After the divorce, with my legs broken and eyes blinded, I changed my identity, vanished without a trace, and opened a dessert shop in the South. I saw Sebastian Evans again five years later. A runner, here to pick up an order, told me, “For all these years, Mr. Evans hasn’t had a single woman by his side. He’s been waiting for you.” The words had barely left his lips when Sebastian walked in. The man was in a black suit, four bodyguards trailing behind him, his entrance silencing the entire street. I felt him standing at the counter, watching me for a long time, his gaze so heavy it chilled my heart. But in the end, he simply uttered coldly: “Willow Hayes, long time no see.” “Mmh, long time no see.” I fumbled, wiping the counter, my face devoid of emotion. I remembered five years ago, it was only because his adopted sister, Clara, claimed I had drugged her drink, leading to her assault. Sebastian flew into a rage. He had my kneecaps shattered on the spot. Then he took screenshots from the intimate videos we’d made and scattered them across the entire clubhouse. “Personally tested, soft-bodied, seductive voice, knows how to please. Free delivery.” His subordinates tried to reason with him: “Willow is about to be your lawfully wedded wife, Mr. Evans. Why would you destroy her?” Sebastian, however, kicked over the incense table. “She dared to touch Clara; she should know the consequences.” “I only wanted to scare her. I didn’t actually send her out. Let her taste what it’s like to be humiliated.” I leaned against the doorframe, standing in the shadows, my vision black, yet I could feel his icy gaze. He showed no remorse, gripping my chin and saying, “This time you crossed a line. Your suffering is your own doing.” “As long as you go kowtow to Clara, admit your mistakes, and atone for the pain she suffered, I’ll still make you Mrs. Evans.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, picked up the photos one by one, and tore them to shreds in front of everyone. The next second, a whistle sounded from outside the clubhouse. “I’ll take this dame.” Sebastian suddenly smashed the teacup in his hand. His subordinates immediately fell silent. Someone quietly advised, “Sir, maybe just let it go. It wouldn’t sound good spreading around…” Sebastian turned to me. “Willow Hayes, what do you say? Will you admit your mistake?” I lowered my eyes, then turned and felt my way towards the back room. Behind me, I heard his ice-cold sneer: “Your… friend here has no objections, why are you all so anxious? Since the gentleman doesn’t mind her being ‘soiled,’ I must fulfill his request.” I slowly walked out. Many people in the corridor pointed and whispered about me. My hands and feet were numb with cold. A drunken thug suddenly lunged, wrapping his arm around my waist, spewing obscenities. “Heard you specialize in serving the sick? Coincidentally, I just got out of the hospital, full of filthy diseases…” I screamed, struggling, but passersby disgustedly moved away. Whispers drifted faintly: “That’s her, right? The one Mr. Evans discarded. So dirty.” “Serves her right. She put those photos out herself, and now has the nerve to cry for help.” I trembled all over, hissing, “My man is Sebastian Evans! How dare you touch me—” “Got a man but still hooking up outside? Those videos of yours are everywhere. What kind of lowlife would want you?” “Call your man out then. If he really comes, I’ll let go.” Before the words fully left his mouth, the door to the private room at the end of the hall opened. Sebastian emerged with his men. Hearing his footsteps, my tears instantly flowed. “Sebastian! Save me!” But he didn’t even glance at me. He just smiled at the drunkard. “Brother, she likes this kind of attention. She specifically picks those with… conditions.” Then he walked straight past. The drunkard roared with laughter. “Mr. Evans doesn’t even want you, why are you still putting on an act?!” I don’t know how much time passed, but suddenly a large amount of blood gushed from below me. The man, startled, let go and ran off, cursing. I stumbled to my feet and went to the nearest clinic. The baby was gone. I had planned to tell Sebastian I was pregnant on our third anniversary. But now, all that remained were blurry blood clots in a sterile tray. The doctor on duty looked at me, her expression full of unspoken words. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Evans sent word… he demands you never touch perfumery again. Your studio has also been trashed. And apparently… you owe him five million dollars.” I closed my eyes, the taste of rust rising in my throat. The doctor’s eyes reddened. “How could Mr. Evans become like this… Years ago, he almost had a shootout with a rival gang to protect your perfumery studio; the last time someone caused you trouble, he risked his life, rushing in alone to carry you out.” “He clearly loved you so much, how could he now, for an adopted sister, cripple your perfuming hands and ruin the rest of your life?” Yes, why? I shook my head, unable to speak. When I first met Sebastian, I didn’t know he had an adopted sister. He was injured during a brawl at the docks, a knife piercing his lung, just half an inch from his life. I nursed him for three days and nights in my family’s apothecary, using an ancestral recipe to pull him back from death’s door. The day after he woke, he sent his men to summon me. Bandages wrapped around half his body, he smiled hoarsely at me. “Miss Hayes, for saving my life, my life is yours from now on.” I took it as mere courtesy from a man of the underworld. But he truly pursued me for a whole year, deflecting countless troubles from my small apothecary. Knowing I often stayed up late perfuming, he would always wait at my shop door with hot soup whenever he returned. It was hard not to be moved, yet I dared not be. Until three years ago, a rival sent assassins into my perfumery studio. Sebastian completely shielded me with his body, taking a knife in his back and another in his arm. The day he had his stitches removed, I said yes to him. For these three years, everything had been perfect. Until he was absent on the day we were to get our marriage license. Three days later, he appeared with Clara, only vaguely saying he’d forgotten. Sebastian asked me to take good care of Clara. I did my best. Three days ago, Clara came to me, complaining of a rash. She begged me not to tell her brother. I assumed it was an allergy and took her to our family’s trusted old doctor, who prescribed an external ointment. But when I saw the medical notes, I froze—they stated an STD. Before I could figure out how to tell her, Sebastian burst in with his men, shielding a red-eyed Clara. With a single command, my kneecaps were shattered with an iron bar. I curled up on the ground in pain, asking him why. He looked at me coldly. “I thought you were different from those other women. I never imagined you were so malicious.” “Just because I missed getting our license, you gave Clara tainted medication, making her contract that disease?” “She’s only twenty!” “You don’t deserve to touch perfumery. Crippling your legs is a lesson.” Clara suddenly burst into tears, pointing at the medical notes on my table. “Willow, you planned this all along! You hurt me and then falsified medical records!” “Do you hate me that much? Then I’d rather die!” “Have you already spread these medical records? What’s the point of me living anymore!” She lunged towards the corner of the table, but Sebastian caught her in his arms. He looked at me, his eyes icy. “Willow Hayes, you’d force my sister to her death just for a piece of paper?” “Publicly apologize. Admit that you deliberately harmed her out of personal resentment and falsified medical records.” Tears in my eyes, I shook my head. “Sebastian, this will ruin the Hayes family’s centuries-old reputation!” “I didn’t do it. I will never admit to it.” But no matter how I defended myself, how I begged him to have the ointment tested, he only signaled his men to hold my head, and under the gaze of all the clubhouse members, made me kowtow a hundred times to Clara. Blood dripped onto the floor. Onlookers raised their phones. I finally couldn’t bear it anymore and passed out. When I woke, I received a message from his confidant, telling me to find Sebastian at the casino to explain everything clearly. Clutching the last shred of hope for Sebastian, I made my way there. But I heard with my own ears that he intended to give me away to someone else. The doctor, seeing my painful expression, said no more and handed me a course of post-exposure prophylaxis. “Take these on time. Come back for a check-up in a month.” I thanked her softly and dazedly made my way back to my place. My phone lit up with a message, accompanied by a boat ticket. “Willow, don’t be afraid. Brother is coming to pick you up. No matter the cost, Brother will cure you.” Tears streamed down, and I cried myself to sleep. Half-awake, half-asleep, my injured knee was forcefully pressed. The intense pain made me scream and jolt upright. “Don’t touch me—!” “Willow, it’s me.” In the dim light, I heard his voice. It was Sebastian. He carried the scent of sandalwood from a recent shower, the exact same fragrance Clara habitually used. My body instantly stiffened. He hugged me indifferently, saying, “So I left you with that thug and didn’t care? Do you really have to make such a fuss with me, not letting me touch you?” “Who in the underworld doesn’t know you’re mine? With me around, who would dare truly harm you in the slightest? See, everything’s fine now.” I couldn’t stop trembling, tears rolling down my cheeks. He frowned, seemingly finding my reaction overly dramatic. “Willow, you’re a Hayes lady, a perfumer. Is your spirit really so fragile?” He picked up the box of medicine from the bedside table, his tone softening slightly. “Do your knees still hurt? I specially had Black Jade Ointment brought from the South Seas. With this, combined with physical therapy, you’ll be well soon, it won’t affect your walking or perfuming later.” “Stop making a fuss. Tomorrow morning, go and apologize to Clara in person. Then this matter will be over.” The fragile calm I had maintained finally shattered. I raised my tear-filled eyes to him. “Sebastian, let’s get a divorce.” No sooner had I spoken than he looked down at his phone, a smile playing on his lips. He abruptly looked up at me. “What did you just say?” Without waiting for me to repeat myself, he impatiently waved his hand. “I just landed a big deal. If you want to buy anything, just charge it to the account. Consider it my compensation.” “Clara said she wants to help you pick out your wedding dress. You’re coming with me to the bridal shop now to try on dresses for Clara to see.” He half-threatened, half-coaxed, pressing gently on my injured knee. “This time, cooperate with her properly. Let her blow off some steam. Understand?” “If anything goes wrong again, I really will send you to that buyer, you know.” He completely ignored my reaction, forcefully taking me to the bridal shop. I silently followed. The jade pendant my mother had left me, I had always kept at the bridal shop, intending to wear it at the wedding. Now, it seemed unnecessary. In the bridal shop, Clara was already waiting, still obedient and timid. Though I couldn’t see, I could hear her delicate voice: “Chloe… please don’t be like this. I’m scared.” “Willow!” Sebastian warned, squeezing my wrist, then pressed lightly on my injured knee. I paled with pain, gritting my teeth to squeeze out, “No.” Clara then smiled and said, “Willow, let’s go look at the dresses.” The assistant brought out the wedding dress Sebastian had specifically customized for me. Clara’s voice brightened. She nestled against Sebastian and whispered, “Brother, can I try it on? Just for a moment…” Her voice suddenly choked. “I’m already… not clean. I might never wear my own wedding dress in this life… Just to fulfill a dream, okay?” Sebastian’s voice was gentle. “Okay.” He turned to me, the pressure in his tone implicit. I closed my eyes, nodding. “Thank you, Brother!” Clara chirped excitedly, then exclaimed, “This jade pendant… it’s so beautiful. Brother, can I have it? I want it as a keepsake.” I gasped, lunging forward, trying to retrieve the pendant. “No! This can’t—” “Give it to her.” Sebastian’s hand was already in front of me. My heart felt struck by a heavy hammer. I clutched the jade pendant. “Sebastian, this is my mother’s only memento…” “So what?” He unceremoniously pried my fingers open. “Don’t forget, you already owe Clara. This jade pendant will serve as compensation.” “No! You can punish me however you want… but not this!” I desperately tried to snatch it back. Just as my hand was about to touch the jade pendant, Clara suddenly shrieked and recoiled! “Willow, why did you push me!” “Clara!” Sebastian shoved me aside, striding forward to catch Clara. My feet found no purchase, and I tumbled down the stairs. My bones felt dislocated, the pain so intense that my vision blurred to black. A metallic sweetness surged into my throat, and I coughed up dark blood.

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The half-smoked cigar in the ashtray still emitted tendrils of smoke. I don’t smoke. That’s for Richard, Olivia’s childhood friend who just returned from overseas. He enjoys a good cigar. Olivia emerged from the study, following my gaze to the ashtray. Her eyes flickered, and she quickly stubbed out the stub. “Richard was just here. His company ran into some trouble, so he came to iron out a contract.” I nodded, picking up the air freshener and spraying it around the room. “No need to explain. I just genuinely dislike the smell of smoke.” Richard was Olivia’s golden boy, her cherished “friend,” even in bankruptcy. And because of him, on my thirtieth birthday, I sat in that restaurant all night, feeling like a complete fool. Since that night, I’d extinguished every last spark of hope I had for Olivia. Olivia watched me expertly clean the ashtray, her brow furrowing deeper with each swipe. “Why aren’t you angry? You used to hate him coming over.” Why should I be angry? This used to be my home, yes, but now, it was nothing more than a place to sleep. 1 I didn’t answer Olivia’s question. She followed me into the living room, a puzzled look on her face. Her gaze scrutinized me. “What’s wrong with you?” I forced a smile. “Isn’t this the kind of relationship you always wanted?” Olivia was speechless for a moment, then rephrased her words. “Richard is in serious trouble. That contract is crucial for his comeback, that’s all. Why would you…” She didn’t finish her sentence. I already filled in the blanks in my mind. Why would I taint their friendship with such sordid thoughts? She seemed to realize her words were a bit harsh, her tone softening. “I haven’t done anything behind your back. He was in the study for work, nothing more.” “Beyond being friends, I’m his legal counsel, and he’s my client. It’s that simple.” I remained silent. Olivia’s composure faltered, revealing an unmistakable frustration. “James, what exactly do you want from me?” I looked up at Olivia. “I don’t want anything from you.” “And you don’t need to explain any of this to me.” Catching sight of a lighter on the table, I pointed to it. “Why don’t you take this back to him now? He might not be able to sleep tonight if he can’t have his usual smoke.” Olivia’s face fell completely. It wasn’t the first time Richard had shown up late at night. The first time, his creditors were trashing his company. It was midnight, and he showed up at our door, voice cracking with tears. Olivia, still in her nightgown, went back to the office with him and stayed all night. About a month later, I saw a brand-new photo frame on Olivia’s desk. Inside was a picture of her and Richard from middle school, both in school uniforms, looking young and awkward. Olivia casually explained, “Richard gave it to me. Said it was to thank me for helping him out that time.” She placed it prominently, as if it were a treasure. I suppressed the storm brewing in my chest. In the end, I said nothing. But within a few days, Richard was at our door again late at night. He said, as if it were the most natural thing, “Liv, I brought some late-night snacks. Join me for a drink, I’m so stressed out.” Olivia walked past me, taking the bag from his hand. Her voice was full of familiarity and concern. “Come in, quick. What’s happened now?” Richard gave her a wry smile. “Only you can help me.” He seemed to completely ignore my presence, walking straight into the dining room. I stood rooted to the spot. That was the first time Olivia and I had our most explosive fight. By the end, her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at me. “James, not everyone is like you. Please don’t waste your energy on these pointless suspicions.” “Richard is different from you. He’s a man of ambition, and he’s really struggling right now.” The anger was still a hard knot in my chest. I stared blankly at Olivia. But Olivia turned away from me and walked into the study. Snapping out of my memories. Olivia’s gaze remained fixed on me, as if searching for some familiar emotion on my face. She was disappointed. My expression was completely unreadable. As I was about to head upstairs, Olivia’s voice drifted from behind me. “James, tomorrow is your thirty-first birthday.” “I ordered you a cake.” 2 If Olivia hadn’t mentioned it, I would have forgotten my birthday entirely. Ever since Richard returned, she’d missed every one of my birthdays, always with the same excuse. Can’t get away. Last year, for her birthday, I’d excitedly booked two tickets, hoping to spend a romantic getaway in Switzerland. I called Olivia’s phone, but it wasn’t her who answered. It was Richard. “James, Liv is in the middle of an urgent dispute for me. I’ll have her call you back when she’s free.” Hearing Richard’s voice, my mind went blank for a second. Olivia’s phone was always with her, and she hated anyone else answering it. In our first year of marriage, I once used her phone for an emergency. When she came back, she didn’t say anything, but her expression was anything but pleased. After that, I never touched her phone again. Yet, Richard could answer it so casually on her behalf. This incident led to another heated confrontation between Olivia and me. She thought I was being unreasonable. All those meticulously planned travel itineraries sat untouched in a drawer for a year. Pulling myself back to the present, I turned to her. “My birthday? I completely forgot.” Olivia’s expression froze, her face etched with disbelief. “You forgot your own birthday?” I didn’t answer her again. I went upstairs and into the guest room. Late that night, I was jolted awake by the insistent ringing of the phone downstairs. I vaguely heard Olivia speaking in hushed tones. Just as I reached the top of the stairs, I heard her changing shoes. “I’m on my way to the police station. Don’t worry, just talk to the officers calmly for now.” “It’ll be okay, I’m coming. Wait for me there.” “If it’s their fault, I won’t let them off easy.” By the end, Olivia’s voice had taken on a soothing quality. Richard was Olivia’s neighbor, growing up together. From kindergarten to elementary and middle school, they were always in the same class. Perhaps that was why she always helped him without reservation. Even at my in-laws’ house, Richard, an outsider, was a perpetually hot topic. Soon, Olivia’s voice carried up. “James, I have to go out.” “Right,” I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “My regards to Richard.” “Richard? Were you listening to my call?” “Who else in this world could make you rush out in the middle of the night?” “…” Richard had called her away again. I slowly walked downstairs. Olivia was already in her coat, frantically searching for her car keys by the door. I glanced at her but said nothing. I bypassed her and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She nervously ran a hand through her hair, explaining in a rapid rush of words. “James, it’s not what you think. Richard had too much to drink and got into a fight. I have to…” I turned my head, a smile playing on my lips. “I get it. No need for so many words.” “Go quickly. Don’t keep Richard waiting. And be quiet when you come back, don’t wake me.” Olivia looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words. She grabbed her car keys and hurried out. After Olivia left, I sat in the living room for a long time. “James,” she called out, tired, after an unknown amount of time, “Is something wrong with our relationship? We should talk.” I smiled. “What do you want to talk about?” “About Richard?” Olivia fell silent. I sighed, my gaze unnervingly calm, as if I were looking at a stranger. “Olivia, I don’t feel there’s anything to discuss. Richard is your friend, and your most important client.” “It’s only natural for you to help him with his troubles. I won’t be upset about these things, and you don’t need to account for yourself to me every time.” “You don’t need to explain anything. I can understand, I can sympathize.” Olivia’s face instantly drained of color. These were the very words she had thrown at me during one of our countless arguments over Richard. Now, I returned them to her, word for word. She was about to speak again when her phone rang. It was Richard. Olivia glanced at me, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. Finally, right in front of me, she answered and put it on speaker. Richard’s drunken voice slurred from the other end. “Liv… Liv, I’m almost home, thank you. Ugh…” “Hey, kid! Don’t throw up in the car, hey…” It sounded disgusting. But Olivia’s expression wasn’t disgust; it was anxiety. “Richard, Richard, where are you? Are you home?” The call disconnected. Olivia looked down, lost in thought, before finally raising her head to look at me a few seconds later. She stared at me, at a loss for words. I spoke first. “You should have stayed out if it was going to be like this.” Olivia was silent for a long moment before she spoke. “Who cares about him? He’s just a child who will never grow up.” I curled my lips into a small smile. My conversation with Olivia ultimately went nowhere. She went back to the master bedroom, and I went back to the guest room, but I couldn’t sleep. About half an hour later, the door opened, and a car engine started again. The sound faded into the distance. She went to him after all. 3 Lying in bed, I suddenly felt like laughing. Olivia and I met on an architectural design project. I was the one who pursued her. We dated for three years, and as soon as the project ended, we got married. For the first two years of our marriage, Olivia and I were very happy. I won the prestigious Carpenter’s Award for that project and started my own studio. I became the most talked-about rising star in the industry. Olivia also started getting very busy. Daily meetings, frequent client consultations for various cases—I accepted it all. Even on my birthday, she only had her assistant send a gift. Despite a hint of dissatisfaction, I still texted back with a smile. Thanks, wife. Career comes first. I understood her struggles as a law firm partner. Worried about her erratic eating habits, I’d often drive to her office to pick her up for dinner when I had time. After a year of this, she suddenly said, “Don’t bother with me anymore. I can just order takeout myself. It’s too much of a hassle for you to drive back and forth.” Later, I found out that Olivia’s childhood friend, Richard, had returned to the country. When I asked about it, she said, “He had no choice. His partner screwed him over. I can’t just abandon him.” I agreed, not pressing the matter further. Until I noticed Richard frequently appearing in our lives. He was down on his luck, yet his conversation remained witty, and he was particularly adept at playing the victim. Olivia, who hated social gatherings, was surprisingly willing to accompany Richard to dinner and drinks with investor after investor. Our first rift appeared when he gave Olivia that old childhood photo. But Olivia thought I was overreacting. “Darling, he’s just an old friend. You don’t need to be so jealous.” And so, our disagreements grew. Our cold wars became more frequent. All because of Richard. We even discussed divorce, but ultimately, it never happened. Olivia disagreed. During that time, I was almost spiraling out of control, obsessively tracking her schedule. If she didn’t answer her phone, I’d become restless. She accompanied Richard out of town to meet with investors. I frantically messaged her, asking for updates. Until Richard used her number to text me back: “Liv is in a meeting, can’t pick up.” “James, I know you care about her, but you also need to understand her work.” “Could you please not bother her for today?” I couldn’t hold back and sent Richard many rude messages. Olivia finally called back, but it led to another furious argument. “James, why have you become like this?” “What will Richard think of those messages you sent? If my colleagues saw them, how could I face anyone at the firm? What would your friends say behind your back?” “You’re being unreasonable every day. Have you considered the consequences?” Olivia completely avoided mentioning her and Richard’s boundary-crossing behavior, only seeing my actions as irrational. The ICU door opened, and I was told my mother was gone. Looking at Olivia’s disconnected call, I burst into tears. Sadly, my mother never got to see her daughter-in-law one last time. Richard’s company reportedly secured crucial investment. He posted several messages on social media, expressing his gratitude to Olivia. After all, during the seven-day negotiation in the city, a tug-of-war between three investors, Olivia had been by his side the entire time, clearing all legal hurdles for him. I didn’t ask a single question. I worked when I needed to, and I rested when I could. I didn’t give Olivia even an extra glance. Several times, Olivia seemed about to speak, but didn’t know how to begin. In the evening, Olivia stopped me. She spoke to me with a hint of uncertainty. “For this financing negotiation, as lead legal counsel, I have to be involved every step of the way.” I paused. I thought Olivia was going to say something else, but it was just about this. I looked up, a polite smile on my face. “I understand. Don’t worry, I won’t disrupt your work. Is there anything else?” Olivia seemed to reach her breaking point, her voice trembling as she snarled, “James, have you caused enough trouble?” “Enough.” 4 After Olivia returned from her trip, she started to change. Aside from necessary collaborations, she stopped meeting Richard privately. She would voluntarily place her phone in front of me, reporting all her engagements. But I no longer cared. It was too late. Besides, I had already accepted a job offer in Singapore. I stopped paying attention to Olivia. With my mother gone, I had no more ties. Three days before my departure, Richard’s company held a grand press conference, announcing successful funding. It was live-streamed. When the camera focused on Olivia, as the lead counsel, she simply said, “I want to thank my loving partner for his years of support and understanding.” The media showered her with praise, applauding her ability to balance family and career. “You and Mr. Richard truly are a golden couple, a perfect match.” “No, you’re mistaken. My husband’s name is James, and he’s an architect! From now on, I’m giving up all social engagements to be a good wife and mother.” Richard’s smile faltered for a moment, but he still went along with the press conference. I turned off the live stream and continued packing my luggage. After the press conference, Olivia’s phone rang. As soon as I answered, I heard Richard’s excited voice on the other end. “Liv, you were amazing today! Your presence captivated everyone.” “Tonight, we’ve booked out the entire hotel to celebrate our future!” Olivia instinctively tried to muffle the phone, afraid I might hear. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. Richard happily grasped her wrist. “Then it’s settled, Liv.” Olivia looked at her phone, only then realizing the call had already disconnected. When Olivia came home late that night, she found a file folder for her on the table. Inside was the signed divorce agreement. She threw the divorce agreement onto the table. “How much longer are you going to treat me like this?” she said. “I’ve changed so much. What more do you want from me?” Olivia looked at me. “Are you blaming me? I’m sorry, Mom was sick, and I didn’t visit her. Let’s go to the hospital to see her tomorrow.” I looked at Olivia with an icy gaze. “Shouldn’t I blame you?” The next day, I took Olivia to see my mother. All the way there, she kept texting on her phone; I knew it had to be Richard. It wasn’t until we arrived at the cemetery that she realized something was wrong. I led her to my mother’s grave. She froze, then knelt down and burst into tears. I dusted off my mother’s tombstone. “Mom, I’m going to Singapore. I won’t be able to visit you often anymore. Take care of yourself.” I handed Olivia the divorce agreement. “Sign it. This way, Mom won’t have to keep worrying about you, her daughter-in-law. Let’s not argue in front of Mom.” “No, James. Give me another chance. I won’t disappoint Mom.” “I’ll cut all ties with Richard right now and come with you to Singapore. We can start fresh there.” Just then, Olivia’s phone rang. It was Richard calling.

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It was eight in the morning, and I sat in our wedding suite, waiting for the groom. But he was nowhere to be found. His mother’s face was ashen. “I’ve been calling him since this morning, but he won’t answer. His father has already driven home to look for him, said he drank too much and can’t be woken up…” Furious, I snatched up my phone and dialed him. After several attempts, it finally connected. “Hello?” His weak voice came through the receiver, heavy with sleep. My heart sank, and I hit the speaker button. “Callum, do you know what day it is today?” “Huh? What day?” I became frantic, shouting into the phone, “It’s our wedding day!” He fell silent for a few seconds, then instantly sobered up. “What? When did we decide to have a wedding?” 1 I was struggling to process it all. My mind was racing: Is there still time for him to get here? But I knew Callum too well. He always took a full hour to get ready before leaving the house, let alone needing to put on a suit and get his hair done today. What if we cut corners? “Callum, quickly take a shower, throw on whatever’s in your closet, and take a cab straight to the hotel.” I thought this was the most reasonable solution, but Callum absolutely exploded. “Seriously, mate, when did we ever say we were having a wedding?” “How come I know nothing about this? Did I agree to it?” “Can you just stop making trouble for no reason?” Me: … I gripped my phone, my hand trembling slightly. For this wedding, I’d slept only four hours a night for a solid month. Yesterday, I’d been busy all day and night, not even stopping for a drink of water. But now, he had me so angry my stomach churned, and I felt nauseous. I retorted, my voice cold, “The engagement is set, the dress is tried on, the reception is booked. And now you’re telling me you don’t know about the wedding?” His tone was utterly matter-of-fact. “Of course, I don’t know! No one told me!” Everyone around exchanged uneasy glances. His mother cautiously asked me, “Chloe… did you really not tell him?” I froze. How could I not have told him? I asked him, “Did I need to send a formal written notice to document the proposal?” Callum, however, sounded completely justified. “Well, how else? Don’t make me roll my eyes, seriously. You’re so unreliable, and you have the nerve to blame me? I’m completely baffled here!” “What’s with this sudden wedding today out of nowhere? I never planned on having one! Are you that desperate to marry me?” My heart turned to ice. But I looked around. The room full of staring relatives and friends, the dazzlingly festive decorations… It felt like I was being roasted alive. Everything was ready, friends and family had cleared their schedules. Many were already sitting at the hotel, eagerly waiting for the reception. And the groom was claiming complete ignorance? I let out a cold laugh. “I get it. You’re not ignorant, you just don’t want to come. You want to run away, don’t you?” Callum heard the disappointment in my voice, sighed, and softened his tone. “Chloe, I was just having morning grumps, said some things I didn’t mean… But think about it. I was gaming with Maya until 4:30 AM. She wanted to play, I couldn’t just leave her, could I? When can’t we get married? Is it really that urgent?” “Come on, don’t be mad, you’ll make yourself sick. Once I wake up, I’ll take you for hot pot, okay?” Me: … Someone nearby whispered. “Who’s Maya?” “I don’t know, never heard of her.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down, and gave Callum my ultimatum. “I’m giving you one more hour, tops. If you don’t make it, the wedding is completely off.” Callum neither explicitly refused nor explicitly agreed; he just dodged the issue. “But I’m not even fully awake yet…” A surge of hot blood rushed to my head. I emphasized again, “Be clear. What I mean is, if we don’t get married today, we never will.” Callum was silent for a moment. “Then let’s talk after I wake up.” Then he hung up. 2 I was covered in a cold sweat, trembling with anger. Yet, I felt a crushing powerlessness, as if all the air had been sucked out of me. I wished I could just faint, so I wouldn’t have to deal with this nightmare. But things always needed to be dealt with. I couldn’t break down yet, couldn’t lose control. I looked up at the people around me. Their faces were grim, too. Especially Callum’s parents; they looked like their world had caved in. Clearly, they hadn’t expected their son to be this unreliable. Actually, glimpses of Callum’s personality had surfaced even before the engagement. At the time, his parents and I had arranged everything for the engagement. I told him to prepare his outfit for the day in advance. But he was completely unenthusiastic, gaming with his head down, drawling, “Uh… do I have to go?” I just took it as a joke. After all, he’d gone through the entire engagement, albeit reluctantly, without much complaint. And what happened today was even more bizarre than a nightmare! For a moment, I even wondered if I could find a temporary groom. But this was reality, not some short, feel-good drama. How could I possibly find a suitable replacement on such short notice? Even if I wanted to, no one would agree. What if I hired an actor to go through the motions with me? Forget it… other than collecting the wedding gifts, it would be meaningless. At this point, there was no remedy. My wedding. Completely ruined. 3 I’ve always been strong-willed, clear-headed, and hated letting others see my vulnerable side. So I bit back my tears, striving to keep my voice steady and a smile on my face. “Well, there’s truly nothing we can do. The wedding has to be canceled last minute. Please spread the word.” With that, I opened my contacts, haphazardly called someone, and apologized profusely for the last-minute cancellation. On the surface, I appeared indifferent to the turn of events. In reality, my mind was in turmoil. I couldn’t even remember who I called, or what they said, only focusing on apologizing, apologizing, apologizing. Silence met me from the other end. The entire room was also dead silent. Anticipating gazes were fixed on me, heavy as tons of weight. I braced myself, fighting to keep from breaking down, and quietly waited for a response. Suddenly, the person on the other end asked, “So, when’s your next wedding?” A strange feeling washed over me, but I instinctively replied, “I haven’t thought about it yet, but to make up for today, I’ll definitely treat you to dinner and apologize in person another day.” “…Alright then… Are you okay?” “I’m perfectly fine.” “But you don’t sound fine.” “Oh? Do I?” I let out a few dry laughs, vaguely realizing this person was a bit odd. But at that moment, I had neither the inclination nor the time to ponder it. I exchanged a few more pleasantries, then quickly hung up. Seeing this, everyone around me’s faces darkened. They all picked up their phones, rushing to spread the news. Telling those waiting at the hotel for the reception to leave, and that wedding gifts would be returned as recorded on the registry. Many grumbled, “What kind of mess is this? Never been to a wedding like this before! Should’ve known not to come! Never seen anyone so unreliable!” “Came here hoping for some good luck, but this is just awful! Should’ve known not to come, this is a joke!” “Could she have been dumped and not even know it? Isn’t she just making fools of us?” “Shh, don’t say that. The groom’s family is well-off. Maybe she’s trying to force him into marriage with the wedding. But he’s too stubborn, refused to show up…” I pretended not to hear any of it, continuing to call the next person to apologize. Then, something even stranger happened. 4 The friends and relatives who had just left the hotel, grumbling, had barely cleared out when a section of the hotel building suddenly collapsed. Fortunately, due to the timely evacuation, there were no casualties. Perhaps even heaven was trying to stop this wedding. I thought, if I had to choose the most miserable person in the world today, it would surely be me. The incident quickly made the news. And Callum, who had just woken up, stumbled upon it. He forwarded the news to me, proudly boasting: [No wonder I didn’t go, it’s because this building was going to collapse. You tell me, if I had actually gone today, how many people would have died? How farsighted of me!] [I really don’t know why you’re always rushing and making trouble for no reason.] [You’re all so unlucky because you didn’t listen to me, haha.] After being busy for a day and a night, seeing these messages, a metallic taste suddenly filled my throat, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. The white wedding dress, meticulously chosen for a month, was now stained with my own crimson blood. I stared blankly. My mind was empty, my ears ringing. He was utterly beyond belief. So unbelievable that I didn’t even know what to call him. I simply tossed my phone aside, sat in the empty wedding suite, and continued to remove my hair and makeup in front of the mirror. But his recent words echoed repeatedly in my mind, tormenting me to the point of near madness. My hair was only half-removed when I suddenly couldn’t hold back anymore and burst into tears. Giving up completely, I yanked at my hair haphazardly, ignoring the painful tug on my scalp, and with trembling hands, typed: [Okay, let’s break up.] He replied quickly. [Chloe… don’t be angry, I’ve actually reflected on it. I admit I was wrong too. I’ll make it up to you properly when you get home, okay?] [Besides, it’s just marriage, it’s bound to happen eventually, what’s the rush? You don’t really want to get married right now, do you?] [Hurry up and finish what you’re doing, then come find me. Haven’t you always wanted hot pot? I’ll treat you to a big meal.] A heavy stone pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Bound to happen eventually… He thought I would unconditionally and indefinitely wait for him, that I would never leave him. What if I stopped waiting? Would he feel as awful as I did today? But recalling his smug face, I couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating, cold laugh. No, he wouldn’t feel awful. There was no way I could make him personally experience the pain I suffered today. And what I wanted to eat wasn’t hot pot at all; it was barbecue. Callum always forgot. The long-suppressed feelings of injustice and humiliation surged forth all at once. My vision suddenly went black. When I next woke, I was in a hospital bed. Callum’s parents stood beside me, looking ashamed and awkward. Callum’s mother gently held my hand. “The doctor said you need to rest and shouldn’t get emotional again.” “Chloe, we truly let you down today. We only ever wanted him to be happy, and we didn’t usually interfere….” “But you know, he’s not a bad kid. He didn’t mean any harm, he probably didn’t do it on purpose, and he definitely cares about you…” Callum’s father’s brow was deeply furrowed. “What do you plan to do about this? Whatever you decide, we’ll support you.” Just as I was about to speak, my phone suddenly rang. It was Callum. Again. Why was it always him? I stared at the familiar name on the screen, finding it incredibly jarring. Like a sharp knife, piercing directly from my eyes into my heart. I hung up on him, wanting some peace, and intended to turn my phone off. But before I could, he called again. I closed my eyes wearily, then answered, putting it on speaker. Curious to hear what new brazen things he would say. “Babe, are you still busy? When are you coming over? Bring me a pack of cigarettes, by the way.” I gave a faint, bitter smile and looked at his parents. The two elderly faces instantly turned grim. I stared at his parents, then spoke into the phone, “Callum, I already told you, we’re breaking up.” Callum was clearly startled. “Huh? Really? You’re breaking up over such a small thing?” I took a deep breath. “This isn’t a small thing. This is a very important thing, and it’s the most basic sense of responsibility a person needs to have. Clearly, you don’t have it. So we’re not a match, do you understand?” Callum impatiently scoffed. “Are you done or not? So what if I wasn’t fully awake today and didn’t go to the wedding? Don’t keep bringing up breaking up!” “I’m telling you, if you insist on being unreasonable, I won’t humor you this time. Even if you beg me, I won’t talk to you.” Callum’s mother exploded, leaning over and shouting into my phone. “You good-for-nothing! Chloe just coughed up blood and was rushed to the emergency room, do you have any idea?!” Callum was completely stunned. “What? Really coughed up blood? That shouldn’t be… She’s such a strong woman, is her stress tolerance that low? Is she faking it?” Callum’s mother roared, “Are you even speaking like a human being?!” Callum gave an annoyed tut, then concernedly said, “Chloe, how are you now? I’m sorry, I really didn’t expect such a small thing to upset you this much… Oh, wait, I said that wrong! It’s a big thing! A very important big thing!” “Which hospital are you at? I’m coming to find you right now!” Callum’s mother was about to tell him the hospital name, but I interrupted her. I spoke to Callum: “No need. We’ve broken up. So you can go back to sleep.” “I’m not sleeping, stop messing around…” I continued, coolly, “Oh, then go play games with Maya.” “I won’t play games with her anymore, okay?” I didn’t answer, hung up the phone directly, blocked his number, and turned off my phone. Then I turned to his parents and said, “Aunt and Uncle, thank you for always taking care of me. But Callum and I are truly over. Please don’t tell him where I am; I can’t handle any more stress.” “I’ll mail his belongings back to you within three days. Everything of mine at his place, I don’t want it. You can dispose of it as you wish.” “As for other matters… I’m really struggling to focus right now. I’ll tell you when I remember.” The two elderly people understood my family situation. They exchanged a knowing glance, then sighed deeply, looking very distressed. They were just confused about how to raise their son, but their character was not bad. So, they had no intention of taking back a single penny of the twenty thousand dollar dowry. If I had any other requests, I was welcome to tell them. I was speechless. Callum and I had been together for five years. In the past, I had also considered staying single and childless for peace of mind. Because my parents divorced early, then quickly formed new families, tossing me back and forth like a ball. No one loved me, no one wanted me. Until I met Callum after graduating from college. He was very kind to me, and genuinely a good person. He also had a very warm family, with wonderful parents. This year, we were both nearing thirty. Our friends and his parents had been subtly pressuring us to get married. I thought marrying him seemed like a good idea. But the boy who had once promised me, “I’ll give you a warm home, and I’ll be good to you for life,” ended up hurting me. So, my five years of youth and devotion, the effort I put into planning the wedding, and the humiliation I faced today… weren’t they worth more than those twenty thousand? And I probably wouldn’t have another wedding in this lifetime. Nor would I ever again crave a warm home. In matters of the heart, Callum had utterly destroyed me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394692”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Under a video of me selling stir-fried rice from my street stall, a scathing comment went viral: [She dumped her poor boyfriend for a rich one back then, only to find out the poor boyfriend was the Crown Prince of the capital. That gold-digger must be fuming, huh?] I replied: [Oh yes, furious, can’t sleep. Do you know him? Could you put in a good word for me?] That very night, someone trashed my stall. As I was cleaning up the mess, a pair of gleaming leather shoes stopped in front of me. I looked up. It was my “poor” ex-boyfriend, Brandon Fitzgerald. 1. It wasn’t that I hadn’t imagined a reunion with Brandon. But I certainly hadn’t pictured myself looking this dishevelled. Brandon was dressed in a bespoke suit, the aura of power radiating from him, an inherent authority in his gaze. Our eyes met, and he indifferently shifted his focus, then spoke, “Manager Hayes.” His voice was unhurried, yet carried a heavy, palpable pressure. “When did the company entrance turn into a marketplace?” A man, wiping cold sweat from his brow, rushed forward. He kicked aside the scattered cooking pots, grumbling, “Who allowed you to set up a stall in front of the company! Clean this up immediately!” “Be careful, I’ll have the city wardens fine you to death.” A rag was flung at me, carrying a sour smell. Brandon’s expression remained unchanged; he didn’t even twitch an eyelid. I couldn’t afford the fine. I squatted down, picked up the rag, and gently wiped the ground, kneeling. As I wiped near Brandon’s feet, his fingers seemed to curl slightly. For a moment, I thought he might pull me up. My eyes must have deceived me. He remained standing ramrod straight, aloof and distant, keeping everyone at arm’s length. A surprised voice rang out from behind him. “Is that… Emily?” A brightly dressed woman stepped forward, covering her mouth in disbelief. “Oh my god, it really is you.” “Didn’t you emigrate with your rich boyfriend? How… how did you end up like this?” It was my high school classmate, Sarah Evans. I hadn’t expected her to be working at the same company as Brandon. Now, she was impeccably groomed down to her hair, standing shoulder to shoulder with Brandon, a picture of a perfect couple. “Don’t bother cleaning, you’re a top university graduate, you shouldn’t be doing this kind of work.” She quickly pulled me up, intimately linking her arm through mine, and told Manager Hayes, “Manager Hayes, could you please ask the cleaning staff to work overtime?” “This is an old classmate of mine and Brandon’s. She used to be even better at academics than me.” Manager Hayes was shrewd. He masked his surprise and stepped forward, apologizing with a flattering smile. Sarah’s face was full of concern. “Emily, let’s find somewhere to catch up.” “Back then, you just left with that rich boyfriend without a word. Everyone thought you were living the good life abroad and didn’t want to disturb you.” “What exactly happened? How… how are you selling stir-fried rice?” “Look at your hands, they’re so rough! Your down jacket is shedding feathers, how can you even wear that!” She had manicured, meticulously cared-for hands, long and pale, which made my swollen, frostbitten hands look like ugly carrots. But before, Brandon used to say I had natural pianist’s hands. I knew Sarah wanted to embarrass me. But it didn’t matter anymore. My tone was calm. “We broke up.” Sarah subtly glanced at Brandon. Seeing his indifference, a flicker of glee crossed her eyes, but her face showed regret as she comforted me. “It’s alright. We’ll just live steadily from now on.” “As classmates, we’ll definitely help where we can.” “Brandon, doesn’t facilities need a cleaner?” Brandon looked at her and said coldly, “Sarah, it’s time to go.” Sarah winked playfully. “Brandon, why don’t you go ahead and wait for me in the car? I’ll be right there.” Brandon said nothing, stepping down the stairs. His gaze was cool and directed straight ahead, never once straying towards me. As he passed, only the sleeve of his overcoat brushed imperceptibly against the back of my hand. My fingertips suddenly trembled, as if uncontrollably trying to catch that breath of wind. But it was an empty grasp. He didn’t stop. A bottle of mineral water suddenly splashed onto my face. “Emily Smith, how dare you try to seduce Brandon Fitzgerald?” 2. The icy water droplets dripped down my loose hair. With the crowd dispersing, Sarah dropped her act, her eyes blazing with undisguised mockery and resentment. “What? Are you deliberately putting on a pathetic show here, hoping to make Brandon feel soft? What a dream!” “You dumped him for that rich boyfriend back then, and he went crazy, searching the whole world for you.” “He dropped out of school, abandoned his projects. The moment he heard anyone might have seen you somewhere, he’d rush off without a second thought, completely dazed, he even fell onto the tracks and almost got run over.” “Someone like you actually thinks he’d still have feelings for you? He said it himself, you’re the person he hates most. “Did you see him even glance at you just now? He doesn’t even want to mention you, because you disgust him.” Her voice was unnaturally clear in the night, like thumbtacks, pressing one by one into my heart. But my chest felt numb, like rotting flesh, incapable of feeling pain. The phrase “he hates you most” echoed endlessly in my mind. Let him hate me. It didn’t seem to matter much. I wiped the water from my face and pushed my cart, intending to leave. Sarah placed a foot on the cart, sneering, “Running away, old classmate? “You’re so desperate to act trashy, so I have to give you a big gift in return. Look at this, what is it?” Sarah raised her right hand, revealing a diamond engagement ring the size of a pigeon’s egg. “Brandon and I are getting married. As old classmates, I’ll send you an invitation.” “But we’re getting married in Bali, and flights and hotels aren’t cheap. With your income, tsk, a round trip would mean frying rice for several years. I won’t put you through that, after all, our levels are different.” “So, please get lost and don’t even think about pursuing Brandon, otherwise—” Her lips curled upwards, and she slapped the partitioned containers off my cart, scattering ham and cured meat all over the ground. “Emily Smith, I couldn’t beat you in school, but now, I can easily crush you.” She crushed the meat and vegetables on the ground with her heel, her voice triumphant. “Security, keep an eye on this person. Drive her away every time she shows up.” “Don’t let any trash sit in front of the company.” “Ugh, Brandon will have to buy me another pair of lambskin shoes. These are dirty now.” She sashayed away, leaving behind the mangled meat and vegetables. I stood silently in the wind for a few seconds. Then, I squatted down to pick up the meal containers and any edible pieces of meat and vegetables. I didn’t have much money left; I couldn’t afford to waste food. A black Maybach drove past me, its dark shadow enveloping me. The rear window was halfway down, and in the shifting light and shadow, Brandon’s face was clearly visible. Sarah clung to his arm, cooing something. He turned his head to respond, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over my face, like looking at an unimportant stranger, indifferent and unfamiliar. The car’s lights faded into the distance, merging with the bustling city. I picked up the last piece of cured meat and prepared to go home. A security guard came over and quietly said, “Don’t take it to heart, miss. It’s hard to be the boss.” “But they usually don’t bother street vendors. Did you upset them?” Upset them? The night wind dried my dripping hair. Yes, I had. In high school, Sarah liked Brandon, but Brandon only had eyes for me. Now, the tables had turned. She should be satisfied. Was Brandon relieved too? 3. When I met Brandon, his name was still Nathan. He was a high school student. His parents had killed each other in an argument, and his relatives divided up their belongings, all calling him a bastard and refusing to take him in. On a freezing winter night, he stood on the street in a worn down jacket, with nowhere to go. His cool, distant eyes held a hint of a breakdown on the verge, as if he would shatter with the slightest touch. That day, I happened to be helping at my dad’s small food stall and saw him, on the brink of breaking. My heart softened. I ran over, asking for his help in an exaggerated tone. “My dad’s new stir-fried rice is terrible, but he insists it’s delicious. Could you try a bite and help me judge?” He looked at me, startled, then after a moment, slowly nodded. After that, he became a part of our little food stall family, studying under the lamp, tutoring me with my homework, helping my parents out, becoming one of us. I loved the clean, fresh scent of soap on him, I loved his cool, quiet tone, I loved the way his eyes would drop when he looked at me. A young girl’s affections bloomed wildly in my heart. The night after our final exams, a girl confessed to him. His smile was gentle, and I thought he’d accepted. My heart felt like it had fallen into a vat of vinegar, so sour I couldn’t speak, so I ran off to a karaoke bar to sing love songs. When he found me, I was singing “The one who loves you most is me~,” tears and snot flowing. He laughed helplessly, pulling me home. I refused, pouting, “You’re someone else’s boyfriend now, why are you still bothering with me? Don’t you have any boundaries?” He instantly guessed what was going on, and exasperated, flicked my forehead. “What’s your mouth for? Can’t you even verify things?” I stared at him blankly. He looked at me evenly, and said seriously, “I turned her down. I have someone I like.” Under the moonlight, his eyes shone like stars, making my heart pound. “Who?” I asked, burying my head. “Who do you think?” He laughed wryly. I guessed the answer. It felt like fireworks exploded in my heart, but my mouth remained stubborn. “I don’t know.” A soft kiss landed on my lips. “Do you know now?” That night, my face burned red. Holding his hand, under the hazy moonlight, I kissed him awkwardly and greedily. I felt as happy as if I owned the whole world. And I believed we would always be this happy, forever. Until an ordinary afternoon, a distinguished lady knocked on our door, presenting a paternity test report. We then learned that Nathan, now Brandon, was the lost young master of the wealthy Fitzgerald family in the capital. She pushed a bank card towards us. “Five million. That’s enough to cover your family’s expenses for Brandon over the years. From now on, cut ties.” My dad angrily threw the card back, saying we didn’t take Nathan in for money, and we wouldn’t abandon a family member for money. Mrs. Fitzgerald smiled composedly. “I’m doing this for your daughter’s good too.” She looked at me, her gaze frank. “Brandon doesn’t know about this yet. We’re observing him to see if he qualifies to return to the Fitzgerald family. He’s excellent in every aspect, except for you as his girlfriend.” “I wouldn’t mind leaving him as a gold nugget buried in the dirt, or even using certain means to ensure he never rises. But if he one day learned the truth, do you think he would hate you? Our home fell into a dead silence. My mom wanted to call Brandon, but my dad wouldn’t let her. That year, Brandon was in his final year of college. He’d given up his graduate school spot to start a business with some friends, and they were in a critical phase of their project. “We can’t ruin him,” my dad said, stubbing out a cigarette, making his decision. “I’ll sell the stall, and we’ll move.” I refused, every cell in my body resisting leaving. He was the boy I loved with all my heart; how could I bear to let go? How could I bear to let him experience the pain of abandonment again? He would go mad. I argued with my dad. “I’m not leaving! Why should I break up with Brandon just because of a few words from her?” “I’m going to tell Brandon; he has a right to know.” My dad slapped my phone out of my hand, demanding, “Do you really want him to hate us for life? And is that kind of family one we can marry into? Marrying up is like swallowing needles.” “You have to listen to me on this. Break up with Brandon, and don’t contact him again.” “Impossible!” I stared into my dad’s eyes, red-rimmed. “As long as Brandon doesn’t break up, I’ll be with him even if the sky falls!” “This is between Nathan and me. You don’t need to meddle!” “Smack!” A slap landed on my face. It was the first time my dad had ever hit me, and his whole hand was trembling. That night, I stormed out of the house in a fit of pique, took a cab to the train station. I was going to the capital; at least Brandon should have a choice. But before I could reach Brandon on the phone, the hospital called first. They said my dad was in a car accident. On his way to find me, he was run over by an out-of-control truck. He died instantly. 4. But fate’s punishment didn’t cease with my remorse. In the morgue, seeing my father’s broken body, my mother suffered a heart attack out of grief and was admitted to the ICU. Our meager family savings were no match for this bottomless pit. I sat on the bench outside the emergency room, terrified and desperate, my mind filled with the thought that I was to blame. Brandon’s mother appeared at that moment. With just one sentence, she arranged for the nation’s top heart specialist to treat my mother. The medical expenses that were crushing me were merely a few casual figures in her mouth. My mom was saved, but due to the immense shock, she developed mental health issues. One moment, she’d be holding me, calling me “Emily,” the next she’d smash a teapot over my head, cursing me as a “jinx,” saying I killed my dad, asking why I didn’t just die. Mrs. Fitzgerald looked at me with pity. “Do you want to continue?” “You see, even heaven doesn’t approve of you two being together.” Before, I would have certainly jumped up and cursed her. But the overwhelming self-reproach and internal struggle had drained all my strength. I couldn’t even summon hatred for her. I only hated myself; hated my willfulness, my impulsiveness, and even hated that I fell in love with Brandon. “Let me show you Brandon. He’s been busy with a joint project lately. You haven’t seen him in days, have you?” She opened a video. In the video, Brandon, wearing a white lab coat, was intently discussing something with a girl. A person I knew down to the last hair, yet in that moment, he felt as foreign as if I had never known him. “This girl is Brandon’s classmate, and also the heir to a company. “Even the most soul-matched lovers, at least need to understand what the other is saying. Emily, can you understand?” I couldn’t understand. They were speaking English, yet it sounded like gibberish to me. How could I be so stupid! “You don’t need to worry about your mother’s medical expenses.” “But your studies will probably have to stop for a while. However, I will give you enough money so you’ll never lack food or clothing.” She picked up my phone. “Call Brandon.” “Of course, you can refuse me, but your mother’s medical care will stop tonight.” She was threatening me, yet she was my only lifeline. The call connected, and Brandon’s gentle, joyful voice almost shattered me. He eagerly shared his latest achievements with me, what he had discovered, what breakthroughs he had made… In the past, I would always enthusiastically react, showering him with praise until he blushed. But at that moment, I had a splitting headache and just wanted to go crazy. I couldn’t understand, not a single word. “Stop talking! Let’s break up.” The joyful voice came to an abrupt halt, then he laughed lightly. “Let me guess, what day is it today? April Fool’s?” “Nathan, I’m serious.” A long silence, so long I thought the call had disconnected, before he finally asked, his voice raspy, “Did I do something wrong to upset you?” “Is it because I’ve been busy with projects lately and haven’t spent enough time with you? I’ll come back right now.” “Emily, I can change anything you don’t like. Don’t say break up, please?” My fingernails almost dug into my palms. My whole body felt like it was being ground by a blunt knife, aching to the point of breaking, but when I spoke, it was with forced ease: “It’s not your fault, I just got tired of it.” “To be honest, there’s a rich guy at school pursuing me. He offered five million for my whole family to go on vacation, and said he could help us emigrate.” “Dating anyone is dating, why would I stay with a poor guy like you?” Brandon’s breath hitched, and he pleaded earnestly, “I’ll earn five million, just wait for me, okay?” “I know I can’t give you a wealthy life right now, but I’ll work tirelessly. In less than three years, I promise I’ll hand you five million.” “So please don’t break up, don’t go with him, okay?” He begged desperately, almost abandoning all his pride. He was on the verge of shattering. I was on the verge of dying. But I had no path left. “What if you can earn five million?” I retorted with extreme sarcasm. “Yes, you’re brilliant, you have boundless potential, but can you really compete with generations of family wealth?” “For the sake of my family raising you, don’t hold me back from a good life.” Ignoring his near-broken cries, I quickly hung up the phone. One more second, and I was afraid I would break down, go crazy, lose my mind and tell him everything in tears, crying out for a hug. But I couldn’t. I curled up on the floor, my whole body aching as if my bones were being pulled apart. Clutching my chest, I cried until I was almost suffocating, so pathetic that even Brandon’s mother didn’t mock me further. She stroked my head. “If it weren’t for the complications, I’d quite like you.” “Bright and innocent, like a little sun. But these are useless qualities in an elite family.” “I’ll arrange for you to leave; accommodation and hospital care are all set.” “You should go soon.” She tossed my phone into a fish tank, then handed me a new one. “Your phone is broken. Use this one from now on; I’ve already arranged the SIM card for you.” Like the phone drowning in water, I could no longer contact the outside world. After that day, I completely lost touch with Brandon. The feelings I thought were monumental were gradually worn away by my mother’s daily scolding, turning into wounds, resentment, and illness. I poured out the last few pills from the bottle and swallowed them all at once. 5. The bad reviews escalated. Overnight, netizens dug up the identity of the “poor boyfriend.” Brandon Fitzgerald, heir to the capital’s Fitzgerald family and CEO of Sterling Group. Netizens, like hungry beasts, tagged me relentlessly. [Gold-digger, you’re selling stir-fried rice outside Sterling’s office, are you trying to get back with him?] [Please, just uninstall the dating app. Getting back together isn’t for a gold-digging B like you.] [I’m a Sterling employee. Last night, the gold-digger’s stall got trashed. Our CEO just walked past, didn’t even glance at her, and got straight into his Maybach.] [Could the gold-digger have hired people to trash it herself? LOL, our CEO has a fiancée, you know!] It had been a long time since so many people talked to me. My spirits lifted, and I replied to each comment: [What’s embarrassing about it? Is there anything wrong with bravely pursuing love?] [Your CEO isn’t avoiding looking at me; he’s afraid to, afraid of falling for me again.] [So what if he has a fiancée? As long as they’re not married, I still have a chance, don’t I?] The netizens exploded, filling the comments with insults, calling me shameless, and even tagging his fiancée, Sarah Evans. Sarah quickly replied: [Sorry for the trouble, everyone. Life is tough, just trying to grab some traffic. Think of it as entertainment for you all.] [However, if you defame our CEO, our legal department will pursue it~] I turned off my phone, laughing and rolling around on the bed. Dr. Lee said I needed to talk to people more, better to be carefree than to overthink, otherwise I’d get sick, and then I’d need medicine. But I found that netizens were more effective than medicine. I could say anything, and hundreds, even thousands, of people would respond to me. Besides them, who else would talk to me like this, coax me into happiness? My pots and pans were smashed, so I couldn’t set up my stall for now. But rent was due soon. I pulled on my yellow waterproof jacket, hopped on my scooter, and went to deliver food. Five consecutive orders were all from Sterling Group. I couldn’t refuse them; I’d be fined. Thanks to the delivery job, I entered Sterling, sharing an elevator with the corporate elite. The floor numbers flashed rapidly, and my thoughts were restless too. If I hadn’t dropped out, I’d probably be working in a place like this now. I went to a top university too. In a daze, I wasn’t paying attention and missed my floor. And it was lunchtime, so several elevators were crowded. Only the elevator outside the side door was empty. Without thinking, I ran over, frantically pushing the button. The elevator doors opened, and I rushed inside. Two men in suits reached out to stop me. “This is a private elevator. Please use…” I brazenly pleaded, “Please, my delivery is almost overdue, I don’t want to be fined…” They tried to push me out, but a cold, stern voice came from behind. “Let her in.” The man in the suit stepped aside. Only then did I see that standing at the very back was Brandon Fitzgerald. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, and behind the lenses, a pair of eyes stared coldly at me.

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My millionaire father believed in raising me the hard way. To build my endurance, he made me walk twelve miles to school. To teach me frugality, he made me eat the dog’s leftovers. To strengthen my body, he made me wear nothing but a thin shirt in the dead of winter. I followed every one of his cruel rules without question. Because he was my father. Then came the school fundraiser. I begged him for a little money to donate. He slapped me across the face and told me to earn it myself. When I didn’t donate a single cent, the teachers and students branded me, the daughter of a tycoon, as selfish and cold-hearted. I was berated by my teachers and tormented by my classmates. When my father found out, he didn’t defend me. He stormed into the school and bragged about his “tough love” methods, publicly parading every single one of my humiliations for all to see. That was when I finally broke. I threw myself from the roof of the school. Now, reborn, I walk into my father’s alumni gala, draped in millions of dollars’ worth of jewelry. … The searing pain of the fall vanished in an instant. My vision swam back into focus. My father’s grating voice was droning on in my ear. “Veronica, just because we have money doesn’t mean you can throw it away. Do you have any idea how many loaves of bread you could buy for ten dollars?” My mind reeled. I died, didn’t I? I was back. Back to the moment I asked my father for money for the school fundraiser. His eyes were filled with disgust as he picked up his cup of thousand-dollar tea and took a lazy sip. “Get back to your room! You’re an eyesore. Not a damn thing like Jessica.” His voice dripped with contempt. “Is asking for money all you know how to do? I feed you, I clothe you, and still, you’re never satisfied!” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry, Dad. I was wrong.” His tirade cut short. He seemed stunned by my quick apology. In my past life, I hadn’t given in so easily. I had argued, and for my defiance, I got a brutal beating instead of the money. My eyes swept over the opulent mansion before I turned and walked towards the damp, crumbling basement. My room. In my last life, my father’s “tough love” doctrine meant I got the worst of everything—food, clothes, and shelter. I was constantly malnourished, and the scurrying of rats in the walls kept me awake most nights. Meanwhile, my classmate, Jessica, lived in our house like a princess. She was more of a Pierce than I ever was. It was only after my death that I learned the truth. Jessica was the daughter of my father’s mistress and some other man—a child he pathetically believed was his own, lavishing her with a love I had never known. I picked up the old phone in my room and dialed a number I knew by heart. It connected almost instantly. “Veronica, darling? Is everything alright?” A sharp pain tightened in my chest. In my past life, after my parents’ divorce, I had obeyed my father and never contacted my mother, believing she didn’t love me. But after I died, her hair turned white overnight. She murdered my father to avenge me. Only then did I understand. I had always been in her heart. I fought back the lump in my throat. “Mom, I miss you… Can you come home? And… could I borrow some money…?” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then the sound of something crashing to the floor. Her voice, when it came, was laced with panic. “Veronica, are you in trouble? Did he hurt you?” The sobs I’d held back for two lifetimes finally broke free. Reborn, I would not be a victim again. I would make every single person who wronged me pay. The next morning, I emerged from the basement to find my father and Jessica eating breakfast. The table was laden with a gourmet spread I had only ever dreamed of. My meals were usually worse than what we fed the dog. Jessica saw me and put on a show of kindness. “Veronica, come and eat!” Before I could respond, my father’s face darkened. He slammed his hand on the table. “She doesn’t deserve a damn crumb! Get to school, now. If you’re late, I’ll beat you half to death.” He sneered. “Useless girl, always looking for a handout! Is asking for money all you’re good for?” I felt the blood drain from my face as I caught Jessica’s triumphant, mocking gaze. Without a word, I turned and left. My father was right about one thing; I had to hurry. We lived in a sprawling estate in the suburbs, miles from the school. To build my “endurance,” he forbade me from ever taking a car, forcing me to walk the entire way. In my past life, the daily twelve-mile trek had left me with a permanent disability. Jessica, of course, was always chauffeured in a luxury car. Everyone at school thought she was the Pierce heiress. I walked to the main road, hailed a cab, and settled into the back seat, calmly eating the breakfast I’d bought. Playing by my father’s insane rules? I wasn’t that stupid anymore. I stepped out of the cab just in time to see Jessica gliding out of a gleaming black sedan, a smug look on her face. I ignored her and started walking towards the school gates. Suddenly, she shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled and fell, my hands scraping against the rough pavement. “You took a taxi?” she hissed, her voice low and menacing. “Do you want me to tell your father? Don’t come crying to me when he beats you to a pulp!” My breath hitched. As I tried to get up, one of her bodyguards kicked me squarely in the ribs. Pain exploded in my chest. “Don’t you know who you work for?” I managed to gasp. The bodyguard remained silent, his face a cold mask. Jessica’s eyes flashed with jealousy, but her smirk never wavered. “Oh, please. Your father doesn’t even consider you a Pierce. You’re just trash. A pathetic little reject nobody wants.” With that, she sauntered into the school, surrounded by her fawning friends. My palms throbbed with a fiery pain. It took me a long moment to push myself to my feet. Just wait, Jessica. Your time is coming. The title of Miss Pierce? I wouldn’t want it if you gift-wrapped it for me. In the classroom, everyone was busy with the fundraiser. I limped to my desk. Suddenly, Jessica stood up and dramatically stuffed a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills into the donation box. “It’s our duty to help those in need,” she announced to the room. The teacher beamed at her, and the students murmured in admiration. Then, Jessica turned her gaze directly to me. “Veronica, how much are you donating? If you’re short, I can lend you some.” One of her lackeys immediately chimed in. “Jessica, you’re just too kind. Always doing good deeds.” Another one shot me a contemptuous look. “Not like some people. A millionaire’s daughter who’s too cheap to donate to charity. How selfish can you get?” I stood up. “Is the size of your heart measured by the size of your donation?” Jessica’s friend scoffed. “Oh, right. Coming from a cheapskate like you, who won’t even part with a single penny…” The class erupted in laughter. Even the teacher looked at me with disapproval. “Alright, that’s enough. Veronica, it’s your turn to donate…” I walked slowly to the front, pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from my pocket, and pushed them into the box. Jessica’s face fell. “Where did you get that money?” she demanded. I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Do I need to report my finances to you?” She flushed, suddenly aware of the strange looks she was getting from our classmates, and quickly returned to her seat. After class, Jessica left in her fancy car. I stayed behind to study for a while, waiting until I knew my father would be home, then I called a cab. The moment I stepped through the front door, a vicious slap cracked across my face. It sent me staggering, and I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. My father’s face was a mask of pure revulsion. “You little whore! Just like your tramp of a mother!” Jessica—no, her mother, Sandra—rushed to his side, tugging at his sleeve with a pitiful expression. “Mr. Pierce, Veronica must not have meant to… she was probably just trying to take a shortcut… finding other ways… to make money…” The insinuation hung in the air, and my father’s rage exploded. He ripped the leather belt from his trousers. “You worthless girl! I’ll teach you!” he roared, the belt whistling through the air. “I’ll teach you to be lazy! I’ll teach you to seduce men!” The leather bit into my skin again and again. Pain radiated through my body, a roaring in my ears. I scrambled to get away, but there was no escape. Finally, his arm tired. He threw the belt to the floor. Sandra immediately started massaging his shoulder, the two of them looking like the perfect father and daughter. My vision darkened. I let the tears well up in my eyes, my voice trembling as I began to sob. “Dad, I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve always listened to you… You told me to be frugal, and I was. I never disobeyed you…” He snorted. “Then where did the money for the donation and the taxi come from?” I hesitated for a calculated second, then spoke in a small, timid voice. “It… it was from Jessica…” Sandra’s face went pale. Jessica, who had been watching from the stairs, rushed down. “Veronica! You can’t just lie like that… When did I ever give you money?” My father’s eyes blazed. “You dare lie to me again? I’ll beat you to death!” I kept my head down, my words choked with tears. “Jessica said she felt sorry for me because I had it so tough… so she gave me a gold chain as a handout. I sold it…” Jessica froze, her eyes wide with panic as she looked at our father. Because I wasn’t lying. Once, to humiliate me, Jessica really had tossed a gold bracelet at my feet like I was a beggar. My father saw the look on her face and understood instantly. He spun around and slapped her so hard she fell to the floor. She cowered there, too terrified to speak. My father’s entire philosophy was built on making me suffer. Anyone who interfered with his “method” was challenging his authority. Jessica giving me money was the one thing he couldn’t tolerate. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Jessica wailed, crawling on the floor. My father turned back to me, his voice cold. “Get back to your room.” I turned, and as I walked away, a slow, triumphant smile spread across my face.

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It was our third wedding anniversary. I got a text from the car wash. The annual pass I’d topped up at the beginning of the month had already been used up. They were asking if I wanted to renew. I looked up at my wife, Sarah, who was massaging my shoulders. “Why are you getting the car washed every single day?” I asked. Her hands tensed for a split second. She laughed it off, a little too quickly. “The new project sites out in the country are all mud tracks. You know how I am about cleanliness.” When I didn’t say anything, she sighed and pulled out her phone, sending me three hundred dollars. “Alright, you big cheapskate, stop the act. I’ll pay for it myself, happy? If you keep pretending to be mad, I’m gonna have to get rough with you.” I didn’t play along like I usually would. Instead, I looked at her, my face a cold mask. “Let’s get a divorce.” 1. Sarah froze. A second later, she draped herself over me, her eyes wide with a practiced vulnerability. “Honey, is this the role-play you want to try today?” she purred. “Can we pick a different one? I don’t like the ‘divorce’ storyline.” As she leaned in, her gaze hazy with allure, I instinctively took a few steps back. “I’m not kidding, Sarah. I want a divorce.” The seductive look on her face hardened. “Are you angry?” she snapped. “Is it because I forgot to get you an anniversary gift? Or because I’ve been working late all month and haven’t spent enough time with you? Can’t we talk about this like adults? Why jump straight to divorce?” I just stared back at her, the silence stretching between us. I knew she was waiting for me to cave, to soothe her like I always did. But not today. After five long minutes, I stood up and grabbed my jacket. A flash of panic crossed her face. She shot up and threw her arms around me, her eyes a desperate mix of seduction and pleading. “Alex, you’re scaring me when you’re this cold. Whatever you want to do, I’ll play along, okay? Just please, don’t be angry.” I pushed her away, disgusted. “This whole act of yours is making me sick.” Sarah stood there, stunned. Then, her shock curdled into furious indignation. “Alex! What the hell is wrong with you today? Divorce? Sick? Don’t tell me you’re humiliating me like this because I used up your damn car wash pass.” My expression didn’t change. “Yes,” I said flatly. “It’s because of the pass. So, will you sign the papers?” Her face was a mask of disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous! I already explained it to you. I can’t show up to work the next day in a car caked in mud, can I? Besides, I sent you the money! You’re the one who didn’t accept it. I’ve been working overtime for a month straight, and you don’t even care. Today is our third anniversary, and I made sure to come home early for you. And what do I get? You throwing a tantrum and trying to solve the problem by getting rid of me…” Seeing her spiral into hysterics, I cut her off. “Look in a mirror. Can you see the difference between yourself and a raving lunatic right now? I’ll send you the divorce agreement later.” With that, I turned and walked out. 2. I had just started the car when Sarah threw herself in front of it, her face streaked with tears. I slammed on the brakes, but I think I still clipped her. She scrambled to her feet and started yanking frantically on the locked passenger door. Seeing her face drain of color, I rolled down the window. Her eyes met mine. She forced a shaky smile. “Honey,” she sobbed, “it hurts so much. Please don’t go. I know you’re just angry! I’m sorry. Whatever I did to upset you, I’ll fix it, I promise!” I stared at her, my face blank. “Move. You’re blocking the road.” When she didn’t budge, I stomped on the accelerator. The roar of the engine sent her scrambling out of the way, her face a mask of pure terror. In the rearview mirror, I saw her collapse onto the pavement, a helpless, broken figure. “Alex, come back! Don’t do this to me…” I looked away and set the GPS for the nearest hotel. Once in my room, I emailed her the divorce papers I’d prepared. My phone, finally quiet, lit up again with her name. A sharp, unexpected pain lanced through my chest. After a moment of hesitation, I switched it to airplane mode and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, I saw her the moment I stepped into the hotel lobby. She looked exhausted, her expression a pathetic mix of pleading and submission. Standing behind her were her parents, their faces tight with barely concealed rage. Here we go again. Whenever Sarah and I fought, she’d call in her family for backup. Her father would play the bad cop, her mother the good cop, and her older brother, Daniel, would swoop in as the well-meaning peacemaker. The outcome was always the same: no matter who was right or wrong, I would end up apologizing to Sarah, and we’d make up. But this was different. This was divorce. I had said the word, and today, they were all going to be disappointed. Her father stepped in front of her, his face dark. “Alex. You’d better have a damn good explanation for this.” I met his furious gaze calmly. “Dad, there’s nothing to explain. I’m divorcing Sarah.” Her mother flinched, then took my arm. “Alex, honey, don’t be like that. Your father and I are here to help you two work things out. You haven’t had breakfast, have you? Let’s all go to the restaurant next door, sit down, and talk this through properly.” As soon as we were in a private room, I got straight to the point. “Mom, Dad, the divorce agreement gives the house and car to Sarah. I’ll take the cash.” Her father shot to his feet, but her mother quickly pulled him back down. “Alex,” she said, shocked, “you’ve already drawn up the papers?” “Just calm down. Divorce is a serious thing. Look at Sarah, her eyes are completely swollen from crying all night. What on earth did she do to make you this angry? You tell me, and I’ll sort her out.” I took a deep breath. “Mom, don’t bother. There’s no point.” Tears immediately welled up in Sarah’s eyes. “Honey, what do you mean, ‘no point’?” she whimpered. “Just because I used up your hundred-dollar annual pass, you’re going to throw away everything we have?” “From now on, I’ll give you my entire salary, okay? Just please, don’t say that word. It hurts too much…” My face was stone as I met her gaze. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you? You make me sick.” Her parents’ composure finally cracked. Their faces turned ugly. Just then, the door opened, and Daniel rushed in, looking like he’d driven all night. He surveyed the tense scene, then clapped me on the shoulder with a forced smile. “Hey, what’s with all the long faces? Is everyone just hangry? Come on, brother-in-law, let’s you and I go hurry the food along.” Before I could object, he was pulling me out of the room. 3. Out on the restaurant’s terrace, Daniel offered me a cigarette. “Alright, man, talk to me. What happened? Sarah called me last night, crying her eyes out, saying you’re dead set on a divorce. I asked her why, but she couldn’t give me a straight answer. I told her she must have really pushed your buttons this time, because a guy as easygoing as you wouldn’t just snap like this.” I lit the cigarette, but as I went to speak, my eyes were drawn to a distinct hickey on his collarbone. Daniel was adopted. We’d always gotten along well. He was five years older than Sarah and had a long-term girlfriend, but they’d never married. The story was that her job was top-secret, so she couldn’t be brought around the family. Whenever Sarah and I visited his apartment, we’d often see sex toys left casually on the sofa. He followed my gaze and quickly buttoned the top of his shirt, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Ah, yeah. Girlfriend’s a little clingy, you know how it is. We don’t get to see each other every day. Better hide this from the folks, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” Seeing that look of smug satisfaction on his face, I suddenly lost all desire to talk. I stubbed out my half-smoked cigarette and turned to go back inside. “Let’s go back.” A look of frustration crossed his face. “Alex, wait. You haven’t told me anything. We can’t go back like this. We’re family. Whatever the problem is, we can talk it out!” I let out a bitter laugh. “The feeling’s just… gone.” As I reached the private room, I saw the door was ajar. I could hear his father’s furious voice from inside. “Crying, crying, that’s all you do! He treats you like this, and you’re still trying to win him back? Have some self-respect!” “But he was so good to me before yesterday!” Sarah’s voice was raw and hoarse. “I can’t let him go! I don’t believe he could be this cruel!” Her mother spotted me at the door, her eyes shooting daggers. “Alex, we’ve been good to you since you married Sarah, haven’t we? The house, the car, we paid for them together. We even covered all the renovations. And now you’re going to divorce her over a car wash pass?” Sarah looked up, her tear-streaked face a mess. The moment she saw me, she forced a pathetic, broken smile. “Honey, I was wrong. I promise I’ll never spend another cent of your money. I’ll pay for everything from now on… And I know I haven’t been around enough. Tomorrow, I’ll ask for a transfer to a less demanding department. I promise I’ll be home waiting for you every single day when you get off work. Can we please not get a divorce? I’m begging you…” She looked like she was about to shatter into a million pieces. Daniel’s expression shifted from confusion to outrage. “Alex, you’re divorcing my sister over a car wash pass? What kind of man are you?” 4. Daniel’s face flushed with anger. “People would laugh you out of town! Sarah supported you when you quit your job to figure things out! Have you got no conscience?” He drew back his fist to punch me. But Sarah threw herself in front of me. She took the full force of the blow to her face. Staggering, she braced herself on the table. “Dan, don’t… don’t blame him…” She collapsed before she could finish the sentence. In the next instant, Daniel was scooping her up in a panic and running for the door. His parents shot me a look of pure venom before rushing after him. I looked at the untouched breakfast spread on the table and sat back down. A few minutes later, my grandfather called. The moment I answered, his furious voice exploded from the speaker. “Alex! Are you trying to kill me? What is this nonsense about a divorce? If your in-laws hadn’t just called, I would have never known you were capable of such shameless behavior! I don’t care where you are, get your ass to the hospital right now!” He hung up before I could say a word. I finished my cigarette, paid the bill, and slowly made my way to the hospital. When I got to the room, Sarah’s mother was gently feeding her soup. My grandfather was by their side, offering apologetic smiles to her parents. The second he saw me, he grabbed a nearby broom and swung it hard against my shins. “Alex, have you lost your damn mind? You heartless bastard! Sarah has given everything to our family for years, and what do you do? You throw it all away over a hundred bucks? Did I ever deprive you of anything while raising you? How could you do something so disgraceful?” He didn’t stop swinging. On the bed, Sarah cried out in alarm, struggling to get up. “Grandpa, stop! Don’t hit him! It must hurt! This is the first time he’s ever been like this with me, I must have done something to make him really angry!” “Honey, just say something! Tell me what I did wrong, I’ll change, I promise!” Her mother, her face a mask of disappointment, took the broom from my grandfather’s hands and glared at me. “Look what you’ve done. Your grandfather is almost eighty years old, and you’re still causing him this much stress!” A doctor walked in, frowning. “What is all this commotion? This is a hospital! And you,” he said, looking around at us, “the patient was brought in unconscious after being struck, correct? That’s assault!” He looked at Sarah with sympathy. “Ma’am, would you like me to call the police?” Sarah stared at him for a second, then an irrepressible joy burst into her eyes. “Oh, no, doctor, it’s all a misunderstanding! My family is wonderful, don’t you worry.” The doctor gave her a complicated look, recited a few instructions, and left. The moment he was gone, Sarah stumbled out of bed and, in front of everyone, took my hand and placed it on her stomach. Her face was glowing. “Honey, we’re having a baby. Let’s not get a divorce, okay? We can be a happy family.” 5. The room fell silent. Everyone was waiting for my answer. I pulled my hand away and met her gaze, my expression unchanged. “You’re pregnant? Get rid of it.” “We’ll finalize the divorce as soon as you’re out of the hospital.” The color drained from Sarah’s face. She stared at me in disbelief as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her father lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Alex, that’s your child in her belly! Forget this nonsense about divorcing over nothing, but now that she’s pregnant, how can you say something so heartless?” He turned to his devastated daughter and pulled her into a hug. “Honey, if he wants a divorce, he can have one. You and the baby, Dad will take care of you!” I fiddled with my phone, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth. “I’ve sent the divorce agreement to the family group chat. If there are no issues, let’s get this over with quickly.” My grandfather was trembling with rage. He stepped forward and slapped me again, just as hard. “Who gave you permission to give up this child? That’s our family’s bloodline! Alex, I’m telling you right now, unless you’re prepared to disown me as your grandfather, this child is a part of our family, and Sarah is staying our daughter-in-law!” I swallowed the blood in my mouth and glanced at my phone again, my voice tight with restraint. “Grandpa, I’m not—” He snatched the phone from my hand. “You and that damn phone! I swear I’m going to smash—” His words died in his throat. His eyes locked onto the screen. In that instant, his towering frame seemed to shrink, to become old and stooped. He stared, wide-eyed, his hand scrolling frantically as his face drained of all color.

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My sister inherited our mom’s rare heart disease, but I was born perfectly healthy without a single defect. After confirming through tests that I was indeed her biological child, Mom locked me in my room for three days. “You freak, you’re nothing like my child. Just go die!” Dad held her lovingly, comforting my sister who was crying hysterically, his eyes full of blame toward me. “You know Vivian and your sister aren’t well. Why are you so inconsiderate?” To distance herself from me, Mom wouldn’t even let me share her or Dad’s last name. She just flipped through a dictionary and randomly gave me a different surname. When I was seven, on Christmas, Dad took Mom and my sister abroad for vacation. They locked the front door from the outside, leaving me alone in the empty house. When hunger reached its peak, I found a desiccant packet and hastily swallowed it. As my stomach churned violently, my heart felt like it was splitting apart. My first reaction was joy. Mom, does this mean I have the same illness as you now?

The desiccant packet had fallen out of my sister’s snack wrapper. I remembered it was a bag of candy, colorful and beautiful, and it smelled sweet. It must have tasted delicious. I had carefully climbed to the edge of the sofa and tugged at my sister’s sleeve, begging her to let me taste just one piece. But Mom stood beside us, looking down at me with a sinister expression. Then without warning, she slapped my face, her tone so cold it frightened me. “Quinn, you don’t deserve it!” Neither she nor Dad had the surname Quinn. It was just a name she’d randomly found in a dictionary and thrown at me. She didn’t stop until my face was swollen and blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. Dad immediately stepped forward, rubbing her hand tenderly. “Honey, why are you getting upset again? You need to take care of yourself. Don’t worry, once Christmas is over, I’ll send her away.” I lay on the floor, already accustomed to this treatment. My sister ate the candy in big bites, accidentally dropping the desiccant packet into the sofa cushions. Now I was chewing the desiccant in big bites too, imagining it was that bag of candy. But the severe pain in my heart and stomach made it impossible to deceive myself any longer. My entire body felt like it was burning, and I couldn’t stop curling up. As consciousness gradually blurred, I used all my remaining strength to crawl back to my room and lay on my bed. It wasn’t really a room, just a storage closet next to the bathroom. And it wasn’t really a bed, just a platform made of wooden boards. I’d secretly been in my sister’s room once. It was big and spacious and fragrant, filled with beautiful dolls. My sister’s bed was big and soft, but I only touched it lightly before Mom made me kneel all night as punishment and forbade me from eating for three days. I cried from hunger and grabbed Dad’s pant leg, asking him why Mom treated me this way. The neighbor lady also had two children—one healthy, one sick—but she always favored the healthy one. I heard she almost sent the sick one to an orphanage. But my family was exactly the opposite. Mom had tried to send me to an orphanage. If the police hadn’t stopped her, I’d probably already be an orphan. I didn’t want Mom to favor me. My sister was sick and did need more attention. I just wished Mom could be a little kinder to me, could share just a bit of the love she gave my sister. Dad frowned as he listened, then pushed me away. “Quinn, I always thought you were just immature. I never imagined you’d want to send your sister to an orphanage! You know your mom and sister aren’t well, and yet… God, you’re such a disappointment!” I knew Dad had misunderstood and desperately tried to explain. But he didn’t give me any chance. He didn’t even look at me. The next second, the door suddenly creaked open. My head was foggy, my attention focused on the bloody taste rising in my throat. I couldn’t tell if this was memory or reality. Until I heard my sister’s cheerful voice. “Mom, Dad, France was so fun, the steak was so good, I want to go again!” I suddenly realized—Mom and Dad had returned from abroad with my sister. I quickly tried to get up to greet them. If I was late, Mom would get angry. But suddenly I realized I was very close to the ceiling. Looking down, I saw my small body on the bed, covered tightly with a blanket. And I was floating in the air, already transformed into a transparent soul.

“Baby, you must be hungry after all this time. Mommy will cook for you right now.” I carefully floated to the kitchen, watching Mom prepare dish after dish of my sister’s favorite foods. I hadn’t eaten in so long. I was drooling with hunger. Dad sat on the sofa watching TV with my sister when he suddenly spoke up. “Hey, where’s Quinn? Why is it so quiet?” Mom’s hands suddenly stopped moving. “Why mention her on such a happy day? She’s probably sleeping late in her room.” Mom, that’s not true. I wasn’t sleeping late. Every day I woke up to clean, scrubbed the toilet until it was spotless. “Didn’t you say you’d get rid of her as soon as possible? I’m telling you, it’s either me or her in this house!” Mom slammed down the kitchen utensil in her hand, her words leaving no room for argument. Then she lowered her head and muttered to herself, “Why is she the normal one? Why!” The tone in her voice made me feel strange. Mom didn’t love me—was it because she favored my sister, or because she was… jealous of me? She’d said these same words before, when I brought home a running award. She stared at my certificate with bloodshot eyes, then grabbed a feather duster and beat my legs viciously. “How dare you run! You know your sister and I have heart conditions and can’t run. Who are you showing off to? Why are you the normal one? Why!” The pain made me cry. I knelt down and begged Mom. “Mom, I won’t run anymore, I’ll never run again!” She acted as if she couldn’t hear my pleas, couldn’t see the flesh torn open on my legs. She kept beating me until I nearly passed out, until my leg bone made a cracking sound. Only then did she stop and call my PE teacher. “Quinn broke her leg. She can never run again.” The PE teacher sighed, “What a shame. The kid had real talent.” A strange smile appeared on Mom’s face as she looked at me with ill intent. “You won an award for a painting too, didn’t you?” I didn’t understand what she meant. I just shrank back, not daring to speak. After my injury healed, Mom took me back to school, called my homeroom teacher, and shouted in front of the entire class. “Quinn’s grades are all from cheating, including that award-winning painting—her sister drew it for her. She’s a shameless thief. Nobody is allowed to play with her anymore!” Then she pulled out my books from my backpack and tore them to shreds, one by one. The friend I used to play with most looked at me with disgust. I gradually lowered my head amid everyone’s condemnation, not even daring to defend myself loudly. The homeroom teacher looked shocked and tried to reason with Mom. But Dad suddenly arrived and pulled Mom into his arms. “Quinn, why are you provoking your mother again? Is this the first day you’ve known she has a heart condition?” At those words, the teacher stopped and didn’t dare approach. Dad pulled Mom’s hand and walked out of the classroom. Before leaving, Mom turned back to look at me with a triumphant expression. I stood there at a loss while my classmates chattered around me. After that, I became a loner, a freak. Any talent I displayed was ruined by Mom. My excellent grades became reasons for her to beat and scold me. Or rather, my very existence was the root cause of Mom’s anger. Thinking of this, I suddenly felt that death was a good thing. At least Mom wouldn’t be angry anymore. At least I wouldn’t be sad about Mom not loving me anymore.

But I was wrong. Watching Mom feed my sister bite by bite, thoughtfully wiping the residue from the corner of her mouth, my heart wrenched violently. Storybooks said that when people die, they lose all sensation. Lies. I could still feel heartache. Halfway through the meal, my sister suddenly pushed open my door, showing off the new necklace around her neck. “Quinn, look! Mom bought me this new necklace. Isn’t it pretty?” I was already used to my sister’s bragging and felt no emotional ripple. My attention was entirely focused on her hands, afraid she’d pull back my blanket and discover I was dead. When my sister realized I wasn’t responding, she pouted unhappily and started crying loudly. Mom immediately appeared, holding my sister in her arms and comforting her softly. Once my sister finally calmed down, Mom expertly grabbed a stick from behind my door—one she kept there specifically for punishing me. “Quinn, don’t think you can lord it over everyone just because you’re healthy! I’ll beat you to death!” But no matter how long she beat me, I showed no reaction. She grew suspicious and pulled back a corner of the blanket. When she saw the vomit from the desiccant I’d swallowed, she was startled. “Well, well, Quinn, you actually vomited in bed! You’re disgusting! Don’t think staying quiet will save you!” Then she called Dad over, her eyes sharp as knives. “Send her away. Right now. I don’t want to see her for another second!” Dad spoke in a gentle, soothing voice. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ve already made arrangements. They’ll come pick her up tomorrow. We just need to endure one more day, okay?” Mom nodded with difficulty, took my sister’s hand, and spoke in a gentle, patient tone. “Baby, ignore your sister. She doesn’t deserve to be Mommy’s daughter. Come on, Mommy will take you out to ride the carousel, okay?” I’d never ridden a carousel. I used to secretly watch my sister ride. I heard it was fun. Too bad I’d never get the chance now. After Mom left with my sister, Dad sat on the edge of my bed, sighing repeatedly. “Quinn, don’t blame your mother. She’s sick, and your sister is sick too. You need to understand her. Actually, she… loves you.” He said those last three words with very little confidence. It was the first time I’d seen Dad cry. I wanted to reach out and wipe his tears, but my hand just passed through his body. He gently took my hand. “Your mom hit you pretty hard just now, didn’t she? Come on, get up, Dad will take you to the hospital.” But Dad, I can’t get up anymore. Seeing my prolonged lack of response, Dad looked puzzled and pushed me, then started to pull back my blanket. I closed my eyes, not daring to imagine Dad’s reaction when he discovered I was dead. But the next second, a phone ringtone rang out abruptly. The voice from the hospital came through. “Sir, your wife had a sudden heart attack and was hospitalized. Your daughter was frightened, and her condition isn’t good either.” Dad couldn’t spare another thought. He abandoned me and rushed out the door. My soul was suddenly pulled by an invisible force, and the next second I was at the hospital. Mom lay in the hospital bed, her face pale. Even at this point, she kept muttering to Dad. “Honey, I don’t have much longer to live. Please send Quinn away immediately, okay? My chest hurts just seeing her!” Mom, your chest won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be angry anymore. I’m already dead. You’ll never have to see me again.

Dad looked at the ceiling with a complicated expression, then called his assistant in front of Mom. “Go to my house right now and take Quinn away immediately. That boarding school I contacted before—I’ll send you the address. The boarding school is in another province. Help Quinn pack extra clothes…” Before Dad could finish, Mom snatched the phone. “Make her stay there for the rest of her life! Don’t let her set foot in this city again!” The assistant quickly agreed and hung up. Only then did Mom calm down and lie back peacefully under Dad’s soothing. Dad sighed and went to ask the doctor about her condition. Passing by my sister’s room, the heartache in his eyes nearly overflowed. Because my sister’s condition looked a hundred times worse than Mom’s. Her face was white as paper, completely lifeless. The doctor called Dad into the office and showed him the diagnosis. “Mr. Carter, your wife’s heart attack was severe this time, but she was treated promptly and should be fine. But your daughter was frightened. She’s very young, and it’s dangerous.” As Dad looked on in despair, the doctor patted his shoulder. “However, we just learned there’s a heart donor that matches your daughter. If you want to proceed with the heart transplant, I’ll arrange it immediately.” Dad nodded repeatedly. “Doctor, yes, please save my daughter.” But Mom appeared behind Dad like a ghost. “Why? Why did I wait all these years for a donor and never get one, but she gets one so young?” Her tone was calm, yet chilling. The doctor patiently explained, “Mrs. Carter, we’re also sorry about this situation, but…” Mom didn’t give the doctor a chance to finish. “No. I won’t allow it!” She was gasping heavily, her eyes bloodshot and obsessive. Then she ran to my sister’s bedside, yanked off the oxygen tube, and shook her small shoulders violently. “I thought you were like me, that you’d always be on my side. But now… you’re just like Quinn. You’re both liars. Neither of you deserves to be my child! You should die. Just die!” I was stunned by this series of events. The mother who just moments ago showered my sister with extreme love, who let her act spoiled, who was willing to sacrifice everything for her. How had she now become this crazed creature? I suddenly realized she didn’t love me or my sister. Or rather, her favoritism toward my sister was built entirely on the foundation of my sister being sick. Mom’s screaming continued. “Why am I the only one in this family who has to suffer? I won’t allow it! I won’t!” As she spoke, she squeezed my sister’s neck with all her strength. My sister’s eyes flew open, unable to believe that the person trying to kill her was her own mother. Mom’s strength was enormous. It took Dad and several medical staff together to pull her away. In the chaos, Dad’s phone rang at the worst possible moment. Dad couldn’t answer and hung up several times. Only after the doctor finally gave Mom a sedative and she calmed down did Dad open his phone. What appeared before his eyes were several photos and a message from his assistant. [Mr. Carter, this is bad. Quinn… she’s dead!]

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The day my brother was diagnosed with vocal cord polyps, an unprecedented argument erupted in our house. Five million in penalty fees, five hundred thousand for surgery. For a family already crushed by my medical expenses, these were astronomical numbers. Mom pointed at me huddled in the corner of the sofa wearing headphones, breaking down in tears: “Why wasn’t he the one who went mute back then? Why does one have to be mute, and the other has to become mute too!” My brother Liam stormed out, slamming the door. Before leaving, his eyes red, he looked at me coldly: “Mara, if I were the beneficiary of that accident insurance policy, how wonderful that would be.” I took off my headphones. There was actually no music playing inside. Ever since that fire five years ago when I rescued my brother, I could no longer make a sound, and my left hand could no longer play the violin. I looked at the “High-Value Accidental Death Insurance Policy” on the table. Dad had bought it years ago, gritting his teeth through the payments, worried that no one would take care of me—a disabled person—in the future. The beneficiary was listed as the legal heirs. I glanced at the bottle of antidepressants hidden in my pocket. I thought, Liam was right. With just one accident, my brother could use the money to cure his voice, and he could use the songs I’d hidden in my violin case to continue shining on stage. This time, I really won’t be a burden to you anymore.

The soundproofing in the house was terrible. The oppressive sounds of argument from the living room seeped through the door crack and drilled into my ears. “Sell the house? Have you lost your mind? If we sell the house, where will the four of us live? Sleep on the streets?” Mom’s voice was shrill and broken, choked with sobs. “Then what do you suggest? Five million in penalties, five hundred thousand for surgery! Even if we sold our old bones, it wouldn’t be enough!” Dad slammed the ashtray down with a clang. “Liam’s voice can’t wait! The doctor said the earlier the surgery, the better the recovery. If we delay and it becomes chronic, his career will truly be over!” “Why is my life so bitter…” Mom’s crying came in fits and starts. “We shouldn’t have been so soft-hearted back then… These past few years treating that mute’s depression, paying for surgery on that useless hand—the family’s savings were completely drained. If we still had that money…” “Enough! Stop it!” Dad sighed heavily. “What’s the point of saying this now? She’s Liam’s biological sister. During the fire, she only got hurt because she was saving Liam…” “What good did saving him do? She’s dragged down the whole family for life!” Mom screamed hysterically. “If I’d known it would come to this, I’d rather have back then…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what she wanted to say. I also knew she wasn’t truly cruel. She was just too tired, too desperate. People bent under life’s heavy burdens always need an outlet. And I was that perfect outlet. By the moonlight streaming through the window, I looked at myself in the mirror. Pale face, vacant eyes—like a wandering ghost in the mortal world. Yes, I was a burden. What value did my existence have besides creating problems for this family? I touched my pocket, where I had a few hundred dollars secretly saved up. It was my private stash, accumulated by deliberately taking fewer pills, scraping together a little at a time. Under cover of darkness, I slipped out to the pharmacy. Standing at the counter, I typed on my phone to show the clerk: [Do you have the best throat-soothing lozenges? The kind that’s handmade and helps relieve vocal cord polyps?] The clerk pulled out a glass jar from the cabinet. “This one’s from an old established brand, made purely with natural ingredients. The effect is especially good, just a bit expensive—over three hundred dollars.” Over three hundred dollars. Nearly all my savings.

Without hesitation, I nodded and paid. Walking back with that heavy glass jar, my steps felt much lighter. I remembered when we were little, Liam loved sweets the most. Every time he caught a cold and coughed, he’d beg for throat-soothing syrup. Back then the family was poor, so Mom could only make it herself, and he always complained it wasn’t sweet enough. This expensive jar I bought—it should be really sweet, right? When I got home, I tiptoed to Liam’s bedroom door. I didn’t dare knock, afraid he’d see me and lose his temper again. I carefully placed the jar of lozenges at his door, positioning it where he’d see it as soon as he opened the door, silently saying: Liam, good night. The next morning, Liam sat at the dining table eating breakfast, his face terrifyingly dark. Mom carefully peeled an egg for him: “Liam, eat something. Skipping breakfast is bad for your stomach.” “I’m not eating! I’m full of anger already!” Liam threw down his fork. “I’m already irritated, and first thing this morning I open my door to see that unlucky thing!” My heart lurched. Following his gaze, I saw the jar of lozenges lying in the trash can. “That… the packaging looks pretty nice…” Mom quietly tried to reason with him. Liam let out a cold laugh. “Mom, look at her pathetic state—what good thing could she possibly afford? This kind of product from who-knows-where, do you want me to eat it and ruin my voice?” “What if something goes wrong? Can she compensate for it?” “A mute—being a useless person herself is bad enough, and now she wants to harm me!” He stood up, and as he passed the trash can, he gave it another vicious kick. The glass jar rolled in the trash can, mixing with the dirty water inside, becoming filthy and polluted. Just like my heart—offered to him with good intentions, only to be trampled under his feet with disgust. I stood at the bedroom door, silently closed it, slid down against the door panel to the floor, and pulled out from my pocket the insurance policy I’d already signed. Liam was right. I truly couldn’t compensate. But my life—that should be enough compensation. Since you looked down on that three-hundred-dollar jar of lozenges, Then this five-million-dollar gift—you should be satisfied with that, right? I closed my eyes and revealed a bleak smile. Liam, don’t worry. The best medicine—your sister is already preparing it for you. It was an unusually violent rainstorm. Lightning bolt after lightning bolt struck down, illuminating this crumbling old apartment complex. Another tremendous crash, and the window buzzed and trembled. I lifted my head groggily and through the window saw a silver-gray performance outfit hanging on the balcony. It was Liam’s most treasured piece of clothing, the battle robe he planned to wear for his comeback. Custom-made by hand, covered with Swarovski crystals. To buy this outfit, Mom had scrimped and saved, even cutting off my physical therapy fees for a month. At this moment, that expensive outfit was swaying violently in the wind and rain, about to be soaked through. If this outfit was ruined… I could imagine Liam’s furious reaction, Mom’s breakdown and sobbing, imagine them pointing at my nose and cursing: “Don’t you have any awareness? It’s raining and you don’t know to bring in the clothes? You just sat inside watching it get soaked?” I smiled bitterly. Yes, I was useless, but I still needed to be useful trash with some awareness. Supporting myself against the wall, I stumbled out of my room and pushed open the glass door to the balcony. The fierce wind mixed with icy rain hit my face. I shivered, nearly blown over by the wind. Our balcony was very old. The railing was one of those iron barriers from over a decade ago. A few days earlier, property management had issued a notice saying this batch of railings had safety issues and asked each household to pay attention to repairs. Dad had looked at it and sighed. “Repair what? Replacing a railing costs several thousand. Where does the family have spare money now? Just make do. Just don’t lean on it normally.” Don’t lean on it. I looked at that iron railing swaying precariously in the wind and rain, and suddenly that crazy thought flashed through my mind. Wasn’t this… the perfect opportunity? Heavy rain, slippery ground, an old and damaged railing, a sister trying to save her brother’s expensive performance outfit. Everything was so reasonable. Everything was so seamless. I took a deep breath of the moist air thick with the smell of earth. My chest, which had felt suffocated for so long, actually felt a trace of long-lost relief in this moment. Step by step, I moved toward the edge of the balcony. The rain quickly soaked my hair and pajamas, ice-cold and piercing, yet it made my muddled brain unusually clear. I reached out my hand and grabbed that wildly dancing performance outfit. I held it in my arms, carefully protecting it. The outfit was safely retrieved. Next, it was time to end this. I turned around, my waist against that rust-covered railing. It let out a creak, seeming to tremble under the unbearable weight. I looked at the glittering outfit in my hands, remembering that year when I was twelve, when the fire broke out. I had held little Liam in my arms just like this. Back then I’d said: “Don’t be afraid, your sister will get you out.” Back then I was a hero. And now, I was a burden. But it didn’t matter. Even as a burden, I still had value to burn one last time. The tiles under my feet were very slippery. Following that gust of fierce wind, I shifted all my body weight backward. The sound of the railing breaking was drowned out by the rolling thunder. My body instantly lost its support. The moment the sensation of weightlessness hit, I just held tightly to the outfit in my arms, letting myself fall into the endless curtain of rain. The sound of wind howled in my ears, like a grand symphony. The descent was actually very quick, but in my consciousness, it seemed stretched out for a century. I watched the sixth floor grow farther and farther away from me. Mom, I’m sorry. Your unfilial daughter is going first. That day you said you’d had enough of this life. Don’t be afraid. When the sun rises tomorrow, the nightmare will be over. You’ll never have to worry about money again, never have to sigh looking at this disabled daughter. Liam. The lozenges your sister bought—you threw them away. It’s okay. This performance outfit, your sister retrieved it for you. And that five-million-dollar accident insurance policy, your sister is delivering it to you. You must use it to cure your voice, stand on the biggest stage, and sing the songs your sister wrote for you to the whole world. The intense pain was only momentary. Immediately after came boundless, endless darkness. How wonderful. The world was finally quiet.

The morning after the rain stopped, police cars and ambulances shattered the quiet of the apartment complex. I floated in mid-air, watching that body covered with a white cloth below. That was me. The investigating officer was a middle-aged man. He frowned as he examined the broken section of railing, then looked at the performance outfit I’d protected with my life in my arms. “Preliminary determination is accidental fall.” The officer closed his notebook, his tone carrying a trace of melancholy. “The railing was old and damaged, plus last night’s rain made it slippery. The deceased… should have lost her footing trying to retrieve this outfit.” “Even falling like this, she protected the outfit so well it didn’t get a speck of mud on it.” The officer handed the performance outfit to Liam, who stood nearby in shock. “Take it. This is what your sister traded her life for.” Liam’s hands trembled as he took the outfit. Hearing the word “accidental,” Mom’s legs went weak and she collapsed directly to the ground. “My daughter… why were you so foolish…” She cried heart-wrenchingly. But I could see clearly—in the depths of her tear-blurred eyes was a trace of imperceptible relief.

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For three years, I built supply chains across Southeast Asia and carved out a billion-dollar empire for Liam Holt. The day I came back happened to be the third anniversary gala of Holt Group. I pushed open the banquet hall doors, still dusty from the road. But Liam was standing in the blazing light, arm-in-arm with the wealthy socialite Serena Walsh. That same night, Liam handed me divorce papers. “Ava, the company is under investigation for money laundering. I need Serena’s support. Don’t worry—even after the divorce, I’ll still love you.” When I said nothing, he took my hand and continued with practiced tenderness: “Serena doesn’t have your skills. I’ll still need you to guide her through the work. From now on, we’re all family.” I looked at his hollow face and signed without hesitation. Liam thought I was a vine that could only survive wrapped around him. He had no idea that the lifeblood of Holt Group was never in Serena’s hands. Once the papers were signed, Liam folded them away with satisfaction. “Thank you for your patience, Ava.” He walked over and reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stepped aside. His hand froze in mid-air. He pulled it back like nothing had happened, then reached into his suit jacket and produced a black card. “Take this. The PIN is still Noah’s birthday. The divorce is just a formality, but I know it hurts. Think of it as compensation.” I took the card and slipped it into the pocket of my mud-stained jacket. “This is the least I deserve.” My calm tone made him frown slightly. He seemed to want tears, accusations—not this cold indifference. The lounge door swung open. Serena walked in carrying two glasses of champagne, all smiles. “Mrs. Holt… oh, I mean, Ava—is that outfit custom-made from Southeast Asia? It has a certain… wild charm.” She held out a glass to me, the contempt in her eyes completely undisguised. I didn’t take it. “Miss Walsh, I’m not divorced yet. You should still be calling me Mrs. Holt.” Serena’s face went pale for a moment. She looked to Liam for help. Liam immediately smoothed things over: “Ava just got back. She’s tired—just kidding around.” He put his arm around Serena’s shoulders, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it: “Go entertain the guests. I’ll be right there.” After Serena left, the warmth faded from Liam’s face. “Ava, stop being petty. The bigger picture matters. You know I’m doing all of this for the company—for us.” “Where’s our son?” “In the side room. My assistant Ethan is with him.” I didn’t bother with another word and walked out. I pushed open the side room door. Three-year-old Noah was sitting quietly in the corner of a sofa, holding a battered old Transformer. When he saw me, his eyes lit up instantly. He scrambled across the room on his little legs. “Mommy!” I crouched down and pulled him tight against my chest. He smelled like warm milk—the same familiar scent I’d missed for three years. In those three years, I had missed so much of his growing up. “Noah’s been such a good boy.” Liam came in behind me. He crouched down too, reaching out to ruffle Noah’s hair like a devoted father. But Noah instinctively pressed closer into me. The distance between father and son made Liam’s hand freeze again. Just then, Serena followed him in, pulling a beautifully wrapped gift box from her clutch. “Noah, look—I brought you a present. It’s the brand-new LEGO Star Destroyer.” But Noah just buried his face in my neck and whispered: “Mommy, I want the one you got me.” What I’d gotten him was a marked-down toy from an airport gift shop on the way back. Serena’s expression soured. I stood up with Noah in my arms and looked at Liam. “I’m taking Noah home.” “Fine.” Liam nodded, then added: “The money laundering files—I’ll have Ethan send them over first thing tomorrow. Come up with a damage control plan as fast as you can. And Serena… help her get up to speed.” He said it like everything I did for him was simply expected. I looked at him and, for a moment, I almost laughed. “Liam, do you know what I brought back with me from this trip?” He assumed I was about to claim credit for the billion-dollar contracts, and a flicker of irritation crossed his eyes. “I know you worked hard. Don’t worry—the company’s keeping track of everything you’ve contributed.” “No.” I shook my head, and said each word clearly: “What I brought back is the engagement gift—for you and Miss Walsh.” Then I walked past him with Noah in my arms and didn’t look back. I buckled Noah into his car seat and made a call. On the other end of the line was my old partner from Wall Street. “Ava, you’re back?” “Yeah.” I watched the city lights blur past the window. “Get the debt liquidation proceedings against the Walsh Group started.” “Now? But Liam—” “No more waiting.” I cut him off. “He’s already chosen his path.” And I was choosing mine.

The next morning. Top floor of Holt Group. Ethan set a thick stack of “classified documents” in front of me, his expression uneasy. “Ms. Linne… Mr. Holt has asked that you review these materials related to the money laundering investigation. He needs a legal mitigation strategy within three days.” I glanced at the cover. “Ms. Linne?” I gave a short, humorless laugh. “Didn’t take long to change your tune.” Ethan lowered his head and said nothing. Ten minutes later, I closed the file. My eyes had gone cold. The documents were real. But the so-called “investigation targeting Holt Group” was not. The data was riddled with inconsistencies. There was no real criminal exposure here. At most, this was a smokescreen—fabricated by Liam to strip assets and shuffle funds. He had invented a crisis that didn’t exist, then used it to pressure me into signing those divorce papers. The whole thing had one purpose: to get me to step aside and make room for Serena. “Where’s Liam?” “Mr. Holt is… he’s hosting a celebration for Miss Walsh.” I stood up and walked toward the conference room. Liam stood in front of the projection screen, looking every inch the conquering hero. The screen displayed the Southeast Asia herbal supply chain—the one I’d spent three years and nearly my life building. “This breakthrough in our overseas supply chain was made possible entirely by Miss Walsh, who leveraged her family’s connections across Southeast Asia. She is the reason Holt Group has risen from the ashes!” Liam’s voice rang out, barely containing his pride. Serena sat beside him, smiling with practiced grace. The executives fell over themselves to agree: “Miss Walsh is truly remarkable—she’s only just returned and she’s already achieved something extraordinary!” I stood in the doorway and watched this farcical little theft play out. Liam spotted me. A flash of panic crossed his face, then was quickly replaced by cold dismissal. “Ava, what are you doing here? If you’re not feeling well, go rest.” He crossed the room quickly and dropped his voice low: “Serena is officially the Head of Supply Chain now. Your job is to be a ‘consultant.’ Nothing more.” I looked at him, and the last flicker of warmth in my chest went out completely. “Don’t worry, Mr. Holt,” I said evenly. “I’m only here to transfer the non-performing debt portfolio.” In the divorce agreement, I had waived all rights to real estate. The only thing I took was a three-hundred-million-dollar collection of “dead debt”—debts Holt Group had been carrying overseas for years, written off as uncollectible. When I brought it up, contempt flickered in Liam’s eyes. Those debts were loans the Walsh family had taken out overseas at punishing interest rates. Because of their age and the complicated parties involved, Liam had always treated them as worthless paper. “Take it. Holt Group doesn’t need those write-offs.” Serena walked over and reached for my hand with an air of false warmth. “Ava, don’t be angry. Liam is trying to protect you. Southeast Asia is too dangerous. From now on, leave the public-facing work to me.” Then she dropped her voice so only I could hear: “I stole your man and your credit. Isn’t that just… so embarrassing for me?” I closed my hand around her wrist. Hard. Serena gasped. The color drained from her face. “Miss Walsh,” I said, holding her gaze, each word deliberate: “Southeast Asia is full of things that can bite. A woman with your delicate constitution should be very, very careful.” Liam shoved me back, stepping between me and Serena. “Ava! What is wrong with you?!” I took one step back and smoothed the wrinkle he’d made in my jacket. “I’m not done yet.” I pulled out a debt transfer confirmation and dropped it on the table. “Mr. Holt, sign this. As of right now, the three-hundred-million-dollar debt that the Walsh family owes Holt Group is formally transferred to my name—Ava Linne.” Liam signed without even reading it. In his mind, I was venting helpless frustration. Grabbing a few scraps to get by on. He had no idea that the Walsh family was never the elite dynasty he thought it was. Serena’s father had burned through the family fortune in Southeast Asia. The three-hundred-million-dollar IOU was backed by collateral—the Walsh family’s entire equity stake in Holt Group. I walked out of the building and dialed a number. “Tell the debt collectors the Walsh debt is mine now.” “Starting tomorrow—maximum compounding interest. Send them to the Walsh family’s front door.”

Liam brought Serena into my office while I was reviewing a secondary compound analysis report on Southeast Asian herbs. “Ava, walk Serena through the core chapters of the IPO prospectus.” He leaned both hands on my desk, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Serena is handling the investor roadshow. Help her polish the presentation.” Serena settled into the leather chair across from me like she owned the place. “Ava, Liam says you’re the best at doing the grunt work.” She pulled a document out of her bag—one that had been rewritten beyond recognition—and tossed it in front of me. “All those numbers are so boring. I rewrote it as a brand story. Just work the technical data back in somehow.” I opened the so-called proposal. It was nothing but hollow buzzwords. She had even listed the herbal degradation rate as one hundred percent. If this ever went public, Holt Group would be fined into bankruptcy by regulators. “I can’t work with this.” “Miss Walsh, biotech isn’t luxury retail. Falsifying data is a federal crime.” Serena’s face fell instantly. “Liam, are you hearing this—” Liam straightened up, clearly displeased, his eyes going cold. “Ava, don’t bring your personal feelings into the office. Serena’s family connections will triple Holt Group’s market premium.” He came around behind me, leaned down, and spoke quietly into my ear: “Don’t forget—you’re still living under this roof. For Noah’s sake, you need to let Serena hold this position.” I closed my eyes for a moment. This wasn’t just an assault on my emotions. It was the murder of my professional dignity. “Fine.” I opened my eyes, keeping my voice level. “I’ll rewrite it.” Liam’s expression relaxed. He gave my shoulder a satisfied pat. “Good. There’s a charity gala tonight. Serena is attending as co-founder. You’ll be there as her accompanying consultant.” At three in the afternoon, Serena arrived with her personal stylist and took over my private lounge like she owned it. Right in front of me, she changed into a gown covered in diamond fragments. It was the dress Liam had bought at a Paris auction last year—the one he’d said was my thirtieth birthday gift. “Ava, this dress fits a little tight. Liam said it was made especially for ‘the lady of the house.’” She turned left and right in front of the mirror, then glanced at my black blazer. “You look like an office assistant. Noah will be there tonight—don’t you want to make a better impression for him?” When she mentioned Noah, I felt the air go still in my chest. Liam wanted to parade Noah at the gala to perform the image of a happy family. “Miss Walsh, a beautiful dress means nothing if the person wearing it can’t carry herself. It just looks ridiculous.” I didn’t look at her again. I picked up my laptop and walked out. In the hallway, I dialed a number. “Get the liquidation team ready. Tonight at the gala, I’m giving Mr. Holt a very special IPO gift.” Three hours later. The charity gala. Holt Group arrived in full force. Every camera in the room was aimed at Liam and Serena by his side. The press called them “the golden couple of the investment world.” And I stood in the shadows beyond the lights, holding Noah’s hand. Noah tugged at my sleeve, uneasy. “Mommy, why won’t Daddy hold our hands?” I crouched down and straightened the bow tie on his little suit. “Noah, in a little while, watch Mommy do a magic trick.” “When it’s done, we’ll be free.”

The gala was in full swing, the crystal chandeliers scattering sharp light across the hall. I was peeling a shrimp for Noah when a piercing shriek cut through the noise nearby. “Waaah! He hit me! That little brat with no dad hit me!” I spun around. Serena’s nephew was clutching his face, sobbing. And Noah had been shoved down onto the hard marble floor, a red welt forming on his forehead where it had struck the corner of a table. Serena came rushing over: “Oh my God, Tyler! Are you hurt? What kind of child does something like this? Completely out of control!” The guests nearby turned to stare, murmuring to each other: “Isn’t that the ex-wife’s kid? Figures he’d cause a scene.” “I heard his own father doesn’t want him. No wonder he’s like this.” I dropped my napkin and crossed the room in seconds, pulling Noah into my arms. He was shaking. “I didn’t push him…” Noah was crying, pointing at the pieces of his Transformer scattered across the floor. “He grabbed my toy. And he called Mommy a… a bad word.” Liam walked over, his face hard. He didn’t even glance at Noah’s injury. His first move was to pull Serena to him. Then he turned on me: “Ava! Take him outside! Why would you bring a child to something like this?” “Making a scene?” “Liam, are you blind? Look at who’s actually hurt here.” Serena leaned against Liam and dabbed at her eyes with theatrical delicacy: “Liam, it’s fine. Ava’s been raising Noah alone—it’s hard, kids act out. But Tyler is my family’s pride and joy. If my father hears about this, the investment into Holt Group…” The word “investment” landed like a trigger. Liam’s expression shifted—cold, hard, and resolute. He stared at me: “Apologize to Serena. Apologize to Tyler.” I was holding Noah. My hands were trembling. “What did you just say?” “Apologize!” Liam’s voice went harder. “Don’t let your selfishness destroy Holt Group’s future.” I looked at this man I had once fought through everything alongside, and the very last ember of warmth inside me went dark. “Alright.” I set Noah down and slowly stood up. Liam thought I was yielding. His expression eased slightly. The next second, I picked up a glass of red wine from the nearest table and threw it across Serena’s million-dollar gown without warning. Then, before anyone could react, I stepped forward and slapped her—clean and sharp. Crack. The entire hall went silent. “That one was for my son.” I held Serena’s gaze as she reeled from the blow. Then I turned to Liam. From my clutch, I pulled out the IPO prospectus he’d been guarding like his life depended on it. Under his horrified stare, I tore it apart. “Liam, the dynasty you’ve been dreaming of is nothing but a shell.” I spoke loud enough for the entire room to hear, and dropped the bombshell cold: “The Walsh family’s assets in Southeast Asia have been frozen. Serena’s three hundred million in debt is due today.” The color left Liam’s face instantly. He grabbed Serena’s wrist: “Is it true? The Walsh family—” Serena began to stammer a response, but at that moment, the gala doors burst open. Several men in black suits with hard faces pushed their way inside. The man in front held up a debt certificate stamped with Southeast Asian legal seals: “Miss Walsh—with compounding interest, that comes to three hundred and fifty million dollars. Ms. Linne sent us to collect.” Liam looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He turned to me, his eyes filled with terror and dawning regret. “Ava… what have you done?” At that moment, his phone erupted with alerts. Ethan’s voice cut through the stunned silence in the hall: “Mr. Holt! The IPO application has been rejected!” “The regulators received an anonymous tip—financial fraud. The Walsh family’s assets are all non-performing debt!” Liam collapsed into a chair. He watched my back as I walked away, and he finally understood. He had thrown away a god and welcomed a ghost into his house instead. The moment I stepped through the doors, I made the call. “Ava, what’s next?” I looked up at the stars scattered across the night sky, my voice perfectly calm: “Liquidate Liam. I want him left with nothing.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369103”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #擦边Steamy #校园School #狼人Werewolf

It was April Fools’ Day when a delivery guy knocked on my door asking me to sign for a package. I waved him off. “I didn’t order any pads. My period just ended two days ago. Is this some kind of April Fools’ joke, or did you get the wrong address?” The guy kept his head down, checking his phone. “No mistake. This address is correct. The recipient is listed as Mrs. Archer — left by a Mr. Damien Archer.” A few minutes later, my husband’s assistant came rushing over, drenched in sweat, bowing over and over. “I’m so sorry, ma’am! These were meant for my girlfriend. I accidentally put down your address instead of hers. That’s totally on me!” Before he even finished talking, our front door swung open. My husband, Damien, walked out and draped his arm around my shoulders. He turned to look at his assistant, his expression darkening. “How do you handle anything? Didn’t I tell you to have it delivered tonight? You can’t even get something this simple right.” Then he pinched my cheek, his tone instantly softening. “Don’t listen to him, babe. These are actually for you. I was going to wrap them up as part of a little surprise, but he ruined it.” I smiled and waved everyone off. Once they were gone, the smile dropped from my face. I’d always bought pads in bulk — always the overnight kind, because I needed the extra coverage. But out of those nine packs of expensive, brand-name pads, eight of them were regular daytime ones.

When we got inside, Damien said he was tired and wanted to shower. The moment he stepped into the bathroom, I walked straight to the living room and picked up his phone. The passcode was still my birthday. I went through all his messages. Aside from work stuff, his conversations with other women — coworkers, employees — were all short and cold. Just “yeah” and “okay” type replies. His social media was the same — nothing but work updates. Not a single trace of anything suspicious. I sat on the couch, staring into space. Was I just being paranoid? I was thirty now — maybe I was reading too much into things. The shower turned off. I quickly cleared his search history and put the phone back exactly where I’d found it. Damien came out toweling his hair, steam still rising off his skin. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his damp head against my neck. “Did you miss me?” My body stiffened. I pushed him away half-heartedly. “You’re still wet. You’re getting me all damp.” “So what?” He leaned in more, hands starting to wander, his lips brushing my ear, my neck. “Let’s go to bed early tonight…” Damien had never been one to hold back in that department. When the mood struck him, he went for it — I’d known that since day one. Even when I was on my period and feeling off, he’d sweet-talk and tease until I found another way to help him. But just as his lips were about to reach mine, something snapped me back to reality. Those nine packs of pads felt like a needle lodged in my brain. It was around last month that things had changed. Whenever I was on my period, he’d completely stopped pushing. Every evening when he got home, it was the same line: “Long day. You must be tired too. Get some rest.” I’d actually thought he was getting more thoughtful. Now, looking back, every single thing felt wrong. I shoved him away and asked, keeping my voice casual: “Damien, what made you suddenly think to buy pads for me? You’ve never bothered with that before.”

He paused for just a second, then reached over and flicked my nose. “You’re so silly. It’s a holiday, babe.” His voice was warm and indulgent. “I wanted to stock up on essentials for my girl. Is that a crime? It’s not like I haven’t bought them for you before.” He stretched out on his side of the bed, lazily twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers. “Besides, I’ve noticed you always buy them on sale around this time of year and stockpile them. This year, you don’t have to worry about it. I took care of it.” I kept my eyes on him. “Then why this brand? And why did you get so many daytime ones?” “Everyone online says this brand is good. Light and breathable.” He answered immediately, his eyes never flickering. “I’ve seen you buy the thick cotton ones. Thought you might want to try something different. And the daytime kind works on regular days too, not just during your period. More convenient.” As he spoke, he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a small blue velvet box. “And of course, that’s not all.” He handed it to me, looking a little pleased with himself. “You didn’t think I’d only get you pads for the holiday, did you? Open it.” Inside was a pearl necklace. The pearls were large and perfectly round, with a warm, lustrous glow. One look and you could tell it wasn’t cheap. “South Sea pearls. They’ll look beautiful on you.” He lifted the necklace out and moved to clasp it around my neck. “Do you like it?” I stared at those cold, round beads and didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” He looked at me. “Nothing.” I closed the lid and set the box aside. “It’s expensive, I’m sure. It’s just… I think I mentioned before that I don’t really like pearls.” “Did you?” Damien blinked, thinking for a moment. “I don’t remember that. But women can never have too much jewelry. Every piece counts. Look at any woman worth her salt — they all have pearls.” My heart sank, piece by piece. He didn’t remember. When he was pursuing me hardest, I’d told him about my past. After my mom died, my dad moved on fast — with a woman he’d been seeing on the side. She drained most of what was left of our family’s money, then showed up at our house wearing a thick strand of round pearl bracelets, like she owned the place. She drove me out, and I ended up growing up in a group home. That year, in the middle of a snowstorm, I’d cried and told him: “I hate pearls. Every time I see them, I think of that woman. And of my dad, who threw me away.” He’d held me so tight it hurt, and swore: “I will never let you see a single pearl for the rest of your life. I’ll make sure you never have to think about any of that again.” And now, he was holding out a pearl necklace and saying: “I don’t remember that.” “Thank you, honey.” I forced a smile and took the box. “My stomach’s acting up a little. You go to sleep first.” I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. The pads weren’t for me. He’d given me jewelry I’d specifically told him I hated. Damien was lying. I’d already checked his phone and found nothing. But wait — there was one more thing. There was a name in his contacts that stood out from all the rest. Jade. A college student he sponsored — a girl who’d grown up in poverty and earned her way into a top university in the city. I had been the one who’d agreed to support her. I remembered her — small and thin, a little timid when she’d come to dinner at our place once. Quiet about most things, but her eyes lit up when she talked about school. Damien had said at the time: “That girl’s got a real fire in her. Reminds me of you back in the day.” So why did he have at least some kind of message history with every other woman in his contacts — But with Jade, nothing? Not a single message? Her chat log was completely blank. Clean as glass after a rainstorm. You could see straight through it. Too clean.

The next day, I found Jade’s contact in my own phone. Her profile photo was a silhouette of a girl reading, just the side of her face. Her social media was mostly library corners, open books, a cup of tea. I scrolled down slowly. Then my finger stopped. The most recent post. Uploaded yesterday afternoon. Period cramps are the worst. Can’t focus on anything. Good thing my man is taking care of me~ The photo showed a steaming mug of hot milk on a natural wood desk. I stared at it for a few seconds, then zoomed in. In the corner of the desk, partially cut off by the frame, was a cardboard box. On the corner of the box, clearly visible, was the logo of the same expensive pad brand. I counted — at least eight packs visible. And beside them, one opened pack that looked like it had just been used. So that was it. The desire he’d been holding back during my period had been redirected — toward another woman entirely. That afternoon, I did something I never did. I showed up at Damien’s office. What I walked in on made my vision go red. Jade was sitting on Damien’s lap, wearing a school uniform, arms wrapped around his neck. They were kissing like they had all the time in the world. His hand rested on her waist. The air in the room was thick. I crossed the room in seconds, grabbed Jade by the hair, and yanked her off his lap. She stumbled and nearly fell. I raised my hand and slapped her. The sound cracked through the office. Then I turned to Damien. He’d gotten to his feet, his expression dark. I raised my hand to slap him too — but he grabbed my wrist. “Rachel, what is wrong with you? Why aren’t you home? You’re supposed to pick up our son from school. What are you doing storming into my office?” Not a shred of guilt. Like he wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong. I wrenched my hand free, my voice breaking. “Damien, you remember we have a son? You could do this here and not think about your wife and kid for even one second?” Jade pressed her hand to her cheek and shuffled to Damien’s side. She tugged lightly at his sleeve, then turned to me and bowed her head. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry with him. It’s my fault. I’m the one who fell for him. It’s nothing to do with him — if you’re going to blame someone, blame me.” I pointed right at her. “Jade, I chose to help you because you’d worked so hard to get here from nothing. I wanted to give you a real chance to build your own life. And this is what you do with it?” “You used your position as someone he sponsors to go after a married man. Do you have any conscience at all?” Jade suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, wrapping her arms around my legs. Her tears were falling fast, the red mark from my slap still vivid on her cheek — but her eyes were defiant. “Ma’am, I know this is wrong. But what Damien and I have is real. Loving someone isn’t a crime. And if we’re really in love — doesn’t that mean you’re the one who doesn’t belong anymore? The one who isn’t loved is always the outsider.” My stomach lurched. I stepped back, trying to shake her off. “Let go of me. Don’t touch me.” But then Jade let out a sharp cry and clutched her stomach. Her knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor. “Jade!” Damien’s face went pale. He’d turned away a moment earlier to close the office door — he hadn’t seen me push her, but he’d heard me tell her not to touch me. When he spun back around, Jade was on the ground. “Jade? What happened? Are you okay?” She curled against his chest, tears sliding into her hair. “I’m okay… my stomach… it hurts a little. Don’t blame her. I lost my balance…” Damien looked up at me. The warmth in his eyes had been replaced by something cold and sharp. “She’s like this and you still pushed her? What happened to you, Rachel? When did you become like this?”

He lifted Jade carefully and laid her on the couch. “You saw her fall on her own!” Damien ignored me completely, calling out toward the door: “Marcus, get in here!” His assistant Marcus pushed the door open, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Hold her.” Marcus flinched, then walked over to me and said quietly, not meeting my eyes: “I’m sorry, ma’am…” Then he took hold of my arm. Damien stood beside the couch, his expression empty of anything warm. “Kneel down and apologize to Jade. Do that, and we’ll call this even.” I stood frozen, staring at him. “What… what did you just say?” “She already deals with cramps. She’s not strong. And you hit her and shoved her.” Damien said it slowly, each word deliberate. “I’m telling you to kneel down and apologize to her.” “Damien!” My voice was shaking so badly I barely recognized it. “You want me to… kneel down? For her?” In that moment, the man standing in front of me felt like a complete stranger. It was like something cracked open in my chest, and cold air was rushing in through the hole. He scowled, impatient. “Are you deaf?” “Do you remember what you said when you were chasing me?” My tears finally broke through. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. “You said you couldn’t stand to see me upset even a little. At our wedding, you carried me the whole way down the aisle because you were afraid my feet would hurt in my heels.” From the couch, Jade let out a sharp, perfectly timed gasp of pain. I looked at her. “Drop the act. Have some self-respect.” “Rachel!” Damien snapped. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved down hard. My knees hit the marble floor. The pain shot straight through me. I cried out. He wasn’t done. He seized my jaw, forcing my face up toward his. His grip was crushing. “Say one more word about her. I dare you.” He leaned in close, his voice cold and cutting. “You keep throwing around words like sponsored student. You keep calling her shameless. Rachel — who do you think you are? Don’t forget: you were a charity case too. I’m the one who paid for your education.” My breath stopped. “You got where you are by getting into my bed.” He stared into my eyes, the corner of his mouth curling into something ugly. “What, now that you’ve got the ring and the title, you’ve forgotten how you got here? You actually think you’re somebody?” “Damien…” My voice came out ragged. Hollow. “You were the one who waited outside my school for three months. You said you admired me. You said you loved my spirit and felt for everything I’d been through. You said you loved me. You said you wanted to marry me and give me a home.” “You were the one who begged me to say yes. I gave up a graduate school scholarship abroad because of you. I stayed home and built a life around you.” I was nearly screaming, my vision blurred with tears. “And now you’re telling me I slept my way up?” Damien’s grip on my jaw loosened slightly, but the contempt in his eyes only deepened. “What else would you call it? Look at yourself right now, Rachel. You’re no different from a woman throwing a fit in the street. You got married, had a kid, and figured that meant you had a meal ticket for life.” “I want a divorce.” I shoved his hand away with everything I had and tried to push myself to my feet. “I can’t do this anymore. Not one more day.” Damien looked down at me, and let out a short, derisive laugh. “You think I care that much? Fine. Get divorced. But don’t come crying to me after.” He leaned down until his mouth was at my ear, his voice quiet and vicious. “Rachel, without the title, without my name behind you — you look around this city and tell me which company would hire you. Without me, you are nothing.” The hole in my chest kept filling with cold air. At some point, the pain went so deep it turned numb. I reached up and wiped my face hard. “Damien. I want a divorce. Right now. Today.” He went still for a moment — probably hadn’t expected me to mean it. “Alright. If that’s what you want.” He straightened up, smoothed out his sleeve where it had wrinkled, and put back on that cool, distant expression he wore so well. “You’ll learn soon enough.” He said nothing more to me. He turned and walked back to the couch, gently lifting Jade into his arms. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.” Jade nestled into him, calm and content. As they passed me, she turned her head just slightly and, looking down at me still on the floor, gave me a small, silent smile. Then she tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek, loud enough for me to hear. “You’re so good to me.” The door shut behind them. I pulled myself up slowly. I looked around the wrecked office, and somehow — I started to laugh. And then, in the middle of laughing, the tears came back. So the thing I thought had saved me — had been a joke all along. I held onto the couch and got to my feet. Dried my eyes. But there was one thing he’d forgotten. He hadn’t been the only one willing to help me back then.

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