward, grabbed my wrist, and tried to force my thumb onto the tablet screen to unlock it. I fought back, struggling wildly, and Elias shoved me away. I stumbled back and slammed against the antique curio cabinet. The cello case resting on the top shelf tumbled down. That was the cello my father had bought me as a dowry, paid for by selling our old family home. The case snapped open, and the cello crashed onto the hardwood floor. The neck snapped. The wooden body cracked open. The strings burst with a harsh twang. Elias’s mother let out a cold snort. “This is God’s will. Instruments bought with dirty money bring bad luck. Good riddance that it’s broken.” Elias looked at the shattered cello on the floor and frowned slightly. “It’s just a cello. Don’t use this pathetic acting to get sympathy.” “As long as you apologize obediently, I’ll buy you ten new ones.” “Mom is right, this marriage is untenable. Once this lawsuit is wrapped up, let’s just get divorced and be done with it.” I hugged the broken cello as I slowly stood up. I nodded. “Okay.” “Divorce.” Elias froze, then his expression shifted to pure rage. He leaned down, his face pressing close to mine, his eyes full of threats. “You want a divorce? Fine. Make the statement first.” “Otherwise, without my help, your father will be beaten to death in jail.” “You know the rules in there—the inmates have plenty of special ‘methods’ for rapists and harassers.” I looked into Elias Vance’s face. “Do whatever you want.” I hugged my broken cello, turned, and walked upstairs. Behind me, I could hear Elias shouting and Sophia’s soft, soothing voice. I went into my room and locked the door. I took out some wood glue, trying to repair the cello. The glue covered my hands, making a sticky mess, but the wooden shards wouldn’t fit back together. A splinter pierced my finger, and a drop of bright red blood fell onto the cracked wood. My phone lit up. It was a message from the prison guard. [Only an immediate family member with a closed police statement issued by the police department can reclaim the ashes.] Without a closed statement, my father could not rest in peace. I put down the glue and began to laugh. A horrific, hollow laugh. Elias, you win. Chapter 4 I sprinted down the stairs. Elias was standing in the entryway, adjusting his cuffs. Sophia was sitting in a wheelchair, looking pale and fragile. Elias cast a sideways glance at me. “Have you come to your senses?” “If you have, come with me. The press conference is starting soon.” I took a deep breath, my fingernails digging so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. “Give me the closing police statement.” “I want that statement. As long as you give it to me, I’ll do anything.” Elias let out a contemptuous laugh. “As long as you cooperate obediently, never mind a closing statement—I can even get your father medical parole.” “Let’s go. Don’t keep the reporters waiting.” At the press conference, camera flashes strobed endlessly, and all lenses were focused on the stage. Sophia sat in her wheelchair, weeping softly into a tissue. The reporters below began to fire sharp, accusatory questions. “Ms. Stone, as the daughter of a rapist, do you feel any shame?” “We heard your father utilized his position to harass female students for years. Were you aware of this?” “Ms. Vance is the victim, yet your family tried to throw mud at her. Is this the behavior of a highly educated family?” Elias took the microphone and looked at me, his eyes commanding. “This is your last chance for atonement, Harper.” He pulled the script from his briefcase and tossed it at my feet. “As long as you read this, and kneel publicly to apologize, Sophia’s family will sign the letter of forgiveness.” “Once the case is closed, I will give you the closing statement, and your father can come home.” I stared at the paper. The script was full of phrases slandering my father. Sophia pulled on Elias’s sleeve, her voice echoing through the microphone to the entire hall. “Elias, as long as Harper kneels and apologizes, I won’t pursue this further. After all, she is Uncle Stone’s only daughter.” Elias nodded approvingly, and the bodyguards nearby took a step toward me, forcing me forward. In front of the blinding cameras, I slowly sank to my knees. My knees slammed onto the hardwood floor, and the noisy hall instantly fell dead silent. I picked up the script, faced the cameras, and spoke, enunciating every word clearly. “I am Robert Stone’s daughter.” “I admit, my father is guilty…” Elias let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile curving the corners of his mouth. I raised my head, staring directly into the lenses, tears sliding down my cheeks. “His greatest guilt was giving birth to me, and ever meeting all of you.” Chapter 5 The blinding flashes at the press conference finally died down. I pressed my hands against the floor, attempting to stand. My knees had been kneeling on the hard floor for too long and had completely lost all feeling. Not a single person stepped forward to help me. The surrounding reporters were looking down, reviewing the footage they had just shot. Sophia was still sitting there, weeping softly, soaking up Elias’s comforting embrace. I gritted my teeth, hands pushing against my knees, and little by little, pulled myself up from the ground. Elias, probably thinking my appearance was too disgraceful, walked over with a frown. In his hand, he pinched two thin sheets of paper. One was the Closing Police Statement, stamped with a bright red official seal. The other was an Application for Bail Pending Trial, the signature line blank. He held the two papers out in front of me. “Harper, you can’t blame me for being ruthless.” “If I hadn’t done this, Sophia’s family would never have let this go.” “Your father would have had to spend the rest of his life in prison with this stain.” “With this closing statement, plus this bail application…” “As long as you go to the hospital and get a dementia certificate, you can bring him home next week to celebrate the holidays.” He spoke so lightly. As if the person who had just forced me to kneel, who had forced me to nail my father to a pillar of shame, wasn’t him. I raised my hand, but I only took the Closing Police Statement. As for the Application for Bail Pending Trial that he had gone to so much trouble to obtain, I didn’t even cast a glance at it. Riiiiip— The sound of paper tearing was exceptionally clear in the quiet backstage area. With a blank expression, I tore the application form in half, then stacked the halves and tore them again, into tiny shreds. With a toss of my hand, the paper fragments fluttered into the nearby trash bin like snow. Elias’s face turned livid, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Harper Stone! What are you going crazy for now?” “This is a special authorization I had to beg the Director for days to get!” “You tore it up. Do you actually want your father to die in there?” I brushed the paper dust off my hands, carefully folded that precious closing statement, and put it into my inner pocket. I looked up at him, my eyes completely hollow. “No need, Counselor Vance.” “Since the case is closed, you and I are officially even.” Having said that, I turned on my heel and walked away. Seeing this, Sophia hurriedly pushed her wheelchair over, her face wearing that nauseating look of cowardice and fake concern. “Harper, please don’t be angry with Elias.” “He’s doing this for Uncle Stone’s own good.” She reached out, wanting to grab the hem of my jacket. I stepped sideways, avoiding her completely. I didn’t even brush against a single thread of her clothing. “Ah!” Sophia let out a dramatic cry of surprise, and she tumbled out of the wheelchair as it tipped over onto the floor. She covered her ankle, tears instantly flooding out, looking at me with wide, terrified eyes. “Harper, I know you hate me, but I really just wanted to help.” Elias shoved me aside and rushed over to gather Sophia in his arms. “Harper Stone! That is enough!” “I already gave you the statement, and you’ve already apologized!” “Why did you still have to lay hands on Sophia?!” “The way you act right now is truly repulsive!” I was pushed back a few steps, my lower back slamming hard into a metal door handle. A piercing pain shot through my spine. But I simply straightened my body, lacking even the desire to explain. “Repulsive?” I twitched the corners of my mouth, my smile stiff and cold. “Once you never have to see me again, you won’t have to be repulsed anymore.” “And, Elias Vance, hear this clearly: even if you kneel before me in the future and beg…” “I will never give you a single glance ever again.” Elias let out a cold scoff, holding Sophia as he stood up, his eyes full of absolute contempt. “Beg you? Harper, are you dreaming?” “I, Elias Vance, will only bow my head for justice in this life.” “I will never lower my head to a bottomless shrew like you!” “Get the hell home! Tell the housekeeper to make a good meal tonight and take it to your father.” “Stop embarrassing me out here!” I didn’t say another word, turning and walking out of the press hall. The sunlight outside was blinding, but hitting my skin, it offered absolutely no warmth. I hailed a taxi and went straight to the county jail. My hand gripped that closing statement tightly in my pocket. Only this piece of paper could bring my dad home.

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Chapter 1 After preparing for a long time, the wedding reception was canceled once again because the groom didn’t show up. My parents, carrying the gifts they had prepared in advance, bowed and apologized table by table, skillfully returning the cash gifts one by one. The relatives finally couldn’t hold it back anymore and started making sarcastic remarks: “Is your family ever going to stop? You’ve held this wedding ninety-nine times, and we still haven’t even seen what the groom looks like. Is this a real wedding?” My mom apologized profusely, promising there wouldn’t be a next time. When Arthur Vance finally rushed over, the wedding venue had already been torn down and was in shambles. “There was a fluctuation in the experimental data, so I’m late.” I had heard this sentence many, many times. Unexpectedly, this time I wasn’t hysterical. I thought he would at least say sorry, but Arthur just grabbed a handful of wedding candy with his usual expression. “Since everything is fine, I’ll head out first. Mia is still waiting for me to tutor her.” Mia Harper was his junior in the research group. And Arthur never missed a single one of her tutoring sessions. I looked back at my parents, whose usually proud spines were bent by the repeated scoldings. Exhaustion and weariness swept over me. I suddenly realized that the groom didn’t have to be him. … Arthur didn’t care about anything unrelated to physics. Sometimes he would even mistake me for someone else. I thought he was always just immersed in his own world. That he was like this with everyone. But just now, the few pieces of candy he took were all Mia’s favorites. Strawberry flavored, beautifully packaged candies. Yet I was allergic to flowers, and he never remembered. Dense, red hives quickly broke out on my arm. I looked expressionlessly at the yellow roses Arthur brought as an apology. I thought of how I had lost my temper more than once because of his inattentiveness. But he never explained. He would only furrow his brow, creating fine lines. He would silently watch me vent. And then act as if nothing had happened. “Chloe!” My mom turned around and was frightened by the large and small red patches all over my body. She and my dad quickly took me to the hospital. My consciousness grew fuzzy, and my mom’s suppressed crying lingered in my ears. “Richard, it’s all your fault for insisting on introducing Arthur to Chloe!” My dad was Arthur’s college professor. Back then, he recognized Arthur’s abilities and was determined to match us up. And I was attracted by Arthur’s aloof and detached aura, chasing after him recklessly. He had sighed: “Chloe Sterling, I don’t know how to date.” I blinked and said cheerfully: “That’s okay, I’ll teach you!” He laughed. It was only now that I understood the helplessness and annoyance in his laugh. My dad couldn’t reach Arthur. Suppressing his anger, he called the university lab. He couldn’t find him there either. “Arthur isn’t here. He seems to have something important to take care of.” “What could be more important than his fiancée being sick?” Just as my dad finished roaring this sentence, I looked up and saw Arthur supporting a pale, clean-looking girl. Arthur, who usually had a strong sense of boundaries, was pressed seamlessly against her. Usually a man of few words, he was constantly reminding her: “Mia, the doctor said you have to take the fever medicine every day, you can’t…” Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes met mine mid-air. It turns out that Mia’s slight fever was a massive deal to him. Enough to make him willingly interrupt his experiment. I remembered the year I was harassed by some street thugs and frantically called Arthur for help. His voice was extremely calm, like glass beakers clinking together. “It’s useless to call me. Chloe, what you need to do right now is call the police.” In Arthur’s eyes. There was no difference between me and any other random passerby he couldn’t name. “What’s wrong with you?” He walked over, asking me in a rare show of benevolence. While Mia still clung to his arm, looking weak and apologetic. “Sister Chloe, I’m really sorry. I troubled him so much on your wedding day.” I curled my lips into a smile: “You can trouble him all you want from now on.” “Because I’m not going to marry him.” Chapter 2 The straight line of Arthur’s mouth suddenly wavered. My parents looked at me with both surprise and joy. Because I’m as stubborn as a mule; once I set my mind on something, I never let go. Similarly, I absolutely never turn back to things I don’t want anymore. Arthur clearly hadn’t realized this. He wearily pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking I was just throwing another crazy, jealous fit. “Chloe Sterling, you’d better be able to back up what you say.” The reason he said this was because every time I made a fuss about breaking up, I would clamor to get back together within two days. He thought this time was the same. However, when he finished his tedious and complex experiments and returned home. What greeted him was silence and desolation when he opened the door. Arthur’s groggy brain suddenly jammed. After frowning in thought for a few seconds, he took out his phone and called me. “Chloe Sterling, I’m hungry.” I froze on the other end of the line. I didn’t expect this to be the first thing Arthur said after our cold war. Thinking about it carefully, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Arthur was hailed as a genius in the physics world. No matter how complex the experiment, he could pull it off. But someone like him had zero life skills. Back then, I was young and completely obsessed with him. I willingly moved into his place and became his maid. I thought this would warm up his heart of stone. But just now, Mia’s social media, which was usually restricted from me, became visible. [Day 100 of bringing food for my senior. Today is eggplant with minced pork over rice!] The accompanying picture was a brightly colored lunch box, and I recognized at a glance that the long, slender hand in the frame belonged to Arthur. [He said it was delicious, and he ate it all up!] When I scrolled to this sentence, my eyes stung so much I could cry. Because Arthur’s most hated food was eggplant. I pressed my finger hard against the screen, zooming in desperately, only to discover the nutritious meal I had painstakingly prepared for him by waking up at 6 AM every day. It was in the trash can in the corner. I forced down the emotions churning in my heart and enunciated every word: “Arthur Vance, do you think I’m incredibly easy to bully?” Hearing my crying voice. His breathing hitched, and just as he wanted to say something else. I had already hung up and blocked him. I thought he was a smart person and would understand an adult’s refusal to communicate. It meant the end of this relationship. But Arthur was clearly missing a screw compared to normal people. In the pouring rain, he stood at my door holding a cake. “Mia said to make a girl happy, you have to give her a cake. I specifically ran to…” “Enough!” I raised my hand and knocked the cake over, the accumulated emotions finally breaking the dam. “Arthur Vance, you are not Mia’s dog! You don’t have to ask for her opinion on everything you do!” “I’ve really had enough! You and Mia should just be together. I sincerely wish you two the best!” The moment I roared and slammed the door shut. Water droplets dripped from his long eyelashes, his gaze stunned. Only then did he sluggishly realize that my anger this time was different from usual. Before he could delve into it, his advisor called, saying there was a problem with the experimental data. Arthur had no choice but to leave in a hurry. We lost contact for half a month this time. From my dad’s brief mentions, it seemed he was preparing to contend for the most important prize in physics, the Buckley Prize. However, one night, I received a call from him. “Chloe, what are you doing?” Hearing Arthur’s exhausted, hoarse voice. I paused for a moment, then told the truth: “I’m trying on my wedding dress.” Chapter 3 I don’t know if it was my illusion. But Arthur’s tone suddenly became much lighter. “What day is the wedding set for?” Although this wedding had nothing to do with him, I still told him: “In a week.” “Okay, I understand.” Right as the call was about to end, Mia’s cheerful exclamation came from his end. “Arthur, where did you put my pajamas?” Smack. The phone slipped from my hand, my brain instantly buzzing. They… slept together? At the thought of this possibility, my eyes pathetically turned red. That deliberately forgotten memory also kept flashing back. Back then, I had just gotten together with Arthur. I begged him to introduce me to his fellow students in the research group. Unlike the crowd of people who were tortured by experimental data to the point of being lifeless. Mia always had a smiling face, like a bright sun. At that time, Arthur was being pressured to drink by his seniors and juniors. This group of people teasingly asked him who he loved the most. The alcohol had flushed Arthur’s eyes under his rimless glasses. He was drunk, and instinctively answered: “It’s Mia…” The scene instantly fell dead silent. I wrung my fingers tightly, forcing a smile. Deceiving them was also deceiving myself, constantly repeating: “He means Chloe, it’s Chloe!” This farce was then casually brushed over. But I still stubbornly stuck by Arthur’s side, believing time would prove everything. But after chasing him for eight years, I was truly tired. Now that I, the stumbling block, was gone, it was normal for them to get together. So I was also prepared to forget him. Throwing away the various Lego puzzles he had given me. Actually, I didn’t like these puzzle games at all; I only cared about the process of doing them with him. But Arthur was always too busy. So I secretly hid a few puzzle pieces, hoping he would stay with me a little longer. But Arthur’s sharp eyes instantly saw through my thoughts. “You hid the pieces, didn’t you.” “Chloe, I don’t have time to waste with you. Mia is still waiting for me to test the experimental data.” Mia had always been a thorn in my heart. Once I heard her name, I became bitter and mean. “Are you like this with Mia too?” He seemed to freeze for a moment, stating a fact. “Mia wouldn’t be as boring as you.” His casual sentence destroyed all my psychological defenses. There were three days left until the wedding. My dad suddenly left a document at home and asked me to bring it to the university. To take a shortcut, I had to walk through the science building. But just as I stepped inside, Mia reached out and stopped me. She had a tight little face. “Sister Chloe, Arthur is busy doing experiments right now. You’d better not harass him anymore.” The gossiping students around us whispered: “Wow, that’s Arthur’s simp fiancée.” “What a pity, I was really shipping Mia and Arthur.” I wondered if Arthur hadn’t told them we broke up? My phone kept popping up with rapid-fire calls from my dad. I didn’t have time to explain to them, hurriedly saying: “I have an emergency.” “No!” Mia reached out and shoved me. I stumbled, thinking oh no. This was the stairwell on the third floor! A strong arm caught mine just in time. I turned my head, the lingering fear on my face turning into pleasant surprise: “Why are you here!” Chapter 4 “If I didn’t come, you would have been smashed into a pancake.” Julian Vance familiarly hooked his arm through mine. He was my childhood friend, and also the person I would spend the rest of my life with. Before I had time to speak, a gloomy voice suddenly sounded from behind. “What are you doing?” Arthur, wearing safety goggles, revealed eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. Those eyes slowly moved down, fixing dead on Julian’s hand holding my arm. More and more people were gathering around. I gave a somewhat awkward, perfunctory reply: “Nothing, an accident.” Arthur wasn’t the type to relentlessly pursue an answer. But this time, it was somewhat surprising. As he passed by, he suddenly grabbed my hand, his tone serious: “You haven’t answered my question yet.” Just as he finished speaking, a few sobs suddenly sounded beside us. No one blamed Mia, yet she started crying on her own. Arthur’s expression changed. Without hesitation, he let go of my hand and walked quickly to her side. “Who bullied you?” Mia looked up at me silently. She didn’t speak, just kept crying. Arthur followed her gaze and frowned in displeasure. “Why are you opposing Mia again?” I was clearly the one who got hurt, but Arthur didn’t even give me a chance to speak. Or maybe, someone who valued logic so much simply didn’t care about the origin of the matter. “Can you stop making a scene…” He blamed everything on me. “I told you not to drag other people into our business.” “I’m going abroad for a competition tomorrow, but I will definitely rush back for the wedding. Just put your heart at ease.” Julian clicked his tongue softly, about to punch him. I stopped him, remaining extremely calm from beginning to end. “First, I haven’t touched Mia from beginning to end. Her crying has nothing to do with me.” “Second, the groom isn’t you. You don’t need to rush back.” “Fine, fine, it’s not me.” But Arthur didn’t seem to believe me. He pulled Mia through the crowd and left. That day, Mia’s social media updated. [He said his feelings for her are only responsibility, not love. Only he and I are on the same path.] The accompanying picture was a grand and brilliant fireworks display on a mountaintop. I had said more than once that I wanted to see fireworks. But Arthur always used the excuse of being busy to brush me off. It turns out that someone who cares about you can always make time for you, no matter how busy they are. Although Arthur said he would be back in two days, he still delayed his return by a week because Mia suddenly had a stomachache. His colleagues couldn’t help but sweat for him. “Arthur, what about your wedding?” “Chloe probably won’t forgive you easily this time.” Arthur pushed his glasses up indifferently. “It’s fine, she’s easy to coax.” However, when he showed up at our door with two bags of gifts. My parents looked at him coldly. He asked: “Where’s Chloe?” My mom finally got the chance to vent her anger, and said with a beaming smile: “Chloe went on her honeymoon.”

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The day I divorced my fifty-year-old CEO husband, I wore a full face of makeup and a bright, crimson red dress. A flicker of impatience crossed Ethan Vance’s elegant features. “Dressed so festively. Are you getting married today?” I ran my fingers through my newly permed curls, the image of that handsome face floating into my mind. I couldn’t help but smile: “As a matter of fact, yes.” “And you actually know the guy.” Hearing this, a cold sneer appeared on his face: “The people in my circle are all famously devoted husbands. If you’re going to make up a lie, could you at least put some thought into it?” I just smiled and shook my head. I didn’t explain. It didn’t matter anyway; that person was already on his way. … Once we got in the car, Ethan didn’t drive straight to City Hall. Instead, he headed in the completely opposite direction. Meeting my confused gaze, he said coldly: “Mia is going today too. She’s waited over twenty years, and I don’t want to make her wait any longer.” So, our marriage of convenience, this sham of a union, had actually been a front for that long. When we arrived near Mia Harper’s neighborhood, I received a text from him. While replying, I got out of the car and went to a convenience store to buy a bottle of water. When I returned, someone was already sitting in the passenger seat. “Chloe, I’m so used to sitting in the passenger seat of Ethan’s car. You don’t mind, do you?” What was there to mind? We were on our way to get a divorce today anyway. I reached out to grab my purse from the seat, and Mia covered her mouth with a gasp: “What a gorgeous bag!” “Chloe, give the bag to Mia,” Ethan commanded, his hands on the steering wheel, not even bothering to look back. I just wanted to get my bag to take off the little charm attached to it. He slammed on the brakes and whipped his head around: “I bought that bag for you. Are you seriously expecting me to pay you for it now?” I held up the cute charm I had just unclipped: “You didn’t buy this.” His face darkened, a strange look flashing through his eyes. I then tossed the bag into Mia’s lap and said: “There are plenty more brand-new bags at home. Give me your address, and I’ll send them all to you.” Seeing this, Ethan nodded in satisfaction: “Chloe, as long as you don’t cause a scene, I guarantee no one in our circle will know about our divorce.” I didn’t respond. Because the man I was going to marry didn’t want to keep our relationship a secret. My phone started vibrating frantically. I leaned against the window and answered it quietly. It was him. He said he was already boarding his flight. A smile played on my lips as I replied softly: “Okay.” Ethan caught the smile on my lips through the rearview mirror. A surge of irritation instantly flared in his chest. Just as he was about to demand who I was talking to, Mia, sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly let out a deep sigh. She stroked the bag in her lap absentmindedly. “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked gently, turning his head while waiting at a red light. Mia hurriedly covered a spot on the bag, her eyes darting away: “N-nothing…” Sensing something was off, Ethan forcefully snatched the bag from her. There was a long, deep gash across the leather. It looked fresh. And very obvious. The anger in Ethan’s heart instantly ignited. He grabbed the bag and hurled it straight at me. I was looking out the window, completely off guard, and took the full force of the blow on my arm. My hand jerked, accidentally pressing the ‘end call’ button. But I still had things I wanted to say. Ignoring the urge to argue with Ethan, I grabbed my phone to call him back. Just as I dialed the number, Ethan got out from the front seat, snatched my phone, and smashed it viciously onto the pavement. In an instant, the phone was crushed into pieces by a passing car. “Ethan Vance, you…” Before I could finish, he dragged me out of the car. Wearing high heels, I lost my balance and twisted my ankle the moment my feet hit the ground, unable to even stand up straight. Seeing my red and swollen ankle, Ethan shook off my hand in disgust. “I just asked you to give her a bag, and you actually slashed it before handing it over. Chloe, I truly never realized you were such a manipulative and scheming woman!” Convicting me without even asking a single question? I looked up at Mia in the car. She hurriedly averted her eyes, her hands nervously twisting her clothes. Ever since she appeared, I had become the most manipulative woman in Ethan’s eyes. Marrying him to help the Vance family through a crisis was seen as using a favor to blackmail him—manipulative; Working myself to the bone on projects to expand the company was seen as using his connections as a stepping stone—manipulative; Agreeing to step aside for him and Mia was seen as playing hard to get—manipulative… In the past, I would have patiently explained myself over and over again. But today, I didn’t want to defend myself anymore. “That’s right, I just didn’t want to give it to her. I just wanted to disgust her. Are you satisfied?” Fighting the excruciating pain in my ankle, I stood up straight, turned around, and walked toward the sidewalk without looking back. Ethan, I will never chase after you to explain myself again. He stood by the car, his temples throbbing: “Chloe, since you admit it, don’t blame me for leaving you here. You can walk there yourself today!” Hah, leaving me behind? Has he left me behind for Mia’s sake only a few times? When he received a message from Mia at our wedding, he left without a word of explanation in front of all the guests; At a gala, he secretly went to pick up Mia without telling me, leaving me shivering in the cold wind for two hours; On a business trip abroad, Mia made one phone call, and he left me all alone without saying a word. After all this, my heart had grown cold a long time ago. By the time I hobbled near City Hall, my foot was swollen beyond recognition. Every step I took brought out a cold sweat from the pain. I was leaning against a wall to rest when someone suddenly darted out from behind and forcefully scooped me up into his arms. “Ethan, put me down!” His jaw was tight, acting as if he hadn’t heard me, and walked straight inside. As we passed Mia, a flash of resentment crossed her eyes. As soon as we entered, a helpful bystander pointed the way: “Sir, marriage registration is over here.” Ethan’s face darkened, and he immediately dropped me: “We’re here for a divorce.” Falling heavily to the ground, the impact sent another piercing jolt of pain through my twisted ankle. The paperwork was finished, and I had the divorce certificate in hand. I went straight to a bench to sit and wait. Calculating the time, he should be arriving soon. “Chloe, aren’t you leaving? Your foot looks pretty bad. Ethan and I can give you a ride to the hospital after we get our marriage certificate!” Mia clung affectionately to Ethan’s arm, smiling at me. I took out a compact to touch up my lipstick: “No need. I’m waiting for someone to get married. He’ll take me to the hospital later.” “Oh~ What a coincidence! Ethan, let’s wait with Chloe for a bit, okay?” Mia pulled Ethan over to sit next to me: “Once we get our certificate, if the person Chloe is talking about doesn’t have a car, we can even give her a ride home.” Ethan thoughtfully took her hand and tucked it into his coat pocket to keep it warm: “You, always worrying about others.” But the sky was growing dark, and no one showed up. I reached into my pocket for my phone, only to realize it had just been crushed by a car. Full of regret, I was about to get up and leave. Mia, clutching her brand-new marriage certificate, walked over with a beaming smile: “Chloe, let’s not worry about whether this person exists or not. Listen to me, take Ethan’s car to the hospital first. We’ll take you!” I patted my pockets again. I truly didn’t have a single penny on me. The only valuable thing, my bag, had just been given away. So, I didn’t refuse her offer. As we walked out, I held onto the railing, carefully stepping down the stairs. “Chloe, let me help you.” Mia quickly caught up to me. Just as I was about to wave her off and decline. “Ah—” She let out a scream, her foot slipped, and she fell backward. Ethan caught her securely. She leaned against Ethan’s chest, her eyes welling with tears: “Chloe, I was just trying to help you. Why did you push me?” Ethan gently patted her back with a look of heartache, then turned around, grabbed my arm, and yanked me down the stairs. “Chloe, you really don’t know what’s good for you…” Seeing me cry out in pain and clutch my ankle, a flicker of reluctance crossed his eyes. Just as he opened his mouth to tell me to get in the car. Mia parted her lips and murmured: “Ethan…” He immediately helped the woman in his arms into the car. And sped off. I limped to the police station, and the police kindly gave me a ride home. My assistant got me a replacement SIM card, bought a new phone, and brought it to me at the hospital. As soon as I turned it on, I had countless missed calls. The moment I unlocked the screen, another call popped up. “Chloe! You finally answered! Did something happen?!” The person on the other end sounded like he was about to cry from anxiety. I looked at my freshly bandaged ankle, lowered my eyes, and said: “Nothing major, just twisted my ankle.” “What?! Is it serious? Are you at the hospital?” His voice was frantic; he wished he could magically appear by my side right that second. “I bought a high-speed train ticket the moment I got off the plane. I’ll be there in half an hour.” “My flight had to turn back halfway because of the weather.” “I called you the second we landed, but no one answered. I was scared to death.” Right after the call ended, Ethan, who hadn’t posted on social media in a century, actually updated his status with a photo. It was a silhouette of him and Mia holding their marriage certificate. I left a comment: [Lovers finally united. Wishing you both happiness.] When I looked again, the post had been deleted. A call from Ethan popped up at the top of my screen. I hit decline and blocked the number. Just as I stepped out of the examination room, I ran into Ethan and Mia coming out of the room next door. “Alone?” Ethan instinctively furrowed his brow. Resentment flooded Mia’s face. She stepped forward, pressing herself against Ethan, instantly changing her expression. She wrapped her arm around his waist and laughed: “Chloe, hasn’t the person you’re supposed to marry shown up yet?” “How can anyone be so unpunctual these days! Making a sick person come to the hospital all alone.” My phone alarm went off. Ignoring their questions, I hurriedly limped toward the hospital exit. They followed unhurriedly behind me. “Chloe, did you just make up this person because Ethan and I are getting married?” Hearing Mia’s words, a look of understanding dawned on Ethan’s face. He stroked Mia’s hair with absolute tenderness: “Chloe, you don’t need to put up a front and pretend you’re getting married too. After all, there aren’t many people in this world who, like Mia, are willing to wait over twenty years.” Mia clung to Ethan’s arm, acting coquettish: “Ethan~ Let’s not talk about the past. I’d do anything for you.” My phone buzzed. I pointed at my phone over my shoulder to the people behind me: “Sorry about this, my ride is here. I’ll introduce him to you guys another day.” “Chloe, look at the situation, are you still trying to lie to us?” Ethan stood a short distance away, looking as if he was waiting to see if I had actually called a car. The driver had just pulled over. Ethan pulled out a stack of cash and threw it through the car window: “Cancel this ride. You don’t need to take her.” Then he turned back to me, a smirk on his face, seemingly convinced that the person I mentioned was fabricated: “Where to? I’ll give you a ride.” Mia enthusiastically opened the back door for me: “Chloe, why don’t you just admit it!” “Even if that person was just something you made up on the spot, it’s fine. Ethan and I promise we won’t laugh at you.” I sighed, feeling a bit amused. Since these two wanted to know so badly. Then finding out a little earlier wouldn’t hurt. It just so happened that both of them knew this person. The car hit the road. Mia alternated between feeding Ethan fruit and sleeping with her head on his shoulder. They were practically glued together, just like a young, newlywed couple. Ethan glanced at me from time to time through the rearview mirror, but only saw me glued to my phone, replying to messages. A faint smile lingered on my lips. A wave of irritation suddenly washed over him. Notifications kept popping up on my phone. It wouldn’t stop buzzing. Seeing this, the frustration in Ethan’s chest grew. “What, did you get a friend to pretend to be that guy messaging you?” I replied to the last message and locked my phone: “No need for that.” He gritted his teeth and reached back, trying to snatch my phone. I slightly tilted my hand and dodged it: “Ethan, you have no right to check my phone now.” Anger flashed across his face. Finally, he turned his head away and stopped looking at me: “Fine, let’s see how long you can keep up this act.” When we arrived at the station, I naturally got out to wait for someone. Mia, eager to watch a good show, dragged Ethan out of the car to follow me. The crowd gradually dispersed, and the smile on Mia’s face grew deeper. “Chloe, it’s pretty cold today. You really don’t need to leave yourself stranded here just because you spoke out of turn.” “Let’s go home. This time, I’ll make sure Ethan takes you all the way to your door…” Mia’s voice trailed off as she saw the person approaching. Until I cupped that person’s face and gently planted a kiss on his lips. Ethan and Mia’s faces instantly drained of color. Ethan stormed over, his face livid, and yanked me away: “Chloe, how could you be with him!” Mia, clutching her chest tightly in anger, grabbed the person’s arm and demanded loudly: “How could you be with her!”

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Everyone in the New York elite circle knew I was a dog raised by the Sterling family. The true heiress of the Sterling family was my twin sister, Sophia Sterling. She was the apple of everyone’s eye. And I was just the imposter dragged out to take the blame whenever she made a mistake. Only my uncle, Arthur Sterling, would secretly bring me pastries when I was punished by kneeling in the family chapel. “Chloe, just endure it a little longer. When your uncle takes over the Sterling family, I’ll take you away.” Sophia hated me to the core for this, torturing me in every way possible, but Arthur would always quietly intervene. Until Arthur finally defeated my father and became the new head of the Sterling family. I thought my suffering was finally over. I pushed open his bedroom door, only to see him and Sophia passionately entangled in bed. “If your good niece knew that you went through all this trouble to ruin the Sterling family just so she’d have nowhere to go and become your dog, would she go crazy?” I instantly felt like I had plummeted into an abyss. Faced with my broken questioning, Arthur didn’t even bat an eyelid. “Since you know everything now, I can’t be bothered to pretend anymore.” “This is the Sterling family’s underground fight club. If you want freedom, beat all the opponents I arrange for you and walk out of there alive.” … My whole body stiffened, thinking I must be dreaming. “What, you don’t believe me?” He chuckled lightly. “Did you think I intervened with Sophia because my heart ached for you?” “I just didn’t want my toy to be broken by someone else before I got to play with it.” Sophia also poked her head out of the room at this moment. “Sister, did you really think Uncle loved you?” She walked up to me. “The only one he has ever loved is me.” “As for you, you’re just a replacement who looks like me. Actually, you’re not even a replacement, just a dog that needs to be trained.” “Looking at your eyes, you want to kill us, don’t you? The more you hate, the more excited I get.” I stared dead at Arthur, my voice so hoarse it barely sounded human. “Why… you weren’t like this before!” “There is no ‘why’,” Arthur walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “From the day your father picked me up, I was just a tool for him to climb higher. Now that I’ve taken back everything that’s mine, is there a problem?” “And you, Chloe Sterling, are just a part of my spoils of war.” “Think it’s unfair? There is no such thing as fairness in this world.” “You’ve enjoyed twenty years under the title of the eldest Miss Sterling. Now, it’s time for you to pay the price.” Too lazy to say more, he waved his hand impatiently, and two men in black suits appeared behind me. “Take her to the fight club. Teach her the rules.” Before I even had time to react, one of them grabbed my hair and roughly dragged my entire body out. A tearing agony shot through my scalp. As I passed Sophia, she leaned into my ear and whispered: “Sister, guess who the first opponent will be?” “It’s that bodyguard whose legs Uncle broke just because he took a second look at you.” “He’s… probably going crazy missing you right now.” Arthur’s voice came from behind. “To make it more interesting, all your opponents will be men.” “Chloe Sterling, don’t disappoint me.” He added a touch of amusement, “At least, survive for a little while.” I was dragged into the elevator, the feeling of weightlessness making my stomach churn. Ding— The elevator doors opened, and the frantic, roaring sound instantly drowned me. I was roughly pushed out, stumbling a few steps before crashing into a man’s back. The man looked at me, froze for a second, and then let out a lewd whistle: “Yo, Mr. Sterling’s new toy? So tender, it’d be a shame to just beat her to death.” The people around immediately erupted into mocking laughter. Looking at these crazed faces, I laughed—laughed at myself for actually having fantasies about Arthur. I was thrown into a dilapidated room. The bodyguard threw a set of black lace lingerie at my feet. “Mr. Sterling’s orders. Put it on.” There was so little fabric it couldn’t even cover my body properly. “What if… I don’t put it on?” The bodyguard sneered and lit up his phone screen, showing a picture of my grandmother in her nursing home. “Mr. Sterling said, if you don’t obey, your grandmother might have a sudden heart attack in the nursing home at any moment.” The last trace of color drained from my face. Without another word of nonsense, I took that ridiculous lingerie and, under the bodyguard’s explicit and greedy gaze, took off my clothes piece by piece. I straightened my back, letting those gazes flay me alive. The corridor leading to the fight club was lined with people. The moment I appeared, whistles and filthy jokes were relentless. “This is tonight’s appetizer? Mr. Sterling is really getting more and more creative.” “Fighting in that? I bet she won’t last ten seconds!” “Ten seconds? I bet she’ll piss her pants the moment she steps into the ring!” I walked step by step toward the iron cage illuminated by the spotlights. Arthur was sitting in the VIP section directly facing the cage door. Sophia was draped all over him, laughing and saying something to him. Seeing me, Sophia smiled even more triumphantly. She raised her glass to me and silently mouthed: “Good luck.” The referee stopped me and loudly announced the rules tailor-made for me. “First, for the sake of fairness, Miss Sterling is not allowed to use any weapons.” The crowd erupted in a roar of laughter. A woman who lacked the strength to tie a chicken, wearing lingerie, and they actually said “for the sake of fairness” she wasn’t allowed to use weapons. “Second, to increase the entertainment value, Miss Sterling is not allowed to retreat more than three steps during the match; otherwise, it’s an automatic forfeit.” This meant I could only take the hits head-on, unable to dodge. “Third, and the most important point,” the referee dragged out his voice, “after each round, the audience will vote to decide on a ‘special performance’ to be completed by Miss Sterling and the victor.” What the so-called “special performance” entailed went without saying. The cheers almost blew the roof off. Arthur’s gaze fell on me. He wanted to see me break down, wanted to see me kneel and beg for mercy. “What if I win?” The referee froze, seemingly having never considered this question. Arthur, however, curled the corners of his mouth. “You win? That would be even more interesting.” “Win all the matches, and you can walk out of here alive.” He paused. “And, you can do anything you want to your final opponent.” “Including killing him.” As he said this, his eyes never left me, as if hinting at something. Sophia giggled in his arms. “Uncle, you think too highly of her. She can’t even stand steady.” Before she could finish her sentence, I mimicked the posture of a fighter, adopting a clumsy fighting stance. The ridiculous lingerie I was wearing, paired with this comical action, instantly triggered roars of laughter from the entire venue. “Hahahaha! What does she think she’s doing? Dancing Swan Lake?” “Oh my god, I’m dying of laughter. Where did Mr. Sterling find this clown?” The smile on Arthur’s face deepened; it was the pleasure of watching a clown perform. Only a friend beside him frowned and said in a low voice: “Arthur, isn’t this going a bit too far? She is your niece, after all.” Arthur’s eyes instantly went cold: “Shut up! There is no niece of mine here, only my plaything.” The moment the words fell, memories of our past flashed through his mind. He picked up his glass, using the alcohol to suppress that fleeting fluctuation. I slowly lowered my hands, faced Arthur in the VIP section, and clearly enunciated two words. “I accept.” The opponent for the first round was indeed the bodyguard Sophia had mentioned, Max. He limped onto the stage, his eyes looking at me filled with a twisted, perverse excitement. “Eldest Miss Sterling, long time no see. Never thought we’d meet in a place like this, did you?” He sneered viciously, cracking his knuckles. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you die too quickly.” “I will break your bones inch by inch, and let you taste what I went through back then.” At the referee’s command, Max lunged at me fiercely. I instinctively retreated, and the referee’s voice rang out, reminding me of that ridiculous “no retreating more than three steps” rule. I forced myself to stop, facing his massive fist head-on. Bam! A heavy punch smashed ruthlessly into my lower abdomen. The excruciating pain made me double over instantly, stomach acid rushing up my throat. He didn’t give me any chance to catch my breath, grabbing my hair and violently smashing my face into the chain-link fence. “Scream! Why aren’t you screaming? Weren’t you so high and mighty before!” The rough wire mesh scraped my cheek, leaving streaks of blood. The roars and whistles from the crowd grew increasingly frantic. “Useless trash, can’t even dodge,” Sophia’s shrill voice drifted over. “Uncle, look at her, she’s really embarrassing our Sterling family.” Arthur didn’t say anything, just picked up his glass and took a sip. The pain almost made me lose consciousness, but Max’s insults, Sophia’s mockery, and Arthur’s indifference—these kept me awake at all times. The moment Max grabbed my head to smash it against the wire mesh again, I used all the strength in my body and violently kneed him right in the groin! “Aaargh—!” Max let out a bloodcurdling scream, clutching his crotch and collapsing to the ground in agony. No one expected that this seemingly weak and fragile woman would use such a ruthless move. I took the opportunity to break free, leaning against the wire mesh, panting heavily. Although my entire body throbbed with pain, a sliver of dark satisfaction rose in my heart. In the VIP section, Sophia’s mouth hung open in shock: “How… how dare she!?” However, my counterattack did not bring victory. After twitching on the ground for a few seconds, Max suddenly jerked his head up, filled with crazed, murderous intent. “Bitch! You’re asking to die!” He leaped up from the ground, his fists raining down on my face like a violent storm. I was beaten completely defenseless and soon collapsed onto the ground. He stepped on the back of my hand with one foot, his heel slowly rotating, grinding down with force. Crack. The crisp sound of breaking bones echoed throughout the venue. The excruciating pain made my vision go black, almost causing me to faint. “Stop!” The referee’s voice rang out. “Max wins!” Only then did Max lift his foot, a look of vengeful pleasure on his face: “Eldest Miss Sterling, how does that taste?” I lay on the cold ground, my consciousness blurring. On the big screen, the vote count rolled rapidly, finally stopping on the words “Lick Feet”. The entire venue cheered. Max smugly extended his foot towards my face. “Come on, lick it clean, like a good bitch.” At this moment, Arthur was watching this scene with great interest. Not only did he not stop it, he picked up the microphone and said to the entire venue: “It seems our Miss Sterling still doesn’t quite understand the rules. Who wants to teach her?” As soon as the words fell, two burly men stepped onto the stage, pressing down hard on the back of my neck, trying to force me to lick his foot. For the next few matches, I became a joke. Every night, I was dragged back to that small room, and the next day dragged back onto the boxing ring, repeating the failures and humiliations. “Striptease,” “Bark like a dog”… The “special performances” the audience came up with became increasingly vulgar, each one trampling my dignity underfoot. But I didn’t beg Arthur for mercy. Not once. My silence clearly enraged him more than crying or screaming would have. He arranged stronger and stronger opponents for me, even ruthless outlaws. Until a butcher pulled out a dagger. The venue was in an uproar, and even the referee looked towards Arthur. Arthur just said flatly: “In the ring, life and death are your own responsibility.” The sharp knife slashed across my face, leaving a wound so deep the bone was visible. Just when I thought I was going to die there, some latent instinct within my body was awakened. I dodged the fatal stab, violently rammed my shoulder into his ribs, and then came an extreme burst of energy. I won, in a tragic, bloody manner. Clutching my bleeding arm, I looked coldly at the VIP section. The expression on Arthur’s face seemed to be one of heartache. But before that emotion could fully form, it was completely strangled by Sophia’s vicious words. “Uncle, look at her eyes, it’s like she wants to eat you alive.” “She’s an untamable wolf cub. Your soft-heartedness will only make her hate you more.” She leaned close to his ear and said something else. Arthur’s body visibly stiffened, and immediately, the trace of heartache in his eyes vanished completely. “You’re right. I’ve been too merciful.” He picked up the microphone and announced to the venue: “Tonight’s matches are over.” “But to reward our brave Miss Sterling, I have prepared a… true special performance for her.” As soon as the words fell, several men walked in, surrounding me with malicious intent. Leading them was Max, the one who broke my hand in the first match. “Arthur! You’re crazy!” The friend who had tried to persuade him earlier stood up again. “You can’t do this!” Arthur shoved him away. “What I do is none of your business!” “Chloe, this is the last chance I’m giving you.” “Kneel down now, beg me, say you were wrong, say you’re willing to be my dog, and I’ll let you go.” Sophia giggled on the side: “Sister, hurry up and beg for mercy. Look how much Uncle cares about you. All you have to do is kneel down and wag your tail, and you’ll be saved.” Looking at those ugly, wicked faces, I suddenly laughed. “Arthur Sterling, keep dreaming.” My answer completely destroyed his last shred of patience. “Show her what true despair is.” I didn’t struggle, nor did I cry or scream. I just kept my eyes wide open, staring dead at that blurry figure in the VIP section. I don’t know how much time passed, but it was all over. I was left just like that in the center of the boxing ring. “Arthur Sterling, you will regret this!!” I don’t know how much time passed, but I was dragged out of the iron cage like a dead dog and thrown into a corner backstage. Arthur and Sophia had also left. In the massive fight club, only a few cleaners remained, numbly cleaning up the mess. One of the older cleaners saw me, a flash of pity in his eyes. He quietly walked over and draped a reasonably clean staff jacket over my broken body. “Girl, get out of here, quick.” “If you don’t leave now, you really won’t be able to leave.” Using all my strength, I barely managed to prop myself up, but the excruciating pain in my hand bones and the agonizing feeling of my body being torn apart made me fall again. Right at that moment, a pair of expensive leather shoes stopped in front of me. It was the friend who had tried to advise Arthur earlier, Julian. He took off his suit jacket, wrapped my entire body in it, and picked me up sideways. “Don’t be afraid. I’m getting you out of here.” Leaning against his chest, my consciousness hovering between wakefulness and fainting, I only heard him make a phone call. “Dave, do me a favor. Get the best room and doctor ready at a private hospital. I’m bringing someone over right now.” “Remember, use your name. We can’t let anyone trace this, especially not Arthur.” When I woke up again, I was lying in a clean, bright hospital room. My wrist had been properly bandaged and immobilized, and the wounds on my body had been treated. Julian was keeping watch by the bed. Seeing me awake, he breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re finally awake. You’ve been unconscious for two days.” I looked at him and said hoarsely: “Why did you save me?” “Because I still have a conscience.” “Arthur… he’s gone crazy, blinded by hatred. I couldn’t just watch him destroy you, and destroy himself.” I let out a cold laugh, the laughter pulling at the wound on my face, a piercing pain. “Destroy himself? He’s riding high right now.” Julian was silent for a moment, then handed me a tablet. “I secretly copied this. It’s the illegal records of all the assets Arthur has absorbed, including the financial flows and transaction lists of that underground fight club.” “I don’t know what you want to do, but I figured you’d need this.” I took the tablet, my fingertips turning white from gripping it so tightly. “Why are you betraying him?” “He was my best friend,” Julian’s eyes dimmed, “but I can’t watch him turn into an absolute monster.” “And…” he paused, his voice deepening, “I owe you my life.” I was stunned. “Five years ago, your father planned a car accident to get rid of me. It was you who secretly made an anonymous call that saved me.” “Even though you never admitted it, I know it was you.” So that was it. It turns out a thoughtless act of mine back then ended up saving me today. I looked at the shocking documents on the tablet screen, and the suppressed hatred in my heart began to grow wildly. I didn’t cry, just said calmly to Julian. “Help me contact someone.” “I want to see the CEO of Starlight Media, the biggest media conglomerate in New York.” I was going to make Arthur Sterling pay a bloody price for everything he had done.

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Arthur Vance cheated on me. A one-night stand. The girl got pregnant, caused a huge scene right in front of me, and demanded Arthur take responsibility. Arthur smoked a cigarette and handed the power of choice to me. “It was just once.” “If you can forgive me, we’ll keep living our lives together.” “If not, we get a divorce.” My face pale, my voice trembling, I asked: “It’s your fault, right?” “If we get a divorce, you’ll admit that it’s your fault, right?” 1 My marriage to Arthur Vance was built on the scraps my younger sister didn’t want. Chloe Hayes was lively, outgoing, and wildly unruly. She refused to be trapped for life by a so-called arranged marriage. So, she grabbed a debit card loaded with three million dollars and ran away. My mother’s heart ached for her youngest daughter, but she also couldn’t bear to let go of a golden son-in-law like Arthur. So, she pushed me forward instead. Acting as if Arthur would marry any daughter as long as she belonged to the Hayes family. Who was Arthur Vance? In the upper echelons of New York society, if a chandelier fell, it would crush a whole row of old-money heirs. He was the biggest one of them all. Chloe fleeing the wedding had already severely damaged his pride. And now they wanted him to marry me? Were they daydreaming? But I still went to see him once, volunteering myself, and he actually agreed. This year marks our fourth year of marriage. In front of outsiders, we are the model couple. But in private, we treat each other with the utmost, distant courtesy. Even when we sleep together, we maintain the most basic etiquette. My mother kept pressuring me, saying it was time I had a child. She constantly nagged about how useless I was, warning me that if things continued this way, I wouldn’t be able to tie Arthur down—what if he ran off? I wanted to say, Arthur isn’t a dog. Even if I wanted to tie him down, would he let me? But I didn’t say that. I just nodded submissively, over and over again. My mother hated seeing me like that the most. She rolled her eyes, twisted her waist, and strutted away. But what I never expected was that I actually got pregnant. 2 My period was late by one, two, three… looks like four weeks. Last night, I bought a pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Today, I went to the hospital and got bloodwork done. The doctor held the lab report. “You’re 9 weeks pregnant. Are you planning to keep this baby or not?” “Keep it, of course!” I hesitated slightly. Arthur didn’t know yet. This child was also completely outside our plans. I needed to go ask him. So, holding the report, I went straight to his company. When I arrived, Arthur was in a meeting. His assistant led me into his office, poured me some coffee, brought me dessert, and asked me to wait a bit. I picked up the cup, about to drink. Can you drink coffee when you’re pregnant? I wasn’t sure. Let me google it. You can. Then no problem. I took a small sip and sighed in satisfaction. I had only let out half that sigh when suddenly, noisy arguing erupted outside, accompanied by a woman’s scream. I pushed the door open and locked eyes with a woman being held back by security. Her eyes were red as she roared: “Tell Arthur Vance to get out here! He knocked someone up, does he think he doesn’t have to take responsibility?!” Such a loud voice. Such a huge scene. So many people. So humiliating!!! I wished I could find a crack in the floor to crawl into. I just wanted to say, this has absolutely nothing to do with me! Thankfully, Arthur appeared just in time. With a cold face, he strode through the crowd and spotted me peeking through the crack of the door. His large, well-defined hand covered my eyes. I instinctively shrank back. He moved his hand and pulled the door shut. I blinked. Wait. My husband cheated, knocked someone else up, and now the mistress was confronting him at the office—and I was completely excluded from this drama? 3 Arthur indicated that I wasn’t entirely excluded. He dismissed the crowd, whispered a couple of words to the woman, pushed open the door, and brought her right in front of me. Seeing how calm, breezy, and composed he was, I really wanted to give him a standing ovation. To be able to cheat and act this self-righteous about it… he was probably the first in history, and likely the last. The woman was very cool. Wearing simple athleisure, a high ponytail, and a baseball cap. She sat there, legs crossed, her whole demeanor screaming, “Don’t mess with me.” But she was genuinely beautiful. Exquisite features, a cold and stunning aura. With looks alone, it was hard to hate her. It’s just a shame she opened her mouth. “This is your wife?” “Get a divorce.” “I’m pregnant, and you need to take responsibility for me.” I twitched my mouth. Well, I’m pregnant too, so who’s taking responsibility for me? Logically speaking, as the legal wife, I definitely had more leverage than a mistress. But when marriage becomes a battlefield, the more immoral one is, the more self-righteous they act. “Sigh!” I let out a sigh, grabbed a small cookie, and started eating. It was milky and buttery, not too sweet. Not bad. “Do you want one?” The woman looked at me with utter disgust, pointing her finger. “Is she crazy?” Arthur, for once, actually frowned. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the adjoining lounge. He smoked a cigarette in suffocating silence. “It was just once.” “I accidentally drank something spiked, and unexpectedly slept with her.” “Stella.” He raised his eyes to look at me, his gaze exceptionally serious. He said: “The fault is mine, you make the decision.” “If you can forgive me, we’ll keep living our lives together.” “If not, we get a divorce.” The sudden appearance of the word “divorce” made my heart skip a beat, and then it started racing wildly. I uncontrollably pinched the webbing between my thumb and index finger. “It’s your fault, right?” “If we get a divorce, you’ll admit that it’s your fault, right?” 4 Arthur looked at me intently. He was handsome, much better looking than anyone else I had ever met. I really liked looking at him. Especially in bed, looking up at him, seeing his hazy eyes, hearing his sexy panting. It all always made me lose myself and experience ultimate pleasure. Divorce… it’s a bit of a shame. But divorce… it’s not entirely out of the question either. “So, your choice is divorce?” I nodded and pointed outside. “With things like this, we have to divorce!” “It’s just my mom… you will admit to her that it was your fault, right?” I confirmed once more. Arthur’s expression, however, faded. Those unfamiliar, distant eyes were quite hard to bear. But I am best at handling internal discomfort. Take a deep breath, exhale, and you’re good. Arthur stood up, brushed off imaginary dust from his clothes, and said calmly: “Don’t worry, I will handle it.” Phew! Then I’m relieved. “If we divorce, I don’t need anything else, I just want Vance Pharmaceuticals.” “Fine.” “But if it’s convenient for you, giving me a villa would be nice too.” “Okay.” “Then can I also ask for thirty million dollars?” Arthur turned his head, staring at me. “You want everything, and you still want a divorce?” “If we don’t divorce, it’s all yours.” I avoided his gaze, lowered my head, and awkwardly shifted my feet. Listen to him. Then you shouldn’t have cheated! If you didn’t cheat, we wouldn’t have to divorce. If we don’t divorce, your wife and child are both yours. ………… Wait. Even if he cheated and we divorced, he’d still have a wife and child. Damn it! As expected of a businessman, always calculating profit down to the last cent. 5 Arthur sent the woman away. What they talked about, or what he promised her, I have no idea. By the time I came out of the lounge, the woman was already gone. There wasn’t a single delicious dessert left. I looked around, checked again. When I left, I still couldn’t help but grab the assistant. “Those little cookies from earlier, could you pack some up for me?” Assistant Davis looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t, his expression incredibly complicated. Behind me, Arthur let out a cold scoff. “Pack them for her!” This incident blew up way too big. By evening, my mother was already calling. The first one, I didn’t answer. The second one, I still didn’t answer. The third one, I stared at the phone for a long time, then tossed it into the sink filled with water. Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, I figured out the answer to a question: I was going to keep the baby in my belly. This child… I would provide half of his chromosomes. He would be nourished by my flesh and blood, emerge from my body, and grow into a new life form. He shares my bloodline. He is my most beloved family. What reason do I have not to give birth to him? Yes, I’m going to have him! This decision made me excited. I opened a bottle of $4,000 red wine from the wine cabinet. Can you drink wine when you’re pregnant? No? No, in moderation. So, cheers!

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I was out of town when I received a text from my neighbor, saying my husband had brought a flashy woman home. I rushed back immediately. My husband wasn’t there. I frantically tore through the apartment. “You bitch, where are you hiding? Get out here!” I peeked under the bed, only to find a bloody female corpse. Her head had been severed. Her eyes were wide open, staring dead at me. I was scared out of my wits. Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door. My husband was back! 1 Click. The front door unlocked. A shiver ran through my entire body. Almost on instinct, I glanced left and right, then swiftly darted into the closet. The closet had louvered doors. Through the slats, I could still see that head under the bed. The woman was wearing heavy smokey-eye makeup and exaggerated colored contacts. At first glance, her two eyeballs looked completely black, bulging as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. I clamped my hand over my mouth, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would explode. I just couldn’t figure it out. I came here to catch a cheater; how did I stumble into this?! Why did my husband kill her? Did they get into some kind of fight? My husband has always had a bad temper. When we go out to eat, if the waiter is a bit slow bringing the food, he’ll slam his fist on the table. Arguing with people is practically a daily occurrence for him. But no matter what, it shouldn’t escalate to murder, right? That’s a serious crime. Didn’t he consider the consequences? While my mind was racing, my husband walked into the bedroom. He looked to be in a great mood. He was carrying a black plastic trash bag in his hand, casually humming a tune. “Oh, what a beautiful morning, oh, what a beautiful day~” Humming, he slowly crouched down, set the plastic bag by his feet, and fished that head out from under the bed. He held the head in his left hand, and with his right hand, he tapped the woman’s nose in an exasperated manner. “You!” “You just wouldn’t listen!” His tone was playful, as if they were flirting. “Look at you, so pretty. I really did like you.” “I told you to be a good girl and lie on the bed, but you just had to go snooping through my things.” “You found out my secret. What could I do? I had to let you die!” “We haven’t even been together that long. I really hate to see you go.” As he spoke, he actually leaned in and planted two hard kisses on the woman’s bright red lips. The thick, foul stench of blood rushed to my nose. I almost threw up. I never, ever expected my husband to be such a sick freak. Holding a severed head, and he could actually kiss it! Is he some kind of psychopathic serial killer? And what was this secret he just mentioned? We’ve been married for four years. I’m the one who cleans the house. His phone password is my birthday, and I can look through it whenever I want. I’ve never noticed anything unusual! 2 I stared at Derek’s blood-stained face, twisted in a grotesque, eerie expression. He looked like a complete stranger. He kissed the head a few more times, then started humming again. “Oh, what a beautiful morning, oh, what a beautiful day…” While humming, he tossed the head into the black plastic bag, then bent down and reached under the bed to drag out the woman’s body. Only then did I see clearly that the woman had no clothes on. She had a curvy figure, her waist shockingly thin. If she were alive, who knows how captivating she would be. But now, that slender waist had been slashed with a massive knife, looking as if she had been sliced in half. A small section of her intestines was even spilling out. Derek reached out, slowly stroking that bloody, mangled piece of intestine, a look of slight heartbreak crossing his face. “What a shame. I didn’t want to kill you so soon!” After saying that, he turned and went to the kitchen, coming back with a heavy meat cleaver. He crouched on the floor and began expertly dismembering the body. Watching him slice meat and separate bones, stroke by stroke, a wave of intense nausea washed over me. I was on the verge of vomiting. Everyone’s heard of the legendary master butcher, right? The kind whose technique is so practiced and superb that the blade slides precisely into the gaps between the joints without ever needing to hack forcefully. That’s the exact vibe Derek gave me. His movements as he dismembered the body were smooth and fluid; it was almost too seamless. I barely heard any sounds of chopping bone. He was clearly reveling in his own skill, a smug expression on his face. Soon, he had dismantled both legs, separated and piled the bones, chopped the meat into pieces, and stuffed it all into the black plastic bag. He stood up, stretched, and suddenly, his gaze stopped. His expression changed drastically. 3 I looked in the direction his gaze had fixed on, my eyes instantly widening in terror, cold sweat pouring down my back. It was my earring! I instinctively touched my earlobe; my left ear was indeed bare. It must have fallen off when I was frantically tearing through the room earlier. Derek furrowed his brow tightly, walked over, and picked up the earring. “Why do I remember Brooke wearing these earrings when she went out?” This pair of pearl earrings was a birthday gift from Derek. I loved them. Before leaving the house, I even specifically chose an outfit to match them. Derek teased me, saying people usually pick jewelry to match their clothes, but I was doing it backward. Derek obviously remembered this scene too, and his expression grew increasingly grim. He raised his head, carefully scanning the room, his eyes darting everywhere. I was so terrified I held my breath. The next second, I realized something and immediately pulled my phone from my pocket. My palms were drenched in sweat, my fingers slipping wildly against the glass. I tapped the screen several times but couldn’t get it to unlock. My whole body was shaking, my heart practically leaping out of my throat. Through the louvered wooden door, I saw Derek pick up his phone from the nightstand and dial my number. My phone wasn’t on silent. If it rang, I was dead meat! In the nick of time, a flash of inspiration hit me. I just pressed and held the power button on the side to shut the phone off! And right at that moment, I heard a clear female voice echo in the quiet bedroom. “The subscriber you have dialed is currently unavailable.” 4 “The subscriber you have dialed is currently unavailable.” After trying a few times, Derek’s frown deepened. “Why is it turned off all of a sudden? Did the battery die?” “Forget it, I’m probably just overthinking. There’s no way she’d be back so soon.” “That silly girl probably lost the earring before she even left the house.” Derek shook his head and chuckled, slipping the earring into his pocket before going back to dismembering the body. For about half an hour, he separated all the bones and chopped meat, bagging them into different large black plastic bags, and took them to the kitchen. Hiding in the closet, my legs had gone completely numb from crouching. The sound of running water came from the kitchen. I rolled my numb ankles and carefully pushed the closet door open a crack. Our apartment’s layout had been remodeled. The small room next to the kitchen was opened up to create a dining area, and the kitchen sliding door opened towards that side too. Between the dining area and the living room, there was a cabinet partition. Which meant, if I slipped out of the master bedroom without making a sound, I could walk straight to the front door without catching Derek’s attention. I planned to use this opportunity to escape. As for how this would end, I had no idea, and I didn’t have the luxury to think that far ahead. Right now, I just desperately wanted to get away from Derek, this murderer. 5 I opened the closet door and stood still for a few seconds, letting the feeling return to my legs. Then, tiptoeing, trying my absolute hardest not to make a single sound, I slowly moved toward the front door. One step, two steps, three steps. The dark red security door was right in front of me! Derek was still in the kitchen, intently washing things. The sound of running water hadn’t stopped. I had just grabbed the door handle, my knuckles white from gripping it so tight. Suddenly— Bang! Bang! Bang! Knocking exploded on the door without warning, startling me so badly I shook all over. “Brooke? Derek? Are you guys home?” It was the neighbor, Mrs. Gable. Her voice was loud and carried an irrepressible excitement. Almost instantly, the water in the kitchen stopped. My scalp prickled. I immediately yanked my hand back and looked around frantically. The living room was wide open with nowhere to hide; only the heavy, L-shaped fabric sofa had its side facing the front door. I practically dove behind the corner of the sofa, curling up into a ball, my heart pounding like a drum. Derek’s footsteps grew closer, brushing past the sofa where I hid, heading toward the door. “Who is it?” He asked, his voice as calm as ever. “It’s me, Mrs. Gable from next door.” The voice outside grew even more enthusiastic. “I heard noise coming from your place, thought maybe Brooke was back?” “I just baked some fresh cornbread muffins. They’re Brooke’s favorite, still piping hot.” “Oh, Mrs. Gable.” Derek cracked the door open just a sliver, not all the way. “Brooke isn’t back yet. I was just in the kitchen chopping some bones for a rib stew. Want some, Mrs. Gable?” “Oh, is that so?” Mrs. Gable’s tone shifted, her eyes trying to peer through the crack in the door, looking like she wanted to squeeze her whole body inside. “That can’t be right. I think I saw her coming into the complex this afternoon.” “Did you two have a fight?” “Derek, you’re an honest man. You can’t be messing around behind our Brooke’s back!” 6 I lay flat on the cold tile floor, cold sweat drenching my back. Mrs. Gable lived right across the hall. She was straightforward, enthusiastic, and extremely nosy. She was the one who texted me to hurry back and catch my husband bringing a woman home. I never imagined that after sending the text, she’d actually come knocking to watch the drama unfold. This was going to get me killed! Hearing her words, Derek’s face predictably changed. “What do you mean?” “Isn’t Brooke coming back tomorrow? I’m the one who bought her the flight ticket.” “How could she be back today? Mrs. Gable, are you sure you didn’t see wrong?” Derek’s voice was still smiling, but beneath that smile, something had snapped taut. He gripped the door handle, his knuckles turning white. Mrs. Gable let out an “Oh my,” lowering her voice a bit, filled with the eager curiosity of someone who loves a good spectacle. “My kid, Toby, saw her. Said he ran into Brooke at the front gate half an hour ago. She even said hi to him. He wouldn’t make a mistake like that!” She paused, then her voice rose again, probing. “What, she didn’t come inside?” “Or did she come in, see something she shouldn’t have, you two fought, and she ran away?” Mrs. Gable narrowed her eyes, implying heavily. “Derek, you can’t be doing things like this!” “Brooke is such a good girl. Her parents treat you like their own son, always bringing you food, buying this and that, taking such good care of you.” “You can’t do anything stupid!” Derek’s face was livid, his jaw clenched tight. He stayed silent for a long time before forcing out a response. “Mrs. Gable, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Brooke really hasn’t come back, and there’s nothing shameful going on in this house.” He stepped aside, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” 7 Mrs. Gable let out an awkward, dry laugh. “Oh, listen to you. Why wouldn’t I believe you?” While grumbling internally, she figured I must have had something come up and gotten delayed somewhere in the complex. Otherwise, rushing back to catch him cheating and running into a woman caked in makeup, the two of us would have already blown the roof off. It wouldn’t be this dead quiet. Thinking this, Mrs. Gable shoved the plate of cornbread muffins into Derek’s hands, smiling apologetically: “I guess our Toby must have seen wrong.” “You go back to what you were doing. I won’t bother you anymore. If Brooke comes back, tell her I said hi.” “Yeah, okay. Thanks for checking in, Mrs. Gable.” Closing the door, Derek slowly turned around. He stood in place for a moment, the corners of his mouth inching up into a wide grin. “Baby~” “You’re back. Why aren’t you coming out?” “Are we playing hide-and-seek with Hubby?” As he spoke, he started walking. Unhurried, yet with a clear target, straight toward the sofa. The crisp sound of his footsteps exploded in my brain. I was paralyzed with terror, nearly fainting from the sheer fear. My mind went completely blank; I had no idea how to react. The footsteps stopped. Above my head, Derek’s deep voice sounded. “Ha, found you!” 8 My entire body went rigid. My neck popped and cracked as I mechanically raised my head. Derek crouched down, raising his hand to stroke the top of my head. “Brooke, you’ve been a bad girl. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” “AHHH—” I let out a blood-curdling scream. Derek moved fast. His hand slid swiftly down from the top of my head, clamping tightly over my mouth. The scream was muffled in my throat. I struggled desperately, using all my strength to push him. “Let me go! Let go!” Derek was tall and heavily built, incredibly strong. I couldn’t break free at all. With both my mouth and nose covered, my vision went black in waves. My chest tightened, suffocating. Soon, my eyes rolled back, and I passed out. When I woke up, I was lying on the sofa, covered with a thick blanket. Derek poked his head out from the dining room, calling me gently. “Honey, I figured it was time for you to wake up.” “You little sleepyhead, you sure can sleep. Come eat now that you’re awake.” “I simmered this rib stew for three whole hours. It smells amazing.” I jolted, bolting upright. For a split second, I almost suspected I was already dead. But the warm, thick blanket on me, and the autumn breeze blowing in from the balcony carrying that distinct, damp post-rain smell, reminded me I was still alive. I looked at Derek with terror and uncertainty, clutching the blanket tightly around me. Derek walked over carrying a white porcelain bowl. “Try it. You’ll love it.” A thick layer of milky-yellow oil floated in the bowl, with a few off-white bones bobbing inside. Just like the bones that had been chopped up earlier. My stomach heaved, and I nearly vomited. I forced it down, shrinking back against the cushions. “I need to use the bathroom.”

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