The key slid into the lock, but the door opened from the inside. I froze. This apartment was supposed to be empty. Arthur told me the tenant moved out last month and he hadn’t found a new one yet. The door swung open. Standing there was a woman in a silk slip dress, her hair wet, looking like she had just stepped out of the shower. When she saw me, she froze too. Then, she called out a name. Not “Who are you looking for?” It was— “Arthur?” She thought the person at the door was my husband. This apartment was left to me by my mom. The year my mom passed away, the eminent domain buyout was just approved. She never got to live here for a single day. 1. The woman stood in the doorway, her hand still resting on the doorknob. Behind her was the living room. The lights were on. The TV was on. A plate of sliced fruit sat on the coffee table. A pair of men’s slippers rested next to the shoe cabinet. They were Arthur’s. I recognized those slippers. I bought them at Target last year—a two-pack. One pair for the house, and he said he’d keep the other pair at the warehouse to change into. Turns out they weren’t at the warehouse. They were here. “Who are you?” She finally reacted, her voice a bit shrill. “Why do you have a key?” I didn’t answer. I looked down at the slippers on her feet—pink, fluffy, the soles clean. Those weren’t the slippers of someone who just moved in. Those were the slippers of someone who had lived here for a long time. On the living room wall, there was a framed photo. A picture of two people. Arthur and her. He had his arm around her shoulders, smiling broadly. I stared at that photo for three seconds. Arthur rarely smiled. When he was with me, he always had a deadpan face. No matter what I said, his responses were always “mm,” “oh,” or “got it.” In the photo, he was smiling like a twenty-year-old kid. “Who exactly are you?” Her voice grew louder. “I am the landlord of this apartment.” After saying that, I turned and walked away. The stairwell was very quiet. I held onto the railing as I walked down. First floor. Second floor. Third floor. When I reached the lobby on the ground floor, I stopped. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 7:43 PM. I came today because the HOA called, saying there was a leak in this unit and asking the owner to come take a look. Arthur said he couldn’t make it, told me not to worry about it, and said he’d hire someone to fix it. I told him I happened to be in the area. He was silent on the other end of the line for two seconds. Those two seconds—thinking back on them now—were entirely fueled by guilt. I stood in the ground-floor lobby. It was already dark outside. My phone lit up. It was Arthur. “Are you home yet? The warehouse is slammed today; I’ll be back late tonight.” I shoved my phone back into my pocket. In these fifteen years, how many times had he said “the warehouse is slammed”? I didn’t go home. I sat in my car parked downstairs for two hours. I didn’t cry. I just sat there. On the sixth floor of the building outside my window, the lights were still on. That was my mom’s apartment. My mom lived her whole life in an old alleyway, in a tiny four-hundred-square-foot place that leaked rain in the summer and drafted cold air in the winter. The year the demolition notice came down, she was so happy she couldn’t sleep. She told me, “Chloe, Mom is finally going to live in a nice house.” She never got the chance. Three months before the relocation apartments were ready, she passed away. The name on the deed was mine. She signed it and pressed her fingerprint on it while she was on her deathbed. That day, she held my hand and said, “This house is for you. It’s Mom giving you a safety net.” Now, inside this “safety net,” lived a young woman in a slip dress. 2. I’ve been married to Arthur for fifteen years. How should I put it? It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. In the first few years of our marriage, he didn’t talk much, but he was reliable. Every day he went to the building materials market to restock, deliver goods, and collect payments. I worked as a quality inspector at an electronics factory. We pooled our salaries to pay the mortgage, raise our child, and get by. It wasn’t romantic, but it felt stable. He wasn’t romantic. In fifteen years of marriage, he never bought me a single birthday present. One year, for my birthday, I bought a cake myself, sliced it, and brought it to the table. He took one look and asked, “What’s the occasion today?” I said, “It’s my birthday.” He just said, “Oh.” “Let’s eat.” I ate that cake for three days. He didn’t touch a single bite. During the two years my mom was sick, I worked during the day and went to the hospital at night. The hospital was on the east side of the city; we lived on the west side. I had to take two different buses, an hour and a half each way. Arthur never once went with me. I asked him once, “Can you drive me to the hospital tomorrow? Mom is getting chemo, and I can’t carry everything by myself.” He said, “I can’t get away from the warehouse. Just take an Uber.” I took an Uber. It cost fifty-eight dollars. I remember it very clearly: fifty-eight dollars. Because that day, I only had exactly sixty dollars in cash in my pocket. I took the two dollars in change and stuffed it into the pocket of my mom’s hospital gown. Later, Mom passed away. I handled the funeral arrangements entirely by myself. Arthur showed up for half a day and took three phone calls, all from the warehouse. The next day, he said he had to go back because a shipment of building materials needed to be inspected. I said okay. I handled all the paperwork for the eminent domain buyout. I ran around for over four months. The city planning office, the relocation department, the housing authority, the notary public. Arthur never went with me once. Once, I asked him to drop off a document at the housing authority for me. He said over the phone, “Just go yourself, I don’t understand any of that stuff.” The day the deed was finally issued, I sat alone on the steps outside the housing authority, clutching that document. I wanted to call my mom. I scrolled through my phone to her number. The number was still there. But she was gone. I put my phone away, stood up, and dusted off my pants. I went to the grocery store and bought food. I made four dishes for dinner. Arthur came home, took a look, and asked, “Why did you make so much today?” “The deed came through.” “Oh, that’s good.” He didn’t ask another question. He didn’t ask how big the apartment was, when it would be ready to move in, or how long I had spent dealing with the paperwork. Later, he said we shouldn’t move in right away, but rent it out to collect some income. I thought that made sense; we already had a place to live, and renting it out would help with our finances. He said he would find the tenant. I said okay. Every month, he would transfer a thousand dollars to me, saying it was the rent. A thousand dollars. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Thinking about it now, an apartment in that complex should rent for at least two thousand five hundred. Where did he spend the missing fifteen hundred? No, that’s not right. There was never a tenant. From the very beginning, there wasn’t one. I sat in the car until 10 PM. It was very cold outside the car window. The February wind seeped through the cracks. I shoved my hands into my pockets and felt that set of keys. The ones my mom gave me. She said, “Chloe, this house is for you. It’s Mom giving you a safety net.” My safety net had been hollowed out by him. 3. The next day, I took half a day off work. I didn’t go looking for Arthur. Nor did I go looking for that woman. I went to the apartment complex’s HOA office. “Hello, I’m the owner of Unit 602 in Building 6.” I showed the HOA staff a photo of the deed. The young man at the desk checked his computer. “Ms. Chloe Hayes, correct? Are you here to report a maintenance issue? About that leak yesterday—” “I’d like to check who has been paying the HOA fees for 602 over the past two years.” The young man scrolled through the records. “It was paid by a Mr… Arthur Vance. Paid annually.” “Starting from when?” “March 2023.” March 2023. It’s now February 2025. Almost two years. “One more thing,” I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible. “Do you have a registry for the residents of 602?” “Yes, tenants are required to register with the HOA.” He clicked his mouse a few times. “The registered resident is… Ms. Mia Smith. Move-in date: March 15, 2023.” March 15, 2023. The day after the first anniversary of my mother’s passing. My grip on my phone tightened slightly. Coming out of the HOA office, I stood by the complex’s flowerbed. An older gentleman was walking his dog. He glanced at me. “You from 602?” “Yes.” “That girl from your place—is she a relative? She’s nice, always polite when we run into each other. But when that guy comes over, they can be a bit loud.” “That guy… does he come over often?” “Usually two or three times a week. Sometimes he brings groceries, sometimes fruit. Last month he even hauled a treadmill up there.” Bringing groceries. Bringing fruit. Hauling a treadmill. I did the math in my head. In fifteen years of marriage, the things Arthur bought for me: a washing machine (we pooled money for appliances when we got married) and a rice cooker (the old one broke). Anything else? Nothing. Even when I was hospitalized to give birth, I packed my own hospital bag. I thanked him and left the complex. Sitting on the bus, I opened my phone and scrolled to a specific contact on WhatsApp. Sarah. My best friend of over a decade. She had worked at a real estate agency for eight years and now led her own team. I didn’t send a message. I put my phone away. It wasn’t time yet. I needed to know more first. That evening, Arthur came home. At 8:30 PM, same as usual. He changed his shoes, washed his hands, and sat down to eat. I had cooked three dishes and a soup. Same as usual. “Arthur, how long ago did the tenant in the relocation apartment move out?” His hand holding his chopsticks paused. “Sometime last month.” “Have you found a new tenant yet?” “Not yet, no rush.” “The HOA called me about a leak. I went to check it out yesterday.” He put down his chopsticks. “You went?” “Yeah.” “Didn’t I tell you I’d hire someone to fix it? Why did you go all the way out there?” “I was in the area.” He glanced at me, didn’t say anything, and went back to eating. “Is the leak fixed?” I asked. “I’ll get someone to look at it tomorrow.” He kept his head down, shoveling food into his mouth, refusing to look at me. I also kept my head down and ate. The faucet in the kitchen was dripping. Drip, drop. For fifteen years, I had been asking him to fix that faucet. He always said tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. When it came to my things, it was always tomorrow. 4. I started digging through his bank statements. It wasn’t snooping. When we got married, we opened a joint account to pay the mortgage. I had access to the transaction history. I opened the banking app and selected the statements for the past two years. I scrolled through, page by page. March 2023 — Transfer, $5,000, Payee “Mia Smith”. April 2023 — Transfer, $5,000, Payee “Mia Smith”. May. June. All the way to January 2025. Twenty-three months. $5,000 every month. Total: $115,000. One hundred and fifteen thousand dollars. He transferred me $1,000 for “rent” every month, and transferred her $5,000. I then checked his Venmo and Cash App history. May 2023 — Transfer, $8,000. Memo: Renovations. August 2023 — Purchase, $12,600. At a furniture store. December 2023 — Transfer, $15,000. Memo: None. February 2024 — Purchase, $6,800. At a jewelry store. Jewelry store. When we got married, my ring was a two-hundred-dollar silver band. He said once we made money, we’d upgrade to gold. Fifteen years later, no upgrade. He bought her six thousand eight hundred dollars worth of jewelry. I recorded every single number in my phone’s notes app. With every entry, my finger tapped the screen. I wasn’t making a spreadsheet. I was counting how much I had been conned out of. Bank transfers: $115,000. Additional app transfers/purchases: approx. $68,000. Plus two years of HOA fees: approx. $6,000. Plus utilities, daily expenses, and that treadmill. A conservative estimate— Over two hundred thousand dollars. Two hundred thousand. Working as a quality inspector at the factory, my monthly salary was $4,300. Two hundred thousand was nearly four years of my salary, assuming I didn’t spend a single cent on food or water. He claimed the warehouse wasn’t making much money, said the building materials market was in a slump. Last winter, my winter coat tore. I couldn’t bear to buy a new one, so I stitched it up myself. While I was sewing, the thread broke three times. Finally, I tied a knot. When I wore it outside, the wind blew right through the needle holes. Two hundred thousand. I locked my phone and placed it on the table. On the table was a bowl of instant ramen. I hadn’t wanted to spend money at the cafeteria for lunch today, so I made myself a cup of noodles. Three dollars and fifty cents.

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My boyfriend took his childhood sweetheart on a trip around the world. Three months later, he stared at my slightly bulging belly and angrily questioned, “Who the hell did you sleep with?!” I didn’t answer, secretly glancing at his best friend. Liam froze for a second, then punched him in the face. Arthur, who was originally enjoying the show, was stunned by the punch. After recovering, he also punched Liam in the face. “Are you fucking crazy! I didn’t sleep with her!” … They traded punches back and forth. I calmly left the private room. I slapped my belly, and it instantly became flat. Who said I was pregnant? I just ate too much for dinner! 1 To avoid being harassed by calls, I blocked both Liam’s and Arthur’s numbers on my way home. I was lying in the bathtub taking a beauty bath. Just as I was getting drowsy, a message from an unknown number startled me awake. The content was concise: 【Open the door in one minute! Otherwise I’ll tear down your crappy door!】 Liam is the type to act, not talk, so this was clearly Arthur’s style. Arthur is petty and vengeful. I knew he would come looking to settle the score, but I didn’t expect him to come this fast. Knowing him, his threat to tear down the door was definitely not an empty one. So I chickened out. 【Taking a bath, need five minutes.】 Arthur replied instantly: 【Fine! I’ll give you five minutes!】 I didn’t dare delay, hurriedly standing up from the bathtub to rinse off the bubbles. After drying off, I slipped on a slip dress and went to open the door. The moment the door opened, Arthur, who was about to explode with rage, froze for a second as his gaze landed on my exposed skin, then he roared exasperatedly. “Can’t you wear proper clothes?!” I looked innocent: “I just finished showering and am getting ready for bed. Isn’t this what I should wear?” Arthur choked, decisively changing the subject. “Why did you tell Liam that I knocked you up?” I innocently asked back: “Wasn’t it you who knocked me up?!” Among all of Liam’s friends, Arthur is the one I get along with the least. The reason is simple: I hate his pettiness and sharp tongue, and he hates my fake, “green tea” persona. During the three months Liam accompanied his childhood sweetheart on a trip around the world, Arthur hovered around me constantly like a ghost, claiming he was afraid I’d put horns on his best friend. If he hadn’t made me unhappy, I wouldn’t have turned my anger into appetite, eating 120% full every single meal. Arthur hopped mad with anger. “I haven’t even touched a single finger of yours, how could I have knocked you up?” “Immaculate conception?!” I smiled without saying a word, suddenly reaching out to wrap my arms around his neck, exhaling softly. “Haven’t I touched you now?” Arthur froze for a moment, then jumped back as if he had been burned, shaking off my hands. “What are you doing?!” Watching his ears turn completely red in a second, my smile grew even brighter. “Doing… you!” Arthur’s expression could be described as dumbfounded. He stammered, “You, you, you, have you no shame!” I smiled nonchalantly: “You’ve said that phrase many times already. Can you come up with something fresh?” Arthur gritted his teeth in anger, dropped the line “A good man doesn’t fight with a woman,” and left furiously. But he hadn’t taken a few steps before he turned back. I raised an eyebrow at him: “Mr. Sterling, is there anything else?” Arthur asked in an unreadable tone: “Are you really pregnant?” “Can’t you see for yourself?” I stuck out my belly, even deliberately puffing it up. Arthur glanced down, his face instantly turning even darker. “Chloe, you are so dead!” “Liam might not take you seriously, but if you dare to cheat on him, just wait for your family to go bankrupt!” I didn’t panic at all, touching his collar and asking with a beaming smile: “Couldn’t you help me out?” In terms of economic strength, the Sterling family is on par with Liam’s family. In terms of background and connections, the Sterling family is even better. Arthur laughed out of anger. He pinched my chin, examining me from side to side: “Why should I help you? I haven’t even settled the score with you for falsely accusing me!” I said shamelessly: “Of course, it’s because I’m special in your heart.” Arthur laughed even louder. “Which eye of yours saw that you are special in my heart?” I stated it as a matter of fact: “You stare at me every day. Isn’t it because I’m special in your heart?” Arthur retorted angrily: “I stare at you because I can’t stand you and want to find fault with you, understand?!” I was unabashed: “Do you find fault with others as much as you do with me?” Arthur was speechless. I smiled smugly: “And you still say I’m not special.” Arthur’s face turned green and pale; he was probably furious. I decided to add fuel to the fire, gently rubbing my thumb over his nicely shaped lips, teasing ambiguously. “Mr. Sterling, you couldn’t possibly be in love with me without knowing it, could you?” Arthur’s face instantly flushed to an unbelievable degree. Angry out of embarrassment, he forcefully swatted my hand away. “Liam won’t let you off!” He dropped a harsh threat on behalf of Liam and left in a somewhat flustered manner. It felt very much like running away. I crossed my arms, curling my lips in a cold smile. Stupid boy! 2 Although Arthur is arrogant and domineering, he’s still an innocent boy, so he can’t handle being teased. However, he was right about one thing—Liam is indeed someone I cannot afford to offend. And he is absolutely not the type to swallow his pride after being cheated on. Liam is the heir to a hundred-billion-dollar empire; my family’s assets couldn’t even match a fraction of his. If he was dead set on taking revenge, my family would indeed be completely powerless to fight back. But what does that matter? My family’s assets belong to my dad, my stepmom, and their son and daughter; it has absolutely nothing to do with me. The only thing I need to worry about is that after Liam dumps me, my dad will force me to marry a perverted old man older than he is. As for that, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Less than half a minute after I closed the door, the doorbell rang again. I thought Arthur had returned and opened the door without a second thought. I didn’t expect to be met with Liam’s gloomy face; the teasing words died in my throat. Without a word, Liam grabbed my arm, dragged me inside, and forcefully pinned me against the wall in the entryway. He pinched my face hard, questioning me through gritted teeth: “Who the hell did you sleep with?!” Liam is a calm and restrained person; it’s rare to see him express his emotions openly. I’m amazing; I successfully made him lose his cool twice today. I couldn’t break free, so I stomped hard on his foot. “No comment!” Liam felt the pain, and his grip loosened slightly. I took the opportunity to break free and ran towards the living room. But he quickly caught up, picked me up by the waist from behind, and walked straight towards the bedroom. He threw me onto the bed, then climbed on top of me. I gave up my futile struggle, lying on the bed as if accepting my fate. “If you don’t think it’s dirty, then come on.” Liam froze. His angry gaze fell on my lower abdomen, and his fury instantly overcame his lust. He lost control and grabbed me by the neck. “I’ll give you three days to get rid of the bastard in your belly! Otherwise, don’t blame me for not giving you a chance!” He let go of me and stood up, as if he had touched something dirty. I sat up, looking at him expressionlessly. “I say we break up.” Liam’s hand, which was adjusting his collar, paused slightly. A flash of surprise crossed his face, but it was replaced by mockery and contempt the next second. “What right do you have to say it’s over?” I glared at him defiantly: “Miss Vance is single again.” Liam loved Emily Vance for many years. But Emily liked his older brother. Half a year ago, his older brother died unexpectedly, and Emily has been depressed ever since. Three months ago, to make Emily happy, Liam ignored the gossip and took her on a trip around the world. Although marrying your deceased brother’s fiancée doesn’t sound great, for someone as egocentric as Liam, it’s not an issue at all. Liam fixed a warning gaze on my face. “Chloe, remember this: no one can dictate what I do.” “Even if this relationship is going to end, it will have to wait until I no longer want to continue.” “You are a smart person; you should know what to do.” My heart sank little by little to the very bottom. He was right; I had zero control over this relationship. 3 Three years ago, for the sake of profit, my dad wanted to marry me off to a perverted old man in his sixties. My eyes and brows looked similar to Emily’s. When I had nowhere else to turn, I imitated Emily and seduced Liam. Liam was very excited at the time, but after pinning me on the bed, he restrained himself. After that, he let me stay by his side. To please Liam, I imitated Emily in my dress, style, words, and actions. We were boyfriend and girlfriend in name, but in reality, it was a relationship between a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. Everyone in our circle knew this unspoken truth, and they all looked down on me because of it, especially Arthur. But I didn’t care. Being a substitute for Emily was always better than marrying a perverted old man in his sixties. Moreover, Liam never touched me. I don’t know what psychological reason it was, but gradually, I actually fell for Liam. Once, when he was drunk, he promised me that he would marry me after his brother and Emily got married. Even though I knew I was his second choice, I was still a little happy and expectant. Because I naively believed that feelings could grow over time. Who knew that life is unpredictable; Liam’s brother actually died unexpectedly. From the moment I heard this news, I knew that Liam would never marry me in this lifetime. So, I have been waiting for him to dump me. Three months ago, Liam suddenly told me he was taking Emily to travel the world. I thought he would take the opportunity to propose a breakup, but I didn’t expect he wouldn’t do so. Instead, he told Arthur, who I get along with the least, to “take care” of me. And Arthur was also crazy. He clearly could have just paid lip service to the order, but he strictly executed it, watching me every day like a prisoner. It made me so afraid to go find male models that I could only turn my grief and anger into an appetite, gaining six pounds in three months, and even being misunderstood as being pregnant. I highly suspect he deliberately used this method to disgust me. This bastard is truly vicious! 4 Liam told me to solve the “thing” in my belly within three days. I don’t have it, so of course, I don’t need to solve it. So I stayed home with peace of mind, just chilling. At night, just as I was about to go to sleep, I received a message from Arthur. 【Dead yet?】 Sometimes, when you hate someone to the extreme, a different kind of feeling can arise. So not only did I not block him, I actually started chatting with him. 【Your grandma is still alive and kicking.】 Arthur replied quickly: 【It’s a miracle Liam didn’t beat you to death!】 I also thought it was a miracle. I called myself “grandma” and he didn’t even notice. Me: 【Don’t worry, grandma will definitely live to a hundred.】 Arthur: 【True, a scourge lives a thousand years. You look like someone who is very hard to kill.】 Me: 【Grandma accepts your good wishes.】 The chat box kept showing “typing…” for about half a minute before the message came through. Arthur: 【What about the child?】 I was stunned for a moment before I realized he was talking about the non-existent child in my belly. I didn’t expect him to actually care about this. My wicked sense of humor flared up immediately: 【The child is innocent, of course I’m going to have it.】 Arthur: 【Are you crazy? Aren’t you afraid Liam will really kill you!】 Me: 【If I die, I die, what’s there to be afraid of? I have nothing tying me down anyway.】 My grandmother, who I cared about the most, is already gone; there is no reason for me to stay alive in this world. Arthur didn’t reply for a long time. Just when I thought he wouldn’t reply anymore, he sent another message. Arthur: 【Who is the man?】 Me: 【Too many people.】 Arthur: 【Fuck!】 I really couldn’t hold it back and laughed until I fell over on the sofa. Although Arthur kept a close eye on me, he didn’t follow me every single moment. One day when he was busy, I took the opportunity to go to a bar and called a few male models to drink all night. The next day, it was still him who dragged me out of the bar. He must think it was that time. 5 I couldn’t stand lying at home for a day, so the next day I went to a bar to drink my life away. At night, Liam’s people burst into the private room, dragged me out of the bar, shoved me into a car, and headed towards a private women’s hospital. After arriving at the hospital, I realized Liam had also come. I have no weaknesses right now, plus I was drunk and lacking reason. Seeing Liam just made me furious, and I started cursing at him. “Liam, it’s one thing to covet your sister-in-law, but fucking playing the substitute game, isn’t that disgusting!” Liam didn’t fly into a rage; instead, he stepped forward, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look up. “I’ll ask you one last time, whose bastard is it?” I glared at him defiantly: “Your dad’s!” Liam laughed out of extreme anger: “Chloe, you’ve got guts!” He looked at the masked doctor, “Make it clean, no need for anesthesia!” The doctor was startled, stammering a nod: “O-okay, Mr. Davis.” I looked at him in disbelief: “Liam, you’re fucking crazy!” Liam smiled sinisterly: “Baby, you can’t blame me. Who asked you not to control your own body.” “Doctor, let’s begin.” The medical staff nervously gathered around. I struggled desperately: “Liam! You can’t do this! I didn’t…” “Liam!” A playful voice came unhurriedly from the other end of the corridor. The all-too-familiar cynical tone. Liam looked at Arthur in confusion: “What are you doing here?” Arthur glanced at me and said casually: “I’m the father of the child. Shouldn’t I be here?” Me: …??!! Liam froze for a moment, looking at Arthur in disbelief: “What do you mean?!” Arthur shrugged apologetically: “Liam, I lied to you that day. I really am the one who knocked her up.” Me: … He must have been kicked in the head by a donkey! Liam couldn’t bear it anymore. He raised his fist and charged at Arthur. Arthur didn’t wait for him to hit him; he immediately took a defensive stance. The two traded punches back and forth. The medical staff obviously knew who Arthur was and didn’t dare drag me into the operating room by force. They all stood there at a loss. My legs had gone soft from fear earlier, so I simply found a chair to sit down and slowly watched the show. Arthur seemed to be trained, and his body was stronger than Liam’s. After a dozen rounds, Arthur gained the upper hand, pinning Liam firmly against the wall. Liam was furious, his eyes bloodshot: “Arthur! I fucking treated you like a brother!” I shook my head secretly. Liam has been losing his cool too frequently lately; he’s becoming less and less steady. Arthur reasoned calmly: “Liam, you’ve gotten Miss Vance as you wished anyway. There’s really no need to keep obsessing over a substitute.” “Besides, with Miss Vance’s temper, she probably wouldn’t allow you to keep a sugar baby on the side, would she?” At the mention of Emily, Liam gradually calmed down. Arthur struck while the iron was hot: “Shall we talk?” Liam didn’t agree, but he didn’t refuse either. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and quickly winked at me: “Go back and wait for me.” I was pretty sober now, long having lost the courage to rather die than submit. I gave Arthur a grateful look and nodded immediately: “Okay.” I quickly left the hospital and took a taxi home. On the way, I kept thinking, why did Arthur help me? I thought and thought, but couldn’t figure it out. Probably… love born from hate.

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On my birthday, I spent a fraction of my allowance—fifteen hundred dollars—on a set of custom nails. But when Nancy, a coworker who constantly acted like a know-it-all elder, found out, her face instantly darkened. “Fifteen hundred! Just for some cheap nails? Aren’t you afraid of bad karma for wasting money like this?!” She pointed at me, heartbroken and indignant, her spit almost hitting my face. “Can you eat these flashy things? You can’t even do laundry or cook with them!” “My son’s money doesn’t grow on trees! If you keep spending like this, you’ll bankrupt our Miller family!” I forcefully yanked my hand back from her painful grip. “Are you out of your mind? This is my parents’ money. What does it have to do with your son or your Miller family?!” Nancy was furious. I couldn’t be bothered with her, so I requested PTO and went on a trip. When I returned, I found that my limited-edition anime figures, worth thousands, were missing from my desk. And Nancy, still utterly absorbed in her self-assigned role as the “wicked mother-in-law,” was standing nearby. “Don’t bother looking. You’re a grown adult, stop playing with these inappropriate toys. Not only do they waste money, but they also take up space. I already threw them away for you.” “Your salary will also be direct-deposited to my card from now on. If you’re going to marry my son, you can’t be spending money recklessly like this anymore.” I laughed out of sheer anger and dialed 911. Since she loves being the boss of the house so much, I’ll send her to be the boss of a jail cell. 1 Having just attended the birthday party my parents threw for me yesterday, I brought some pastries made by our family chef to share with my coworkers. Under the office fluorescent lights, the rhinestones and gold flakes on my nails shimmered and sparkled. Nancy from accounting waddled over with her thermos. Her eyes habitually swept across my desk before firmly locking onto my hands. “Chloe, are those new nails?” Thinking it was just idle office chatter, I replied casually. “Yeah, do you like them?” Who knew her voice would suddenly rise. “Looking pretty doesn’t put food on the table. Those couldn’t have been cheap. Tell me, how much did you spend?” “Chloe, honey, I’m not trying to scold you, but it’s not easy for a young person like you to make money. How can you be so extravagant?” “I know a salon that can do this exact style for ten bucks. If you really want them done, I’ll take you there next time. Think of what you could do with the money you save.” I kept my patience and explained with a smile. “Nancy, thanks for the offer, but I have a private nail technician. Both the materials and the technique are excellent. I’m just spending money to make myself happy, so I don’t plan on switching for now.” “Happy? You spent fifteen hundred dollars just to be happy with ten fingernails for a month? Is your brain full of water?!” I don’t know where she found out the price, but her voice was so loud the entire office instantly fell silent. My face darkened as well. “This is my personal business and my money. I have the right to decide how I spend it. Is it any of your concern?” Seeing that I was angry, Nancy gave an awkward smile. “Oh, you child. I’m just offering some advice as someone with more life experience. Why are you getting so defensive?” “Fifteen hundred is not a small amount. It’s enough to pay for a chunk of a house down payment, enough to buy a trunk full of baby formula, enough to cover our living expenses for a year.” “Squandering money like this now is draining your future blessings. Aren’t you afraid of bad karma?” I took a few deep breaths but still couldn’t suppress the anger welling up inside me. “This is my money, and I will spend it however I please!” “Forget about getting my nails done; even if I bought a solid gold brick to prop up my desk, that’s my freedom! It’s not your place to dictate what I do!” 2 Seeing that I was genuinely angry, and feeling the stares of everyone around us, she sheepishly shut her mouth and returned to her cubicle. After distributing the pastries, I went to the break room to wash the empty container. Unexpectedly, Nancy followed me in. She closed the door and spoke again, sounding deeply pained. “Chloe, honey, there were too many people out there earlier, so I couldn’t be too blunt. But I’m just so worried about you!” She grabbed my hand, which was under the running water, and frowned deeply. “Look at this. Can you eat these flashy things? You can’t even do laundry or cook. You’re washing a container so carefully… is this how someone who manages a household acts?” I pulled my hand, which she was gripping painfully, away, turned off the faucet, and looked at her coldly. She thought I was listening and got even more fired up. “I’m not being a busybody. Think about it. A woman eventually has to get married and have kids. You’re so used to spending freely now; what will you do later?” “My son’s money doesn’t grow on trees. The hard-earned money he makes is meant to honor his parents and raise his children.” “If you keep spending like this, won’t you bankrupt our Miller family once you marry in? My husband and I are counting on you two for our retirement. We can’t afford your extravagance!” I was absolutely stunned by her words. The good mood I had from booking a vacation with my best friend vanished, and the anger I had suppressed flared up again. I completely dropped any pretense of professional courtesy and yelled at her, using her full name. “Nancy Miller! Are you out of your mind?” “Who is your son? Do I even know him? And marrying into your Miller family—is your family trimmed with gold or encrusted with diamonds?” “Let alone the fact that I don’t know your son at all, even if I were blind, heartless, and brain-damaged, and every man in the world were dead, I, Chloe Hayes, would become a nun before I’d marry your son! Stop having delusions!” Hearing my words, Nancy froze for a moment. “Marriage is ultimately decided by the parents. You don’t know him now, but you will when you get married.” “You’re only saying this because you don’t know my son. Don’t you young girls love a man in uniform? My son looks so handsome in his.” “Don’t worry, I’ll arrange for you two to get your marriage license as soon as possible. Feelings can be cultivated later. You’ll see when you meet him; you two really look like a married couple.” I was truly disgusted by Nancy’s deranged behavior. Realizing she couldn’t understand human speech at all, I didn’t want to waste another breath. Shoving her out of my way, I went straight to my desk, grabbed my pre-written PTO request, and headed to HR. I was originally supposed to work at my family’s company, but Ethan Pierce insisted I come to his, using the excuse that a united couple could overcome anything. As a result, I’ve been here for a year, and he’s been overseas for a year. We’ve been engaged since we were kids, and we grew up together as frenemies. Now I’m seriously starting to suspect that Ethan put me in this crazy woman’s department just to mess with me. I need to transfer departments. Absolutely must transfer. When I handed in my PTO request and brought up the transfer, the HR manager approved it immediately. He knew about my relationship with Ethan and wore a fawning smile. “Ms. Hayes, are things not going well in this department?” I was going to complain, but then I thought better of it. It’s best to just stay away from people like her; there’s no need to get too involved. That night, just as I finished packing my luggage, I checked my phone and saw a bunch of messages. The latest one was from Nancy. “Tomorrow morning at 9 AM, do not be late.” I was baffled by this out-of-context message, but then I remembered there was a department meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. I assumed she was reminding me not to be late for the meeting. Since I had already taken PTO, I ignored her. After a ten-plus hour flight, my phone started ringing off the hook the moment we landed. “Chloe, what is going on? Where are you?” “I specifically reminded you yesterday. Why didn’t you show up?!” “What are you doing? Why is your phone off?” Even through the screen, I could feel Nancy’s exasperation. My head was full of question marks. Thinking it was something work-related, my fingers flew across the keyboard. “I’m on vacation right now. If there’s something you need, just say it.” She replied almost instantly. “Didn’t we agree yesterday? Today was the day to go to City Hall and get the marriage license. My son and I waited for you for hours, and you actually went on vacation?” “Do you know today is an auspicious day for getting married that I stayed up all night calculating? If we miss today, we have to wait three years.” “And to meet you, my son specifically wore his work uniform and combed his hair until it shone. Because he’s so handsome, you have no idea how many people were looking at him today.” Then I received a photo from her. The moment I opened it, I regretted it. 3 The man in the photo looked to be under 5’7″ and easily over 200 pounds. The tight security guard uniform looked ready to burst at the seams. His neck was thick and short, looking like he could be strangled by the tie under his collar at any moment. A few strands of hair were desperately plastered across his head, only highlighting his shiny scalp. And he was showing off two rows of uneven, yellow teeth to the camera. Because he was smiling so widely, a string of sticky saliva stretched between his lips. My best friend took one look and declared it a visual assault. “Is this the heaven-sent husband you mentioned? Your tastes are… unique!” “I take back what I said last night about a 6’2″ flight attendant with long legs. This mother’s filter is way too strong.” “I can’t, I can’t. If I look any longer… gag…” I ignored my friend’s teasing, just feeling like I had been bitten by a rabid dog that refused to let go. Taking a deep breath, I blocked all of Nancy’s contact info. A week of a wonderful vacation with my best friend temporarily washed away the bad luck Nancy had brought me. On my first day back, I was still jet-lagged and almost late. As I hurriedly parked and was waiting for the elevator, a panting male voice sounded behind me. “Are… you Chloe?” The moment I turned around, I was stunned. I actually saw a real-life version of Pigsy from Journey to the West—no, he was much darker than Pigsy. So the photo Nancy sent was actually heavily filtered? He tried his best to squeeze out a smile. “I waited for you for so many days, and I finally caught you. My mom said you’re my wife from now on, and I’m responsible for picking you up and dropping you off.” As he spoke, he shuffled forward, trying to shove a crumpled paper flower into my hand. The strong body odor and the visual shock made me step back twice. “Stop right there! I don’t know you. If you come any closer, I’m calling the cops!” He, just like his mother, completely failed to understand human speech. “Hehe, I know you’re shy. My mom said you’re just acting tough because you’re afraid you’re not good enough for me, but deep down you really like me.” “From now on, you’re my wife, and you have to listen to me.” As he said that, his hand, stained with some unknown grease, reached out to grab me. Fortunately, the elevator doors opened at that exact moment. Seeing the people inside, I rushed in like I had found my saviors. “He’s crazy! Call security! Get rid of him!” The man closest to the door saw how terrified I was, then looked at the appearance of Nancy’s son. Seeing so many people in the elevator car, Nancy’s son was also a bit stunned. His small eyes were filled with confusion and panic, but he didn’t make any further moves. I frantically pressed the “Close Door” button. Amidst his unwilling gaze and the shouts of the other passengers, the elevator finally started going up. I rushed into the office, still shaken. Just as I was about to find Nancy to settle the score, I was surrounded by several coworkers. “Chloe, congratulations! How come you didn’t drop any hints before? You kept it really well hidden.” “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely come early on the big day.” “I thought young people nowadays just wanted to play around. I never expected our Chloe to have the courage to settle down right after graduation. That’s great.” I was a bit dazed, completely unable to keep up with the rhythm. “Congratulations? Congratulations for what?” Mary shot me a teasing look and laughed. “Stop pretending. I get it, young people are shy.” “But you can’t hide this. Nancy told all of us.” Nancy? Nancy Miller? Mentioning her made my temples throb. I had a really bad feeling about this. Before I could ask, congratulations and well-wishes poured in from all sides. Only then did I notice the wedding candy on everyone’s desks, and the handwritten invitations next to them. The crooked handwriting on them read: “Cordially inviting all colleagues to attend the wedding banquet of my son and Ms. Chloe Hayes on the 25th of this month.” The sender at the bottom was Nancy Miller. 4 My brain exploded with a boom, and I was trembling with rage. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Why is your face so red? Are you too excited?” Excited? Yes, I was excited. Excited enough to want to kill someone! Right at that moment, Nancy walked in, holding a half-empty bag of wedding candy. She ignored the fury in my eyes and loudly explained to the surrounding coworkers. “Oh, stop crowding around Chloe. Look, you’re making the girl shy.” “Alright, everyone stop staring. My Chloe is thin-skinned. It’s my fault. I was just so happy I wanted to share it with everyone early.” As she spoke, she reached out to pat my shoulder, which I overtly and forcefully swatted away. My coworkers were stunned by my intense reaction, and the atmosphere instantly became a bit awkward. Nancy’s expression also stiffened for a moment, but then she put on a tolerant look. “Sigh, this child is stubborn. She’s mad at me. Look, she won’t even pass out the wedding candy herself. I have to do it as her mother-in-law.” “Please bear with her, everyone. At the wedding, I’ll make her toast you all a few extra times to apologize.” The surrounding coworkers showed looks of understanding. Seeing Nancy’s smug face, I knew any words would be pale and powerless right now. I completely ignored everyone, picked up an invitation nearby, and prepared to call the police. But when my eyes swept across my desk, I froze. The spot where my limited-edition anime figures used to be was completely empty. I frantically opened drawers and searched my cabinets. They were all gone. “Don’t bother looking.” Nancy stood a few feet away, arms crossed. “I already threw away those messy plastic little people for you. You’re a grown adult. Stop playing with these inappropriate things. They waste money and take up space.” “What did you say? Threw them away!” My chest heaved violently, and my voice almost cracked with anger. Those were limited-edition figures; you couldn’t even buy them with money, and she actually threw them away. I don’t know if my previous silence had given Nancy courage. She spoke self-righteously, even acting like she deserved praise. “Yeah. No need to thank me.” “Once you’re married, you need to settle down. Your mind should be on the right path: serving your husband, honoring your in-laws, and bearing children for the family. That’s what you should be doing.” I thought she had already reached peak delusion by automatically inserting herself into the “wicked mother-in-law” role. I didn’t expect there was only more delusion, no limit to it. She took a step forward, her face showing an even stronger desire for control as the head of the household. “Oh, right, there’s one more thing I haven’t told you.” “I’ve already adjusted the payroll system. From now on, your salary will be deposited directly to my card.” I thought I was hearing things. As an accountant, she should know this is illegal. Seeing everyone looking at her in disbelief, Nancy just kept talking. “You guys don’t understand. This child is used to spending freely.” “She spends fifteen hundred just to get her nails done, travels abroad at the drop of a hat, and buys those useless plastic little people. Tell me, how is her little salary enough for her to squander like this?” “Nowadays, a lot of young people don’t know how to plan. They spend beyond their means, end up with online debt, and jump off buildings. I’m just looking out for her.” Although everyone disapproved of her actions, hearing about my large expenses and considering that we would soon be “family,” they found it hard to say anything. Seeing that I remained silent, Nancy’s arrogance grew. “From now on, you are the daughter-in-law of our family. It’s perfectly appropriate for me to plan this money for you. This is called managing the household finances. The money saved will eventually belong to you two anyway.” “Don’t worry. I won’t shortchange you on your allowance. As long as you listen and live a good life, I won’t mistreat you.” It turns out that the angrier a person gets, the calmer they become. I pulled out my phone and, without unlocking it, dialed three numbers. The call connected almost instantly, and I put it on speaker. “Hello, 911 emergency. How can I help you?” I looked at Nancy’s face go from smug to dead pale and slowly said, “I want to report a crime. Someone stole thousands of dollars worth of my property and diverted my salary…”

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Just because I mistakenly wore the necklace my daughter had given to my husband’s unrequited first love. My daughter flew into a rage on the spot, grabbing me by the neck: “You old hag, keep your hands to yourself, won’t you? Are you even worthy of touching this necklace?” “Looks like you won’t learn your lesson without a little punishment!” I opened my mouth, but before the words of explanation could come out, she pushed me into the lake. The foul-smelling lake water rushed into my nasal cavity as I struggled to surface. But the next second, she stepped hard on my head. “So you like touching other people’s things? Then stay down there until your fingers rot off before coming up!” On the shore, my husband stood with his arms crossed. He watched me struggling in the water with cold, indifferent eyes, until my limbs gave out and I sank to the bottom of the pond. When I was at death’s door, they had someone fish me out and hung me up with iron chains to bake under the scorching sun. I begged them to give me a quick death. My husband merely sneered: “Serves you right! Who told you to touch Sierra’s things?” “You make a mistake, you take the punishment. Want to die? Nothing comes that easy.” After seven full days of torture, I was finally freed. As my consciousness faded, I swore through gritted teeth: “If there is a next life, I absolutely don’t want this husband or daughter.” When I opened my eyes again, I calmly pushed the divorce agreement in front of my husband. 1 Arthur didn’t even glance at it, coldly commanding me, “My head hurts. Come here and massage it.” I stood rooted to the spot, not moving. He pressed his temples hard, his tone revealing obvious impatience: “I’m very busy. I have a multinational conference later and no time to play games with you two.” “Mia, just apologize this time.” Our daughter exploded immediately, screaming hysterically: “Why should I apologize? I saved up my allowance for so long to buy that specifically as a gift for Aunt Sierra, and it got dirtied by this old thing!” “Smashing her is letting her off easy. I wish I could kill her!” “Reckless old trash!” Still unsatisfied after saying this, she picked up a makeup mirror and hurled it at me. Unable to dodge in time, my forehead was smashed, and blood trickled down my cheek. Her eyes were full of hatred for me. Arthur finally glanced at me, his brow furrowing deeper, his tone now carrying a warning: “Chloe, can’t you be a little sensible?” “Why touch Mia’s things if you have no business doing so?” “You’re a mother, for crying out loud. Don’t you even have that sense of boundaries?” It was a result I had anticipated. Yet, even though I had given up on expecting anything from this father and daughter long ago, a sharp pain still pierced my heart. I forced down the sourness in my throat and flipped the necklace over. “Look closely. My name is engraved here.” “Mia, you’re only making a fuss because my necklace looks similar to the one you prepared for Sierra. Are you afraid he might misunderstand?” Exposed on the spot, Mia just let out a contemptuous scoff. “So what if I am?” “What the hell are you? Are you worthy of wearing the same style as Aunt Sierra?” That face of hers really resembled the Sterling family—the exact same mean-spirited coldness. I had poured all my heart and soul into raising her all these years, but just a few months after being taken to the Sterling household, she changed completely. In my previous life, I stubbornly tried to repair our relationship, only realizing how stupid I was right before I died. In this life, she can call whoever she wants “Mom.” I don’t care anymore. “Remember to sign the divorce agreement.” “I’ll have my secretary book a time with yours, and we’ll go handle the paperwork then.” After saying this, I got up and left. There wasn’t much belonging to me in this house anyway. I only took my essential documents. Chapter 2 At this moment, my heart was at peace, even feeling a sense of liberation. But Arthur stopped me. His face was pale, clearly still waiting for me to serve him. In the past, whenever he felt slightly unwell, I would immediately bring him tea and water. But now, I didn’t want to do this thankless task anymore. “Chloe,” Arthur rubbed his temples, his tone exhausted. “Do you really have to be so petty with your own daughter over this?” “She’s a child. She doesn’t know any better. Are you going to be just as immature?” “I know you felt wronged today. I’ll make it up to you later.” It seemed like he was mediating, but in reality, he was blaming me. He casually grabbed a tissue and impatiently wiped the blood from my face. “Is that enough?” I knew this was his way of giving me an out. But this time, I didn’t want to take it. Stepping back to avoid his hand, I said indifferently, “Don’t you have a new person serving you? What do you need me for?” Hearing this, Arthur’s face turned frighteningly dark. He grabbed my neck. “Who are you being sarcastic for? My relationship with Sierra is not for you to speculate on!” “As a mother, haggling over every little thing with your own daughter, aren’t you afraid of being a laughingstock?” “I tried to reason with you nicely, and you not only ungrateful, but you dare to talk back to me!” The moment my breath was taken away, I gave up struggling. Perhaps the despair in my eyes triggered him, and Arthur finally let go of my neck. Then he slapped me more than a dozen times in a row. “This is my warning to you. If there is a next time, it won’t just be slaps.” 2 “Oh my, what happened here?” Sierra ran over, her face full of concern, but the smugness in the depth of her eyes was unconcealable. She looked at Arthur, pretending to reprimand him: “Arthur, this is your fault.” “A fight between a married couple is one thing, but how can you get physical? Look at Sister Chloe’s face, it’s swollen like a pig’s head.” She immediately grabbed an ice pack from the fridge and pressed it hard against my face. A piercing pain shot through me, and I reflexively waved my hand to block her. Stumbling back two steps, I knocked over the vase behind me. Before I could react, I was kicked hard, falling entirely onto the broken porcelain pieces. The sharp shards pierced my flesh, and blood instantly gushed out. I looked up to meet Arthur’s furious eyes. He stepped on my lower abdomen, grinding his foot down hard, his voice as cold as ice: “Who gave you the audacity to hurt Sierra?” Following his gaze, I noticed that Sierra was aggrievedly staring at a shallow scratch on her arm, her eyes red. “Arthur, it hurts so much. I wonder if it will leave a scar? If it does, it’ll be too ugly. I might as well die…” Saying this, she made as if to bang her head against the wall, but Arthur grabbed her. “What nonsense are you talking about!” There was an unprecedented panic in his voice. “The doctor will be here right away. Don’t be afraid.” Only then did Sierra stop crying. The look she gave me was full of provocation. Turning her head, she buried it in Arthur’s chest, her voice choked with sobs. “Arthur, I don’t blame Sister Chloe. It’s only right for her to hate me. From now on, I’ll just leave you.” Arthur’s eyes turned red with heartache. The usually aloof and unapproachable CEO of Sterling Group was now softly coaxing Sierra. “I’m sorry, I didn’t protect you well.” When his gaze swept towards me, he looked like he wanted to tear me apart on the spot. In less than ten minutes, specialists from various departments filed in. Chapter 3 Their gazes shifted back and forth between me and Sierra, their expressions subtle. I was covered in blood, while the shallow scratch on Sierra’s arm was almost invisible. Sierra sniffled, her voice low: “Arthur, don’t worry about me anymore. I won’t be able to face anyone in the future. Just let me die.” “Nonsense.” Arthur tapped the tip of Sierra’s nose. Turning his head, he coldly commanded the doctors: “What are you staring for? Hurry up and treat Sierra.” He glanced at me, his tone filled with disgust: “As for her? A piece of trash, she won’t die from losing a little blood.” Enduring the soreness, I slowly climbed up from the floor and stumbled outward. “Stop right there!” A sharp reprimand rang out as Mia rushed over furiously and grabbed my neck. A fifteen-year-old girl, yet her strength was surprisingly immense. Covered in injuries, I was completely powerless to resist. “You knew Aunt Sierra’s hands are for playing the piano, yet you still hurt her!” “You piece of trash, if you don’t kneel down and kowtow to apologize to Aunt Sierra today, I’ll strangle you!” She gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening their grip. As my breath was slowly stripped away, my vision started to go black. Even though I was already disappointed in her, my heart still twisted like it was being cut by a knife when my own biological daughter wanted my life for someone else. I couldn’t help but burst into loud laughter. I thought returning through rebirth would grant me a new life. Yet, I still couldn’t escape dying at the hands of this father and daughter. Mia was frightened by my manic behavior and abruptly let go. I collapsed to the floor like a dead dog, laughing and crying at the same time. Through my blurred vision, I saw the hatred in my daughter’s eyes and Arthur’s face full of indifference. And Sierra, leaning on Arthur’s shoulder, giving me a smug smirk. Standing together, they looked exactly like a family of three. While I was the eyesore, the “outsider.” “Is that really necessary? Your daughter is still so young, did she really almost strangle you to death?” 3 Arthur took a few steps closer, his leather shoe kicking hard against my injured calf. His tone was full of impatience: “Stop pretending. Go apologize to Sierra, and we’ll consider this matter closed…” I slowly raised my head. His gaze happened to fall on the bruised finger marks on my neck, and he suddenly froze. He thought our daughter was just putting on a show, but didn’t expect she had actually intended to kill me. Arthur’s fingers tensed, trembling as he tried to touch my injury. But, considering Sierra behind him, he hastily lowered his hand. “After all, she is your biological daughter. She acted a bit heavy-handedly on impulse. As a mother, you need to be more magnanimous.” He lowered his voice and whispered in my ear: “When I’m done with work, I’ll reward you well tonight. Be good and wait for me.” I used all my remaining strength to push him away. 5 He stumbled on his leather shoes and seemed to have twisted his ankle. But this time, he surprisingly didn’t get angry, only saying coldly: “Don’t cook today. Get a good rest, and I’ll bring you some good food later.” With that, he took Sierra’s arm and patted our daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” The physical pain was nothing compared to a fraction of the pain in my heart. I closed my eyes to recover for a moment. The doctor beside me looked at me, hesitating to speak. I forced a smile, my mouth tasting bitter: “I’m fine. I won’t die. I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you all.” Seeing my insistence, they left iodine and cotton swabs before turning and leaving. I wandered to the riverside, my gaze vacant as I looked into the distance. Just then, the large screen nearby suddenly switched feeds. Chapter 4 Arthur was attending the press conference for Sierra’s music tour, and they were accepting interviews arm-in-arm. During the photo op, my daughter affectionately draped her arm around Sierra’s shoulder, smiling brightly. The sound of camera shutters clicking echoed in my ears, along with the chatter of passersby: “The romance between the tender CEO and the pianist is really too sweet.” “And they have such a beautiful daughter. The deep affection of their family of three is enviable.” “I heard Mr. Sterling fell in love with Miss Sierra at first sight in a piano room back then. It’s as romantic as an idol drama!” “Miss Sierra is incredibly good at composing. She’s a rare musical genius. All the soundtracks for Sterling Pictures’ movies are her creations. She’s truly talented!” I couldn’t help but sneer continuously. The past between Arthur and me was just assigned to Sierra like that. It felt like I had dreamt of a beautiful romance and marriage with Arthur. Now, I seemed more like a creep coveting their beautiful love from the shadows. Those sweet memories had all dissipated with the wind. 4 Suppressing my emotions, I made a phone call and then took a taxi to the airport. Just as I was about to go through security, a group of bodyguards suddenly appeared and surrounded me. Before I could react, fists rained down on me like a downpour. When the crowd dispersed, a pair of high heels appeared in my line of sight. “Slut!” “I said long ago that a cheap piece of trash like you was completely unreliable.” “You fucking ate my family’s food and used my family’s money all these years, and you dare to cheat?” “I must have been blind to let you marry my son. You animal!” It was Arthur’s mother. Rustling whispers rose from the surroundings: “She looks decent enough; turns out she’s a serial cheater. How disgusting.” “Is she the woman in that short video trending online? Played real kinky. I heard her daughter is already a teenager, yet she’s still so indecent. She needs to be taught a lesson!” I hadn’t even figured out what was happening yet. With a dull thud, my mother-in-law’s cane smashed hard against my body. The agonizing pain made me violently cough up a mouthful of blood. Right at that moment, Arthur suddenly rushed over. He pulled me into his arms, his eyes revealing heartache. “Mom, don’t blame her. I’ve been too busy and couldn’t give her the tenderness she wanted.” He gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, a long-absent tenderness appearing in his eyes. “You just made a mistake that any woman in the world would make. As long as you’re willing to return to me and our daughter, I don’t mind. Mom will forgive you too.” The crowd immediately erupted, some feeling indignant on his behalf: “Mr. Sterling, you’re so handsome and come from such a good family. What kind of woman can’t you find? Why do you need such cheap trash!” “Don’t be blinded by love! A scumbag like her probably has who knows how many bad intentions!” I tried to break free from Arthur’s embrace, but he held me down firmly. In the eyes of the onlookers, it looked like I didn’t know what was good for me. “Sierra’s private video was leaked when her phone was being repaired. Her tour is coming up, and she can’t have any negative press, so I had someone deepfake your face onto hers.” “You hurt her before; consider this your apology to her.” “As long as you take the blame for this, our family of three will definitely live a good life.” I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. Seeing I was no longer resisting, he finally let me go. I struggled to climb up and stand steady. Suppressing the dizziness, I suddenly curled the corner of my mouth: “Since it’s so lively today, why don’t I drop a bombshell for everyone.” I looked at the ring of phone cameras surrounding us and spoke unhurriedly.

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My son, Leo, has been in kindergarten for three years, and I’ve never attended a single parent-child event. It’s not that I didn’t want to. Every time I brought it up, he would cry, throw a tantrum, and cling to my husband’s leg: “I don’t want Mommy to go!” This time, he won an award for an essay, and my husband rejected my request to go with him, just as usual. “Leo wrote about ‘My Mother.’ If the real person is there, he’ll be shy. It’s better if I just go.” “After the awards ceremony is over, the three of us can go out and celebrate.” I stayed silent and ironed Leo’s little suit for him. But on the day of the ceremony, I quietly slipped into the back row of the auditorium. The spotlight hit my son as he recited his essay in a crisp voice. “My mother loves wearing pink dresses. When she hugs me, she always smells so good.” I froze. There wasn’t a single pink dress in my closet, and I never wore perfume. Who exactly was this mother Leo was writing about? 1 The air conditioning in the auditorium was blasting, but my back was already drenched in sweat. On stage, Leo continued: “It smells like jasmine!” “Mommy likes white roses, so Daddy buys them for her all the time. Mommy always picks the best one for me and says she likes me even more than white roses.” Gripping the armrests tightly, my mind was a chaotic mess. I didn’t own any pink dresses, I didn’t use perfume, and I certainly wouldn’t smell like jasmine. I’m highly allergic to white roses; just smelling them makes me sneeze and my eyes water. Both Ethan and Leo knew this, which is why white roses were completely banned from our house. The mother Leo was talking about wasn’t me. Just as this terrifying thought surfaced, the large screen displayed Leo’s work. Next to his childish handwriting was an illustration he had drawn for the essay. The moment I saw the drawing, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was a scene of a family of three eating ice cream in front of a Ferris wheel. The man was in a white button-down shirt, the woman in a pink dress, and a very happy Leo was right in the middle. “Mommy took me to Disney Castle and bought me a Mickey Mouse ice cream.” “Mommy says as long as I like it, she’ll buy it for me.” Leo had always wanted to go to Disneyland, and I had mentioned it to Ethan many times. But every time, he would check his schedule and sigh at me: “The company is in a critical growth phase right now; I really can’t get away. Let’s wait a bit. I’ll take a long vacation soon, and we’ll go to Disney for a few days.” I agreed, but the moment he turned around, he would tell Leo: “Mommy won’t let you go to Disneyland.” Leo would cry endlessly, venting all his resentment on me. I tried to explain, but Ethan stopped me: “He’s just a kid; he doesn’t understand the pressures adults face. Just play along for now. When he’s older, I’ll explain it to him myself.” I had no choice but to nod. Over time, Leo stopped bringing up Disney. I thought he had lost interest, but it turned out he had already been there. And when Ethan said he was too busy to go, it meant he was too busy to go with me. Flipping to the next page, Leo’s voice echoed again. “Daddy and Mommy took me to catch crabs. Mommy bought me so many shell toys…” “My mother is the prettiest, best mother in the whole world.” “I love my mother.” “Mommy, when I grow up, I’ll protect you together with Daddy!” The essay ended. Thunderous applause erupted from the audience, but my hands and feet were ice cold. Leo had a sweet tooth. I strictly limited the amount of candy he ate, especially ice cream, but he still got a few cavities. When I took him to the dentist, he cried his lungs out, calling me a bad mother. He was naturally allergic to seawater; just a splash would cause him to break out in hives all over his body. Because of that, I never took him to the beach and even gave up my favorite hobby of beach camping. But he still frequently had allergic reactions. I thought I was failing as a mother, that I must have accidentally fed him something else he was allergic to. I rushed him to the hospital for allergy testing, and he was miserable, calling me a bad mother again. When I poured out my grievances to Ethan, he just frowned and advised me: “You’re an adult, and Leo is just a child. Why do you have to argue with him? When he grows up, he’ll naturally understand your good intentions.” Leo is six this year. I’ve been the “bad mother” for six years, hearing “Mommy won’t let you” for six years. Even so, I believed what Ethan said—that he would understand when he grew up. But I was wrong. Ethan said “Mommy won’t let you,” but the other mother out there spoiled him and yielded to him, giving him whatever he wanted. I was the bad mother because he had a “good mother” on the outside. The applause slowly died down. Leo waved happily, and I followed his gaze to the front row. Ethan sat right in the center, wearing the suit I had prepared for him. And the woman clapping next to him was wearing a pink dress. They went up on stage together, each taking one of Leo’s hands. In the dim light, tears seemed to glisten in the woman’s eyes, and Ethan gently wiped them away. Everyone stood up, marveling at this happy family of three. Only I remained seated, my nails digging into my fingertips until they bled. I came here carrying happiness. But now I suddenly realized that happiness had never belonged to me. 2 I didn’t stay until the end; I fled home in a panic. The once cozy house now felt like a terrifying abyss. I stood at the door, leaning against the entryway cabinet, feeling for the first time how unfamiliar this place was. But I couldn’t run. If I ran, I would completely lose. While they were still at the auditorium, I searched everywhere. Finally, under the storage bin where Ethan kept his company documents, I found a stiff paper bag. Inside was a brand new pink dress. The tags were still on it—twelve thousand, eight hundred dollars. Just last month, when my dad got sick, I asked him for ten thousand to cover the medical bills. But he showed me his bank account balance: only two thousand. “All the money has been invested into the company’s new project. I really don’t have any spare cash right now. If your dad needs it urgently, I’ll go ask my friends to borrow some.” I didn’t want him to owe anyone favors, so I maxed out my own credit cards and scrambled to find odd jobs to make up the difference. And now, this $12,800 dress felt like a slap across the face. “My mother loves wearing pink dresses.” Leo’s voice flashed through my mind. Fighting back nausea, I opened the card tucked under the dress— [To My Beloved Chloe: Pink is the color of home. The mother in Leo’s essay should be you. Thank you for everything you’ve sacrificed for our family. Draping you in this rosy hue, I hope to have you by my side for this lifetime. Ethan.] I gripped the card tightly, remembering that woman’s face. Chloe Miller. Ethan’s high school classmate, who studied fashion design in college and opened her own studio right after graduation. Before Leo was born, I used to occasionally check the financial status of Ethan’s company. At that time, half of the investment funds were given to Chloe’s studio. I thought it was strange, but Ethan said she had talent and it was a guaranteed return on investment. Later, when he convinced me to become a stay-at-home mom, I never asked about the company’s finances again. Looking back now, perhaps they were already together even then. Maybe in his heart, Chloe was his true love, the one he wanted to spend his life with. He gave everything for “their family.” What about me? What was I! I put the dress back and opened Ethan’s laptop to check his bank statements. After years of dealing with daily chores and endless housework, he was so sure I wouldn’t have time to check his computer that he never set a password. Over the past three months, there were several large transactions. A three-person suite at a resort in Hawaii, thirty-eight thousand. A jewelry counter, eighty thousand. Disney Resort, ten thousand. Transaction after transaction, all sums I had never seen before. Even though Ethan was the boss of his company, these past few years were always “the company’s critical growth phase.” His money always had to be invested in projects, leaving me with only a few thousand dollars for living expenses. I thought I just needed to endure it, that once the projects yielded returns, our lives would get better. But in reality, he had been living a life of luxury all along. It was just that the person enjoying the good life with him wasn’t me. It was past nine o’clock when Ethan finally brought Leo home. His tone carried a hint of exasperation: “After the ceremony, the teacher organized a dinner for everyone. We just finished.” “Honey, did you eat?” I looked at him and didn’t respond. Other parents in the auditorium had mentioned there was no dinner planned; they were all celebrating with their kids individually. So where did you go, and who did you eat with? I gripped the sofa cushion. Next to me, Leo was yawning. “I’m so tired, I want to sleep…” “Leo, do you want some ice cream?” His eyes instantly lit up. “Can I? Yes, I want some!” “Leo!” Ethan suddenly scolded him. “Only one a day!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake and quickly changed his tune: “The teacher rewarded him with one tonight. Like you said, he can’t have too much.” Leo nodded along. “Right, right.” As father and son went to wash up, my temples throbbed. My son was only six years old, yet he was already colluding with his father to deceive me for the sake of another woman. Then what about my accounting career that I abandoned for housework and child-rearing? What about the friends I gradually drifted away from? What about the hobbies that were ground down to nothing? Were my sacrifices over the years truly worthless? 3 The next day, under the guise of being Leo’s aunt, I added his teacher on WeChat. I hadn’t attended any parent-child events in the past three years, but on the teacher’s social media feed, Ethan and that woman were always by Leo’s side. She was always wearing a pink dress, holding Ethan’s arm. They were always smiling, cheering Leo on. In the corner of one video, Ethan even leaned in and kissed her lips. Like some sort of self-torture, I watched those two seconds over and over again until the agonizing pain in my heart turned into numbness, and finally, into calm. That evening, I heated up some milk and brought it into the study: “I haven’t read Leo’s essay yet. Did you take a picture of it?” Ethan’s fingers stiffened before he finally said: “The essays were left at the kindergarten. It’s just kid stuff anyway, nothing worth reading.” The room fell silent. I glanced toward the document storage bin. The paper bag underneath was gone. He had given it to her. Pinching my thigh hard, I said: “Tomorrow is Leo’s birthday, and it’s the weekend. Why don’t we take him to Disneyland?” Ethan finally looked up, his face full of apology: “Honey, I forgot to tell you. I have to go on a business trip tomorrow. And Leo already made plans to go to a friend’s house. I’ll drop him off early in the morning and head straight to the airport.” “You’ve worked so hard for so many years. Just stay home and get some good rest tomorrow.” It felt like I had pinched the skin off my thigh. The calmness I had achieved shattered, replaced by a dense, suffocating pain spreading through my entire body. Leaving the study, I went to find Leo. “Leo, tomorrow is your birthday. What do you want for a present?” His little head poked out from under the covers: “Didn’t Daddy say the presents are all at the new house?” My heart gave a violent lurch. “What new house?” He quickly ducked back under. “Nothing, nothing! I didn’t say anything!” My legs grew increasingly stiff as I turned and bolted out of his room. I asked the teacher to add me to the parents’ group chat. The first thing I saw was the contact named “Leo’s Mom.” Chloe loved sharing; she posted on her social media almost every other day. [Hubby gave me another dress. My closet can’t even fit them all anymore.] [Congratulations to Leo for winning first prize in the essay contest! We’re having a big feast tonight to celebrate!] Going back another week: [The renovations are finally done! We’re having a housewarming party next week, which also doubles as Leo’s birthday party. Everyone is welcome to come and join the fun!] In the photo, Ethan had his arm around her, standing in an unfamiliar living room, looking blissfully happy. I read it over and over, completely in disbelief. Ethan bought her a house. My husband called her his beloved, my son said she was the best mother, and my family had a new home with another woman. A surge of anger rushed to my head. I went to the study, intending to demand an explanation. Instead, I heard Ethan on the phone, his voice lowered: “Don’t overthink it. Of course, you’re the one I love, and Leo loves you too. I just need an opportunity to lay my cards on the table with her…” “Chloe, don’t cry. You have your fashion business that you love. I don’t want you to be bogged down by domestic chores…” I pressed myself against the wall, hearing every single word crystal clear. And recording every single word. I knew that our eight years of marriage, the bond between husband and wife, and the bond between mother and son, were all coming to an end. 4 At six in the morning, Ethan took Leo out the door. I changed my clothes and followed them. It was in the best school district in the city, right next to a shopping mall, just a ten-minute walk to the downtown elementary school. To make it easier for Leo to go to school, I had come to look at apartments here four times, but every time Ethan talked me out of it. He’d say we didn’t have enough savings, that housing prices were too high right now, or that it was too far from his kindergarten. Over the years, Ethan had talked me out of many things, and I had always listened, always believed him. The only time I didn’t listen to him was when I secretly attended Leo’s essay awards ceremony. I couldn’t even imagine how many more years I would have been deceived if I hadn’t gone. People were coming and going in the apartment complex. I took a deep breath and smiled as I greeted them: “We’re having a housewarming party for our new home. Neighbors, please come join us for a meal.” I said it the whole way there. Finally, I arrived at the new apartment. The door was slightly ajar, and it was very lively inside. There were Leo’s classmates and their parents, company employees, and some people I didn’t know. Ethan was in a suit. Chloe was wearing that pink dress, leaning against Ethan’s chest, smiling radiantly. And Leo, wearing a birthday hat, was unwrapping a mountain of gifts. When he opened an action figure, he excitedly opened his arms and threw himself at Chloe: “Thank you, Mommy! This is my absolute favorite toy!” Chloe crouched down and kissed him on the cheek, and Ethan kissed his other cheek. They looked like a picture-perfect family of three. I stood outside the door, my lips pressed tightly together. I had bought Leo the exact same toy. Ethan didn’t give me much for living expenses. To make my son happy, I saved up and took on odd jobs, buying it a month in advance. When I bought it, I felt helpless—I couldn’t believe a toy cost eight thousand dollars. I knew I’d have to skimp and save afterward. But this eight-thousand-dollar item was just one of many gifts from someone else. Laughter echoed through the room. Ethan spoke up: “Thank you all for coming to Leo’s birthday party, and today is also the housewarming for our new home.” “Leo’s gifts are all opened. Next, I want to give a gift to my wife.” He opened a velvet box. Inside was a bracelet set with crushed diamonds. “Chloe, thank you for everything you’ve done for me and our son. You’ve worked hard these past few years.” Under everyone’s gaze, he personally put it on her wrist. Then he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. Instantly, the kids screamed and the adults clapped. I saw Chloe’s cheeks flush with happiness. I saw the undisguised tenderness and love in Ethan’s eyes. And I saw Leo looking up, pure joy on his face. He probably thought it was completely natural for a father to love a mother. “Come on, come on! Let’s take a family portrait to hang in the living room!” Egging them on, Ethan held Chloe’s hand with one hand and picked up Leo with the other. The three of them faced the camera and shouted in unison, “Cheese—” As the shutter clicked, I pushed the door open and walked in: “It’s so lively in here. Why didn’t you invite me to take the family portrait?” The bustling living room went dead silent. Everyone looked at me in confusion. Only Ethan and Chloe’s pupils contracted. Leo was also startled, blurting out: “Mommy…” I gave a faint hum of acknowledgment, then looked at Ethan. “Hubby, when did we buy a new house? How come I didn’t know?” Chapter 2 5 Ethan instantly dropped Chloe’s hand. “Stella, why are you here?” It was an absurd question, and I answered it with perfect justification: “Our family bought a new house, today is the housewarming, and it’s my son Leo’s birthday party. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Ethan’s face drained of color. Chloe looked like she had seen a ghost, shrinking behind Ethan until only a flash of her white dress was visible. The people in the room stood dumbfounded. One of the parents was the first to react: “What’s going on… Mr. Vance, who is this woman? Why is she calling you hubby, and why did Leo call her mommy?” “Wait, isn’t your wife Ms. Miller?” Ethan furrowed his brows tightly, opening his mouth to speak, but with Chloe present, whatever he said, he had to consider whether it would hurt her first. But I didn’t have to consider anything. “I’d like to know too, hubby. Why is there another woman calling you hubby?” “Leo, why did you call her mommy?” “Could it be that my memory is failing me? But I brought our marriage certificate and the family registry today. Everyone, please help me check—did I walk into the wrong house, or identify the wrong person?” The marriage certificate and family registry were passed around the crowd, the whispers growing louder. “It really is Mr. Vance’s marriage certificate… but why is the wife Stella Thorne? Chloe Miller’s name isn’t here at all.” “Don’t tell me Ms. Miller is the mistress?” “That’s some bold mistress, openly calling him hubby and attending someone else’s kid’s kindergarten events.” “Like father, like son. Leo Vance runs around kindergarten calling her mommy and even wrote her into his essay, and it turns out his real mom is someone else!” Their words grew harsher and harsher. Ethan couldn’t take it anymore and snatched the documents back. “Stella, you go home first. This is complicated, I’ll explain it to you slowly.” He seemed to finally regain his senses, his face dark as he tried to push me out. But when he opened the door, a crowd of nosy neighbors had gathered outside. “Hey there, aren’t we here for the housewarming? What’s going on?” I threw my hands up in the air: “I thought it was our family’s housewarming too. But I didn’t expect my husband to have another wife. He bought this house for his other wife.” “Stella! Stop talking!” Ethan roared, and the whispers died down instantly. The neighbors outside peeked in, scoffing disdainfully: “So it’s a house bought for a mistress. How disgusting, living in the same complex as a homewrecker.” “What the hell are you talking about!” Ethan grabbed the neighbor by the collar, gnashing his teeth in fury. The man wasn’t afraid at all: “Not a mistress? Then show us your marriage certificate.” A marriage certificate. Of course, he couldn’t produce one. Ethan released him with a cold face and glared at me: “When did you find out?” “Does it matter?” “Stella! You did this on purpose. You wanted to humiliate us in public…” He swallowed the rest of his words. He clenched his fists, turning around to find everyone staring at him. The children, parents, and business partners who had come to offer their blessings were all looking at him with deep disappointment. Meanwhile, Chloe bit her lower lip, her eyes actually holding a glimmer of expectation. I saw her expectation, too. For all these years, she probably wanted nothing more than to be legitimized. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have called last night, urging him to lay his cards on the table with me. In the oppressive silence, Leo started to cry. He had always been a crybaby. Every time he wanted something and Ethan rejected him with “Your mommy won’t let you,” he would throw a tantrum at me. Today was no different. “Mommy, why did you have to come? Mommy Chloe said she was taking me to Disneyland tonight, and now it’s all ruined!” “Go back, go back right now! I don’t want you, I don’t want…” He cried his heart out. Even some of the other parents couldn’t stand it. “Maybe the mother treats the child poorly? Otherwise, why would he accept someone else as his mom…” Hearing this, Chloe immediately picked him up, looking utterly heartbroken: “Stella, we’ll explain everything to you properly later. But today is Leo’s birthday party after all. Barging in like this will leave him traumatized.” “Even if it’s just for Leo’s sake, could you please leave first?” “Actually, Ethan and I did all of this for Leo’s growth. We just didn’t expect you to find out… Sigh, Leo’s going to have nightmares again tonight.” With just a few words, she turned me into the villain abusing my own child. Sure enough, the other parents began accusing me: “Did you hit your kid? Otherwise, why would he cry and tell you to leave the second he sees you? He said he doesn’t want you. You definitely treat him badly.” “No wonder Mr. Vance had to find another woman to be Leo’s mom. Look at how she acts as a mother! Look at how much Leo likes her!” “Exactly! You haven’t attended any of the parent-child events in years; Ms. Miller was the one by his side. How do you have the nerve to show up now and rub salt in the kid’s wounds!” Suddenly, the tide of public opinion turned against me, and Ethan’s gloomy face brightened slightly. He didn’t want to explain anything for me; he just wanted to nail down my “evil deeds.” I snatched the marriage certificate and family registry back from him, then looked at the crying Leo: “Leo Vance. Tell me the truth. Have I ever hit you?”

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That year, I loved acting. To chase the school’s top student, I pretended to be a terrible student and begged him to tutor me after class. But I accidentally overacted, and the persona stuck a little too well. Once, when I brought another basic question to him, the valedictorian finally couldn’t hold back and blurted out: “If our future kids inherit your IQ, I won’t even want to live anymore!” 1 “Huh?” When Arthur said that, I froze. But a second later, a huge smile broke across my face. “Arthur, did you just say our kids…” “You heard wrong. I said my kids,” Arthur denied with a completely straight face, staring at me blankly. I was absolutely sure I hadn’t heard him wrong, because the tips of Arthur’s ears were bright red. I wondered if he could feel the heat radiating from them. “Arthur, you’re so young, and you’re already thinking about having kids?” I rested my chin on my hands, squinting at him. “Have you already decided who the mom is going to be?” At that, the valedictorian’s face slowly turned a lovely shade of pink. Arthur slammed my final exam paper on the desk in front of me and said expressionlessly: “Weren’t you asking me a question? You’ll be a senior when school starts. I’d like to see what kind of college you can even get into at this rate.” I looked at the mistakes on my test paper, listening to Arthur’s exasperated voice as he explained the concepts. I just kept smiling at him, nodding occasionally to show I was following along. It was the summer before our senior year. I had transferred to Westfield High during the spring semester of my junior year. On my first day, the principal handed out awards to the top students from the previous semester. As the undisputed rank one, Arthur Vance had to give a speech. Standing in the audience, I listened to the boy’s clear, steady voice echoing through the microphone. Under the bright sun, I couldn’t see his silhouette clearly; I just felt he looked a bit lean. His voice was so nice. I was assigned the seat right in front of Arthur. My desk mate, Mia Harper, was a quiet, gentle girl with black-rimmed glasses. Her textbooks were densely packed with notes. You could tell at a glance she was a diligent, hardworking student. From behind me came the voice of Arthur’s desk mate: “Arthur, you’re insane. You scored a 99 on a brutally hard AP Calculus test. If you hadn’t missed that one tiny step, you’d have gotten a perfect score!” “Let me see your paper! I want to know what a near-perfect test looks like!” Hearing this, my desk mate Mia showed a look of deep envy. Our homeroom teacher happened to be our math teacher, so naturally, he paid special attention to me, the transfer student. “Mia, share your test paper with the new student.” So, I saw Mia’s paper. She scored a 72. In this advanced class, that score was strictly average. Her fundamentals were solid, but the moment a question required a little outside-the-box thinking, her logic got tangled. The test was extremely difficult, mainly because of the final extra-credit word problem. Since the teacher couldn’t go over the whole test in one period, he announced from the podium: “For the final question, getting the first two parts right is already very impressive. The last part is beyond the standard curriculum. It probably won’t even be on your final AP exams. In this entire class, only Arthur managed to solve it.” I stared at the question for a long time. My pen scribbled across my scratch paper like I was drawing hieroglyphics. Finally, I arrived at an answer, compared it to the reference key on the board, and felt a wave of satisfaction. “Chloe, what are you writing?” Mia’s voice pulled me back, her eyes landing on my scratch paper. I quickly scribbled over my answer and flashed her a bright smile. “Nothing, my mind just wanders easily during class.” After the bell rang, a swarm of guys surrounded Arthur’s desk. “Arthur, how do you solve the last question? Let me see your steps.” Mia, like the other students, glanced back at Arthur’s desk. But unlike them, her eyes held a hint of sadness. She had been trying to solve that problem all period. But the group of guys surrounding Arthur were clearly the math whizzes of the class who were tight with him. Teenagers always worship the strong. They didn’t call him “Boss” because of his age; it was a pure acknowledgment of his absolute skill. 2 At this age, having the courage to ask a classmate for help can be tough. The passing period ended quickly. During the next class, I continued to share my new desk mate’s paper. Mia was top of the class in English and History. Her handwriting was also beautiful—round and adorable. However, when the final bell rang that afternoon, I saw her still struggling with that last math problem. I wanted to speak up a few times, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guy behind me packing up to leave. He was the one. “Arthur, I have a question I’d like to ask you, is that okay?” I took the opportunity to introduce myself. “I’m Chloe Sterling.” Arthur’s gaze landed on my face for the first time. I curved my eyes into a smile. I was pretty approachable; on my first day, I had already befriended everyone to my left, right, and front. He was the only exception. Mostly because Arthur was too busy. During breaks, he was either surrounded by classmates or called into the teachers’ lounge. Arthur paused his packing and nodded at me. “Sure.” “Mia, let me borrow your test paper for a sec.” I turned to grab it, then pointed directly at the final extra-credit question. “This one.” Mia froze. Arthur also paused. But he didn’t say anything. He picked up his pen and some scratch paper, and began to explain it in a warm, gentle voice. Mia also leaned in to look. Arthur’s logic was crystal clear. He even explained it from a student’s perspective, pausing after every step to look at me. “Do you understand this part?” Beside me, Mia subconsciously nodded. I asked, “And then?” He assumed I got it, so he continued. Arthur’s voice was crisp and mild. He seemed to have a great personality. And the main point was: looking at him up close like this, he was so handsome. I rested my chin on my hand and smiled at him. Finally, Arthur looked up at me. “Did you get all that?” Under his gaze, I slowly shook my head and said with absolute sincerity: “I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m a bit slow, so I didn’t quite get it. But my desk mate seems to understand. I can just ask her.” “By the way, can I keep your scratch paper?” Arthur: “…” Turning back around, I handed Arthur’s scratch paper to Mia and gave her a pleading gesture. “Desk mate, once you figure it out completely, could you please explain it to me one more time?” Mia looked at me and nodded, filled with a deep sense of mission. That night during evening study hall, she cornered me and started explaining the problem. “…” Why was this girl so earnest? Behind me, Arthur was the crush of many girls. He had top grades, looked clean and neat, had great features, and was objectively very attractive. He was the textbook definition of a teen romance novel’s male lead. The gossipy students nearby whispered about how a girl from another class confessed to him and got rejected, or how an art student cornered him on his way home. Any love letters left in his desk with a name on them were promptly returned to the sender. He seemed completely impervious to romance. But me? I just love making friends. For the first two weeks of school, I turned around almost every day to ask Arthur questions. At first, he explained them patiently. Later, probably realizing that I still didn’t understand after his explanations, he caught on to my ulterior motives. 3 Mia had gently warned me that Arthur didn’t like anyone. One evening, I turned around to ask him a question again, staying until almost everyone else had left the classroom. Arthur stopped and looked at my face. “Chloe, you’ve asked me a variation of this same question three times now. Do you really still not get it?” I nodded. Arthur: “…” He thought for a moment, weighing his words. “Then your foundation is too weak. You should start with the simpler questions. Don’t waste your time here with me.” “Also, you constantly turning around to ask me questions… people might misunderstand. And I might misunderstand.” Barely a few seconds after he finished speaking, my eyes suddenly turned red. “Are you calling me stupid too?” The tears came quickly. In the blink of an eye, they started falling. Arthur panicked. “Hey, don’t cry. I didn’t say you were stupid… You’re not stupid.” “Really?” I looked at him with tear-filled eyes. Arthur: “…Never mind. Just ask simpler questions from now on. Don’t challenge your own foundation.” It seemed he had a soft spot. Well, he was doomed then. From that day on, I started bringing him basic questions every few days. Whenever he was free. Mia seemed to notice my weak foundation too, so she also started explaining questions to me regularly. I initially wanted to decline—after all, my intentions weren’t pure, and I shouldn’t waste her study time. But it turned out that after Mia explained things to me, she often clarified her own thought process. So she became even more enthusiastic about tutoring me. “…” She had inadvertently found a study method that worked perfectly for her. To give them a sense of accomplishment, I would appropriately “understand” a bit more after listening. It’s just that whenever test results came out, Arthur and Mia would look at me with a sense of defeat. I felt a little guilty. The comforting part was that Mia’s grades actually improved significantly once she got used to teaching me. Arthur’s desk mate, Leo Bennett, noticed me constantly turning around and couldn’t resist teasing: “I say, Chloe, you’re always bothering my man Arthur with questions. You haven’t fallen for him, have you?” Leo was a highly outgoing guy. He seemed to be friends with everyone in the class, even the shyest girls. I smiled at him. “Is it that obvious?” He didn’t expect me to admit it so openly. Neither did Arthur. Leo was stunned. Arthur’s gaze landed on my face. After a moment, as if rejecting anyone else, he said with practiced routine, “Don’t waste your time on me.” I curved my eyes and smiled at him: “How is this a waste of time? Arthur Vance, between you and good grades, I have to at least get one, right?” Arthur: “…” Behind him, Leo gave me a massive thumbs-up. After a long while, Arthur said expressionlessly, “Based on your current level, you probably won’t get the grades either.” He was so handsome when he was being cold and strict. To keep my little teachers from being disappointed, I made “appropriate progress” on the final exams. Then, using this progress as an excuse, I fully validated Arthur and Mia’s tutoring efforts. Privately, I asked Arthur to be my summer tutor. I had done my research. During winter and summer breaks, Arthur tutored younger kids for a modest fee. Mostly, it was parents he knew asking him to help their kids with homework. Sometimes he’d cram a bunch of kids into his house and watch them all at once. “Mr. Vance, I’ll pay you more than they do. Plus, I’m your classmate! Wouldn’t it give you a bigger sense of accomplishment to turn a terrible student like me into a good one?” “Mr. Vance, please? I know you’re handsome and kind-hearted. You definitely wouldn’t abandon a struggling classmate, right?” 4 Unexpectedly, Arthur accepted my request for one-on-one tutoring. “Chloe, don’t overthink this. I agreed because you’re paying well, and tutoring you is slightly easier than dealing with a bunch of noisy middle schoolers.” “Also, don’t get any funny ideas. I don’t date in high school.” Such a serious teenager. I looked at him with a wide smile. “Are you just really bad at rejecting people?” Arthur looked at me, confused. “Arthur, to reject someone, you should tell them you don’t like them, not that you ‘don’t date in high school,’” I said, resting my chin on my hands. “Otherwise, I could just say, ‘Fine, I’ll confess to you next June after graduation. Will you say yes then?’” Arthur: “…” He seemed a bit overwhelmed. It was so much fun. A moment later, Arthur said coldly, “I don’t like you.” “That’s okay. I believe that dripping water hollows out stone, and an iron rod can be ground into a needle.” “…” Teasing Arthur was incredibly fun. He was good-looking, and when he was embarrassed, he would pretend to be perfectly calm, even though his ears were bright red. He had a strong will for a teenager, but he wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings. I think he liked me a little bit, too. After blurting out that line about “our kids,” he was quiet for a long time, seemingly digesting his own regret. “Chloe, do you always flirt with people like this?” he suddenly asked me after a long while. “How could I?” I answered cheerfully. “I only flirt with you like this.” “…Liar. You flirt with Mia like this all the time.” Okay, let me be precise. “I only flirt with you out of all the boys. Is that better?” I stared straight at him, my eyes smiling. “You don’t see me flirting with Leo, do you?” Arthur went silent again. Before going quiet, he didn’t forget to tell me to hurry up and finish my practice problems. He took my money, so he felt a strong sense of mission to improve my grades. He was very responsible. Every day he made study plans for me and texted me proactively. How was this not a way of bonding? The school opened up empty classrooms for incoming seniors to study in. The public library’s study rooms were also an option. To avoid disturbing others, Arthur and I tried our best to book private study rooms at the library. Every day, while I did my practice problems, he sat beside me doing his. The difference was, I did basic math, while he did advanced Olympiad questions. Occasionally, he’d glance at me and sigh. “Chloe.” He suddenly called my name. “Yeah?” “I’m refunding half your money. Don’t ever tell anyone I tutored you. You’re going to ruin my reputation in the education field.” “…” “No,” I refused righteously. “Mr. Vance, once a teacher, always a teacher.” Since we were always seen together, many classmates who came back to school to study during the summer saw us. Soon, our relationship became the subject of rumors. Even Leo gave me a thumbs-up behind Arthur’s back. I shared the gossip with Arthur: “Mr. Vance, do you need me to make a public clarification?” Arthur glanced at me: “If you can improve and break into the top 100 of our grade by senior year, I’ll willingly be the male lead of this rumor.” He was actually pretty funny. I laughed for a long time. “That reward is too tempting. What if I make it into the top 10? Does the rumor become reality?” He stared at my face for a long time before saying, “Get the score first, then we’ll talk.”

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On my thirtieth birthday, I decided to stop waiting for a man who didn’t exist and bought one instead. I ordered a top-of-the-line, fully customizable synthetic companion—a “Life-Like Partner”—online. To my surprise, the company was running a “Buy One, Get One” anniversary special. Suddenly, I had two. I tried to be fair. Every night, I alternated between their rooms, making sure neither felt neglected. But as the weeks bled into months, the differences became impossible to ignore. Dominic was the premium model. He was graceful, attentive, and followed every directive with surgical precision, always finding the exact rhythm that left me breathless. Kai, the “free” model, was a different story. He was quieter, almost shy, but lately, Dominic had started to change. He became rough—violent, even. On more than one occasion, right when I was on the brink of release, he would glitch, his eyes flashing a deep, warning red as he entered “Aggressive Mode.” Frustrated, I called customer service. “Ma’am,” the rep said with a practiced, saccharine tone, “technically, our units are programmed for absolute compliance. However, high-end models possess a learning AI. Occasionally, they require… breaking in. A bit of behavioral conditioning, if you will.” “And if that doesn’t work?” I asked, looking at the bruise on my wrist. “If you’re unsatisfied, we can process a return. Please note that for privacy and security reasons, returned units are not resold. They are sent for immediate thermal decommissioning—complete incineration.” I hesitated. Despite the glitches, they felt like people. I decided I would try to “tame” Dominic. Tonight was supposed to be his night. Instead, I put on my sheerest lace nightgown and opened the door to Kai’s room. … Kai, who had already powered down for the night, looked up in genuine shock. “Jade? Tonight isn’t my…” I didn’t let him finish. I leaned into him, seeking the comfort of his steady, cool skin. He was so gentle, so eager to please in his own quiet way. Then, the door was slammed open. Dominic stood in the frame, backlit by the hallway lights, his expression twisted into a dark scowl. “Are you serious?” he snapped. “Is thirty the age where your brain starts to rot? There are only two rooms in this house—how did you get lost?” I didn’t answer. I reached for the interface on his forearm, swiping open his status panel. There it was: [AGGRESSIVE MODE: ACTIVE]. It was happening again. Ever since he arrived, his system would override his pleasure protocols and jump straight to hostility. Last week, because I’d forgotten to wear the specific perfume he “preferred,” he had intentionally shut down right at the climax, leaving me cold and aching. I’d searched the forums for other owners. “Impossible!” one user wrote. “My unit is a beast in the sheets and a literal puppy in the streets.” “Maybe you got a refurbished dud?” suggested another. Customer service insisted the units were programmed for my total satisfaction. But no matter how many times I reset him, Dominic only grew more resentful. A chilling thought began to take root: what if I wasn’t the “Master” Dominic had chosen to recognize? Dominic swatted my hand away, closing his interface with a sharp click. “I’m the premium model, Jade. He’s the bargain-bin throw-in. I suggest you remember who the real prize is.” He swept a row of expensive crystal vases off my vanity in a fit of pique. Just as the glass shattered, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Serena, my father’s “other” daughter—the walking, breathing reminder of the affair that killed my mother. “Oh, Jade,” she purred, looking past me. “If you can’t handle two of them, don’t be greedy. I’m sure Dominic wouldn’t mind staying with me for a while.” My blood ran cold. How did she even know he was here? I turned and saw a faint, rhythmic blue light pulsing from Dominic’s chest. The realization hit me like a physical blow. He wasn’t glitching. He had set a new primary user. He was sending a distress signal to his “true” mistress. I gripped the door handle until my knuckles turned white. “He belongs to me. I paid for him. Get out.” As I tried to shove the door shut, Dominic’s heavy arm blocked it. “I can’t stand you,” he spat, his voice dripping with vitriol. “You’re just a desperate, aging woman clinging to a machine. Why are you making things hard for Serena?” Aging woman. The words stung more than they should have. “If you hate me so much,” I whispered, “why did you come home with me? You begged for it at the showroom.” Back then, he had been perfect. He had knelt at my feet, whispering, “Please, Jade, take me home. I want to belong to you.” I had spent a fortune on him, then millions more on his maintenance and upgrades to keep him in peak condition. And now, I was a “desperate woman,” while he looked at Serena with a gaze so intense his internal cooling fans kicked into overdrive. Dominic covered his indicator light, looking almost guilty for a split second, before he pushed past me to escort Serena out. I stood there, trembling, until I felt a pair of warm arms wrap around me. Kai was there, silent and steady, wiping a tear from my eye with his thumb. His internal heaters flared, offering the only warmth in the house. Decision made. I pulled out my phone and dialed customer service. “Dominic isn’t working out. Send a team to pick him up for decommissioning.” “Certainly, Ms. Sharon. As per protocol, the unit will be incinerated immediately to protect your data. We’ll be there tomorrow.” “Good.” When Dominic finally swaggared back into the house an hour later, I was waiting. He looked at me with pure exhaustion, as if my presence were a chore. “If you want to do this, make it quick,” he said, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I have things to do tomorrow.” He stopped, glancing at the nightstand. “Where’s the oil? I told you, I only use the $20,000-a-bottle synthetic joint lubricant. Where is it?” For months, I had pampered him, buying the most expensive supplies to keep his skin soft and his movements fluid. Meanwhile, Kai had never complained once about the $50 generic brand. “Use the cheap stuff,” I said, tossing a plastic bottle of drugstore oil at his feet. “Or don’t. I don’t care.” I walked out and slammed the door. Behind me, I heard the sound of more glass breaking. The next morning, Dominic did something unprecedented: he made breakfast. He stood by the stove, smirking as he saw a pile of high-end mechanical crates delivered to the foyer. “I knew you were just being dramatic,” he said, flipping a pancake. “I saw you ordered the designer maintenance kit. I’ll overlook your attitude from last night.” I realized then that he thought the crates were for him. He didn’t realize I’d ordered them specifically for Kai’s serial numbers. I didn’t bother explaining. I looked down at the plate he set before me and felt a wave of nausea. “Dominic… I hate mackerel. And mangoes. And kale.” He froze. Those were Serena’s favorites. I pulled up his control panel remotely. My heart sank. His entire “Preferences” database had been overwritten. Favorite Foods: Mackerel, Mango, Kale… Primary User: Serena. I searched for my own name in his system. It came up as a string of corrupted, unreadable code. To him, I was no longer his owner. I was a bug in his system. “You’re low on power,” I said coldly. Before he could react, I activated his “Safe Mode” and locked him in the basement. That night, I was woken up by a sound that made my skin crawl—the high-pitched, breathless giggling of a woman. I followed the sound to the basement. I threw open the door to find Dominic kneeling on the floor, kissing Serena’s shins with a terrifying, programmed devotion. “Mistress,” he whispered. The “Servant Protocol.” It was a feature meant to allow the units to cater to their owner’s every whim, a deep-dive into total submission. With me, Dominic had always been impatient, asking “Are we done yet?” every time we were together. But for Serena, he was a slave. I kicked the door frame. “Get out.” Serena scrambled to button her blouse, her face a mask of fake innocence. “Jade, don’t be mean. If you don’t appreciate Dominic, you shouldn’t lock him in a dark basement. He was so lonely… I was just helping him.” She stood up, smoothing her skirt. “Besides, Dad said if I really liked him, I should just take him. He said you’ve always been too greedy for your own good.” Three years ago, Serena’s mother had systematically dismantled my mother’s life until her heart gave out. After the funeral, my father married the mistress and stopped looking at me entirely. Not a dime of child support, not a word of kindness. I lived off the inheritance from my mother’s family. And now, Serena thought she could take this, too. “I bought him,” I said, pointing to the stairs. “Even if I sell him for scrap metal, he’s mine. Leave.” Dominic’s face contorted. “Scrap?” “You’re lying just to hurt Serena!” he shouted. “If you really thought I was scrap, you wouldn’t have bought all those expensive upgrades in the foyer!” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I grabbed Serena’s arm to pull her toward the door. In a flash of movement, Dominic lunged. He didn’t hold back. He kicked me square in the chest, sending me flying back into the dark corner of the basement. The heavy steel door slammed shut, and I heard the bolt slide home. He knew I was claustrophobic. It was in my medical file—one of the “Fatal Data” points that units were supposed to protect. “Let me out!” I screamed, clawing at the door. I couldn’t breathe. The walls felt like they were shrinking. Dominic’s voice came through the door, cold and annoyed. “That’s what you get for touching her. It’s my duty to protect my Mistress. You brought this on yourself.” I heard him kneeling down, his voice softening as he checked Serena for “injuries.” “Open the door,” I gasped, my lungs seizing. “Please… I can’t breathe…” “Stop faking it!” Dominic roared. “You’re just a pathetic woman who uses tears to get what she wants. You want help? Go find that budget-model ‘brother’ of mine.” His words reminded me. I fumbled for my phone and hit the emergency bypass button I’d synced to Kai. Three seconds later, the basement door was torn off its hinges. Kai didn’t hesitate; he scooped me up in a bridal carry and sprinted out into the fresh air of the living room. Dominic didn’t even look up. He was gently massaging Serena’s knee. Whenever I had been hurt, he’d pushed me away, claiming his “strength parameters” were too hard to control. It had always been Kai who patched me up. Serena looked up, feigning shock. “Oh, Jade! I’m so sorry. I must have accidentally deleted your medical files from Dominic’s system. I totally forgot about your little phobia. You’re not mad, are you?” Accidentally deleted. You couldn’t “accidentally” delete Fatal Data. It required a deliberate override. I’d had enough. I pulled out my phone and sent a recording of the entire incident—and the evidence of the system tampering—to the family group chat, CC’ing my father’s legal team. Under pressure from the elder board of our estate, my father was forced to act to avoid a public scandal. He cut Serena’s allowance and moved her curfew to 4:00 PM. Serena was livid. Dominic’s protective protocols went into overdrive. “When are you going to stop acting like a spoiled brat?” Dominic demanded, stalking toward me. “Serena was just playing around. Why do you have to be such a bully?” He really believed he was the master of this house. He’d forgotten he was a machine bought to serve. Serena started crying as she saw the notifications from her socialite friends mocking her downfall. “Jade, please! If people think I’m broke, they’ll ruin me!” Dominic’s chest plates began to glow a dull, angry red. “Look what you’ve done to her! Undo it. Now.” I sat on the sofa, calmly sipping water. I wasn’t going to negotiate with a toaster that was scheduled for incineration. Dominic lunged forward and grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to look at the interface on his arm. A holographic image flickered to life. “Apologize,” he hissed, his voice a demonic rasp, “or I’ll remotely trigger the demolition of your mother’s memorial garden.” My heart stopped. The hologram showed the mausoleum where my mother’s ashes were kept. He had accessed my private security network. His “Servant Protocol” had evolved into something truly predatory. “You’ve read my manual, Jade,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming. “Toppling a few marble pillars is child’s play for me.” I closed my eyes, my body shaking with rage and grief. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the family group chat, claiming it was all a misunderstanding and asking them to reinstate Serena’s funds. My father’s reply was instantaneous and cruel: You’re just as petty as your mother was. Always whining. I’m leaving everything to Serena. You won’t get another cent. I turned off the screen, a dull ache spreading through my chest. “Not enough,” Dominic said, smirking. “Apologize to her. On your knees, Ms. Sharon.” “Don’t push me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. Serena, sensing her victory, grabbed a silver paring knife from the fruit bowl on the table. “Jade is the ‘real’ Sharon daughter,” she sobbed. “I’m just the mistake. I don’t deserve an apology!” She made a theatrical motion to stab herself in the heart. It was a bluff, and we both knew it. “Do it then,” I said coldly. She hesitated, the knife trembling. But Dominic didn’t hesitate. He shoved me forward with a violent burst of strength. I stumbled, and the knife Serena was holding plunged deep into my abdomen. Dominic stood over me, holding the remote trigger for the mausoleum. “I said apologize. From now on, I run this house.” Blood began to soak through my shirt. I clutched my stomach, the world spinning. I looked up at Serena’s smug face and whispered the words. “I. Am. Sorry.” Serena rolled her eyes, tucked the knife away, and climbed into Dominic’s lap. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the ceiling fan spinning, faster and faster, until the world went dark. When I woke up, the wound in my stomach was almost entirely healed—synthetic tissue grafts from the emergency med-kit. Dominic was standing over me, wearing nothing but a towel. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head away, gagged by the smell of the cheap, rancid oil on his skin. “Isn’t this what you bought me for?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Fine. As long as you stay out of Serena’s way, I’ll take turns with the ‘gift’ model to keep you happy.” “Get out,” I rasped. “I don’t want you.” Dominic scoffed. He walked over to the new high-end charging station I’d bought for Kai and tried to force his connector into it. When it didn’t fit, he started slamming his fist against the console. “Did you buy the wrong model, you senile bitch? This doesn’t fit! Go exchange it!” The doorbell rang. Dominic followed me downstairs, still ranting. “See? I told you. You’re already calling the courier to fix your mistake. At least you’re learning…” He stopped as I opened the door. It wasn’t a courier. It was the decommissioning team. “Ms. Sharon?” the man asked, holding out a digital tablet. “We’re here for the T-9 unit, name: Dominic? For the… thermal disposal?”

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The year Dominic loved Hailey most, everyone in our circle was placing bets on when he’d hand me the divorce papers. Yet, less than a month after I caught them together, he severed ties with her completely. He chose to return home, playing the part of the devoted husband, focusing all his attention on me and the life growing inside my womb. Three years later, we were at the pier’s amusement park, watching our daughter, Sophie, on the carousel. That’s when I saw her. Hailey was standing by the entrance, manning a rusted street-food cart. Gone was the polished, ethereal girl from the gala photos. Her face was sallow, slick with sweat and grease from the grill, her hair matted as she shouted over the music. “Hot dogs! Three dollars each! Two for five!” I instinctively gripped the hem of my sundress, my eyes darting to Dominic. I braced for a flinch, a lingering look—anything. But he stood there like a statue, his doting gaze fixed entirely on our daughter. “Sophie, hold onto the pole, sweetie. Don’t let go.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Relieved, I stepped away to buy a bottle of water. But when I turned back, the world tilted. Dominic was standing at the cart. They were staring at each other across the sizzling grill, an unspoken, desperate longing written in the lines of their faces. I stood frozen in the wind, feeling the scar on my heart—the one I thought had finally healed—tear wide open. This marriage, held together by stitches and lies, had finally reached its end. … 1 “Mommy!” Sophie lost her grip and tumbled off the painted horse. I felt a sharp jolt in my chest and sprinted toward her, scooping her small body into my arms. Her forehead had hit the platform, a purple knot already swelling larger than my fist. She was sobbing, the kind of breathless wail that makes a mother’s blood run cold. Dominic hurried over, his face pale. He stood there like a child caught in a lie. “I’m so sorry. Someone tried to grab my phone, and I chased after him… I looked away for one second, Elena. I’m sorry.” He looked sincere, his chest heaving as if he’d actually been running. But I knew better. He wasn’t breathless from chasing a thief; he was breathless from the rush of seeing her. I said nothing. I just held Sophie tighter and started walking toward the exit. As we passed the gate, a group of local punks surrounded Hailey’s cart. One of them snatched a hot dog, took a huge bite, and leaned in close to her face, a predatory grin on his lips. “Hey, beautiful. It’s that time of the month. Where’s our ‘protection’ fee?” Hailey knit her brows, her voice trembling but defiant. “I just paid you three days ago. I don’t have anything left.” “No pay, no play, sweetheart. Not on our block.” The leader’s face darkened. With one violent shove, he flipped the cart. The smell of hot grease hit the air, and Hailey screamed as the boiling oil splashed onto her arms. I saw Dominic’s jaw lock. The veins in his neck bulged, his knuckles turning white. He took a reflexive step toward her. I reached out and grabbed his arm, my voice low and steady. “Sophie is bleeding, Dominic. We need to get her to the ER. Now.” He blinked, like a man waking from a trance. His expression smoothed over instantly. He walked to the car and opened the door for me, his movements mechanical. Just as he was about to get into the driver’s seat, he hesitated. He turned to me, his eyes wide with a manufactured panic. “Elena, wait. I think I dropped the keys back by the carousel when I was running. I have to go back. I’ll be two minutes.” Before I could even respond, he slammed the door and vanished into the crowd. A woman’s intuition isn’t a guess; it’s a sentence. I knew exactly where he was going. I settled Sophie into her car seat, kissed her forehead, and followed him. I found them behind the row of concession stands. The thugs were cornering Hailey, their hands reaching for her, but before they could touch her, Dominic launched himself at them. He’d spent years in high-end boxing gyms, and it showed. He moved with a brutal, calculated grace, dropping two of them before they even realized they were in a fight. The rest scrambled away, cursing into the night. Hailey, her face streaked with tears and soot, threw herself into his arms. “Dom… I knew you’d come. You still care, don’t you? You never stopped.” 2 Dominic went rigid, his hands hovering over her back before he finally pushed her away, albeit gently. “Don’t. She’s in the car.” But Hailey was like a magnet, clinging to his shirt. “It’s been years, Dom. Don’t tell me you don’t miss me. I haven’t slept a full night since we broke up. You love me—I know you do. Why won’t you just leave Elena? Am I really that much of a mistake?” Dominic’s resolve crumbled. He reached out, his thumb catching a tear on her cheek. “Don’t ever call yourself a mistake. In my head, you’re still the best thing that ever happened to me.” “If I’m so great,” Hailey whispered, tilting her chin up, “then kiss me.” He hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes locked on her mouth. Then, Hailey grabbed his collar, pulled him down, and pressed her lips to his. Dominic’s eyes blew wide, but within seconds, a frantic, starving hunger took over. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her into him as if he were trying to merge their very souls. Watching them, I felt my heart physically shatter. I had spent three years meticulously sewing the pieces of our life back together, and Hailey had shredded it into rags in less than three minutes. They were so lost in each other that when I dialed his number, he didn’t even look at the screen before hitting ‘ignore.’ He forgot about his injured daughter. He forgot about the woman who had stood by him through everything. I didn’t wait. I walked back to the car, called an Uber, and took Sophie to the hospital myself. By the time Dominic found us in the pediatric wing, Sophie had already been stitched up and was asleep in the plastic hospital bed. He looked at her, his face a mask of practiced guilt. “I’m so sorry, Elena. I couldn’t find the keys for the longest time. I’m such an idiot. I won’t let it happen again.” I looked up at him. His lips were slightly swollen, his collar askew. I wanted to scream, to demand the truth, to tear him apart. Instead, I just said, “She’s sleeping. Don’t wake her.” I should have known then. Infidelity isn’t a one-time mistake; it’s a character flaw. It was zero or infinite. My belief in him had been nothing but a stubborn delusion. I met Dominic when I was fifteen. He was the scholarship kid, the orphan everyone picked on. I found him in an alley behind the school, being beaten by a group of seniors, and I stepped in. From that day on, he was my shadow. He followed me everywhere. If anyone so much as looked at me wrong, he’d throw himself into the fray, reckless and devoted. At eighteen, he used every cent of his tutoring money to buy a modest ring and tell me I was his world. At twenty, he brought me the first million he’d made in tech, begging me to say yes to a life with him. At twenty-two, he gave me a wedding that was the talk of the city, swearing to love me for all eternity. I thought we were the exception to the rule. The shift happened three years ago. I had just found out I was pregnant. Dominic was ecstatic—he dropped a multi-million dollar deal to rush to the hospital to see the first ultrasound. On the way, he had a minor fender-bender with a girl in a beat-up sedan. Hailey. It was one of those “meant-to-be” encounters you see in movies. They exchanged numbers under the guise of insurance. Then they exchanged texts. Then they exchanged everything else. While I was crippled with morning sickness, they were in hotel rooms. While I was setting the table for our anniversary dinner, he was “working late” in her bed. And when my parents died in that horrific car accident—when I needed him most—he was in Cabo with her, exploring new ways to forget he had a wife. 3 A marriage for two had become a game for three. “Mommy… thirsty…” Sophie’s voice pulled me back to the present. I stood up to pour her a glass of water, but my gaze caught a silhouette in the parking lot through the window. Hailey was sitting in the passenger seat of a black SUV. My SUV—the one I’d bought Dominic for his birthday last year. She was kicking her legs playfully, looking like a girl without a care in the world. She must have felt my eyes on her. She looked up, locked onto me, and flashed a slow, triumphant smile. It was a silent declaration: Look at me. I won again. My hand shook, and the hot water from the dispenser splashed over my knuckles. Dominic was at my side in a second, dragging me to the sink and shoving my hand under the cold tap. “Elena! What are you doing? You have to be more careful. You’re going to burn yourself.” I watched his face, full of feigned concern, while all I could see was Hailey’s smirk. I’d seen that look before. Three years ago, on his birthday. I had planned a surprise party at his office, thinking I was being the perfect, supportive wife. I walked in with balloons and half his staff, only to find him on his leather sofa, Hailey in his lap wearing nothing but a silk robe. He was whispering things to her—dirty, intimate things he’d never said to me. I had frozen, the “Happy Birthday” banner slipping from my hands. Dominic’s first instinct wasn’t to apologize to me. It was to shield her. He stepped in front of her, hiding her nakedness from our eyes. I had snapped. I lunged at her, screaming, tearing at her hair. Dominic shoved me back—hard. “I love her, Elena,” he had said, his voice cold and flat. “If you can’t live with that, then we’re done.” The look on Hailey’s face that day was the exact same one she was wearing now. The sneer of the victor. A wave of pure, cold fury washed over me. I ripped my hand out of his. “Don’t touch me.” Dominic blinked, confused. “Elena, what—” “Sophie is thirsty,” I interrupted, my voice brittle. “Give her the water.” He nodded slowly, turning to the bedside. I watched him check the temperature of the water, gently lifting Sophie’s head to help her drink. It was such a tender, domestic scene. If only his mistress wasn’t waiting for him downstairs. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from an unknown number. [You saw us at the park, didn’t you? It doesn’t matter that you forced him back into your “perfect family.” Every time I show up, he comes crawling. He can’t help himself.] [Actually, we got to the hospital before you did. I told him I burned my arm and didn’t have money for the clinic. He didn’t hesitate to leave your daughter for me. Hahaha. You lose. Again.] [Want to bet I can keep him away from home for a week? Just watch.] As the last message popped up, Dominic walked over to me, checking his watch. His “serious businessman” mask was back on. “Elena, something came up with the London office. A major server crash. I have to fly out tonight. I’ll probably be gone for a week.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Be a good girl for Mommy, Sophie. I’ll bring you back something special.” I gripped my phone so hard the screen almost cracked. I looked him dead in the eye. 4 “You have a whole team of engineers in London, Dominic. Sophie is hurt. She needs her father. Are you really going to walk out on her right now?” His expression soured instantly. The “devoted dad” act vanished, replaced by irritation. “The doctor said she’s fine. It’s just a bump. You’re perfectly capable of handling this alone. Don’t be dramatic.” He turned to leave. “If you walk out that door,” I said, my voice echoing in the quiet room, “we are finished. For real this time.” Dominic paused, his hand on the handle. He looked back over his shoulder. “What did you say?” I opened my mouth to repeat it, but his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, and a look of urgent hunger crossed his face. “I have to go. It’s the office.” Five minutes after he left, my phone buzzed with a FaceTime request. I looked at Sophie, who was drifting back to sleep, and stepped into the hospital bathroom. I hit ‘Accept.’ I didn’t see Hailey’s face. I saw the ceiling of a car—his car. I heard the rustle of clothes, the heavy, wet sound of kissing. My blood turned to ice. Then, Hailey’s voice, high and breathless: “Who do you love more? Me or the wife?” Dominic didn’t even pause. “You. Always you. She’s just… she’s the mother of my child. You’re the woman I breathe for.” Then came the sounds of them together, visceral and loud, a symphony of betrayal. I hung up. I collapsed against the bathroom door, the tears finally breaking through. This was his “urgent business.” He wasn’t going to London. He was going to a motel. Suddenly, the door creaked open. Sophie stood there, her eyes red, her little face crumpled. She saw me on the floor and ran to me, throwing her small arms around my neck. “Don’t cry, Mommy. Please don’t cry.” I pulled her into my lap, my voice thick with salt and grief. “Sophie… if Mommy and Daddy don’t live together anymore… would you want to come with me?” She didn’t hesitate. She pulled back and looked at me with a gravity no three-year-old should possess. “I go where you go, Mommy. Always.” Over the next few days, Dominic stayed “in London.” Hailey sent me photos every day. Them at breakfast. Him sleeping. A shot of her legs draped over his. I didn’t reply to a single one. Instead, I called my lawyer, Arthur Bennett. I asked him to pull a specific folder from my safe. Inside was a yellowed, three-year-old divorce settlement. Dominic had given it to me the day after I caught them the first time. He had been so cold then. He’d told me, “Sign it. I’ll leave you everything. I just want out.” I had been five months pregnant. I had asked him, “What about our baby?” And he had looked at me with total indifference. “Get an abortion. Even if you have it, the kid will just grow up in a broken home without a father who cares.” I had lost my mind then. I broke every dish in the house, but I refused to sign. I was convinced I could “fix” him. He’d disappeared for weeks, saying the next time we saw each other would be in court. But then, Hailey’s life fell apart. I had used my influence to make sure every firm in the city knew she was a home-wrecker. She lost her job. She got desperate. She tried to have me kidnapped to extort money. I’d bought off the guys she hired. They confessed in court. Dominic had come crawling back then. He said Hailey was young and stupid, and that if I dropped the charges, he’d come home and never speak to her again. 5 I had agreed. And those papers had been buried in the back of the safe. Until now. Arthur reviewed the document. “The terms are iron-clad, Elena. Since he signed this back then and it was never officially withdrawn, if you sign it now, it’s done. By five p.m. tomorrow, you’ll have the decree.” As Arthur was leaving my house, Dominic pulled into the driveway. They brushed past each other, but Dominic was so busy texting that he didn’t even look up. He walked into the house and tossed two shopping bags onto the counter. “Gifts from the duty-free shop. For you and Sophie.” I opened the boxes. A toy for Sophie. A silk nightgown for me. But the nightgown wasn’t new. It was wrinkled, and as I pulled it out, a few stray, curly hairs fell from the fabric. My stomach turned. I gagged, leaning over the sink. Dominic finally looked up from his phone. “Elena? You okay?” I pointed at the nightgown, my mouth open to scream, but then his phone rang. Hailey’s voice, frantic and shrill, filled the kitchen. “Dom! Someone’s at my door! I think it’s those guys from the park coming for revenge! I’m so scared!” Dominic’s face transformed. “I have to go back to the office. Something’s wrong. I’ll be back later to tuck Sophie in.” He ran out the door without looking back. Seconds later, my front door was kicked open. The punks from the pier were standing in my foyer. The leader glared at me, his eyes full of malice. “You’re the wife of that hero, right? He humiliated us. He broke my brother’s jaw. Now nobody in the neighborhood respects us. That debt needs to be paid.” Before I could reach for the alarm, they grabbed me by the hair. They threw me against the wall, the slaps coming so hard my vision blurred. Sophie started screaming. I fought back, shielding her with my body as they kicked me. “You want to be a hero like your husband?” the leader spat. “Let’s see how he likes you now!” The pain was blinding. I felt things breaking inside me. I fumbled for my phone in my pocket and hit speed-dial for Dominic. He’d only been gone a minute. He could still save us. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer. The leader saw what I was doing and crushed the phone under his boot. “Looking for help, bitch?” He dragged me toward the second-floor balcony. “Go find him in hell!” He kicked me through the railing. I hit the pavement below with a sickening thud. Blood pooled in my vision. I heard Sophie’s scream cut off as she fainted from terror. As my consciousness faded, I saw a black SUV parked just down the street. His car. The car was rocking rhythmically. Through the tinted glass, I could see two silhouettes tangled together. He hadn’t left for the office. He hadn’t even left the block. He was ignoring my dying calls because he was busy with her. The fury kept me alive just long enough to realize: I was done being the victim. Then, everything went black. I woke up the next afternoon in a hospital bed. Sophie was sitting by my side, her eyes swollen. She told me that a neighbor had seen the men fleeing and called 911. Dominic had never come home. 6 I laughed. A cold, hollow sound that turned into tears. A moment later, Arthur walked in. He handed me a blue folder containing two finalized divorce certificates. “It’s over, Elena. You and Dominic are legally strangers. Every asset—the company, the houses, the accounts—will be in your name within seventy-two hours. Congratulations. You’re free.” I took a deep breath. I put Dominic’s copy in an envelope and sent it via courier to Hailey’s apartment. Then, I checked out of the hospital, packed our bags, and took my daughter to the airport. Goodbye, Dominic. I hope she was worth it. For the next two weeks, Dominic and Hailey were inseparable. It was as if he were trying to make up for three years of lost time with his body. Then, one morning, an alarm went off on his phone. He looked at the screen. It was a reminder: Elena’s Birthday. He realized with a jolt that he hadn’t been home or checked on his family in nearly fifteen days. He opened his chat with me, expecting a barrage of angry texts or missed calls he could guilt-trip me about. The thread was empty. I hadn’t sent a single word. Unease settled in his gut. He told Hailey he had to check on “the business” and drove back to our estate. When he got to the front gate, his code wouldn’t work. He tried our anniversary. He tried Sophie’s birthday. Nothing. On the fifth try, the gate buzzed open, but not because of the code. A man he’d never seen before walked out.

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The Feds took the parents in handcuffs, leaving behind a ten-thousand-square-foot McMansion and a trust fund baby who couldn’t even butter his own toast. I was packing my bags, ready to bolt, when a string of glowing, neon text floated across my vision like a ticker tape on a news channel: [This family’s foundations run deep. Even the crumbs falling from their table are enough to feed a normal person for a lifetime.] [Pity about the kid. Parents are looking at twenty-to-life. He’s essentially an orphan now.] I’m not the most educated woman in the world, but I caught the keywords: Foundations deep. Feed for a lifetime. Fine. For the money, I’d raise the kid. 1 I’d only been working at the Remington estate for two months when the sirens cut through the quiet hum of the Greenwich suburbs. “Martha! I’m leaving Preston in your hands!” Mrs. Remington wailed as she was shoved into the back of a black SUV. Her makeup was running in streaks down her face. I was about to wave my hand and say hell no, but then those glowing words popped up in the air again. I didn’t fully grasp the legal intricacies of “Federal Indictment,” but I understood the word “Money.” As long as the check clears, I can handle anything. I waved at the receding police cruiser. “Don’t you worry, Ma’am! I’ll keep the young master fed and watered!” That evening, Preston came home from his private prep school. The kid tossed his monogrammed backpack onto the marble floor of the foyer, didn’t bother taking off his designer sneakers, and screamed at the ceiling. “I want organic fruit snacks! Now! Immediately!” This kid was spoiled rotten, eyes always looking down at people like they were furniture. I didn’t even look at him. I pulled a packet of fruit gummies from the sub-zero fridge, tore the lid off, and slurped one down myself. Strawberry. Sweet. “Pick up the bag,” I said, “or no dinner.” Preston’s eyes went wide, like he’d seen a ghost. “You ate my snacks? I’m telling my mom. You’re fired!” He stormed off to find her. [This housekeeper has guts. Kicking him while he’s down.] [ Does the kid not realize the sky has fallen? Truly a hothouse flower.] [If the housekeeper sticks it out, the salary for the next three years is guaranteed. A starving camel is still bigger than a horse.] Three years? Salary? I felt a sudden calm settle in my chest. Preston did a lap of the house. Finding the echoing emptiness of the mansion, the panic finally set in. “Where’s my mom?” I licked the foil lid of the fruit snacks clean. “Your parents went on a sabbatical to Europe. They said they’ll be back when you start middle school.” “Liar!” He rushed to the landline. Dead air. Preston collapsed onto the Italian leather sofa, his face draining of color. “Hungry?” I asked. “No!” “Gonna pick up the bag?” “Why should I? You always pick it up!” I crossed my legs, settling into the armchair. “Before, your parents paid my salary. Now? I run this house. Don’t pick it up? Then the Wi-Fi password changes.” If the floating text hadn’t promised there was still meat on this bone, I’d be back in Ohio growing corn. By dinner, Preston folded. He picked up the bag, sulking the whole time. “Hey, are they really going to be gone a long time?” “I have a name. It’s Martha. Or Ms. Martha. You call me ‘Hey’ again, you lose the chicken drumstick.” Preston held his tongue. Looking at his small, defeated posture, I felt a twinge of something soft in my chest. “Don’t look so down. Three years goes by in a blink. It’s fast.” After dinner, Preston pulled out his homework. He chewed on the end of his pen, staring at a blank page. “Martha, this is too hard.” I leaned over. The words were dancing like ants. Common Core math. It gave me a headache just looking at it. But I couldn’t show weakness. How would I command respect? “Read it out loud,” I lied effortlessly. “I forgot my reading glasses.” “Aren’t they in your pocket?” “Those are sunglasses! Read!” Preston pointed at the book. “A pool has an intake pipe that fills it in 5 hours, and a drain pipe that empties it in 8 hours. If both are open, how long until it fills?” I laughed out loud. “Who is this idiot? Filling it while draining it? Is water free? Sounds like another trust fund baby wasting resources.” Preston blinked. “So what do I write for the answer?” “Write: ‘Waste of natural resources. Suggest EPA fine.’” “…Okay.” Next question. “Johnny climbs from the first floor to the fourth floor in 3 minutes. How long to get to the eighth floor?” “Johnny’s got good knees,” I said, cracking a sunflower seed between my teeth. “But is the elevator broken? Living on the eighth floor is a hike. Write: ‘Take the elevator, thirty seconds.’” I directed him with this brand of nonsense until I couldn’t fake it anymore. I sent him to watch TV and grabbed the pen myself to fill in the blanks. For the words I didn’t know, I drew circles or sounded them out phonetically. I figured, it’s third-grade homework. How hard could it be? Two weeks later, the homeroom teacher called. “Is this Preston’s guardian?” “That’s right. I’m the housekeeper.” “Right. Well, we suggest you take the child for… cognitive testing,” the teacher said, her voice dripping with diplomatic concern. “His recent homework… well, the logic is fascinating. It’s almost primal.” Me: “…” I hung up and looked at Preston, who was laughing at a cartoon. I felt a little guilty. “From now on, do your own homework. Ask a classmate if you’re stuck.” Preston didn’t argue. He turned off the TV and went to his desk. [The kid is actually pitiful. He’s getting bullied at school and won’t say a word.] [Parents are gone. What’s the use of telling a nanny?] [It’s the status drop. Yesterday he was royalty, today he’s the son of felons.] Bullied? I caught the keyword. I grabbed Preston by the arm. “Who hit you?” Preston kept his head down, eyes red. “No one.” “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to the school with a megaphone.” Preston looked terrified. He burst into tears. “They said my parents are bad people! That they’re in prison and never coming back!” I sighed, pulling a tissue to wipe his face. “Since you know, I won’t lie to you.” Preston sniffled, looking up at me. “Your parents didn’t commit a crime. They felt like… they messed up on their first try—I mean, they wanted to give you a sibling. But the regulations here are strict, so they went abroad to have a second baby in secret.” I lied with a straight face. “They only said they were arrested to avoid the paparazzi.” “Really?” “Why would I lie? If I had that kind of energy, I’d eat another pork chop.” Preston believed it. The light came back into his eyes. “So who hit you? You can tell me now.” “Carter.” The next day, I was at the school gates. Near the corner store, a husky kid was shoving beef jerky into his mouth. I sized him up. Solid build. A linebacker in the making. “Hey kid, is that jerky good?” The husky kid nodded. “Yeah.” I waved my hand and bought twenty packs, piling them in front of him. “Do me a favor. These are all yours.” The kid’s eyes went round. “Lady, I don’t do anything illegal.” “Nothing like that. Just look out for Preston. If anyone messes with him, you handle it. Especially a kid named Carter.” The kid thumped his chest, red spices smeared on his mouth. “Deal! As long as the jerky keeps coming, Preston is my brother from another mother!” [This nanny plays dirty. Violence for violence?] [Honestly, sometimes simple and crude works best.] [Satisfying to watch! That Carter kid is a menace.] A few days later, Carter’s mom cornered me in the principal’s office. “How are you raising that child? You let that fat relative of yours beat up my son?” The woman was dripping in gold and diamonds, spit flying everywhere. I channeled my best calm, detached persona. “Kids will be kids. Roughhousing is normal. They fight today, they’re friends tomorrow. Adults shouldn’t interfere.” Carter’s mom choked on her rage. “You…” The teacher tried to mediate, but I cut in. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Crabtree? Boys build character through conflict.” Walking out of the office, I saw Carter hiding behind his mom, looking with terror at the husky kid—let’s call him Tank—eating jerky nearby. I walked over and patted Tank on the shoulder. “Good work. Don’t leave right after school. I’m buying you a soda.” Tank saluted. “Mission accomplished!” That night, Preston awkwardly used his chopsticks to put a piece of broccoli in my bowl. “Martha, you’re awesome.” “Ms. Martha.” “Martha makes you sound like family,” Preston mumbled, shoveling rice. “Carter walked the long way around the hall when he saw me today. Tank even gave me Carter’s eraser.” Seeing his face beaming, I felt satisfied. “Don’t bottle things up. Your parents pay me, so I have to do right by that money.” Mentioning money, Preston ran upstairs and came down hugging a heavy, golden piggy bank. “Martha, this is my savings. If your salary doesn’t come through, take it from here.” I weighed it in my hands. Heavy. The floating text was right. The family had reserves. But the gold pig was beautifully made. Smashing it seemed like a waste. “Keep it for now. We’ll settle the bill at the end of the year.” 2 Good times don’t last. A week later, men in suits showed up. US Marshals. “This property is being seized. Vacate immediately. Personal clothing only. No valuables.” [It’s over. Hitting the streets.] [The housekeeper is going to run. Who wants to drag around an anchor like this kid?] [Poor kid. Truly has nothing now.] I watched the scrolling text, calculating. “Officer, clothes are allowed, right?” “Clothing is fine.” I dragged Preston into the walk-in closet. “Martha, where are we going?” Preston’s voice wobbled. “Wherever. We won’t starve.” I opened the wardrobe and started layering. Thermal underwear first. Then cashmere sweaters. Then a fleece. Then the Master’s trench coat over everything. “Don’t stare, put them on! Wear as much as you can! We can sell this stuff later!” Preston sniffled and started pulling things on. His mother’s mink coat, his father’s silk robes. We didn’t care about fashion; we just piled it on. “This… this looks expensive.” Preston pulled out a handful of colorful, tiny pieces of fabric from a drawer. “It has beads. And chains.” I glanced at it. Skimpy fabric. God knows where you wear that. “Take it! Every penny counts. Someone might buy it!” When we waddled downstairs, the Marshals stared, dumbfounded. Preston and I looked like two walking spheres. We couldn’t put our arms down. We took one step and gasped for breath three times. “Ma’am, are you moving out or preparing for the apocalypse?” “I have poor circulation. Is it a crime to be cold?” I asked indignantly. We stepped out the front door into the blazing July heat. The humidity hit us like a wall. Two steps in, Preston started walking funny. Like a duck. “What is it? You hurt?” I stopped to wipe sweat from my forehead. Preston’s face was beet red. He pointed to his rear end. “Martha, it’s wedged.” “What’s wedged?” “That tiny cloth with the beads… you said it was worth money, so I put it on first layer… it’s cutting me in half…”

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It was two in the morning when my husband’s mistress called. “Mrs. Lockwood? Harrison got into a brawl over me. The paparazzi are swarming.” Her voice was a cocktail of feigned panic and genuine triumph. “You need to come down here. Bring a change of clothes. Fix this.” The audacity wasn’t new. In the three years Harrison and I had been married, Paige’s brazenness was the third person in our relationship. To the public, I was the shield that deflected every scandal, the grace that smoothed over his hedonism. In private, I had screamed, packed bags, and had breakdowns that left me hollow. I had become the punchline of the Upper East Side—the wife who wouldn’t leave. But tonight, I wasn’t screaming. “Fine,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m on my way.” 01 When I arrived at the VIP lounge, the scene was a tableau of chaotic indulgence. Paige Miller was draped over Harrison, her face flushed, hair artfully messy, clinging to him like a vine. She had mastered the art of looking fragile—tears trembling on her lashes, ready to fall but never quite ruining her makeup. Harrison Lockwood sat on the velvet sofa, looking bored. Even with bruised knuckles and a split lip, he didn’t look defeated. He looked dangerous. His collar was unbuttoned, tie loose, radiating that specific brand of arrogant aggression that comes from knowing you own the building you’re sitting in. The heir to the Lockwood empire, getting into a fistfight over an assistant. The tabloids would eat well tomorrow. Seeing me, Paige scrambled up, shedding her coat to offer it to me. “Mrs. Lockwood, thank god.” As she handed it over, the challenge in her eyes settled into a smug calm. “Harrison hit someone. It’s going to be hard to bury,” she whispered, ensuring only I could hear. “But if people find out it was over me, the stock price will tank. I’m sorry you have to do this. But if the narrative is that he was defending his wife’s honor… well, that’s just romantic, isn’t it?” Harrison watched from the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips. He was waiting for the explosion. “So, Norah,” he drawled. “How are we playing the victim tonight?” Usually, Paige’s “selfless” act was the spark that lit my fuse. But tonight, he miscalculated. I took the coat. It smelled like her perfume—heavy, floral, cloying. I draped it over my shoulders with the casual indifference of someone accepting a napkin. “Let’s go,” I said, checking my watch. “The press is already at the barricades.” 02 They both froze. Clearly, my compliance was not on the bingo card. Harrison’s amusement shifted into a narrow-eyed scrutiny. Then, he laughed. “Playing the obedient wife today, Norah?” Paige, sensing the shift, poured gasoline on the fire. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lockwood. I know I’m just a distraction for when Harrison is bored. You’re the one he loves. Please don’t blame him. If you want to scream at someone, scream at me.” Her tone was humble, but her voice carried the rasp of a woman who had just spent the last hour screaming in pleasure. Harrison watched me, waiting. Waiting for the mask to crack. Waiting for the tears. But I was too tired for madness. I was too tired for grace. I just wanted the circus to leave town. I extended a hand toward Paige. “Give me your bag, too.” “If we’re selling a lie,” I said flatly, “we might as well sell it all the way.” 03 In the few seconds it took Paige to hand over her clutch, Harrison’s smile vanished. He strode over, snatched the bag from my hand, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then, he ripped the coat from my shoulders. Before I could react, he stripped off his own suit jacket—heavy, warm, smelling of cedar and expensive scotch—and wrapped it around me. “Norah,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you angry?” He hated my calm. He needed the reaction, the proof of life. But the surface of the water was glass; nothing moved underneath. “No. This is my job.” Professionally, I was the PR Director for Lockwood Holdings. Privately, I was the wife hired to clean up the mess. I was the target dummy they wheeled out to absorb the arrows of public scrutiny. But, I thought, as the silk lining of his jacket warmed my skin, this is the last time. “You’ve grown up, Norah,” he said, sounding almost proud. 04 I ignored the patronizing praise and pushed open the exit doors. The flashbulbs hit us like a physical blow, a wall of blinding white light. “Mrs. Lockwood! Who was the woman in the lounge?” “Is it true Mr. Lockwood was fighting over a mistress? Are you here for damage control?” “Sources say you’ve been living apart for six months! Is this all a show?” “Mrs. Lockwood, how do you feel about your husband’s relationship with his assistant?” The shutter clicks sounded like automatic gunfire. I stood my ground, waiting for the cacophony to dip, before I spoke. My voice was practiced, cool, detached. “My husband was in a meeting with partners tonight. He encountered an intoxicated individual who was harassing guests. His actions were strictly to maintain the security and brand standards of the venue.” The questions got sharper, aiming for blood. In the reflection of a camera lens, I saw Harrison watching me. He looked… stunned. We had been in a cold war for six months. He barely spoke to me. He had no idea this was my Tuesday night. He had no idea how good I had gotten at lying for him. After I finished the spin, Harrison suddenly stepped in, pulling me against his side. “My wife is tired,” he announced to the wolves. “That’s all for tonight.” 05 The unexpected rescue threw me off balance. Even more surprising, he followed my car home. For the last six months, I could count the number of times he’d slept at the penthouse on one hand. In the dim light of the underground garage, I could feel his eyes on me. “Are they always that vicious?” he asked. “It’s fine,” I said, unclipping my seatbelt. “Just another day in PR.” He was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft, laced with a nostalgia I no longer recognized. “Norah, I’ve been thinking about the old days lately. Back when I was a wreck, you were the only one who could talk sense into me.” He reached out, fingers grazing my arm. “I’ve neglected you. I’m going to cut the distractions. From now on, it’s just us.” “There’s a gala tomorrow. Old friends. Come with me? Let’s reintroduce ourselves.” I had heard this speech before. Three years of variations on a theme. Harrison had cycled through eight ‘distractions’ since our wedding. When things were good, he let them walk all over me. When he got bored, he dragged them in front of me to apologize, like a cat presenting a dead bird. And every time he decided to play the reformed bad boy, he paraded me around town to re-establish my status as “Mrs. Lockwood.” He didn’t realize that every time we did this, the looks from society wives got more pitying. “Oh, look, Harrison is playing house again.” “Lucky Norah.” “ wonder how long this one lasts?” 06 The phantom echoes of their gossip rang in my ears. I closed my eyes, exhausted. “Forget it, Harrison. Take Paige.” His gaze darkened. “Why?” “Because I can’t control you anymore,” I said, and it was the truth. ” maybe you’ll listen to your assistant instead.” I meant it literally. To him, it sounded like surrender, like jealousy. He chuckled, tapping the tip of my nose like I was a sulking pet. “Jealous, Norah?” “Don’t be ridiculous. Paige can’t compare to you. No one compares to my Norah.” He leaned in, his body heat radiating in the cool car, and instinctively reached for my left hand to stroke my ring finger. But where the cold weight of the diamond should have been, there was only skin. He froze. His posture stiffened. “Norah. Where is your ring?” 07 Right. He didn’t know. The one-of-a-kind, twelve-carat Tiffany cushion cut—the symbol of the Lockwood fortune—was gone. I had sold it. And I got a hell of a price. Enough to fund the capital requirements for my new project. “It’s at the jeweler’s,” I lied effortlessly. “Getting cleaned.” Before he could press, his phone buzzed. Paige’s voice, sweet and melodic, filled the quiet cabin through the Bluetooth system. “Harrison? I’m so glad you’re okay. But please, don’t fight anyone for me again. It makes the PR team work late, and I hate making your wife unhappy.” He cranked the volume up, watching me. He was waiting for the water to boil. I just checked my nails. After a few seconds of my silence, he laughed. “You know, Norah, I think I see why you don’t like her. She’s a bit of a stirrer, isn’t she? Makes our dignified Mrs. Lockwood look bad.” His voice was gentle, coaxing. “Say the word, and I’ll fire her. Okay?” It sounded like love. It sounded like compromise. But I heard what he was really saying. He knew. He knew exactly how his women smiled at me, how they dug their little knives in, how they undermined me. He wasn’t deaf. He wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t care. 08 The tragedy was that for a split second, that soft tone still worked on me. But three years of marriage was a wound that wouldn’t close. One touch, and the pain woke me up. I wished, truly, that he had never loved me. Harrison Lockwood at seventeen was a city legend. A face like a fallen angel, top of every class, but with a dark streak a mile wide. He made deals in shady backrooms and fought with a reckless disregard for his own safety. We dated for three years before I realized who he really was. To me, he was just the boy who smoked too much. “You think you look cool?” I’d scolded him once, snatching a cigarette from his lips. “Do it again and I’m walking.” I was naive. I thought I was saving him. He had looked down at me, a helpless smile on his lips, and crushed the remaining pack in his hand. “Who else but Norah Kingsbury could keep me in line?” When he proposed with a rock the size of a skating rink, I realized which Harrison he was. The gap between us was terrifying. I tried to run. He caught my wrist. “Norah, I’m marrying for love. Trust me.” I trusted him. For six months, he was perfect. He protected me from the press, from his terrifying mother, from my own insecurities. He bought flowers. He brought me takeout. I thought I had won the lottery. Then came the first call from the PR department. 09 It was our first anniversary. I had cooked. Instead of my husband, I got a call from the crisis team. I was shoved into a car, briefed with jargon I didn’t understand, and ushered into a hotel suite. The scene destroyed me. Paige—back when she was just an intern—was standing there in a sheer silk slip, calmly pinning up her hair. Harrison walked out of the bathroom, shirt unbuttoned, eyes glassy. He looked at me, standing there frozen, and smiled a thin, distant smile. “Norah? What’s wrong?” Like this was normal. “You’ve been sheltered too long,” he said, turning to Paige. ” teach her the ropes.” “Teach me what?” I had screamed, my voice cracking. “How to clean up your adultery? How to pretend this is fine?” Harrison just laughed, a cold, dry sound. “It’s called discretion, Norah. It’s called being an adult. Stick around. You have a lot to learn.” 10 Paige had looked at me with dead, calm eyes. “Mrs. Lockwood, Harrison isn’t a one-woman man. You’ll be doing this a lot.” I don’t know if he did it to impress her or break me, but he let Paige train me. I became a cornered animal. I tore up endorsement deals of actresses he looked at. I bought back gifts he sent to other women and burned them in the driveway while he watched. I took a golf club to a Porsche he bought a model. He never stopped me. He just watched, smiling, petting my hair afterward, saying he was glad I got it out of my system. Then he’d go out and do it again. Eventually, I realized he wasn’t afraid of my anger. He fed on it. My loss of control proved he still owned me. But three years is a long time to bleed. “Forget it,” I said now, shaking my head in the car. “Paige has it hard enough. Besides, she understands you. I’m comfortable leaving a… sympathetic ear by your side.” 11 Harrison’s eyes went flat. He looked at me with pure contempt. “Norah, that’s enough. The magnanimous wife act is getting old. It’s exhausting.” I smiled. “Isn’t that what you told Paige to teach me?” He stared at me. “You are Mrs. Lockwood. Did you really think I wanted you to take orders from an assistant? If she was making your life difficult, why didn’t you tell me?” Gaslighting at its finest. He didn’t want dignity. He wanted me to act dignified while suffering. “She didn’t make it difficult,” I said softly. “She was very professional.” Professional at showing me I was disposable. He crushed his unlit cigarette. “Is that so? You’re so obedient now. If I asked you to give up your title, would you do that too?” I mentally tallied my assets. My apartment was packed. The auction house had the jewelry. “If that’s what you want,” I said. “I can do that.” He gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Fine. Don’t regret it.” I wouldn’t. He ripped a red string bracelet off his wrist and threw it on the dashboard before storming out of the car. I looked at the frayed red cord. I had bought it for five dollars at a temple in Chinatown during our first year. He wore it next to Patek Philippes and diamond cuffs. It was the only thing that made me feel special. I picked it up and dropped it in the console trash bin. Being stupid for love was a rite of passage. Staying stupid was a choice. 12 Resigning was easy. I wasn’t high enough on the org chart to require Harrison’s signature. Two days later, I walked into the Venture Capital Summit as Norah Kingsbury. I was handing my card to a potential investor when a lazy, familiar voice drawled behind me. “Mrs. Lockwood? I thought Harrison brought a date today.” It was a chorus of whispers. “She’s here to put out another fire?” “Honestly, the girl who spends the most time with Harrison isn’t the wife.” “Remember the auction? He dropped a fortune on Paige.” “The wife is just a human shield.” I didn’t hide. I stood in Harrison’s line of sight. He was entering with Paige on his arm. He saw me immediately. His eyes lit up with that familiar mix of mockery and satisfaction. He thought I was here to beg. He thought I was here to make a scene. I didn’t move toward him. So Paige walked over to me. “Mrs. Lockwood. Harrison is fully booked today. Big investors. He doesn’t have time for… domestic issues. Should I pencil you in for next week?” She raised her voice just enough for the circle around us to hear. Three years, and she finally couldn’t hide the gloating. “You misunderstand, Paige,” I said. “I’m not here for him.” She laughed, a delicate, tinkling sound. “Oh, Norah. The act is getting stale.” 13 The act. “Paige,” I asked quietly. “Are you tired of waiting?” She leaned in, her mask slipping into a sneer only I could see. “Norah, do you really think he ever loved you? When you were chasing him around in high school, he was paying my tuition. He trusts me. The whole family treats me like one of their own.” She paused, savoring the kill shot. “There were never eight other women. All those scandals? All those fires you put out? They were smoke screens to hide me.” She waited for the devastation. She wanted the tears, the shaking hands. I just listened. And then, I almost laughed. “If Harrison loves you so much,” I asked, “why have you been a secret for three years? Why are you still the assistant while I’m the wife? Have you ever considered that maybe you’re just… convenient?” Her smile faltered. I turned my back on her and walked toward the man I actually needed to see. Carter Sterling. “Mr. Sterling. I’ve been following your portfolio. Do you have a moment?” Carter took my card, surprised. “Mrs… Lockwood?” “Kingsbury,” I corrected. “Norah Kingsbury.” Before we could speak, a shadow fell over us. “Mrs. Lockwood.” Harrison was standing right beside me. 14 Not Norah. Mrs. Lockwood. A reminder of who owned me. He plucked the business plan from my hand. “Since when is PR boring you? Playing investor now?” His tone was indulgent, like I was a toddler showing him a finger painting. “Harrison, that’s private,” I said, keeping my voice level. He flipped a page, chuckled, and then jerked his chin at Paige. “Paige. Come here.” She appeared instantly. He handed her my business plan. “Whatever Norah is asking for, Lockwood Corp will fund 120%. You run the project, Paige.” Paige’s eyes widened with greed, though she feigned hesitation. “Harrison, are you sure? I mean… can I?” “You wanted to lead a project,” he said, bored. “Consider this practice.” He handed my dreams to his mistress like a party favor. He didn’t even look at me. The crowd watched, delighted by the cruelty. “Ouch,” someone whispered. “That’s cold.” I dug my nails into my palms. This was his lesson. He was showing me that even my escape route belonged to him. He wanted me to beg him for it. Boring. 15 I found him at the end of the corridor, staring out the window. “Norah. Is it really that hard to just apologize?” I stopped. I looked at the man I had loved from seventeen to twenty-seven. “I didn’t know I married you just so I could spend a lifetime apologizing,” I said. His brow twitched. “I thought we might drift apart. I thought the love might fade. But I never thought that in less than three years, you’d humiliate me for sport.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a document. “I’m done being the punchline, Harrison.” “Being Mrs. Lockwood is a full-time job. I quit.” I slapped the divorce papers against his chest.

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