My sugar daddy’s father called to pressure him into marriage and urge him to have a child quickly. Liam remained unmoved and instead threatened his father: “If you dare try any tricks to produce a child for me, I’ll strangle it to death and bury you both together.” I listened from the side, trembling with fear. Seeing my reaction, Liam gently pulled me into his arms and coaxed, “Be good. I won’t get married, and I won’t have children.” I nodded timidly. I didn’t dare tell him that he actually already had a child. I gave birth to him. 1 Liam felt my palms going cold. He thought I was frightened. Afraid that he would abandon me after getting married. He frowned, his expression growing even colder. He told the person on the other end of the phone directly: “I’ll go get a vasectomy tomorrow. I guarantee I’ll end our family line.” Liam’s dad was so furious he could only stutter “You, you, you” for a long time. But Liam? He still had the presence of mind to comfort me. “Don’t be afraid. I do what I say. I hate kids the most. It’s best if I don’t have an heir.” A gentle kiss landed on my forehead. His tone was resolute. It seemed he was determined to end his bloodline. I forced a smile in return. In reality, my palms were sweating cold sweat. Liam didn’t want children. What if he found out about Noah’s existence? What if he really tried to strangle him? Liam’s warm chest leaned in, and he kissed my cheek again. “Are you not coming back again tomorrow?” Although Liam and I were in a sugar daddy/baby relationship, I always spent two or three days a week away from his house. Because I needed to go back and spend time with my child. But I told Liam I was going home to keep my parents company. I answered him nervously. “Yeah, my mom isn’t feeling well. I need to go back to do laundry and clean the house.” “I can hire a nanny for your mom.” I strongly declined: “No need, no need. My mom isn’t used to that.” If Liam really hired a nanny, wouldn’t the fact that there was a child at home be exposed? Liam remained silent for a long time. Although he was very unhappy about it, he still held it in. But he had to get some sweetness out of me in return. “Then let’s do it one more time.” “…” 2 I am intersex. Four years ago, I was betrayed by a friend. While escaping, I hid in a room with a slightly open door. And ran into Liam, who had also been drugged. I can’t even remember clearly how we started kissing. In the dim room. His hand stopped at a certain place. He paused for a good while. “What is this?” Liam looked down at me, his eyes revealing a silent question. My face flushed red, and I bit his hand. “I can do either. Both are fine.” His eyes darkened slightly, as if he understood something. We were like dry wood and a raging fire. We didn’t stop until two or three in the morning. When I woke up the next day, an arm was still draped across my waist. The man beside me had his eyes closed. His eyelashes were long, his brow bone prominent, and his profile exceptional. It was a good-looking face that seemed both passionate and heartless. Thinking of his low panting in my ear last night, my face grew hot again. I didn’t have time for regrets. I put on my clothes and hurriedly sneaked away. I thought that would be the end of it. But two weeks later, feeling unwell, I went to the hospital for a check-up. Only to discover I was pregnant. 3 My body is different from normal people’s. I had originally planned to live my whole life alone. But this sudden little life disrupted my plans. He is my precious baby. The doctor said my body needed proper rest to keep the baby. So I quit my job and went back to my hometown. I didn’t return until Noah was almost old enough for kindergarten. I found a job as a waiter at a club as a transition. One day, I was intentionally given a hard time by a group of people, and Liam saved me. “What are you spacing out for?” The man stood tall, his features cold and stern. An oppressive aura naturally emanated from him. We hadn’t seen each other in three years. Yet I recognized him at a glance. But he seemed not to recognize me anymore. I suppressed the turmoil in my heart and awkwardly thanked him. “Thank you, sir.” Liam stared at my face, seemingly noticing the shift in my emotions from expectation to disappointment. He asked, “Do I know you?” I froze, lowered my head, and said, “No.” He looked down at me and didn’t say anything more. He seemed to tacitly accept my answer. 4 Liam was a good person. He even arranged a very good new job for me. To thank him, I often brought him coffee or lunch and snacks I made myself. He accepted them all one by one. Without any disdain. I said Mr. Sterling was a good person, helped me out of a tight spot, and gave me a job. When my colleagues heard this, they looked as if they had seen a ghost. “Are we talking about the same Mr. Sterling?” After delivering things so many times. Liam and I became more and more familiar. I could even go on business trips with him. Once, I accompanied him to a banquet. He got drunk and asked me if I wanted to be with him. I looked at him blankly. “What?” Seeing me staring at him blankly, Liam chuckled softly. His tone was casual, yet revealing a hint of helplessness. “You blockhead. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I still have to be the one to ask?” I didn’t understand his meaning, nor did I dare refute him. He looked at me, the emotion in his eyes slowly deepening, and he said slowly: “Be with me, and I can give you whatever you want.” I finally understood. Liam wanted to keep me as his sugar baby. He hugged me, his burning breath sweeping across my neck. “Why do you smell like milk?” I froze. Noah was still at the age where he drank formula, so it was normal for me to smell a bit like milk. Liam’s words suddenly threw me into a panic. TV shows always say wealthy families never let their bloodline live outside. I was afraid that if Liam knew Noah was his child, he would take him away. Fortunately, Liam didn’t probe further. A low chuckle came from his throat, his voice slightly hoarse. “The cookies you made also tasted like this. Same smell as you. I even thought…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but I understood his meaning from his actions and his eyes. My face instantly flushed red: “No! I don’t, don’t…” No wonder every time I brought him cookies, he looked at me with such a meaningful expression. He probably thought I liked him and was intentionally seducing him. When he found out I was different from normal people, he didn’t show a shocked or disgusted expression. Instead, it was an out-of-control excitement. A fierce possessiveness and desire surged in his eyes. “If you get pregnant, will you produce milk?” “?” I was teased until I tried to escape, only to be dragged back by him. It wasn’t until Liam found out I couldn’t have children that he finally calmed down a bit. 5 After getting together with Liam, he treated me even better. He was never stingy with food, clothing, or expenses, and remembered all my preferences. If I casually mentioned something was delicious, I would be eating it the next day. Sometimes I even hallucinated that we weren’t in a sugar daddy relationship, but were actually dating. But he never brought it up. And I didn’t dare to ask. Afraid of bursting this illusion of warmth. Until that phone call urging him to marry. Liam became very strange. It was like he switched from a meat diet to a vegetarian one. He only used his hands to give me pleasure. It was the first time I had seen so many different toys. Each one was a different experience. Liam would ask in my ear: “Does it feel good, baby? Do you like it?” I bit my lip, enduring it. When I looked at him, my eyes were misty, hazy, and pitiful. Liam stared at me unblinkingly. He held back so hard the veins on his neck popped out. Even though he was incredibly jealous of the toys in his hands. His expression showing how much he hated them. He still didn’t actually do it. This had never happened before. His possessiveness towards me had always been very strong. He would absolutely never let toys replace him. During the process, he would still ask how I felt. If I said I didn’t like it or it was uncomfortable, he would get mad. “Don’t like it? That means your hubby isn’t working hard enough and hasn’t satisfied you. Let’s switch to a better one.” If I said I liked it, he would get even madder. “You like this, what about me? Is this thing better than me?” Anyway, whatever I said was wrong. So I just stopped talking. When he saw me turn my face away and cry silently, he would lean over, pull me into his arms, and wipe my tears. He’d say resentfully: “You just know I can’t bear to see you cry.” I had no idea what he was struggling with. 6 After we finished, Liam went to the bathroom to take a cold shower again. I rested for a while before taking out my phone to reply to messages. In the contact saved as 【Mom】, there were several new voice messages. All of them were from Noah. As soon as I clicked play, I heard his soft, childish voice. “Daddy, I fell down at kindergarten today, but I didn’t cwy. The teacher pwaised me.” The next few voice messages were all him talking about what he did all day. My heart melted completely listening to him. After a lot of build-up, he finally couldn’t help but ask in the last message: “Daddy, when are you coming home? I miss you.” He was still small, right at the age where he clung to people. Not seeing me for a day and he already started missing me. I was just about to reply. When Liam’s voice suddenly came from behind me. “Who is that? Why did I hear a child’s voice?” My body stiffened. I immediately exited the chat interface and locked the screen. I turned around and saw Liam getting into bed after his shower. My heart was pounding, but I didn’t dare show a hint of nervousness. “You misheard, I was just scrolling through videos.” Liam raised an eyebrow and didn’t overthink it. “Is that so.” We fell asleep in each other’s arms as usual that night. Thinking of Noah’s words, I tentatively asked Liam. “Can I… go back tomorrow?” Liam’s closed eyes opened again. He frowned, somewhat displeased. “It’s not time yet, and you want to go back again?” He bit my ear in frustration, his words ambiguous. “Do you have a wife and kid to keep company when you go back?” My breath hitched, and I immediately retorted, “How is that possible?” Liam chuckled darkly, “When you act like this, it really makes me wonder if you have a second home besides this one.” Hearing this, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I quickly leaned over and kissed him. “I don’t. Someone in my family fell, I need to go back and check.” Liam lost his temper completely after I kissed him. Ultimately, he agreed. “You really don’t have a second home?” I lowered my head, looking at my nose, centering my focus. “I don’t.” “If you do, you’re dead meat.” “…” 7 Liam’s father despises me. In his eyes, two men being together is abnormal. So he continued to introduce different women to Liam. Liam ignored them all. He would tell me everything he went to do. Like right now. 【Be good, baby. I’ll bring you something delicious when I get back.】 He went to headquarters for a meeting today. He had just left for a little while and already sent me dozens of messages. I felt a bit helpless. 【Okay.】 After sitting for too long, I closed my phone and prepared to go to the pantry to get some hot water. As soon as I walked in, I heard colleagues gossiping about Liam. “It’s true, Mr. Sterling’s childhood sweetheart came back from abroad. He went on a date with her right after his meeting.” “No wonder Mr. Sterling never had any women around him. Turns out his heart was already taken.” “I have photo proof, look.” I stood frozen in front of the water dispenser, even forgetting what I came to do. “Hey, Julian, aren’t you on good terms with Mr. Sterling? Look and see if you recognize this woman.” I was pulled over and saw the photo on my colleague’s phone. I didn’t recognize the woman, but the man next to her was indeed Liam. A handsome man and a beautiful woman, they really looked like a perfect match. I gave an awkward smile and said, “Sorry, I don’t recognize her.” “Oh well.” I walked out of the pantry like a soulless body. I pulled out my phone and messaged Liam. 【What are you doing?】 He replied quickly: 【In a meeting, what’s wrong?】 But the meeting was already over. He was lying to me. My entire body went ice cold. Liam’s abnormal behavior lately seemed to have an explanation. The person he liked had returned. So he didn’t need me anymore. We only had a transactional relationship. Who he liked, who he was with. I had no right to ask. He lied to me, but haven’t I kept things from him too? I could only reply: 【Nothing.】 But my heart felt like a boulder was pressing down on it, making it hard to breathe. 8 Liam wasn’t at the company today. So I took the day off to pick up Noah from school. Originally, I thought that after Liam and I were no longer just a transaction. After we officially got together, I would tell him. But then I learned he hated children. So I kept it an even tighter secret. But maybe I won’t have to hide it anymore in the future. Little Noah was very happy to see me when he came out. Because usually, his grandmother picked him up. “Daddy!” He ran over. His soft, fair little face turned rosy. My heart melted completely, and I picked him up. “Are you happy?” “Happy!” He looked incredibly cute when he smiled, his eyes curving. He looked a lot like me, but you could also see traces of Liam in him. Just seeing him made me feel content. If Liam likes someone else, then let him. Having my precious son is enough for me. I took Noah to the mall to buy toys, and also went to a bakery to buy cake. This bakery was very expensive and very famous. “Daddy, can I have two pieces of cake today?” “You can, but don’t tell Grandma.” As we walked out after buying the cake, we bumped into two unexpected people. “Julian?” A familiar voice sounded from ahead. I froze in place instantly. Looking up, I saw Liam and the woman from the photo. I heard she was the daughter of Liam’s professor, from an academic family. The two grew up together. She was looking at me, but I didn’t dare look at her. An indescribable soreness surged from the bottom of my heart, rushing violently to my throat. It stung unbearably, like something was blocking it. I was afraid to see them. Liam and she were childhood sweethearts, a match made in heaven. I was the shameful lover kept in the dark. The fake pearl occupying the magpie’s nest. Liam’s eyes flickered when he saw me, seemingly wanting to say something. Then he saw the little boy I was holding. He frowned and asked, “Who is he?” Noah’s eyes looked exactly like his, just much more innocent and tender. Two similar pairs of eyes stared at each other, harboring the same confusion. I wanted to lie: “He is…” But children can’t lie. Noah tugged at my hand. He looked up and asked me: “Daddy, who is he?” Liam froze. Then his expression changed drastically, becoming dark and terrifying. His voice was slow, carrying a strong sense of oppression. “What did he call you?”

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I had a crush on my childhood best friend for years, but I never dared to confess because he was homophobic. At the New Year’s Eve dinner, I unexpectedly heard him say he already liked someone. I, who usually never touched a drop of alcohol, got completely wasted that night. But… drinking ruins things. When I woke up the next morning and saw my best friend on the pillow next to me. I knew I was screwed. Before I even had time to run away, the door was pushed open by a group of people. My best friend’s parents, and my own parents, just stood there dumbfounded at the door, staring at us. “Mom, Dad! Mr. and Mrs. Vance! It’s not what you…” Before I could finish, my best friend, who had just woken up and was covered in ambiguous marks, put his arm around my shoulder from behind. “It is exactly what you see. We are together.” 1 I looked at the person leaning next to me in disbelief. What is he saying? Either I drank too much last night and my brain wasn’t clear yet. Or Arthur’s brain was broken. “No, we…” The words I was about to say got stuck in my throat because of Arthur’s actions. He pulled the blanket and wrapped me up completely. When he spoke again, his voice was a bit hoarse, with a hint of a reckless tone. “How about… you give us some time to get ourselves cleaned up first, and then we’ll come out to accept your interrogation?” As soon as Arthur spoke, the expressions of everyone present changed. “Ahem, okay, you guys clean up properly. No rush, no rush. We’ll wait for you outside.” Just go, just go. If you don’t go soon, I’m going to spontaneously combust. My brain hadn’t processed it just now. As soon as Arthur spoke, I realized I wasn’t wearing anything. Judging from the commotion we made last night. I probably wasn’t very clean right now either. The door closed, and I reacted like there was a spring attached to my butt. I immediately jumped away. 2 But that one move left Arthur completely exposed to the air. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Noticing me looking at him. He even lay back down comfortably. Letting me look. “Pervert!” Arthur’s tone was laughing. “Chloe, get it straight. Right now, it’s because you wrapped yourself in the entire blanket that I’m like this.” Fine. I lay back down wearily. I wasn’t feeling as embarrassed anymore. Just worried about what to do about the current situation. “What should we tell them?” “Just tell them whatever.” Arthur was fiddling with something next to me, his arm brushing against me every now and then. The intimate contact couldn’t help but make me think of last night. The mood that had just calmed down suddenly flared up with anger again. “Arthur! Why didn’t you stop me last night?!” I was drunk last night. But Arthur wasn’t. He accidentally got injured at work a while ago. He was currently in the dietary restriction phase. So he didn’t have a single drop of alcohol last night. He was sober from start to finish. “Chloe, how can you turn the tables on me? Did I not try to stop you? I tried, but it was useless.” He suddenly sat up from the bed. Not caring at all about his appearance, he dug his clothes out of the closet and threw them on casually. “Did you forget? I’m injured. I’m a patient. How could I possibly stop a normal, drunk adult male like you?” I suspected he was tricking me, but I had no proof. “Put your clothes on. Let’s deal with your parents and my parents first, then we’ll deal with things between us.” 3 Just like that, wearing Arthur’s clothes. Arthur and I sat in a row in front of our four elders. Listening to Arthur accept their judgment. “So the person you said you liked last night was Chloe?” “Yes.” “So you guys have been together for a long time?” “To be accurate, we only got together last night.” “Are you two serious?” My thoughts had flown who knows where. I suddenly felt my hand being grabbed by the person next to me. “Yes.” Arthur smiled very gently. As if everything he just said was true. But I didn’t feel a single trace of emotion. Because I knew Arthur didn’t like me. He was homophobic. And I was the one who had secretly loved him for many years but didn’t dare to confess. Our family and the Vance family had known each other for many years. Arthur and I had known each other since birth. We went to elementary school, middle school, and high school together, only separating in college. Later, after graduating from college, we both returned to this city to develop our careers. It could be said that in my life, apart from my parents. The person who occupied the most memories was Arthur. I don’t know when my feelings for him changed. From always being good friends and good buddies, to wanting to be his partner and stay by his side for a lifetime. But I didn’t dare to confess. Just because he didn’t like men. But Arthur had never been in a relationship all these years. I thought I might still have a faint chance. But I didn’t expect… Last night, at the two families’ New Year’s Eve dinner. Faced with Mrs. Vance’s pressure to get married, Arthur said he already liked someone. If it were anyone else, I might have thought he was just brushing her off. But if it was Arthur. 4 Then it was true. Because he wouldn’t bother lying about such things. Or brush it off. Listening beside him, my heart went cold. It seemed I completely had no chance. So, as someone whose secret crush had come to nothing, I drank cup after cup until I was drunk. My last memory was Mrs. Vance telling Arthur to take me back to my room to rest. The Vance family had a room specifically for me. My family also had a room specifically for Arthur. But… why did I wake up in Arthur’s room today? I had no idea. “Since you two are serious, we aren’t traditional-minded people, but I want to tell you something. “Given the relationship between our two families, if you really decide to be together now, and in the future you can’t make it work, we will absolutely not distance ourselves because of your little issues. No matter how unhappy you are, you’ll have to endure it when the time comes.” My heart skipped a beat. This was the worst-case scenario I had imagined. Now it was suddenly spoken out loud. I felt terrible. “Mrs. Vance, actually Arthur and I…” “Mom, can’t you hope for the best for us? Don’t worry, I will never break up with him in this lifetime, unless… he doesn’t want me anymore.” A trial, raised high and put down gently. My parents were strangely calm. They hardly said a few words from start to finish. Instead, I was the one who felt very uneasy from beginning to end. “Chloe, let’s go home.” I walked numbly towards the door. But after taking two steps, I realized my hand was still tightly held by Arthur. He smiled and leaned close to me. “Don’t close your window tonight.” I knew what he meant. I hesitated to speak, and finally just nodded. I followed my parents home. Fifteen hours after the incident, I heard the sound of my window being gently pushed open. I got up and met the eyes of Arthur, who had flipped in from outside. “Want to talk?” 5 Arthur didn’t like me. “Since things have already happened, it’s not good to say everything was a misunderstanding. If I really said that today, my parents would definitely kick me out of the house on the first day of the New Year.” Right. “And last night… you were the one who got taken advantage of. If I had just laid everything out, wouldn’t that be selling you out?” Arthur sat with his legs spread on the chair. Even though he had been working for a few years. In front of people close to him, he still had that reckless vibe. Like a kid. “You haven’t come out to your parents, have you?” “I have.” “Ah? You came out to your parents a long time ago?!” Arthur seemed like a wolf whose tail had been stepped on; his aura suddenly became stronger. He wasn’t satisfied just sitting on the chair anymore. In two steps, he crossed over to my bed, planting his hands on my shoulders. “Chloe, how many years have we known each other?” Facing Arthur’s handsome face so close, I still couldn’t help but swallow. “Twenty-seven years.” “Right! Twenty-seven years, and you coming out, such a huge thing, I didn’t even know! What do you take me for?!” I looked at Arthur with confusion. Wasn’t it because he was homophobic that I didn’t dare tell him? Could it be that just because we’re good friends and good buddies, he could magically not be homophobic? I brushed Arthur’s hands away. “Aren’t we talking about last night? If you don’t have anything else to say, I want to rest.” I was tossed around all night last night. And spent all day today worrying about this. 6 I didn’t sleep at all. I finally felt sleepy at night, and Arthur popped up again. “Oh, right, let’s talk about last night.” He seemed to finally grasp the main point. And retreated back to the chair. “Anyway, let’s just pretend to be a couple for now.” After waiting for a long time, I thought he was going to come up with some brilliant idea. And this was it? I pursed my lips. I wanted to ask him, aren’t you homophobic? Then why are you willing to pretend to be a couple with me? But I quickly suppressed that thought. Just pretending. It’s not real anyway. Of course he doesn’t care. It’s me who’s suffering. The person I like is right in front of me, and I don’t dare do anything. The more I thought about it, the more depressed I got. So I asked him to leave again. But Arthur didn’t leave immediately. Instead, his hands were hidden in his pockets, who knows what he was hiding. He didn’t make a move for a long time. I yawned and looked at him with a cold face. “If you’re fine, can you go back first? Or if you have something, let’s talk about it in a couple of days.” Arthur finally moved. But he moved towards me. He lunged onto my bed. His ears red, he pulled out the hidden object. “Let me take a look.” “Look at what?” “Well… last night, I think I might have used a bit too much force. You kept crying. I was thinking you might be hurt, so let me check. If you are, I’ll put some medicine on it.” I instantly realized what Arthur was talking about. What do you mean I kept crying? That wasn’t… it wasn’t from pain. And even if I was really hurt, would I need him to help me? Seeing I wasn’t moving, Arthur thought I was being shy. “Don’t be shy. It’s your own body, and I saw everything last night anyway.” Saying that, he was about to make a move. I quickly grabbed my waistband and kicked Arthur off the bed. “Get lost!” 7 “If you have any other discomfort, remember to tell me. If it’s really bad, we’ll go to the hospital.” I lay on the bed. Feeling no desire to live. In the end, I still let Arthur have his way. Who told him to look at me with those sparkling eyes every time; I could never refuse him. This time was no exception. “I know, you can get lost now.” I heard rustling sounds in the room, presumably him packing his things. When the room quieted down. I was just about to see if he had already left. “Chloe.” “Hmm?” Arthur hadn’t left; he was sitting on the windowsill. Propping his head up, looking at me. “Do you have someone you like?” My heart sank. Did he figure it out? Recalling everything from morning until now, it shouldn’t be. I didn’t think I exposed myself anywhere. “Why do you ask?” “Otherwise, why would you be so resistant to us pretending to be a couple?” Arthur’s words instantly made me relax. So that’s what he thought. That’s fine then. “Of course I do. You have someone you want to develop a relationship with, aren’t I allowed to have one too?” I don’t know if it was my illusion. But I felt Arthur’s expression turn weird. As if he were angry. “Sure, why not? But before we end this fake relationship, you’d better not have any developments with your crush, understand?” “You’d better do the same.” Arthur left. Before leaving, he even closed the window for me. But my heart couldn’t calm down. 8 What was this? A brief fulfillment of a dream? Although I didn’t know how things would develop later, I knew that my secret crush on Arthur couldn’t let him find out. Otherwise, even this brief pretense of being a couple couldn’t continue. “What?! You two… you guys? Are together?” Liam almost spat out the water in his mouth. I leaned away slightly. “We’re pretending to be together.” He wiped the corner of his mouth and leaned close to me. His eyes twitching like he had a cramp. “You two did this and that, did everything you’re supposed to do, and now you’re telling me it’s fake?” Thinking about it gave me a headache too. “It was all an accident. I drank too much that day.” Liam pouted, “I think he probably has feelings for you too. You drank too much, but he didn’t. How could he not push you away?” I sighed faintly, “Did you forget? He’s injured, and you know what I’m like when I drink too much.” Liam seemed to recall what I looked like when I was drunk. After a long moment, he finally accepted this fact. “I forgot, when you’re drunk, you’re harder to hold down than a cow. And meeting the object of your long-term crush, it’s indeed easy to do some irrational things.” Even though. I didn’t really like this description. “Then aren’t you going to take this opportunity to seize the chance?” “He won’t like me. And with things like this now, it’s even harder to say I like him. I always feel like, that night, I did it on purpose.” Liam thought about it. In the end, he still nodded. “But I feel like there’s still a lot of…” “Feel like what?” Just as Liam was getting into it, a familiar voice dropped from above our heads. 9 The next second, Arthur sat down next to me. I turned to look at him, a bit dazed. “Why are you here?” “Why can’t I be here? I just sent you a message and you didn’t reply. Turns out you were meeting with him.” Arthur leaned slightly closer to me, looking at Liam somewhat provocatively. Liam, who had almost exposed my secret crush, felt very guilty at this moment. I picked up the phone on the table and looked at it. Arthur had indeed sent me a message, but we were so engrossed in our chat just now. I didn’t notice. “Mom and Dad asked us to go home, they have something to tell us. I dropped by to pick you up.” “Ah, okay.” I looked at Liam. “You should go, you should go. I can just go back myself.” I don’t know what Liam said that displeased Arthur. The guy who looked to be in a good mood just a moment ago suddenly had a long face. I couldn’t care less. I grabbed Arthur and left. I thought my parents just wanted to chat simply about me and Arthur. I didn’t expect… “Live together?!” “Yeah! Your relationship is developing so well, living together is only a matter of time. You’re both busy, so moving in together is just right.” My mom really knew how to drop a bombshell quietly. When they caught us red-handed that day, I thought my mom was very indifferent. Turns out, she was waiting for me here. I turned and gave Arthur a look. “Sure, actually I had the same idea. After all, you only truly know if you’re compatible when you live together. Right, Arthur?” What a load of crap. Right now, I really couldn’t see through Arthur. Doesn’t he have someone he likes? Isn’t he homophobic? 10 Why was he still rushing to live with me? Outnumbered, my mom made the final decision. She had Arthur move in with me. The next day, his suitcase was already sitting in my house. “What’s the meaning of this?” Arthur was currently unpacking. Hearing my question, he looked at me with a very innocent expression. “What meaning could I have? Didn’t Auntie ask me to move in?” “Couldn’t you just refuse?” “I could have refused, but if I did, they would definitely suspect something. Do you think they could accept the truth of our situation?” Arthur really understood me well. And my parents too. After all, when I came out back then, it took my mom a very long time to accept it. If they knew that Arthur and I had accidentally slept together. That would indeed be very hard to accept. “Fine, then you sleep in the guest room.” “How about… you go check the guest room first?” Confused, I turned and went to the guest room, looking at the completely empty space. My head instantly started pounding. “Where’s the bed?!” “Probably they still sensed something. After all, during this time, you haven’t met me much. How did we look like a passionately in love couple?” During this time, Arthur had indeed asked me out. But I had never dared to meet him. After that day, the memories I lost due to being drunk gradually surfaced in my mind. From hazy memories at first to clear ones later. Every minute, every second of that night, finally appeared clearly in my dreams. This made me even more afraid to face Arthur. So, facing his invitations, I rejected them all under the guise of being too busy with work. Thinking about it now, I was indeed the one who didn’t do well enough. 11 “Fine, but we agree, we can sleep together, but no crossing the line.” Arthur leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Looking at me with an ambiguous expression. I used to think I understood Arthur very well, after all, we grew up together. You could say I was the person who understood him best. But now. Or rather, since that night, I couldn’t understand what Arthur was thinking at all. Does he hate me? Or is he simply afraid of trouble, wants to take responsibility, and that’s why he got close to me. “Fine, but did you forget about your habit of being restless in your sleep?” Under Arthur’s teasing. I blushed. I do indeed have that habit. Sleeping is like fighting. Since I was little, I could only sleep alone. Otherwise, the other person would definitely get kicked by me a few times during the night. But facing Arthur, I only wanted to say. I can lose the battle, but not the attitude. “I’ve already changed! I sleep very peacefully now. That was when I was a kid. You haven’t slept with me recently, how do you know what I’m like when I sleep now?” “Oh~ Fine, then I guess I was judging a gentleman with a petty heart.” Although I won the verbal argument. But really having to share a bed with Arthur. I was nervous to death inside. Lying on the bed, listening to the sound of water coming from inside. For a moment, I even wanted to just go sleep on the sofa outside. We aren’t a real couple. Why do we have to sleep together? The more I thought about it, the more I felt I was right. So I hurriedly climbed out of bed, ready to grab a blanket and sleep on the sofa outside. But as soon as I turned around, I bumped into a warm embrace. “Where are you going?” Arthur’s slightly hoarse voice sounded above my head. I violently stepped back. Almost bumping into the wardrobe door. Only then did I see clearly what he looked like now. 12 Arthur was wearing the same pajamas as me. It was when he came to my house before, saw them, and insisted I give him the link to buy the same ones. Now, in this ambiguous atmosphere, it felt even more weird. His hair wasn’t even dry yet. And he hurried out. “No, nowhere. I just suddenly felt you were right, I don’t sleep well. It’s better if I don’t sleep with you, so I don’t disturb you.” Saying that, I was about to walk out. But Arthur reached out and stopped me. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. Plus, I have a solution.” Have a solution? What solution could he have? He couldn’t possibly tie me up before sleeping, could he? “Or, are you scared?” People really can’t resist reverse psychology. As soon as someone provokes them, they fall for it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now. I could feel the rise and fall of the breathing of the person next to me. Even though the sound wasn’t loud. But it could easily affect my breathing rhythm, as well as my heartbeat. Sharing a bed like this. To be honest, Arthur and I had experienced it quite a few times. But those were just childhood memories. As adults, or rather, after I realized my feelings for him, this was only the second time. My mind was full of the scenes from that night. My whole body felt like it was going to catch fire. Forget it. If I lose face, I lose face. I can’t just stare blankly for a whole night tonight. “Arthur, I think I still…” I had just lifted a corner of the blanket when the person next to me suddenly rolled over. An arm pressed on my waist, pushing down my movement to get up. Then Arthur leaned his whole body over. He intimately pulled me into his arms. Just when my whole body was stiff and I didn’t know what to do. He suddenly nuzzled my cheek. “Chloe, are you…” “Yes!” “Do you hate me a lot?” 13 I didn’t expect Arthur to ask such a question. Even less did I expect that when I wanted to directly admit my feelings for him, he would ask such a question. Both of us froze at the same time. I could feel Arthur’s hand on my waist suddenly tighten, as if stimulated by my words. “You hate me?” In the eerily quiet bedroom, Arthur spoke first. His tone carried a deep sense of disbelief. As if he didn’t expect me to say those words. “No, that’s not what I meant. I thought you were going to ask…” Arthur suddenly reached out and closed the distance between us. Almost without me anticipating it, I bumped straight into his body. When this guy usually wears clothes, he doesn’t look like he has much muscle, but in reality, his muscles are very well-defined. Bumping into him so suddenly. I felt like my whole body was not well. My body hurt. And Arthur, like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. Buried his head next to my neck. His tone was full of grievance and unreasonableness. “How could you hate me! We grew up together, aren’t I your best friend? I haven’t done anything to let you down, why do you hate me? Is it just because of what happened that night? But you weren’t unhappy that night either!” Hearing Arthur’s words. My head started pounding. My subconscious told me that if I didn’t stop what he was going to say next, it was very likely he would say some earth-shattering things. So I reached out, trying to push Arthur’s head away. 14 Who knew this guy was harder to hold down than a pig before the New Year. He stubbornly wouldn’t let me touch him. His head was buried dead tight next to my neck. “Am I wrong? You haven’t forgotten about that night either. If you were going to be angry, why didn’t you tell me you were angry back then? Now that so much time has passed, you’re telling me you hate me. Chloe, this is unfair to me!” “It has nothing to do with that. Can you get up first? Don’t you know how heavy you are?” If he pressed any further. I felt I wasn’t far from death either. Sure enough, Arthur heard me say that. He silently loosened the arm wrapped around my waist a bit, and his body lifted slightly off me. But not much. The distance between us was like that night. If I just raised my head slightly, I could kiss Arthur’s lips in the dark. Realizing what I was thinking, I quickly turned my head away, trying not to face him. But Arthur noticed my movement. He suddenly reached out and grabbed my chin, forcefully turning my head back. “You’re feeling guilty. I was right.” “I am not.” “If you’re not, why are you hiding from me? Chloe, do you know how sad I am? No matter how much we fought before, you never said you hated me. And now you hate me over this one thing?” Actually, I really wanted to say. This isn’t the same as our childhood play-fights. What happened recently touched the bottom line. Arthur’s breath hit my face. For a moment, I didn’t know if it was our current distance or his overly hot breath that was making my whole body start to heat up. Especially my face.

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The day my uncle reported me, he sent a red envelope in the family group chat. It was for a hundred dollars, with the message: “Good things are coming.” Twenty-three people grabbed a piece of the red envelope, and eight replied “Congratulations.” No one asked what they were congratulating. Because the day before, my uncle had said in the group: “Someone’s going to audit Ethan’s company.” I looked at my phone screen and smiled. Let them audit. I had been waiting for this day for three months. 1. My uncle’s name is George Williams, my dad’s older brother. My dad’s name was Arthur Williams. He passed away from stomach cancer six years ago. When he passed, my uncle came over. Not to pay his final respects. But to take the bankbook. “How much money did your dad save up in his life?” That was the first thing he said when he walked through the door. My mom was crying on the bed, and I stood in the doorway. “Uncle George, my dad hasn’t even been buried yet.” “I know,” he said, sitting down. “But bank matters can’t wait. If your dad had savings, we need to sort it out first. The Williams family’s money can’t just go to outsiders.” Outsiders. He glanced at my mom. My mom had been married into the Williams family for twenty-six years, and in his mouth, she was an outsider. I didn’t argue with him that day. My dad had $110,000 in his account. My uncle took $60,000, calling it “his share of the brotherhood over the years.” My mom stopped me, saying: “Don’t fight with your Uncle George. Your dad just left us, and he’s the only elder left in the Williams family.” I didn’t fight. I was twenty-four that year, two years out of college. My salary was $4,500 a month. $60,000 was more than a year of my salary. I remembered that. Later, I started a company. It wasn’t some legendary tale. I just started by selling things at a flea market, then moved into wholesale snacks, and slowly built it up bit by bit. By the third year, my annual revenue surpassed five million. By the fifth year, it surpassed twenty million. My uncle came to see me. “Ethan, your cousin Kevin is working odd jobs, very unstable. Isn’t your company short on people? Let him come help you.” I looked at him. “Uncle George, the company has a hiring process—” “What process?” My uncle slammed his hand on the table. “He’s your own cousin! If your dad were still alive, would I even have to beg you?” My mom tugged at my shirt from the side. “Ethan, just let Kevin come. We’re all family.” So, Kevin joined the company. I put him in the purchasing department. A base salary of $8,000, plus commissions—he could make $12,000 to $15,000 a month. Double what he was making before. My uncle was very satisfied. He was satisfied for three months. Then he came back. “Give Kevin the Purchasing Manager position.” “Uncle George, he’s only been here for three months. He has no experience—” “What do you mean, no experience? If you can be the boss, your cousin, who is even more outstanding than you, can certainly be a purchasing manager!” I looked at him. “Uncle George, this is my company.” “Your company?” My uncle laughed. “If your dad were still alive, would this company even be yours?” That sentence was like a thorn, piercing right into me. I didn’t say anything. The next day, I promoted Kevin to Deputy Purchasing Manager. Not because of my uncle’s words. But because my mom cried all night again. 2. After Kevin became Deputy Manager, the demands from my uncle’s family started to escalate. First, my aunt, Mary, called: “Ethan, your cousin is getting married, and he’s a little short on the down payment for the house. Loan him $300,000.” “Loan?” “Yes, loan. It’s not like he won’t pay you back.” $300,000. I did have money in the company accounts at the time, but it was all tied up in cash flow. Pulling out $300,000 wasn’t easy. My mom said: “Just loan it to him. It’s family.” So I loaned it to him. Transferred straight to Kevin’s account. Didn’t even get an IOU. Then my uncle came again: “Your grandmother isn’t doing well. You pay her hospital bills. You make a lot of money.” I paid it. $80,000. Then my aunt came again: “Kevin’s getting married, and we don’t have enough for the banquet. Pitch in $50,000.” I pitched in. Then Kevin came: “Bro, I’m a little short on buying a car. Loan me $100,000.” I loaned it to him. I keep a notebook. Every single transaction is recorded in it. It’s not that I’m petty. It’s that I discovered something— My uncle was telling people outside: “My nephew’s company, to be honest, relies on the Williams family. Could he be where he is today if I hadn’t pulled him up back then? Giving us a little money is nothing.” A classmate of mine told me this. She heard it at the grocery store. My uncle was chatting with someone while buying groceries. “Ethan makes so much, what’s it to him to give us a little? If it weren’t for the Williams family name, who would do business with him?” $1.46 million. Eight years. That’s the total amount I had spent on my uncle’s family. His exact words were, “giving us a little money is nothing.” Kevin worked at the company for three years. He was relatively honest the first year. Starting the second year, purchasing costs kept getting higher and higher. I asked him: “Why is this batch of raw materials 15% more expensive than last quarter?” He said: “The market price went up. You know that.” I checked the purchasing prices of our competitors. They hadn’t gone up. I then looked into the suppliers Kevin was dealing with. And I discovered something. Of the three suppliers Kevin recommended, two had legal representatives who were his college classmates. The suppliers quoted high prices, and Kevin signed off on the inventory. Where did the price difference go? I had finance audit all the purchase orders Kevin was responsible for. Three years. Total price difference: $870,000. $870,000. I gave him $300,000 for his house down payment. $100,000 for his car. Plus his salary, commissions, and holiday bonuses. His way of repaying me was stealing $870,000 from my company. Sitting in my office that night, looking at that report, my hands were shaking. Not out of fear. But out of anger. 3. I didn’t expose Kevin immediately. I did something else. I hired a professional accounting firm to conduct a comprehensive audit of the company’s accounts for the past three years. The public explanation was, “The company is seeking financing and needs to standardize its financials.” Kevin didn’t take it seriously. He even told my uncle: “Ethan’s looking for financing. Make sure he makes me a Vice President when it happens.” The day the audit results came out, I locked my office door and spent the entire afternoon reading it. Besides Kevin’s issues, the audit revealed something else— Because of the fake accounts Kevin had created, several company expenses were misclassified. As a result, the company had overpaid nearly $500,000 in taxes over the past three years. $500,000. I could apply for a tax refund for this amount. But I didn’t apply for it immediately. Because I suddenly thought of something. If someone reported me for tax evasion and the IRS came to audit my books— What would they find? They would find that I hadn’t evaded taxes. They would find that I had overpaid taxes. And they would also find that Kevin had been cooking the books for three years. I closed the audit report. Then, I fired Kevin. The reason given was “company restructuring and downsizing.” I gave him severance pay. Sent him off with dignity. Kevin even shook my hand when he left: “Bro, thanks for taking care of me these past few years.” I looked at his face. Smiled. “You’re welcome.” My uncle exploded. He stormed into my house that very night. “What is the meaning of this?!” “The company is restructuring. It has nothing to do with Kevin personally.” “Bullshit! He was doing a great job. What right do you have to fire him?” “Uncle George, it was a company decision.” “A company decision? Your company? If it weren’t—” He was about to say that sentence again. I cut him off. “Yes, my company. My name is on the business license.” My uncle glared at me. “Ethan, don’t forget your last name is Williams.” “I haven’t forgotten.” I looked right into his eyes. “But the name Williams was given to me by my dad. Not you.” My uncle slammed the door when he left. The noise was so loud the whole building could hear it. My mom was pale with fear. “Ethan, how could you speak to your uncle like that…” “Mom, he stole $870,000 from my company.” My mom froze. “What?” “Kevin took kickbacks at the company. For three years. $870,000.” My mom sat on the sofa, speechless for a long time. After a while, she finally said something. “Well… just let it go. We’re all family…” I looked at my mom. “$1.46 million.” “Huh?” “In these eight years, I’ve spent $1.46 million on Uncle George’s family. Add the $870,000 Kevin stole. That’s a total of $2.33 million.” I enunciated every word. “Mom, you tell me, which relatives are worth $2.33 million?” My mom stopped talking. 4. A month after Kevin was fired, I noticed something. The company’s financial system login records showed that after Kevin left, someone tried to log in using his old account. The login failed because I had already changed the password. But the IP address of the login attempt was from my uncle’s house. I had the IT department check it. It wasn’t just once. Over the past month, there were seventeen login attempts. All from my uncle’s IP. They were trying to get into the company’s financial system. Why? To find “evidence” of my tax evasion. I looked through the backups of Kevin’s computer from when he was still employed. I found that before he left, he had copied a massive amount of files. Purchase orders, expense reports, tax return forms. Some were real. Some he had altered. He had modified the traces of his fake accounts, making those numbers look like I was evading taxes. I sat in front of my computer, staring at the screen. They weren’t reporting me on impulse. They had been preparing for at least half a year. They started collecting materials and modifying data while Kevin was still at the company. The firing was just the catalyst. They had been planning to take me down for a long time. That day, I called Director Martinez at the accounting firm. “Director Martinez, regarding that audit report, please generate a detailed version for me.” “Mr. Williams, how detailed?” “Detailed down to the original vouchers, cash flow, and final destination of every single fraudulent transaction.” “Understood.” “Also,” I added, “hold off on the tax refund for now. Wait for my notice.” Director Martinez paused. “Mr. Williams, are you waiting for someone?” I didn’t answer. I hung up. I was waiting for my uncle. My uncle moved faster than I expected. Forty-seven days after firing Kevin, I received a call from the IRS. “Mr. Williams, we’ve received a report against your company and need to conduct a tax audit. Please cooperate.” “Understood. When would be a convenient time?” “The day after tomorrow, at 9:00 AM.” “No problem.” I hung up. Opened the family group chat. Sure enough, my uncle had already sent a message. “Good things are coming.” Below it was a red envelope. For a hundred dollars. Twenty-three people grabbed a piece. Eight replied “Congratulations.” My aunt sent a voice message: “Let’s see how stubborn he is this time!” Kevin sent a sinister smiling emoji. My third uncle asked: “What good thing?” My uncle replied: “You’ll know when the time comes.” I put down my phone. Picked up the receiver and called Director Martinez. “You can start preparing the tax refund documents.” 5. The day the IRS arrived, I got to the company an hour earlier than usual. I organized all the ledgers, vouchers, and reports, and placed them in the conference room. The audit report remained locked in my drawer. At exactly 9:00 AM, three IRS agents arrived. The team leader, whose last name was Davis, was in his forties and very stern. “Mr. Williams, we received a report alleging that your company is engaging in tax evasion. According to procedure, we need to conduct a comprehensive audit of your company’s accounts for the past three years.” “Agent Davis, cooperation is expected. All the materials are in the conference room. You can review them anytime.” I opened the door to the conference room. Agent Davis glanced at me. Most business owners being audited didn’t look this relaxed when they walked in. I was too calm. He didn’t say anything and led his team into the conference room. At 10:00 AM. A minivan arrived at the company entrance. My uncle was here. And not just my uncle. My uncle, my aunt, Kevin, my third uncle, my third aunt, my oldest aunt, her husband, my second aunt, and seven or eight distant relatives whose names I couldn’t even remember. Over twenty people. A massive contingent. “Uncle George, what are you all doing here?” Sarah, the receptionist, tried to stop them. “Just taking a look!” my uncle said loudly. “Taking a look at Ethan’s company!” He looked around, a look of triumph in his eyes. “Seeing how many more days this company can stay open!” I looked down from the window of my office. Over twenty people were crammed into the company entrance. A few passersby had already started gathering to watch the spectacle. I called the front desk. “Let them up.” “Mr. Williams?” Sarah’s voice sounded a bit panicked. “Let them up,” I repeated. “Open the main conference room. Serve them tea.” When my uncle led the group upstairs, his face practically screamed, “I’ve finally waited for this day.” He looked even more triumphant when he saw the IRS agents in the conference room. “Oh, you’re here?” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “Audit away, audit thoroughly.” Agent Davis frowned. “And you are?” “I’m his uncle.” He pointed at me. “To be honest, the Williams family owns a piece of this company too.” Agent Davis looked at me. I nodded. “He’s my uncle. Let him watch.” My uncle looked even more pleased with himself. He waved at the relatives behind him. “Sit down, everyone, sit down! Let’s all see what kind of ‘good deeds’ Ethan has been up to today!” The relatives filed in, filling the main conference room. My aunt sat in the front row, legs crossed. Kevin stood in the corner, hands in his pockets, expressionless. After sitting down, my third uncle whispered to his wife: “George said the IRS found a massive problem. He might be fined millions.” My third aunt gasped: “Then isn’t he finished?” The voices weren’t loud. But I heard them. Over twenty pairs of eyes stared at me. Not a single look held any concern. Some were gloating. Some were just waiting for the show. Some looked indifferent. And then there was one—my uncle. His eyes held naked expectation. Waiting for my downfall. Waiting to see me cry. Waiting for me to beg him. I sat in my seat and took a sip of tea. Fine. If it’s a show you want, it’s a show you’ll get. I wanted to see who would be crying in the end. 6. The IRS audited for two days. During those two days, my uncle came every single day. The first day, he could sit still. By the second day, he was getting restless. “Why aren’t they done auditing yet?” He paced back and forth in the hallway, chain-smoking. “Is it almost done?” He asked everyone who came out of the conference room. No one answered him. At 4:00 PM on the second day, Agent Davis asked to speak with me. “Mr. Williams, the preliminary audit results are ready.” “Okay.” “Regarding the materials provided by the whistleblower, I need to verify a few things with you.” “Go ahead.” Agent Davis opened a stack of files. “The whistleblower provided copies of some purchase orders and tax returns from 2021 to 2023, claiming your company evaded taxes by artificially inflating costs.” He looked at me. “But we found in the actual accounts that the materials provided by the whistleblower and the actual data entered into the company’s books—don’t match.” “They don’t match?” “The numbers on the purchase orders provided by the whistleblower are higher than the actual numbers entered into the books.” I remained silent. “In other words,” Agent Davis paused, “the materials provided by the whistleblower have been altered.” I nodded. “I know.” Agent Davis looked at me. “You know?” “These purchase orders were handled by my former Deputy Purchasing Manager, Kevin Williams. During his employment, he artificially inflated purchasing costs and transferred the difference into his personal account. These altered materials are copies he made before he left.” I pulled the audit report out of my drawer. “This is a comprehensive audit I commissioned from an accounting firm half a year ago. It contains the complete chain of evidence of Kevin’s fraudulent accounting.” I handed the report to Agent Davis. “Including the original vouchers for every fraudulent transaction, the corresponding bank statements, and the private accounts where the funds ultimately ended up.” Agent Davis flipped through a few pages. His expression changed. “Mr. Williams… why didn’t you report this to the police earlier?” I smiled. “Because I was waiting for someone.”

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My sister cried. It wasn’t a happy cry. When I showed her the positive pregnancy test, she froze for three whole seconds. Then, the tears started falling. “Sis?” She didn’t speak. She grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes, and turned away. I thought she was happy for me. Arthur and I had been married for eight years without a child. Now, we finally had one. But the way she cried was wrong. Her hands were shaking. When she left, she stood at the door for a long time, her lips moving, but no words came out. The next day, she came back. Holding a manila envelope. Inside the envelope was a divorce agreement. Blank. “Chloe,” she looked at me, her eyes red, “think very carefully before you decide to keep this child.” 1 I thought my sister had lost her mind. “Sis, what do you mean?” I pushed the envelope back. A divorce agreement. Blank. What was she trying to say by bringing this to my house? “You and Arthur are doing fine, right?” she asked instead of answering. “Of course we are.” “Has he been working a lot of overtime lately?” “Yes. He just got promoted to Project Director. It’s normal to be busy.” “How late does he stay?” “Eleven or twelve, sometimes later.” “When he’s working overtime, does he pick up when you call?” I paused for a second. “Sometimes he doesn’t. Bad reception. He says there’s no signal in the company’s underground parking garage.” My sister put down her cup. Her hands were still shaking. “Chloe, have you… ever checked his phone?” “Check his phone?” I found it funny. “Sis, I’m not that kind of person. A husband and wife need to trust—” “Check it.” She cut me off. Her voice was soft, but very firm. “Just check it once. Tonight, after he falls asleep, check it once.” I looked at her face. She didn’t look like she was joking. She had dark circles under her eyes and cracked lips, like she hadn’t slept in days. “Sis, what is going on? Can’t you just tell me directly?” She opened her mouth. Then closed it. “I can’t tell you directly,” she said. “Because you won’t believe me. You’ll just think I’m trying to drive a wedge between you two.” “You’re my sister—” “I’m your sister, which is exactly why you won’t believe me.” She stood up. “You’ll think I’m jealous that you married well, that I can’t stand seeing you happy because I’m divorced.” That stung. My sister got divorced three years ago. Her ex-husband cheated. She left the marriage with nothing, raising her daughter alone. “Sis, I’ve never thought that—” “I know.” She picked up her bag. “That’s why I’m not telling you. Go see for yourself.” She walked to the door and stopped. “Chloe.” “Yeah?” “No matter what you see, remember one thing—you are not alone.” The door closed. I stood in the living room, still clutching that manila envelope. It was very light. But I suddenly felt it weighed a ton. Arthur came home very late that night. Eleven forty. He brought a gust of cold air in with him. Seeing me still sitting on the sofa, he smiled. “Not asleep yet?” “Waiting for you.” “Silly, you’re pregnant. Get some rest.” He placed his phone on the shoe cabinet in the entryway—it was a habit of his, put the phone down first, then change shoes. I used to think this was his self-discipline—not looking at his phone when he got home, focusing on me. Today, staring at that phone, I suddenly felt it looked like a locked box. He went to take a shower. The sound of running water started. I sat on the sofa, looking at the phone on the shoe cabinet. My sister’s words echoed in my ears: Check it. Just check it once. I didn’t move. The water stopped. He came out, drying his hair, and saw me still sitting there. “What’s wrong? Spacing out?” “Nothing.” “Go to sleep early, I’ll take you to your prenatal checkup tomorrow.” “Okay.” I followed him into the bedroom. Lay down. Turned off the light. His breathing soon became even. I lay there with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling in the dark. The phone was in the entryway. His breathing was heavy. I didn’t move. Not because I didn’t dare. Because I didn’t want to. If there was nothing in that box, I would have suspected him for nothing. If there was— I closed my eyes. But I couldn’t fall asleep. At 2 AM, I got up to use the bathroom. As I passed the entryway, I stopped. The phone was on the shoe cabinet, screen down. I picked it up. The passcode was my birthday. He had never changed it. Thinking this, I entered the six digits. It unlocked. WhatsApp. Three pinned chats. The first one was me. Nickname “Wife”. The second was his mom. Nickname “Mom”. The third— The nickname was a house emoji. 🏠 No name. Just a house. I tapped it. The newest message was from tonight at 9:17 PM. A photo. In the photo was a little boy, wearing dinosaur pajamas, lying on a bed laughing. Below it was a line of text: “Your son won’t sleep, waiting for you to come back.” 2 I put the phone back on the shoe cabinet. Screen down, exactly as it was. I went back to the bedroom and lay down. Arthur rolled over, his arm draping across my waist. “Mmm… cold?” “No.” His hand was very warm. I stared at the ceiling in the dark, completely still. The little boy in the dinosaur pajamas looked about two years old. He had big eyes and monolids. Arthur has monolids. I didn’t sleep all night. The next morning, Arthur got up and made breakfast. Tomato and egg noodles. He was busy in the kitchen wearing an apron. He turned around and smiled at me: “Want a fried egg? You need the nutrition now that you’re pregnant.” “Okay.” I sat at the dining table, looking at his back. I had looked at this back for eight years. Eight years ago, he made four thousand a month, and I made six thousand. The apartment we rented was on the fifth floor, no elevator. Every day when he came home from work, he would first carry the groceries I bought upstairs, then go back down to park his electric scooter. Five trips back and forth. Later, when we bought a house, we didn’t have enough for the down payment. I borrowed eighty thousand from my mom, fifty thousand from a classmate, and withdrew all my 401k. He said, “Wife, when I make money, I’ll definitely pay you back double.” Later, he changed jobs and his salary went up. He changed jobs again, and it went up even more. From making four thousand a month, to eight thousand, to fifteen thousand, to an annual salary of two hundred thousand, to four hundred thousand. When his salary went up, he said, “Don’t worry about the money anymore, I’ll manage it.” I thought he was just being considerate. He took over the household finances. He transferred five thousand to me every month for living expenses, and said he saved the rest. “When we save enough, we’ll buy a bigger house.” I believed him. For these eight years, I managed the household expenses, paid the mortgage, and sent his mother two thousand every month. He said the rest was invested, saved. I never asked for specific numbers. Because I believed him. I thought of what happened last winter. November. Our wedding anniversary. I took a half-day off and went to the market at 3 PM. I bought his favorites: sweet and sour spare ribs and braised fish. I also bought a bouquet of flowers. I rarely buy flowers. Too expensive. But that day I thought, we’ve been married seven years, let’s be a little romantic. By 6 PM, dinner was ready. Four dishes and a soup on the table. The flowers were in a water glass; I didn’t have a vase. At 7 PM, he wasn’t back. At 8 PM, I called. Phone turned off. At 9 PM, a text: “In a meeting, be back late.” I took the flowers out of the glass. I still needed to use the glass. At 11 PM, he came home. “Did you eat?” “Yeah, company ordered takeout.” The four dishes on the table were stone cold. A layer of white fat had solidified on top of the sweet and sour spare ribs. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll just heat it up.” He didn’t notice the flowers. Nor did he remember what day it was. I heated up the spare ribs and ate them myself. Thinking about it now—when he didn’t answer his phone at 9 PM that night, where was he? Who was he with? Was that child in the dinosaur pajamas calling him “Daddy”? Breakfast was served. Tomato and egg noodles, with a fried egg. “Eat while it’s hot.” He sat across from me, smiling. I looked down and ate the noodles. The noodles were very hot. I ate very slowly. “Arthur.” “Yeah?” “What time did you get back last night?” “A little past eleven. Didn’t I tell you? We’re rushing a project.” “Mhm.” I continued eating. He got up to clean the kitchen. I heard the sound of the faucet. After finishing the noodles, I washed my bowl. He was putting on his coat, getting ready to leave. “Might be late again today. You go to sleep first.” “Okay.” The door closed. I sat back on the sofa. I took out my phone and sent my sister a message: “Sis, you were right.” She replied in three seconds. Like she had been waiting. “What did you see?” I didn’t reply. Because I didn’t know how to say it. I sat for a long time. Then I stood up and put the dirty clothes he wore last night into the washing machine. A receipt fell out of his coat pocket. A mall, basement level. Children’s clothing store. Amount: $85. Item purchased: Children’s puffer jacket, blue, size 3T. Size 3T. That’s the size a two-year-old child wears. 3 My sister came over. This time she didn’t beat around the bush. She brought a binder. Clear, filled with documents. “This is what I’ve collected over the past six months.” She placed the binder on the coffee table. I didn’t touch it. “Six months?” “Yes. Six months ago, I saw his car in the mall parking lot. A woman was sitting in the passenger seat. There was a child’s car seat in the back.” I looked at her. “You saw it, and you didn’t tell me?” “I wasn’t sure at the time—” “You weren’t sure, so you investigated for six months and still didn’t tell me?” She didn’t speak. “Lily,” I called her name. “Six months. You hid this from me for six months.” Her tears started falling. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle it. You had just been diagnosed with uterine fibroids, you hadn’t even had the surgery yet—” “So you made the decision for me?” “No—” “How are you any different from him?” I said. That was harsh. I knew. She was different. She wasn’t Arthur. But at that moment, I couldn’t control myself. Six months. Half a year. I slept in the same bed with that man every day, cooked for him, washed his clothes, got pregnant with his child—and my sister knew he was lying to me, watched me being deceived, and said nothing. My sister cried with her head down. I sat across from her. I didn’t cry. “Give me the binder.” She pushed it over. I opened it. First page: a photo. A screenshot from parking lot security footage. Arthur’s car, a woman with long hair in the passenger seat, and indeed a car seat in the back. Second page: an address. East side, Emerald Gardens, Building 3, Apartment 1402. “I followed him,” my sister said. “Twice. Both times to this address. Once he stayed the whole night, once on a weekend afternoon, he stayed for four hours.” Third page: property records for Emerald Gardens. Owner of 1402: Sarah Jenkins. Purchase date: Two years and three months ago. “Your husband paid for this apartment,” my sister said. “Put it in her name.” I flipped to the next page. A screenshot of a Venmo transfer. Arthur → Sarah Jenkins. The 8th of every month, $2,000. Note: For this month. Six consecutive months. Six screenshots. $2,000 times 6 is $12,000. And that’s just the six months my sister followed him. What if we calculate from two years ago? $2,000 times 24— $48,000. I calculated my monthly household budget. Arthur transferred $700 to me every month. $300 to his mom. I paid the mortgage, $900 a month. My monthly salary was $1,700. After deducting the mortgage and household expenses, my monthly balance was negative $200. Negative. I was losing $200 every month, making up for it with my year-end bonus and overtime pay. And he gave that woman $2,000 every month. I closed the binder. “Sis.” “Yeah.” “Thank you for collecting this.” “Chloe—” “But I don’t want to talk about you hiding this from me for six months right now.” She opened her mouth. “Wait until I’m done dealing with Arthur, then we’ll talk about that.” I picked up the binder and stood up. “You should go, Sis. He gets back at seven.” When my sister left, she stood at the door for a moment. “If you need anything, call me.” “Okay.” The door closed. I sat alone in the living room. There were two glasses of water on the coffee table; she had barely touched hers. It was getting dark outside. There was still some leftover rice in the kitchen from lunch. I went into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out two eggs. I made a plate of egg fried rice. Ate it alone. Washed the dishes. Wiped the table. Then I sat on the sofa, waiting for Arthur to come back. At 7:20 PM, the door clicked. “Wife, I’m home! Early today.” He smiled as he changed his shoes. “Hey, you cooked? What smells so good?” “Egg fried rice. Your portion is in the pan, serve yourself.” “Great.” He went into the kitchen. I watched his back. I had looked at this back for eight years. Today, for the first time, I felt it was the back of a stranger. 4 For the next three days, I did nothing. Went to work as usual. Came home as usual. Cooked as usual. Spoke to Arthur as usual. But I started paying attention to his phone. Details I hadn’t cared about before now each felt like a needle. He always went to the balcony to make phone calls. His screen auto-lock time changed from thirty seconds to ten seconds. He took his phone into the bathroom when he showered—he never used to do that. On the third night, he worked overtime again. Didn’t get home until eleven. I smelled laundry detergent on him. Not our brand. We used Tide. He smelled of Downy. “Worked so late at the company?” “Yeah, rushing a proposal.” “You worked hard.” “As long as my wife cares about me.” He smiled and kissed my forehead. The smell of Downy pressed close. I didn’t pull away. And I didn’t say anything. On the fourth day, I took a day off. I went to Emerald Gardens. East side, a forty-minute drive. It was a small, well-landscaped complex, the kind of small apartment popular with young people. Building 3, Apartment 1402. I stood downstairs and watched for a while. The windows on the fourteenth floor had pink curtains. Clothes were hanging on the balcony—a man’s white shirt, a woman’s dress, and some very small children’s clothes. It looked like a home. Another home. I sat in a bakery at the entrance of the complex for two hours. At 10:30 AM, a woman pushing a stroller came out. Long hair, wearing a beige coat and sunglasses. A little boy was sitting in the stroller. Wearing a hat with a dinosaur pattern. The child from the photo. She pushed the stroller to the park next to the complex. Sat on a bench. The child got out of the stroller, walking unsteadily. He tripped and burst into tears. She bent down, picked him up, and coaxed him. The child stopped crying and hugged her neck. She took out her phone and snapped a picture. I knew exactly who she was sending that photo to. At noon, I went back to my car. Sat there for a long time. Then I opened Arthur’s banking app—the password was his mom’s birthday. He had asked me to remember it for him when he registered. He didn’t know I actually remembered it. Credit card statements. I scrolled down line by line. A jewelry store: $11,500. Dated three months ago. I hadn’t received any jewelry. A postpartum care center: $4,500. Dated May of two years ago. May of two years ago. I was on a business trip that month. Away for half a month in Chicago. Arthur had texted: “Take care of yourself, wife. Miss you.” That month, he was accompanying another woman during her postpartum recovery. An early childhood education center: Annual fee $2,400. Payer: Arthur Sterling. A children’s photography studio: $500. A children’s clothing store: Multiple transactions, ranging from tens to hundreds of dollars. I exited the app. My hands rested on the steering wheel. I realized my fingers were shaking. I took a deep breath. Took out my phone. Flipped to the photos of my sister’s binder— The transfer records my sister took photos of were only for six months. But the banking app records went back three years. Three years. A fixed monthly transfer of $2,000 to Sarah Jenkins. That’s $72,000 in three years. Add in the jewelry, postpartum center, early education, children’s clothes, and daily expenses— I did a rough calculation. Over $110,000. And my savings over these three years— I opened my own banking app. Balance: $4,888.21. My entire life savings from an eight-year marriage. I bought a cup of coffee at the bakery. Held it in my hand. Didn’t drink it. Sat there until the coffee went cold. Then I threw it away and drove home. On the way home, I made a phone call. “Sis.” “Chloe? What’s wrong?” “Page three, that apartment in Emerald Gardens. Did you find the property records?” “I did. 650 square feet, registered in March 2022, bought in cash, total price $125,000. Owner is Sarah Jenkins. I couldn’t trace the source of funds—” “I found it.” The other end of the line went quiet. “$125,000. He bought her an apartment.” “Chloe—” “Adding the monthly transfers and other expenses, in three years, it’s at least $210,000.” My sister remained silent. “I’ve been married for eight years, and my savings are $4,800.” “Chloe, listen to me—” “Sis, do you have that woman’s background info in your binder?” “Yes. Sarah Jenkins, born in 1994, went to the same college as Arthur.” College alumni. Arthur had told me he never dated in college. “And their child’s birth date?” “January 2023.” January 2023. I counted backward. That means she got pregnant around April 2022. April 2022— That was the month Arthur and I were trying for a baby. I was taking folic acid. He told me: “Don’t stress, let nature take its course.” Let nature take its course. I tried for two years and couldn’t get pregnant. She got pregnant. “Sis.” “I’m here.” “There’s something I don’t understand.” “What?” “I tried to get pregnant for two years and couldn’t. I went to the hospital, they said I was fine. The doctor said he was fine too. But I just couldn’t get pregnant.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “When you get home,” she said, her voice very low, “go check around your water dispenser. See if there’s anything there that shouldn’t be.” 5 I didn’t go check the water dispenser immediately. Because my sister’s words carried too much weight. I needed to confirm it myself. That night, Arthur worked overtime until eleven as usual. I opened the drawer in his study. The bottom drawer. He said it was for old documents and warranties. I searched for five minutes. Tucked deep inside an envelope full of receipts, I found a blister pack of pills. White, in aluminum foil packaging. The print was very small. I held it up to the light. Ethinylestradiol and Cyproterone Acetate Tablets. Birth control pills. More than half the pack was gone. Seventeen pills were missing. These were not my pills. I had never taken birth control pills. This pack of pills was in his study. And the water I drank every day—he always poured it. Every morning, he got up earlier than me, boiled the water, poured it into my cup, and placed it on my nightstand. “Wife, have some water before you get up.” He’d been saying this for over two years. I thought he was considerate. I sat in the chair in the study, holding that blister pack. I stared at it for a long time. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold. Cold seeping out from my bones. I took out my phone and snapped a picture. Then I put the pills back exactly where they were. Put the envelope back. Closed the drawer. I walked to the bathroom. Turned on the faucet. The water ran for a long time. I splashed water on my face. Looked up at myself in the mirror. I was thirty-one. There were fine lines around my eyes. He said: “You work so hard, wife.” He said: “Go to sleep early, wife.” He said: “When we save enough money, we’ll buy a bigger house.” While saying all these things, he was crushing a birth control pill into my water cup every single day. Making sure I couldn’t get pregnant for two years. Because the woman over there was already pregnant with his child. He didn’t need two. I turned off the faucet. Dried my face. Walked out of the bathroom. I sat in the living room. And opened my laptop. I opened Excel. Eight years of accounts. I calculated every single penny. Mortgage: $900 a month. Eight years is $86,400. I paid the first three years entirely by myself—his salary was low then. Later, he got a raise and said, “I’ll take over the mortgage.” But the bank account for deductions was never changed. It was always my card being charged. Down payment: The money I borrowed and my 401k withdrawal, totaling $30,000. Household expenses: He transferred $700 to me monthly, but actual expenses were $1,000-$1,100. I covered the difference. Eight years, I subsidized at least $30,000. Allowance for his parents: $300 a month. Eight years is $28,800. He said, “I transfer it to my mom.” But for three years, I transferred it directly—because he “forgot.” My year-end bonuses: For eight years, all went toward paying back favors, covering household deficits, and buying gifts for his family during the holidays. Total— I calculated it three times. $212,000. Over these eight years, I had poured $212,000 into this home. While he had spent at least $210,000 on that woman in just three years. My eight years. Her three years. I opened my sister’s binder and flipped to the property page. Emerald Gardens, $125,000 paid in full. Our own house, I paid the $30,000 down payment, and we still owed $88,000 on the mortgage. He bought his mistress a house in cash. He gave me a mortgage. I closed the laptop. Picked up my phone. “Sis.” “I’m here.” “Help me find a divorce lawyer. The best one.” “Already found him. Attorney Davis. Tomorrow at 3 PM.” She had prepared everything six months ago. “Thank you.” “Chloe, are you still mad at me?” “Yes.” “…” “But I’m going to deal with Arthur first.”

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While I was pestering my aloof boyfriend to pick a boba tea flavor, the cashier suddenly spoke up in a passive-aggressive tone: “This offer is for couples only~” “Mistresses cannot participate.” By the time I snapped out of my daze, Liam had already paid for two cups of boba. He took my hand and led me away. Seeing I was upset, he gave a helpless, mocking smile: “It’s just an extra five bucks, is it really that big of a deal?” I was just about to argue. When we heard his neighbor exclaim: “Liam, your girlfriend has been home since noon, cooking dinner for you… “Are you doing right by her doing this?” 1 As soon as her voice fell, Liam’s apartment door was opened from the inside. A fair, plain-looking girl, holding a garbage bag, locked eyes with me— She didn’t panic in the slightest. Casually tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled gently: “You must be Chloe, right?” “I’m Mia.” Then, Mia shot a playfully reproachful glance at Liam. “Chloe coming to Capitol City is such a big deal, and you didn’t even tell me~ “Bring her inside first. “I’ll go take out the trash. I haven’t made your favorite sweet and sour spare ribs yet.” I looked at the scene before me, feeling somewhat bewildered. For a moment, I genuinely didn’t know who Liam’s real girlfriend was. I instinctively tugged at Liam’s hand. Just as I was about to demand an explanation. Liam let go of my hand. Frowning with a serious expression, he took a step forward and said to Mia: “Your wrist is bothering you, didn’t the doctor tell you not to do chores?” Without leaving room for argument, Liam took the garbage bag from Mia’s hand. And strode onto the elevator. Leaving me standing there, my mind a mess. After a long silence, the neighbor lady finally gave an awkward laugh: “So she’s a relative from your hometown… Haha, I was wondering, since you and Mia are so in love… “And Liam is so handsome and upright, how could he bring a mistress home? “Sorry about that, it was a misunderstanding. I even wanted to stand up for you.” Having said that, the neighbor lady hurriedly carried her groceries into the apartment next door. But Mia had no intention of explaining. She merely pushed up her glasses, smiled, and opened the door. “It’s quite cold, hurry and come in. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll give Liam a call and ask him to pick up a package from the lobby. “If he doesn’t get it soon, we won’t have any cotton tissues to use.” I stood in the living room. Watching Mia bustling about, acting completely like the lady of the house. With a cold face, I finally spoke: “You know I’m Liam’s girlfriend, right?” 2 Actually, from the moment we bought the boba, I vaguely felt something wasn’t right. But Liam was as aloof, restrained, and indifferent as usual. It didn’t seem like there was a problem. Besides, I didn’t want to cause a dramatic scene in a public place. But now. Looking around Liam’s rented apartment, seeing the matching couple slippers and the room filled with pink items. I couldn’t maintain my dignity anymore. “Liam and I have been together for four years, and doing long-distance for just one, and you shamelessly insert yourself—” “What are you talking about?” Liam suddenly appeared, his stern voice cutting me off. He stood tall and straight, looking down at me from a commanding height. “Mia is the comrade I told you about, the one who studied for the grad school entrance exams with me. “As for the ‘girlfriend’ thing, it’s just a lie we tell to fend off unwanted attention for each other. “I am equally a beneficiary of this fake relationship. How can you have such malice towards Mia?” I pinched my palms tightly, trying my best not to let my tears fall. Mia smiled helplessly. Generous and understanding, she smoothed things over: “Liam, don’t be so fierce to Chloe~ It’s only human nature for her to think this way since she doesn’t know the truth. “She’s a young girl, it’s completely normal for someone so focused on love to subconsciously feel competitive. “This is why I told you not to tell her about this. See, she’s angry as expected, right?” I laughed out of pure anger: “Are you not a girl?” Mia let out an “Ah?”, a hint of mockery flashing in her eyes: “I didn’t mean it like that. “It’s just that Liam mentioned you went to an ordinary college, and upon graduating, you just went with the flow and joined an ordinary company— “I just feel it’s a bit different from our… well, our value system of striving for the top.” She smiled sweetly and handed a glass of warm water to me. “Besides, you’re so pretty and know how to do makeup, unlike me, I have no aesthetic sense, I only know how to study. “Don’t worry, I’m planning to stay single forever. My life plan doesn’t include men. “So you don’t have to treat me as an imaginary rival~” The water glass hovered in mid-air. I didn’t take it. After a long while. The smile on Mia’s face became difficult to maintain. Until Liam chuckled lightly, took the glass, and intimately pulled me into his arms, saying affectionately: “Alright, we haven’t seen each other in months, how did you turn into such a little jealous pot? “The boba will get cold if you don’t drink it soon. I’ll give you mine too, okay?” Mia turned her head away, wearing a knowing “auntie” smile, and tactfully went into the kitchen. While Liam grabbed my hand, slipping it under the hem of his white shirt. “Want to inspect the eight-pack abs you love to see if they pass the test?” Instantly, a firm, warm sensation was transmitted from my hand. My face flushed red. I quickly pulled my hand back. Looking up at Liam’s ascetic, cold face. I suddenly remembered that when I first met him, he was as cold as an iceberg to all women. Only when he was with me would Liam show a different side. He spoke very seriously: “It really is just to fend off unwanted attention, nothing more. “We’re doing long-distance, don’t you even have this little bit of trust in me? “If you really can’t accept it, then hurry up and quit that job, come to Capitol City and end this long-distance—” “Oh right.” I almost forgot the purpose of my special trip to see Liam. I hesitated: “My boss values me highly and plans to—” I hadn’t even finished saying he planned to transfer me to the headquarters when a scream came from the kitchen. Liam’s expression changed drastically. “Mia, what happened?” I watched his tall, broad back as he hurried into the kitchen. Then I looked down at the message from my boss on my phone: [Have you thought about it?] I fell deep into thought. 3 To be honest. Out of this batch of newly hired interns, the opportunity to transfer to the headquarters was only offered to me and one other male colleague. It was a rare opportunity. But once I transferred, my relationship with Liam would face an even tougher situation. I couldn’t bear to let it go. After all, I put a lot of thought and effort into winning over this unattainable “flower on a high peak.” Just as I was agonizing over the decision. My boss sent another message: [I’ll give you three days to consider.] I breathed a sigh of relief. Put my phone away. And called out towards the kitchen: “What happened? Is everything okay?” 4 I had heard Liam talk about his “comrade.” A straight-A student from a small town. Supported by her entire family’s sacrifices to get to where she is today. Strong-willed, unafraid of hardship or exhaustion. So, even though I didn’t have a good impression of Mia, Seeing her pale face and pained expression now, my heart still sank. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” “Obviously.” Liam’s eyes were icy, showing no mercy. After picking up the frail Mia, he said coldly: “Mia knew you love double-cooked pork slices, so she wanted to make a plate for you— “That’s why her hand got burned by splashing oil while frying the meat. “Chloe—” He looked at me, enunciating every word: “Did you know her dream is to become a doctor? “If something happens to Mia’s hands, her dream will never be realized.” I looked at Liam in astonishment. I couldn’t believe it. That these words would come from someone usually so rational and calm. “Chloe, I’m so sorry my presence has brought you trouble.” Mia’s voice trembled, tinged with a sob as she spoke: “But right now, I need your boyfriend to take me to the hospital. “Don’t worry, we only pretend to be a couple in front of outsiders. We haven’t crossed any boundaries. “Today is a special circumstance, I didn’t expect the hot oil to splash while frying meat… My original intention was just to…” “It’s not your fault, you don’t need to grovel like this.” Liam said while grabbing his phone: “Even if it were a complete stranger, I would take them to the hospital.” He carried Mia in his arms horizontally. Looking at me expressionlessly, he ordered: “Open the door.” I pondered over Liam’s words. Feeling somewhat confused. It’s not her fault, is he insinuating— That it’s my fault? 5 After Liam and Mia left. I stood alone at the door. I stood in a daze for a long time. Then I replied to my boss: [No need to consider. [I’ll go.] When Liam’s mother called. I was discussing the details with my boss. Her voice was as kind as always: “Chloe, have you seen Liam yet?” I gave a muffled “Mm,” “I saw him.” Full of grievances, I didn’t know where to start for a moment. Just as I was about to speak, I heard Liam’s mother say earnestly: “A few days ago, Liam and I talked on the phone, and he was hesitating to speak. “I knew he had something hard to say. “After pressing him repeatedly, he finally said he wanted your Uncle Vance to use his connections to get you a job at a big tech company over in Capitol City…” She sighed. “Hearing him, I felt pretty bad. “After all, you are his first love, and your personalities complement each other so well. It’s only in front of you that Liam can relax and be himself. “You’ve been doing long-distance for so long, I guess he can’t stand it anymore but feels bad asking directly…” My deadened heart instantly reignited. I confirmed, somewhat nervously: “Really? I thought—” “Of course! When I said no problem, Liam was so incredibly happy.” Liam’s mother stated definitively: “Since he was a child, he never showed his emotions openly. It was the first time I’d seen him like that. “So Chloe, when are you quitting your job—” I took a deep breath. “Thank you to you and Uncle Vance for your kindness, but I have no plans to quit my job for now.” I interrupted her very softly, speaking gently: “I really like this job. “My bosses also value me highly. “I can’t give all this up for Liam. A big tech company is great, but it might not be suitable for me.” Seemingly not expecting me to refuse. The other end was quiet for a long time. Then Liam’s mother gave an awkward laugh: “You chased Liam for so long back then, this is a good opportunity… “It’s fine, Chloe, think about it some more…” I wanted to say “no need to think about it,” but I felt Liam’s mother had good intentions. I could only give a slow “Mm.” 6 After hanging up the phone. I stood in the empty room. Let out a long breath. Prepared to leave. But at a glance, I saw a small gift box on the floor— It must have fallen out of Liam’s pocket when he left in a hurry. As if possessed. I stopped and picked it up. Inside was a pair of dazzling, sparkling diamond rings. From Darry Ring. A brand where a person can only customize one ring in their lifetime. And the purchaser was indeed Liam. Connecting it to what Liam’s mother had just said. A sudden wave of guilt washed over me— So, Liam had already been considering our future. And here I was, acting out of spite, planning to leave without communicating with him. I calmed down. Put on the ring. Ready to call Liam. But his name jumped onto the screen first. I clicked answer, impatient to speak, “Liam, you left something behind, right?” “Mm.” Liam hadn’t expected me to answer so quickly, showing a bit of surprise before calming down again. “Mia’s wound has been treated, no major issues. She just needs a dressing change tomorrow morning, and then she can leave. “Sorry, I was too anxious earlier.” He paused, his voice hoarse. “Do you have time now to help me—” I looked at the striking diamond ring on my ring finger, thinking of the happy times I spent with Liam. I answered preemptively: “I do. “I can.” Liam’s tone became much more relaxed, chuckling lightly: “That’s good. “Mia’s period started early, and the sanitary pads she usually uses are in the compartment of the bathroom cabinet. “I didn’t want to bother you, but Mia is alone at the hospital, and I can’t leave. Her constitution is weak, so she can’t just use any brand you’d buy at a random store—” Mia’s voice calling out came from the other end. Liam quickly sent his location and hung up. My smile was still frozen on my face. My hand was still suspended in mid-air. Only the beep beep beep of the disconnected call remained in my ears. Seeming to remind me: The dream was over. 7 After thinking it over repeatedly: We are all adults. Ending a relationship should be done clearly face-to-face to do justice to these four years. Thirty minutes later. I stood in the emergency room lobby. I spotted Liam and Mia at a glance. In the noisy, chaotic environment, only the two of them seemed to exist in a tranquil bubble, completely out of place. As if sensing something. Liam happened to turn his head. And locked eyes with me. He looked at me, then looked at the bag in my hand. He curled his finger casually and freely, like an enchanting fairy from a myth, his voice also gentle: “Chloe, how can you be so cute?” Saying that, Liam raised an eyebrow and smiled at Mia: “I told you, my girlfriend isn’t the petty type. “See?” Mia’s face looked ugly for a second. She gave two perfunctory laughs. Only when she lowered her eyes did the darkness in them flash by. Liam didn’t notice. He was just focused on taking the things from my hand. The next second. He suddenly noticed the diamond ring on my hand. His expression changed drastically. “Why are you touching other people’s things without permission?” Before I could react. He coldly took the diamond ring off my finger. “Mia has been pestered by a senior recently, so she used the money she saved for a long time to buy these rings. “It’s just to make others believe she has a boyfriend and that their relationship is very strong. “It’s to fend off bad romances—” Liam’s eyes were cold, seemingly forcing himself to stay calm and lowering his voice. “I know you are very anxious about the progress of our relationship. “But you can’t just take other people’s things as your own like this.” I kept my head down. Looking at my somewhat red finger, I couldn’t help my eyes tearing up. No wonder it was so hard to put on. I thought I had gained weight, turns out… Just as the atmosphere was tense. The male colleague who was supposed to transfer with me initiated a video call. On the other end, he smiled brilliantly and freely: “Only half a month left before we have to leave. “Hey Chloe, when are you coming back to hand over your work?” … Clatter. The things in Liam’s hands fell all over the floor. His eyes were deep, his voice hoarse: “Hand over your work? “Chloe, where are you going?”

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He didn’t mean it in a happy way. When I slid the positive pregnancy test across the table, my sister froze for three solid seconds. Then, the tears started flowing. “Sis?” She didn’t answer. She just grabbed a napkin, wiped her eyes, and turned her back to me. I thought she was happy for me. Arthur and I had been married for eight years with no luck. Now, finally, it was happening. But the way she was crying felt wrong. Her hands were shaking. She stood at the front door for a long time when she left, her lips moving, but nothing came out. The next day, she came back. Holding a plain vanilla envelope. Inside was a divorce settlement. Completely blank. “Maddie,” she looked at me, her eyes red-rimmed, “think long and hard before you decide to have this baby.” 1 I thought my sister had gone off the deep end. “Sis, what is this supposed to mean?” I pushed the envelope back toward her. A blank divorce settlement. What on earth was she doing bringing this into my house? “Everything is good with you and Arthur, right?” She didn’t answer my question; she just countered with her own. “Of course it is.” “Has he been working a lot of overtime lately?” “Yeah. He just got promoted to Project Director. Being busy comes with the territory.” “How late is ‘late’ usually?” “Eleven, midnight. Sometimes later.” “And when he’s working late, does he pick up when you call?” 我愣了一下。 “Sometimes no. He says the signal is terrible in the company’s underground garage.” My sister put her coffee mug down. Her hands were still shaking. “Maddie, have you… ever checked his phone?” “Check his phone?” I actually laughed. “Sis, I’m not that kind of person. Marriage is about trust—” “Check it.” She cut me off. Her voice was quiet, but incredibly firm. “Just check it once. Tonight, after he’s asleep, just check it once.” I looked at her face. She wasn’t joking. She had heavy bags under her eyes, her lips were chapped, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. “Sis, what is going on? Can you just tell me straight out?” She opened her mouth. Then closed it again. “I can’t just tell you,” she said, “because you won’t believe me. You’ll just think I’m trying to cause drama in your marriage.” “You are my sister—” “I am your sister, and that is exactly why you won’t believe me.” She stood up. “You’ll think I’m jealous because you married rich, that since my divorce, I can’t stand to see you happy.” That stung. My sister got divorced three years ago. Her ex cheated, she got taking for everything in the settlement, and she’s been raising her daughter on her own ever since. “Sis, I have never thought that—” “I know.” She grabbed her bag. “That’s why I’m not telling you. Go see for yourself.” She walked to the door and stopped. “Maddie.” “Yeah?” “No matter what you see, remember one thing—you are not alone.” The door clicked shut. I stood in the living room, still clutching that vanilla envelope. It felt very light. But suddenly, it felt like it weighed a ton. Arthur didn’t get home until very late that night. Eleven-forty PM. He brought a chill in with him as he entered. Seeing me still sitting on the couch, he smiled. “Not asleep yet?” “Waiting for you.” “Don’t be silly, you’re pregnant. Get some rest.” He placed his phone on the entryway table—that was his routine. Phone down first, then take off his shoes. In the past, I thought that showed self-discipline—not looking at his phone at home, focusing on me. Today, staring at that phone, it suddenly looked like a locked box. He went to take a shower. The sound of running water started. I sat on the couch, staring at the phone on the entryway table. My sister’s words spun in my mind: Check it. Just check it once. I didn’t move. The water stopped. He came out, drying his hair, and saw me still sitting there. “What’s wrong? Why are you just staring?” “Nothing.” “Go to sleep early. I’m taking you to your prenatal appointment tomorrow.” “Okay.” I followed him into the bedroom. Lay down. Lights out. His breathing became even very quickly. I lay there with my eyes open in the dark, staring at the ceiling. His phone was in the entryway. His breathing was heavy. I did not move. It wasn’t that I was scared to. I just didn’t want to. If there was nothing in that box, I would be suspecting him over nothing. If there was something— I closed my eyes. But I couldn’t sleep. Two in the morning. I got up to use the bathroom. Passing through the entryway, I stopped. His phone was on the table, face down. I picked it up. The passcode was my birthday. He had never changed it. Holding that thought, I entered the six digits. Unlocked. I went to his messaging apps. Three conversations were pinned to the top. The first was me. Listed as “Wife.” The second was his mother. Listed as “Mom.” The third— Listed only as a house emoji. 🏠 No name. Just a house. I tapped on it. The latest message was from 9:17 PM tonight. It was a picture. In the photo was a little boy, wearing dinosaur pajamas, lying on a bed laughing. Below it was a line of text: “Daddy, your son won’t sleep. He’s waiting for you to come home.” 2 I put the phone back on the entryway table. Face down, exactly how it was before. I went back to the bedroom and lay down. Arthur rolled over, his arm draping over my waist. “Mmm… cold?” “No.” His hand was very warm. I stared at the ceiling in the darkness, completely still. That little boy in the dinosaur pajamas looked about two years old. He had big eyes and monolids. Arthur has monolids. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next morning, Arthur got up and made breakfast. Bacon, eggs, and toast. He was busy in the kitchen wearing an apron, turning back to smile at me. “Want some orange juice? Got to keep those vitamins up for the baby.” “Okay.” I sat at the dining table, watching his back. I had looked at this back for eight years. Eight years ago, he was making forty thousand a year, and I was making sixty. We lived in a walk-up apartment on the fifth floor. No elevator. Every day when he got home from work, he would carry up the groceries I bought first, then go back down to find parking for his car. Back and forth. Later, when we bought the house, we didn’t have enough for the down payment. I borrowed thirty thousand from my mom, ten thousand from a classmate, and emptied my 401k. He said, “Babe, when I make it big, I’m going to pay you back double.” Later, he changed jobs, and his salary went up. He changed jobs again, and it went up even more. From forty thousand, to eighty, to one hundred and fifty, to two hundred thousand, to four hundred thousand a year. When his salary went up, he said, “Don’t worry about the money anymore. I’ll handle the finances.” I thought he was doing it out of love. He took over the family finances. He transferred me two thousand dollars a month for living expenses, and he said he was saving the rest. “When we save enough, we’ll buy a big house with a huge yard.” I believed him. For eight years, I managed the household bills, paid the mortgage, and sent his mother five hundred dollars every month. He said the rest was in investments and savings. I never asked for specific numbers. Because I trusted him. I thought about what happened last winter. November. Our wedding anniversary. I took a half-day off, went to the grocery store at three PM. I bought his favorite steak and lobster tails. I also bought a bouquet of flowers. I don’t usually buy flowers. They are too expensive. But that day, I thought, We’ve been married seven years, let’s be romantic. Six PM, dinner was ready. Seven PM, he wasn’t home. Eight PM, I called. Went straight to voicemail. Nine PM, a text: “In a meeting, be back late.” I took the flowers out of the water glass I used as a vase. I still needed the glass. Eleven PM, he came home. “Did you eat?” “Yeah, got pizza with the team.” The steak and lobster on the table were stone cold. “It’s fine,” I said. “I can just reheat it.” He didn’t notice the flowers. Nor did he remember what day it was. I reheated the lobster and ate it myself. Thinking about it now—when he didn’t pick up at nine PM that night, where was he? Who was he with? Was that child in the dinosaur pajamas calling him “Daddy” right then? Breakfast was placed in front of me. Bacon, eggs, and toast. “Eat up while it’s hot.” He sat opposite me, smiling. I looked down and ate. The eggs were very hot. I ate very slowly. “Arthur.” “Yeah?” “What time did you get back last night?” “A little past eleven, I think. Told you, babe, the project is running tight.” “Okay.” I continued eating. He got up to clean the kitchen. I heard the sound of the running water. After breakfast, I did the dishes. He was putting on his blazer, getting ready to leave. “Might be another late one today. Don’t wait up.” “Okay.” The door closed. I sat back on the couch. I took out my phone and sent my sister a message: “Sis, you were right.” Three seconds later, she replied. As if she had been waiting. “What did you see?” I didn’t reply. Because I didn’t know how to say it. I sat there for a long time. Then I stood up and put his dirty clothes from last night into the washing machine. A receipt fell out of his blazer pocket. From a upscale children’s boutique downtown. Amount: $238. Item: Children’s puffer jacket, blue, size 2T. Size 2T. That is the size a two-year-old child wears. 3 My sister came over. This time, she didn’t beat around the bush. She brought a folder. It was transparent, filled with papers. “This is what I’ve gathered over the last six months.” She put the folder on the coffee table. I didn’t touch it. “Six months?” “Yes. Six months ago, I saw his car in the parking lot of a high-end mall. A woman was sitting in the passenger seat. There was a car seat in the back.” I looked at her. “You saw that, and you didn’t tell me?” “I wasn’t sure at the time—” “You weren’t sure, so you investigated for six months and still didn’t tell me?” She didn’t speak. “Felicia,” I called her by her first name. “Six months. You kept this from me for six months.” Her tears started falling. “I was scared you couldn’t handle it. You had just found that lump on your thyroid, you hadn’t even had the biopsy yet—” “So you made the decision for me?” “No—” “How are you any different from him?” I said. Those were harsh words. I knew that. She was different. She wasn’t Arthur. But at that moment, I couldn’t control myself. Six months. Half a year. I slept in the same bed with that man every day, cooked his meals, washed his clothes, got pregnant with his baby—and my sister knew he was lying to me, watched me being played for a fool, and didn’t say a single word. My sister sat opposite me, crying silently. I didn’t cry. “Give me the folder.” She pushed it over. I opened it. The first page was a photo. A surveillance shot from a parking garage. It was Arthur’s car. A long-haired woman was in the passenger seat, and there was definitely a car seat in the back. The second page was an address. Upscale condo complex on the East side. Building 3, Apartment 1402. “I followed him,” my sister said. “Twice. Both times, he went to this address. Once he stayed the whole night. The other time was a Saturday afternoon, he was there for four hours.” The third page was the property records for Apartment 1402. Owner: Stephanie Vance. Purchase date: Two years and three months ago. “Your husband bought this place,” my sister said. “It’s in her name.” I flipped to the next page. It was a screenshot of a bank transfer. Arthur → Stephanie Vance. The 8th of every month, $5,000. Memo: For this month. Six consecutive months. Six screenshots. Five thousand times six is thirty thousand. That was just the six months my sister was tracking him. What if we calculate from two years ago? Five thousand times twenty-four— One hundred and twenty thousand. I calculated my monthly household budget. Arthur transferred me two thousand. Sent his mother five hundred. I paid the mortgage—three thousand six hundred. I made three thousand a month. After paying the mortgage, I was left with a negative six hundred dollars. Negative. Every month, I was out of pocket six hundred dollars, made up for by my year-end bonus and freelance work. While he was giving that woman five thousand a month. I closed the folder. “Sis.” “Yeah.” “Thanks for gathering this.” “Maddie—” “But I don’t want to talk about you keeping this from me for six months right now.” She opened her mouth. “Wait until I’m done dealing with Arthur. Then we’ll talk about that.” I grabbed the folder and stood up. “You should go, Sis. He gets home at seven.” When my sister left, she stood at the front door for a while. “If you need anything, call me.” “Okay.” The door clicked shut. I sat alone in the living room. There were two coffee mugs on the table. She hadn’t really touched hers. It got dark outside. There was leftover dinner from yesterday in the fridge. I went into the kitchen, made a plate of food, and ate it. Alone. I did the dishes. I wiped the table. Then I sat on the couch, waiting for Arthur to come home. Seven-twenty PM, the door opened. “Wife, I’m home! Early today.” He smiled as he changed his shoes. “Hey, you already eat? What smells good?” “Leftovers. Yours is on the stove, help yourself.” “Awesome.” He went into the kitchen. I watched his back. I had looked at this back for eight years. Today, for the first time, I felt like it belonged to a total stranger. 4 For the next three days, I did nothing. I went to work. I came home. I cooked. I talked to Arthur, as usual. But I started watching his phone. Details I hadn’t cared about before now felt like needles in my eyes. Whenever he made a call, he went to the balcony. His phone’s screen-lock time changed from thirty seconds to ten. When he showered, he took the phone into the bathroom—something he never used to do. The third night, he worked overtime again. He didn’t get home until eleven. I smelled laundry detergent on him. Not our brand. We used Tide pods. He smelled of Downy scent boosters. “Worked so late at the company?” “Yeah, gotta get that proposal submitted.” “You work hard.” “As long as my wife appreciates me.” He smiled and亲了一下我的额头。 The smell of Downy pressed against me. I didn’t flinch. Nor did I speak. The fourth day, I took a sick day. I drove to the East side, to the condo complex. It was about a forty-minute drive. Not a huge complex, nice landscaping—the kind of trendy, small units young professionals liked. Building 3, Apartment 1402. I stood downstairs and watched for a bit. The windows on the fourteenth floor had pink curtains hanging. There were clothes drying on the balcony—a man’s white dress shirt, a woman’s dress, and some tiny children’s clothes. It looked like a home. Another home. I sat in the coffee shop across the street from the complex for two hours. At ten-thirty AM, a woman came out pushing a stroller. Long hair, wearing a designer coat and sunglasses. A little boy was sitting in the stroller. Wearing a hat with a dinosaur print. That was the child from the photo. She pushed the stroller to the park next to the complex. She sat on a park bench. The child got out of the stroller, toddling around. He tripped and burst out crying. She bent down, picked him up, and comforted him. The child stopped crying and hugged her neck. She took out her phone and snapped a picture. I knew who that photo was going to be sent to. Twelve PM, I got back in my car. I sat there for a long time. Then I opened Arthur’s banking app—the password was his mother’s birthday. He had made me memorize it for him when he set it up. He didn’t know I still remembered it. I scrolled through the credit card transactions line by line. Downtown Jeweler: $12,000. The date was three months ago. I hadn’t received any jewelry. Postpartum Recovery Center: $6,500. The date was May, two years ago. May, two years ago. I was traveling for work that month. I was away in Chicago for two weeks. Arthur had texted me: “Take care of yourself, babe. Miss you.” That month, he was accompanying another woman in her recovery center. Private Pre-K Enrollment: $20,000 annual fee. Payer: Arthur Sterling. Children’s Photography: $1,200. Gap Kids: Multiple charges, amounts ranging from hundreds to a thousand dollars. I logged out of the app. My hands rested on the steering wheel. I realized my fingers were shaking. I took a deep breath. I took out my phone. I looked at the photos of my sister’s folder again— The screenshots she took of the transfers were only for six months. But on the banking app, I could look at records going back three years. Three years. A fixed monthly transfer of $5,000 to Stephanie Vance. That’s one hundred and eighty thousand in three years. Add in the jewelry, the recovery center, Pre-K, kids’ clothes, and daily spending— I did a rough calculation. Well over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And my savings over these three years— I opened my own banking app. Balance: $6,812.15. The entirety of my savings from an eight-year marriage. I bought a coffee at the shop. Held it in my hand. Didn’t drink it. Sat there until the coffee went cold. Then I threw it away and drove home. On the way back, I made a call. “Sis.” “Maddie? What’s wrong?” “The third page, the property on the East side. Did you find the mortgage info?” “I checked the public filings. It’s 1200 square feet, bought in cash in March 2022. Total price was eight hundred and fifty thousand. The owner is listed as Stephanie Vance. I couldn’t trace the source of funds—” “I found it.” The other end was silent. “Eight hundred and fifty thousand. He bought her a luxury condo. In cash.” “Maddie—” “Between the monthly transfers and everything else, in three years, it’s at least four hundred thousand dollars.” My sister didn’t say anything. “I’ve been married for eight years. I have six thousand in the bank.” “Maddie, listen to me—” “Sis, in your folder, do you have that woman’s background information?” “Yeah. Stephanie Vance, born in 1994, same college as Arthur.” Same college. Arthur had told me he never dated in college. “Their child, what’s the date of birth?” “January 2023.” January 2023. I counted backward. Pregnancy would mean conception around April 2022. April 2022— That month, Arthur and I were actively trying for a baby. I was taking folic acid. He told me, “Don’t stress, let nature take its course.” Let nature take its course. I tried for two years and couldn’t get pregnant. She got pregnant. “Sis.” “Yeah.” “There’s one thing I don’t get.” “What?” “I tried to get pregnant for two years, and it never happened. I went to the doctor, they checked me out, said I was fine. The doctor said he was fine, too. But I just couldn’t get pregnant.” There was a long silence on the other end. “When you get home,” she said, her voice very low, “check by your water cooler. See if there’s anything there that shouldn’t be.” 5 I didn’t check the water cooler right away. Because my sister’s words carried too much weight. I needed to confirm it for myself. That night, Arthur worked late until eleven, as usual. I opened the drawer in his study. The bottom one. He said it was for old files and electronics warranties. I searched for five minutes. Tucked inside an envelope labeled “Tax Receipts,” at the very back, I found a blister pack of pills. They were white, in foil packaging. The writing on them was very small. I held it under the desk lamp. Ethinyl estradiol and Cyproterone acetate. A form of birth control pill. More than half the pack was gone. Seventeen pills were missing. Those weren’t my pills. I had never been on birth control. This pack was in his study. And the water I drank every day—he always poured it. Every morning, he got up before me, heated up water, poured it into my travel mug, and put it on my nightstand. “Wife, have some water before you get up.” He’d been saying it for over two years. I thought he was being considerate. I sat in the chair in the study holding that blister pack. I stared at it for a long time. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold. A coldness seeping out from my bones. I took out my phone, snapped a photo. Then I put the pills back exactly where they were. Put the envelope back. Closed the drawer. I walked to the bathroom. Turned on the faucet. Let the water run for a long time. I splashed water on my face. Looked in the mirror at myself. I was thirty-one years old. There were fine lines around my eyes. He said, “Babe, you work so hard.” He said, “Babe, get some rest.” He said, “When we save enough money, we’ll buy a big house with a huge yard.” While saying all that, every single day, he was crushing a birth control pill into my water cup. Ensuring I wouldn’t get pregnant for two years. Because the woman over there had already had his child. He didn’t need two. I turned off the faucet. Dried my face. Walked out of the bathroom. Sat in the living room. Took out a notebook. Actually, it was an Excel spreadsheet on my laptop. I calculated every penny from the last eight years. Mortgage: Three thousand six hundred a month. For eight years, that was three hundred forty-five thousand six hundred dollars. The first three years, I paid it alone—his salary was low back then. Later, his salary went up and he said, “I’ll handle the mortgage.” But the bank account for deductions was never changed. It was always my card being charged. The down payment: The borrowed money and my 401k, totaling forty thousand dollars. Household expenses: He transferred me two thousand, but the actual monthly spend was three to four thousand. I covered the difference. Eight years, I’d subsidized at least ninety-six thousand dollars. Financial support for his parents: Five hundred a month. For eight years, that was forty-eight thousand. He said, “I’ll send it to my mom.” But for three years, I transferred it directly—because he “forgot.” My bonuses: Eight years, all went toward joint debts, household shortfalls, and buying gifts for his family during the holidays. Total— I calculated it three times. Five hundred sixty-nine thousand, six hundred dollars. In these eight years, I had poured five hundred sixty-nine thousand, six hundred dollars into this home. While he had spent at least four hundred thousand dollars on that woman in just three years. My eight years. Her three years. I opened my sister’s folder and turned to the property page. condo, eight hundred fifty thousand, paid in full. Our own house, I paid the forty thousand down payment, and we still owed one hundred and fifty thousand on the mortgage. He bought the mistress a home in cash. He gave me a mortgage. I closed the laptop. Picked up my phone. “Sis.” “I’m here.” “Help me find a divorce lawyer. The best one.” “Already found him. Mr. Fitzgerald. Tomorrow at three PM.” She had prepared everything six months ago. “Thank you.” “Maddie, are you still mad at me?” “Yes.” “…” “But I’m going to deal with Arthur first.”

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The day my uncle reported me, he dropped a $100 digital cash gift into the family group chat. The attached note read: “Good things are coming.” Twenty-three people claimed a piece of it, and eight replied, “Congratulations.” No one asked what they were congratulating him for. Because the day before, my uncle had announced in the group: “Someone’s going to investigate Nolan’s company.” I looked at my phone screen and smiled. Let them investigate. I had been waiting for this day for three months. 1. My uncle’s name is Richard Hayes, my dad’s older brother. My dad, Robert Hayes, passed away from stomach cancer six years ago. When he passed, Uncle Richard came over. Not to pay his final respects. But to take the bank statements. “How much money did your dad manage to save up?” That was the first thing he said when he walked through the door. My mom was crying on the bed, and I stood in the doorway. “Uncle Richard, my dad hasn’t even been buried yet.” “I know,” Uncle Richard said, sitting down. “But bank matters can’t wait. If your dad had savings, we need to sort it out first. The Hayes family’s money can’t go to an outsider.” Outsider. He glanced at my mom. My mom had been married into the Hayes family for twenty-six years, and in his mouth, she was an outsider. I didn’t argue with him that day. My dad had $110,000 in his account. Uncle Richard took $60,000, calling it “his share of the brotherhood over the years.” My mom stopped me from fighting him, saying, “Don’t cause a scene with your uncle. Your dad just left us, and he’s the only elder left in the family.” I didn’t cause a scene. I was twenty-four that year, two years out of college. My salary was $4,500 a month. $60,000 was more than a year of my salary. I remembered that. Later, I started my own company. It wasn’t some legendary rags-to-riches tale. I just started by selling goods at local flea markets, then moved into wholesale snacks and beverages, building it up bit by bit. By the third year, my annual revenue surpassed five million. By the fifth year, it surpassed twenty million. Uncle Richard came to visit. “Nolan, your cousin Derek is working odd jobs, very unstable. Isn’t your company short-staffed? Let him come help you.” I looked at my uncle. “Uncle Richard, the company has a hiring process—” “What process?” Uncle Richard slammed his hand on the desk. “He’s your own cousin! If your dad were still alive, would I even have to beg you?” My mom tugged at my shirt from the side. “Nolan, just let Derek come. We’re all family.” So, Derek joined the company. I put him in the purchasing department. A base salary of $8,000, plus commissions—he was taking home $12,000 to $15,000 a month. Double what he was making before. Uncle Richard was very satisfied. He was satisfied for three months. Then he came back. “Give Derek the Purchasing Manager position.” “Uncle Richard, he’s only been here for three months. He has no experience—” “What do you mean, no experience?” Uncle Richard scoffed. “If you can be the boss, your cousin—who is even smarter than you—can certainly be a purchasing manager!” I looked at him. “Uncle Richard, this is my company.” “Your company?” Uncle Richard laughed. “If your dad were still alive, would this company even be yours to run?” That sentence was like a thorn, piercing right into me. I didn’t say anything. The next day, I promoted Derek to Deputy Purchasing Manager. Not because of my uncle’s words. But because my mom cried all night again. 2. After Derek became Deputy Manager, the demands from my uncle’s family started to escalate. First, Aunt Susan called: “Nolan, your cousin is getting married, and he’s a little short on the down payment for the house. Loan him $300,000.” “Loan?” “Yes, loan. It’s not like he won’t pay you back.” $300,000. I did have money in the company accounts at the time, but it was all tied up in cash flow. Pulling out $300,000 wasn’t easy. My mom said: “Just loan it to him. It’s family.” So I loaned it to him. Transferred straight to Derek’s account. I didn’t even make him sign an IOU. Then Uncle Richard came again: “Your grandmother isn’t doing well. You pay her hospital bills. You make a lot of money.” I paid it. $80,000. Then Aunt Susan came again: “Derek’s getting married, and we don’t have enough for the banquet. Pitch in $50,000.” I pitched in. Then Derek came: “Bro, I’m a little short on buying a car. Loan me $100,000.” I loaned it to him. I keep a notebook. Every single transaction is recorded in it. It’s not that I’m petty. It’s that I discovered something. Uncle Richard was telling people outside: “My nephew’s company, to be honest, relies on the Hayes family name. Could he be where he is today if I hadn’t pulled him up back then? Giving us a little money is nothing.” A former classmate of mine told me this. She heard it at the grocery store. My uncle was chatting with someone in the produce aisle. “Nolan makes so much, what’s it to him to give us a little? If it weren’t for the Hayes family reputation, who would do business with him?” $1.46 million. Eight years. That’s the total amount I had spent on my uncle’s family. His exact words were, “Giving us a little money is nothing.” Derek worked at the company for three years. He was relatively honest the first year. Starting the second year, purchasing costs kept climbing. I asked him: “Why is this batch of raw materials 15% more expensive than last quarter?” He said: “The market price went up. You know how it is.” I checked the purchasing prices of our competitors. They hadn’t gone up. I then looked into the suppliers Derek was dealing with. And I discovered a pattern. Of the three new suppliers Derek recommended, two had legal representatives who were his college fraternity brothers. The suppliers quoted inflated prices, and Derek signed off on the invoices. Where did the price difference go? I had finance audit all the purchase orders Derek was responsible for. Three years. Total difference: $870,000. $870,000. I gave him $300,000 for his house down payment. $100,000 for his car. Plus his salary, commissions, and holiday bonuses. His way of repaying me was embezzling $870,000 from my company. Sitting in my office that night, looking at that report, my hands were shaking. Not out of fear. But out of anger. 3. I didn’t expose Derek immediately. I did something else. I hired a professional CPA firm to conduct a comprehensive audit of the company’s accounts for the past three years. The public explanation was, “The company is seeking outside financing and needs to bulletproof its financials.” Derek didn’t take it seriously. He even told his dad: “Nolan is trying to get investors. Make sure he gives me a VP title when the money comes in.” The day the audit results came out, I locked my office door and spent the entire afternoon reading it. Besides Derek’s embezzlement, the audit revealed something else. Because of the fake invoices Derek had created, several company expenses were misclassified. As a result, the company had overpaid nearly $500,000 in taxes over the past three years. $500,000. I could apply for a tax refund from the IRS for this amount. But I didn’t apply for it immediately. Because I suddenly thought of a scenario. If someone reported me to the IRS for tax evasion and they came to audit my books— What would they find? They would find that I hadn’t evaded a single cent. They would find that I had actually overpaid taxes. And they would find that Derek had been cooking the books for three years. I closed the audit report. Then, I fired Derek. The reason given was “company restructuring and downsizing.” I gave him a generous severance package. Sent him off with full dignity. Derek even shook my hand when he left: “Bro, thanks for taking care of me these past few years.” I looked at his face. And smiled. “Don’t mention it.” Uncle Richard exploded. He stormed into my house that very night. “What the hell is the meaning of this?!” “The company is restructuring. It has nothing to do with Derek personally.” “Bullshit! He was doing a great job. What right do you have to fire him?” “Uncle Richard, it was a company decision.” “A company decision? Your company? If it weren’t—” He was about to say that sentence again. I cut him off. “Yes, my company. My name is on the LLC registration.” Uncle Richard glared at me. “Nolan, don’t forget your last name is Hayes.” “I haven’t forgotten.” I looked right into his eyes. “But the name Hayes was given to me by my dad. Not you.” My uncle slammed the door when he left. The noise was so loud it rattled the windows. My mom was pale with fear. “Nolan, how could you speak to your uncle like that…” “Mom, he stole $870,000 from my company.” My mom froze. “What?” “Derek took kickbacks at the company. For three years. $870,000.” My mom sat on the sofa, speechless for a long time. After a while, she finally said something. “Well… just let it go. We’re all family…” I looked at my mom. “$1.46 million.” “Huh?” “In these eight years, I’ve spent $1.46 million on Uncle Richard’s family. Add the $870,000 Derek stole. That’s a total of $2.33 million.” I enunciated every word. “Mom, you tell me, which relative on earth is worth $2.33 million?” My mom stopped talking. 4. A month after Derek was fired, I noticed something. The company’s financial system login records showed that after Derek left, someone tried to log in using his old credentials. The login failed because I had already changed all the passwords. But the IP address of the login attempt was traced back to my uncle’s house. I had my IT guy dig deeper. It wasn’t just once. Over the past month, there were seventeen login attempts. All from Uncle Richard’s IP. They were trying to get into the company’s financial system. Why? To find “evidence” of my tax evasion. I looked through the backups of Derek’s computer from when he was still employed. I found that before he left, he had copied a massive amount of files to a hard drive. Purchase orders, expense reports, tax return forms. Some were real. Some he had altered. He had modified the traces of his fake accounts, making those inflated numbers look like I was artificially inflating costs to evade corporate taxes. I sat in front of my computer, staring at the screen. They weren’t reporting me on impulse. They had been preparing this for at least half a year. They started collecting materials and modifying data while Derek was still drawing a paycheck from me. The firing was just the catalyst. They had been planning to destroy me for a long time. That day, I called Mr. Harrison, the head CPA at the accounting firm. “Mr. Harrison, regarding that audit report, I need you to generate a detailed version for me.” “Mr. Hayes, how detailed?” “Detailed down to the original vouchers, the cash flow, and the final destination of every single fraudulent transaction.” “Understood.” “Also,” I added, “hold off on filing for that tax refund for now. Wait for my signal.” Mr. Harrison paused. “Mr. Hayes, are you waiting for someone?” I didn’t answer. I just hung up. I was waiting for Uncle Richard. He moved faster than I expected. Forty-seven days after firing Derek, I received a call from the IRS. “Mr. Hayes, we’ve received a whistleblower report alleging that your company is engaging in tax evasion. According to procedure, we need to conduct a tax audit. Please cooperate.” “Understood. When would be a convenient time?” “The day after tomorrow, at 9:00 AM.” “No problem.” I hung up the phone. I opened the family group chat. Sure enough, Uncle Richard had already sent a message. “Good things are coming.” Below it was a digital cash gift for $100. Twenty-three people grabbed a piece. Eight replied “Congratulations.” Aunt Susan sent a voice message: “Let’s see how stubborn he is this time!” Derek sent a sinister, smirking emoji. Uncle Thomas asked: “What good thing?” Uncle Richard replied: “You’ll all know when the time comes.” I put down my phone. Picked up my office receiver and called Mr. Harrison. “You can start preparing the tax refund documents.” 5. The day the IRS arrived, I got to the company an hour earlier than usual. I organized all the ledgers, vouchers, and reports, and placed them neatly in the conference room. The CPA audit report remained locked in my desk drawer. At exactly 9:00 AM, three IRS agents arrived. The lead agent, a man named Miller, was in his forties and looked incredibly stern. “Mr. Hayes, we received a report alleging that your company is artificially inflating costs to evade taxes. By law, we need to conduct a comprehensive audit of your company’s accounts for the past three years.” “Agent Miller, full cooperation is guaranteed. All the materials are in the conference room. You have full access.” I opened the door to the conference room for them. Agent Miller gave me a strange look. Most business owners being audited didn’t look this relaxed when the IRS walked in. I was too calm. He didn’t say anything and led his team inside. At 10:00 AM. A large passenger van pulled up to the company entrance. Uncle Richard was here. And not just him. Uncle Richard, Aunt Susan, Derek, Uncle Thomas, Aunt Carol, and seven or eight distant relatives whose names I could barely remember. Over twenty people in total. A massive, marching contingent. “Uncle Richard, what are you all doing here?” Jessica, my receptionist, tried to stop them. “Just taking a look around!” Uncle Richard boomed, his voice echoing in the lobby. “Taking a look at Nolan’s company!” He looked around, a look of absolute triumph in his eyes. “Seeing how many more days this place can keep its doors open!” I looked down from the interior window of my office. Over twenty people were crammed into the reception area. A few employees had already stopped working to watch the spectacle. I called the front desk. “Let them up.” “Mr. Hayes?” Jessica’s voice sounded panicked. “Let them up,” I repeated. “Open the main boardroom. Serve them coffee.” When Uncle Richard led the group upstairs, his face practically screamed, I’ve finally waited for this day. He looked even more triumphant when he saw the IRS agents working in the adjacent conference room. “Oh, you boys are already here?” He pulled up a chair and sat down in the boardroom. “Audit away, audit thoroughly.” Agent Miller stepped out and frowned. “And you are?” “I’m his uncle.” Uncle Richard pointed at me through the glass. “To be honest, the Hayes family owns a piece of this company too.” Agent Miller looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. “He’s my uncle. Let him watch.” Uncle Richard looked even more pleased with himself. He waved at the relatives behind him. “Sit down, everyone, sit down! Let’s all see what kind of ‘good deeds’ Nolan has been up to today!” The relatives filed in, filling the main boardroom. Aunt Susan sat in the front row, legs crossed, looking smug. Derek stood in the corner, hands in his pockets, trying to look expressionless but failing to hide a smirk. After sitting down, Uncle Thomas whispered to his wife: “Richard said the IRS found massive problems. He might be fined millions and go to federal prison.” Aunt Carol gasped: “Then isn’t he completely finished?” The voices weren’t loud. But I heard them. Over twenty pairs of eyes stared at me through the glass partition. Not a single look held an ounce of concern. Some were gloating. Some were just waiting for the show. Some looked entirely indifferent. And then there was one—Uncle Richard. His eyes held naked, greedy expectation. Waiting for my downfall. Waiting to see me cry. Waiting for me to beg him for mercy. I sat in my leather chair and took a sip of my coffee. Good. If it’s a show you want, it’s a show you’ll get. I wanted to see who would be crying when the curtain fell. 6. The IRS audited for two days. During those two days, my uncle came every single day. The first day, he could sit still. By the second day, he was getting restless. “Why aren’t they done auditing yet?” He paced back and forth in the hallway, looking agitated. “Is it almost done?” He asked every agent who stepped out of the conference room to use the restroom. No one answered him. At 4:00 PM on the second day, Agent Miller asked to speak with me in my office. “Mr. Hayes, the preliminary audit results are ready.” “Okay.” “Regarding the materials provided by the whistleblower, I need to verify a few things with you.” “Go ahead.” Agent Miller opened a thick manila folder. “The whistleblower provided copies of several purchase orders and tax returns from 2021 to 2023, claiming your company evaded taxes by artificially inflating costs.” He looked at me over his glasses. “But we found during our cross-referencing that the materials provided by the whistleblower and the actual data entered into the company’s books—don’t match.” “They don’t match?” “The numbers on the purchase orders provided by the whistleblower are significantly higher than the actual numbers entered into your ledgers.” I remained silent. “In other words,” Agent Miller paused, “the materials provided by the whistleblower have been intentionally altered.” I nodded. “I know.” Agent Miller looked at me sharply. “You know?” “These purchase orders were handled by my former Deputy Purchasing Manager, Derek Hayes. During his employment, he artificially inflated purchasing costs and transferred the difference into his personal accounts. These altered materials you received are copies he modified and exported before he left the company.” I unlocked my desk drawer and pulled out the CPA audit report. “This is a comprehensive audit I commissioned from an independent accounting firm half a year ago. It contains the complete chain of evidence of Derek’s fraudulent accounting.” I handed the heavy binder to Agent Miller. “It includes the original vouchers for every fraudulent transaction, the corresponding bank statements, and the private accounts where the funds ultimately ended up.” Agent Miller flipped through a few pages. His expression shifted from professional skepticism to absolute shock. “Mr. Hayes… with this level of evidence, why didn’t you report this to the police months ago?” I smiled. “Because I was waiting for someone to make the first move.”

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The first time I went to my CEO boyfriend’s house, his mother served me a bowl of premium bird’s nest soup. I took a sip and casually said, “Auntie, this glass noodle soup tastes pretty good.” Instantly, the atmosphere in his living room dropped to freezing. After dinner, my boyfriend, Arthur, walked me downstairs. His tone was as cold as ice: “Chloe, let’s break up. My mom is right. Bringing a woman as uncultured as you out will only embarrass me.” The very next day, he had a high-profile engagement with Elena, a wealthy heiress who matched his social status. My heart turned to ash. I quit my job and went home to help my dad manage his “ordinary” ecological farm. Years later, to secure the exclusive distribution rights for premium organic ingredients, he came to visit in person. Seeing me in a rough linen uniform, brewing tea, his eyes filled with contempt. “Chloe, you’ve sunk so low that you’re serving tea and pouring water here? Looks like you haven’t been doing well since you left me.” He picked up the teacup, blew on it, and slowly lectured me: “There’s a gap between people. Bird’s nest and glass noodles are, after all, not the same thing.” I lowered my head and handed over a freshly brewed cup of Da Hong Pao. He took a sip and frowned: “Why does it taste like rotten wood?” “Mr. Sterling, this is the specially supplied Wuyi Mountain Mother Tree Da Hong Pao. It costs over ten thousand dollars a gram.” He sneered: “Haven’t seen you in a few years, but you still haven’t kicked the habit of bragging. Someone like you only deserves to drink rotten wood.” 1 Three days ago, I was in New Zealand hosting an international summit on the future of agriculture when I received an urgent call from my dad, calling me back. He said he had found a pretty good young man for me. He said the guy had great character and ability, and his family owned the world’s top luxury travel real estate brand, which perfectly complemented our family’s business. “Dad, I don’t want to go on a blind date.” “It’s not a blind date,” My dad chuckled like an old fox on the other end of the line. “It’s a collaboration. Isn’t our farm’s project at the top-tier ‘Cloudscape’ resort about to launch? The Vance family is our biggest partner. You go, just treat it as an early assessment of our partner.” The identity he arranged for me was the resort’s tea master. “Remember, rein in your temper. Don’t scare the guy away.” “Whether it’s a good fit or not, you decide after you see him. If it really doesn’t work out, we don’t have to do the project. My daughter’s happiness is the most important thing.” I agreed. After all, it was about the group’s strategic layout for the next decade; it was right for me to personally gatekeep. But I didn’t expect that before I even met Julian Vance, right after changing into my uniform and getting ready in the tearoom, I’d run head-on into Arthur. He was in a white suit, his gaze firmly locked onto me, a trace of sarcasm hanging on his lips. “Chloe, long time no see.” I nodded, considering it a greeting, and turned to leave. “Stop right there.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an unquestionable tone of command. “Can I help you, Mr. Sterling?” My tone was flat, devoid of emotion. He frowned, his face darkening: “What, it’s been three years since we broke up, and you’re not even willing to pretend anymore?” “Is this your service attitude? What’s your employee number? I want to file a complaint.” I didn’t speak. His gaze swept over my plain linen uniform, and he suddenly smiled. “You don’t even have a nametag. A temp?” “Makes sense. You never had any ambition when you were at the company. If I hadn’t promoted you, you’d still be making PowerPoints at the entry-level.” “Still, managing to sneak into ‘Cloudscape’ as a temp is quite a feat for you.” “Go get your manager. Your service makes me very uncomfortable and has seriously affected my mood.” I tightened my grip on the tea towel. I really wanted to throw the freshly boiled water right onto his arrogant face. But remembering my dad’s instructions, I squeezed out a standard professional smile. “You’re joking, Mr. Sterling. The past few years have been alright. Just flying all over the world for meetings, occasionally a bit tired from jet lag.” “As for ambition? I’m never short on that.” As the sole heir to the Davis Ecological Empire, future head of the world’s largest organic farms and eco-resorts… How could I possibly be content with the status quo? He smirked contemptuously: “Chloe, what kind of global meetings does a temp go to? Three years later, and you’re still so vain.” “Just like back then, when you insisted that bowl of bird’s nest was glass noodles, completely embarrassing me in front of my mom.” “Although our Sterling family isn’t top-tier old money, we’re still respectable. Did we need a girl from an ordinary family like you to keep up appearances? What exactly are you so insecure about?” He was still harping on about that? I took a deep breath, too lazy to explain again: “I was telling the truth.” He stared at me for a long time, his gaze shifting from mockery to disappointment, finally softening into a trace of pity. “Forget it. For someone like you, living in your own fantasies, why should I even hold out any expectations?” He paced to the window, looking out at the misty lake view, his voice carrying a hint of loneliness: “Brew me a cup of tea.” “The most expensive one you have here.” “Put it on my tab. I’ll give you a thousand dollars tip. That’s enough for you to work here for half a month, right?” I didn’t move. He raised an eyebrow, displeased: “What? Not enough? Or are you saying a temp like you isn’t even qualified to touch the most expensive tea leaves?” “Right away, Mr. Sterling.” I turned and went into the storage room, bringing out the Mother Tree Da Hong Pao my dad treasured, prepared specifically to host Julian. I carefully took three grams and brewed it with mountain spring water. When I returned with the tea set, I saw a familiar figure intimately holding Arthur’s arm. Elena. She was dressed in haute couture, the diamond ring on her hand still blindingly bright in the dim light. Seeing me, she exaggeratedly covered her mouth: “Oh my god! Chloe? What are you doing here?!” 2 Her eyes were full of feigned shock: “Weren’t you a white-collar worker in a top-tier office building downtown? Why did you run off to the mountains to be a waitress?” “I remember your family’s financial situation was just average. The salary for this job probably isn’t high, right? Did you run into some difficulties?” I placed the tea in front of Arthur, ignored her, and turned to leave. “Wait.” she called out to me with a drawn-out voice. “I’ll have the same cup, thanks.” I was just about to go get more tea leaves, but she beat me to it, taking off the necklace around her neck and tossing it onto my tray. “Bulgari, limited edition. Only thirty thousand or so. Take it as a tip for your hard work.” I glanced down at it. It was last year’s old model. The boutiques had put it on clearance long ago. I pushed the necklace right back in front of her, saying lightly: “My family’s storage room is full of boxes of outdated styles like this. They’re all gifts from partners. The designs are too old-fashioned; I can’t be bothered to wear them.” Elena was visibly stunned, then she laughed exaggeratedly, leaning against Arthur: “Chloe, this is real gold and silver, not the fakes you used to buy at street stalls.” The contempt in Arthur’s eyes was practically overflowing: “Take it. Selling it will save you a few years of struggle. Elena is kind-hearted; don’t be ungrateful.” “Are you sure you want to give it to me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Elena smiled, resting her chin on her hand, her eyes full of condescension: “Of course.” I picked up the necklace and casually tossed it into the bamboo trash can by the window: “Sorry, our resort has a strict policy against accepting any gifts from guests.” “Chloe!” Elena screamed, lunging toward the trash can. She frantically retrieved the necklace and waved it furiously in my face. “A thirty-thousand-dollar necklace, and you just throw it away? Are you crazy? Do you know this could buy several square feet of that rundown house your family lives in?” I looked at her, amused: “Does your heart ache? I can compensate you. But this style is too old; I might have to hunt for it in the secondhand market.” Elena was instantly speechless. Arthur suddenly sneered: “Pretending to be a rich heiress? With what you’re worth, selling yourself wouldn’t even cover the cost!” My expression darkened immediately. “Give me your payment QR code. I’ll have my assistant transfer the money to you right now…” “Enough!” Arthur sharply interrupted me. “It’s fine if you spout this crazy talk in front of me, but if word gets out, people will just think you’re mentally ill.” Elena immediately chimed in. “Arthur, I forgot she had a habit of bragging. It seems to be getting worse now.” She shook her head with feigned magnanimity. “Forget it. Given our status, how can we argue with a crazy person?” Arthur affectionately stroked her hair and cast a sidelong glance at me. “Elena is so sensible. Unlike some people, who are not only poor but also have a foul and stubborn temper.” Elena sighed pretentiously, putting on a look of profound pity. “My dad is very close with your resort’s purchasing director. How about I ask him to see if they can make you a permanent employee?” “No need.” I cut her off flatly. “We’re old colleagues. We used to have a pretty good relationship back at the company.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s just a phone call. It’s no trouble.” If she really made that call, my identity would be exposed immediately, and wouldn’t my dad’s plan be completely ruined? Seeing her actually pull out her phone to dial, I grabbed her hand: “I said I don’t need it! Mind your own business!” Even though she used to always drag me along to hang out back at the company. But I’ll always remember, after she saw Arthur’s mother humiliate me, she turned around and spread it through the company in a sympathetic tone: “Poor Chloe, getting rejected the first time she met the parents.” “Arthur’s mom said she was uncultured and not good enough for him.” Even more ironically, right after Arthur broke up with me, he announced his engagement to her on social media. I quit immediately, and she specifically came to see me off. “Chloe, Arthur always felt you weren’t good enough for him. Only someone with a matching family background like mine can help him.” “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was afraid you’d be sad.” “You know, that bird’s nest incident was just an excuse for him to make up his mind…” I didn’t need her reminder. I had already noticed the ambiguous interactions between her and Arthur, but I just didn’t want to believe it. “Chloe!” Elena’s shrill voice snapped me out of my memories. “How can you be so ungrateful? I’m trying to help you! Do you even know what’s good for you?” Help me? I only saw blatant showing off and humiliation. I looked up coldly: “Is that so? If you keep pestering me, believe it or not, I’ll throw you into the lake outside to feed the fishes right now.” 3 I turned around with a cold face, and Elena’s hysterical screams came from behind me: “Manager! Manager! I want to file a complaint against this waitress! She threatened my personal safety! She’s a lunatic!” Arthur lunged forward and grabbed my wrist hard. “Elena has always been kind and generous. You’ve made her this angry, aren’t you going to apologize?” I was completely enraged. “Arthur, control your fiancée! If she dares to provoke me again, I’ll make her learn the meaning of regret!” Even the old executives who had followed my dad in the group for decades had to be polite to me. Who the hell was Elena, to throw her weight around in front of me? Arthur’s grip loosened slightly: “Who said she’s my fiancée? We’re only engaged.” “Doesn’t matter!” I shook off his hand, enunciating every word. “Control your woman!” Arthur’s face instantly darkened, and he gave a self-deprecating smirk. “Chloe, I fucking shouldn’t have pushed back multi-million dollar contracts just to come here when I saw your picture on the resort’s brochure!” I was momentarily stunned, not understanding what he meant. “Mr. Sterling came all this way just to bring your woman here to humiliate me?” He seemed choked by my words, unable to say a single syllable for a long time. Just as I was about to leave, Elena suddenly rushed up and slapped me hard across the face. “Chloe! You’re just someone who pours tea and water. Tell me, how are you going to throw me into the lake to feed the fishes?” My cheek burned with a stinging pain, making my ears ring. I raised my hand to strike back, but Arthur yanked me into his arms, holding me tight. “You can’t afford to mess with the Smith family.” He lowered his voice near my ear. “Take this slap as an apology to Elena, and leave quickly. I’ll clean up the mess, unless you want to lose this job.” I struggled fiercely: “A mere building materials supplier like the Smith family, what’s there to be afraid of?” With the sheer size of our Davis Group, making the Smith family disappear from the industry was just a matter of one word from my dad. But Arthur held me even tighter: “Chloe, you don’t have the life of a princess, but you have the ‘princess syndrome’!” “You’re so arrogant and ignorant, how am I supposed to protect you?” Seeing him holding me so tightly, Elena’s eyes turned red with jealousy: “Where’s the manager? Where is everyone?! This homewrecker not only threatened me, she’s also trying to seduce my fiancé!” Her shrill voice drew the attention of many other guests. “Oh my god, this is the top resort in the country. How can the staff’s quality be so poor?” “I saw it just now. Miss Smith kindly gave her a necklace, and she threw it in the trash.” “A homewrecker and she’s this arrogant? She deserved to be slapped!” Seeing that public opinion was on her side, Elena grew even more arrogant: “Chloe, I’ve put up with you for a long time! Now, do you still dare to be so insolent?” Even if everyone pointed their fingers at my nose and cursed me, I couldn’t care less. Could I really expect this mob to distinguish right from wrong? Arthur held me in an iron grip; I couldn’t move, so I could only use all my strength to kick Elena. Just as the tip of my shoe touched her pant leg, Arthur shoved me away violently, nervously checking if Elena was hurt. I stumbled a few steps and fell heavily to the ground. The crowd looked down at me, pointing. “In broad daylight, a homewrecker dares to hit someone!” “The staff at this resort are completely lawless!” “Complaint! We’re all going to complain. She must be kicked out!” “Fine,” I slowly stood up, brushed the dust off my clothes, and said word by word, “I’ll personally take you to file a complaint against me!” 4 Arthur looked at me in disbelief: “Chloe, can’t you just swallow your pride? Do you know the consequences of a mass complaint?” “You’ll be completely blacklisted from the industry. Let alone a top-tier resort, even a roadside motel won’t hire you.” Having said that, he turned to the crowd and explained: “Everyone, it’s a misunderstanding. She’s just my ex-girlfriend.” “She’s just a bit stubborn, but she really needs this job. Please do me a favor and let this go.” Elena immediately whined in dissatisfaction: “Arthur! Why are you still speaking up for her?” Arthur gently put his arm around her: “Elena, what I admire most about you is your kindness. Unlike her… forget it.” These words seemed to be helping me out, but in reality, every word was degrading me, painting me as a crazy person who couldn’t let go. We dated for two years, and we’ve been broken up for three. His perception of me was still stuck on that ordinary girl who needed his charity and pity. In that moment, I suddenly found it all so incredibly dull. I had plenty of ways to deal with Elena. Why make myself look so pathetic in front of so many people? Elena held Arthur’s arm affectionately, a victor’s smile on her face: “Chloe, with your lowly status, do you really think you can fight me?” “In this resort, even if Julian Vance, the eldest young master of the Vance family, came, he’d have to give my dad some face!” I gave her a cold side-eye: “Is that so? Then I’ll call him right now and ask him exactly who he should be giving face to.” As I spoke, I pulled out my phone, but accidentally pulled out a small spare packet of tea leaves from my pocket, spilling them all over the floor. Arthur looked down, saw clearly what it was, and his face instantly turned pale green: “What you gave me to drink just now… was this?” “Yeah,” I nodded calmly. “Didn’t you say it tasted like rotten wood?” “Chloe!” Arthur suddenly clutched his chest, looking pained. “You know I have a sensitive stomach, I never drink this kind of cheap tea!” “I didn’t know.” It’s been three years since we broke up. Who remembers his delicate ailments? His eyes dimmed, his voice carrying hurt: “Right, you’ve always been so heartless. Just like how you left me back then without any hesitation.” I really couldn’t understand. He was clearly the one who initiated the breakup back then. How did it become my fault now? Before I could sort through my thoughts, Elena started shrieking: “Oh my god! We ordered the most expensive tea, and you actually tried to pass off this street stall garbage on us? How much of the difference did you pocket?” The crowd instantly became restless. “Are we drinking this rotten tea too?” “Claiming to be the number one eco-resort in the country, are they really this shady?” At this moment, the resort’s Operations Manager hurried over with security. Without a word, she had security restrain me, then turned and bowed deeply to the crowd: “Dear VIPs, please rest assured. All the tea at ‘Cloudscape’ is specially supplied organic tea, absolutely no inferior products. We will seriously deal with this employee who brought in outside tea.” “As an apology, all expenses in the tearoom today are on the house. We wish you a pleasant stay.” Her sincere apology caused the onlookers to gradually disperse. I was about to break free from the security guard’s grip, but Elena pushed her luck and continued to press the issue: “Her service attitude is terrible, and she threatened to throw me in the lake. Is that all she gets, a reprimand?” “I demand that she be fired immediately and kicked out of the resort! I don’t feel safe staying in the same place with such a dangerous person.” Saying that, she shot me a mocking look: “It’s the middle of nowhere here. Being kicked out… you’ll probably end up as wolf food in the mountains.” The manager frowned in a difficult position. “Miss Smith, this is private property. It’s very dangerous to kick her out now that it’s getting dark.” Arthur instantly looked displeased: “Elena, stop messing around! Someone could die.” Seeing Arthur getting a bit angry, Elena curled her lip and reluctantly backed down. “Then, at least fire her. That’s not too much to ask, right?” But the manager smiled bitterly: “She’s someone directly arranged by upper management. We… we can’t touch her.” I was completely relieved. It seems my dad wasn’t completely senile yet. He had at least given the people below a heads-up. Otherwise, given the momentum of these people following Elena’s lead, I would have had to suffer a lot of indignity today. Elena sneered disdainfully. “Upper management? You must know my dad, Robert Smith, right? All the building materials for your entire resort are supplied by our family! If you offend me, do you still want to cooperate on the next phase?” “Don’t tell me you can’t touch her. I’ll call my dad right now, let’s see who dares to say ‘no’!” Arthur stopped Elena, who had already pulled out her phone, and frowned, asking: “Who exactly is this upper management? What’s the name?” The manager kept her head down: “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Sterling. The higher-ups specifically instructed not to disclose that.” The security guard pinning me down let go of me discreetly upon hearing this. I smoothed out my wrinkled clothes and somewhat messy hair, and calmly dialed a number. Seeing this, Elena aggressively pointed her finger at me, lifting her chin high: “Even if the Jade Emperor himself comes today, I’m making you pack your bags!” At that moment, the call connected. I put it on speakerphone and handed it directly to her: “Why don’t you tell him yourself? Tell him to fire me.”

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“The candy is so bitter.” My daughter nestled in my arms, her voice tiny. I looked down at her. She had just come back from preschool, and her eyelids were already drooping. “What candy?” “The teacher gave it to me.” She yawned, “If I eat it, I can go to sleep.” I froze for a moment. “Do they give it to you every day?” No answer. She was already asleep. A three-year-old child, falling asleep in the car at four in the afternoon. At the time, I just thought she was tired. 1. Lily started preschool in September. Starlight—no, Starlight—never mind, I’ll just say the name. Starlight International Preschool, the most expensive private preschool in our district. Tuition is $1,200 a month, not including meals, uniforms, or extracurricular activities. All added up, it’s about $1,600 a month. My husband, Mark, and I discussed it for a long time before deciding on it. Not because we’re rich, but because I had read too many news stories online about preschool incidents that kept me awake at night. “It’s okay if it’s a little more expensive,” I said. “We can’t skimp when it comes to our child.” Mark nodded. “Okay, your call.” I chose Starlight for three reasons. First, they had full-time foreign teachers, not part-timers who come in once a week. Second, full surveillance coverage that parents could view in real-time via an app. Third, the director, Mrs. Carter, had been doing this for fifteen years and was recognized as an “Outstanding Educator” in the district. On registration day, Mrs. Carter received us personally. She was in her fifties, her hair perfectly styled, and she spoke slowly and deliberately. “Our philosophy at Starlight is to ensure every child feels a sense of security.” She gave us a tour of the classrooms, activity rooms, and nap rooms. The beds in the nap room were solid wood, the blankets were pure cotton, and even the curtains blocked 95% of the light. “A child’s sleep is very important,” Mrs. Carter said. “We have a dedicated nap management process to ensure every child gets a full two hours of sleep.” I felt completely reassured at the time. Lily cried for three days during her first week. On the fourth day, she stopped crying. On the fifth day, she came home and told me, “Mommy, the teacher is nice to me.” I was overjoyed. Everything was normal during the first month. Lily would come home chattering away about drawing pictures, singing songs, and eating mac and cheese. By the second month, I started to feel something wasn’t right. Lily became quiet at home. Not the “I’m too tired to talk” kind of quiet, but a… how do I put it… her eyes looked a bit vacant. Every day when I picked her up from preschool, she’d fall asleep in the car. When we got home, I couldn’t wake her up. When she finally woke up, she’d be lethargic, not wanting to eat or play. I asked her, “Did you have fun today?” “Yes.” “Did you play with your friends?” “Yes.” “What did the teacher teach you?” “Forgot.” For a three-year-old, her answers were getting shorter and shorter. I said to Mark, “Don’t you think Lily has been acting a bit off lately?” Mark was looking at his phone. “All kids are like this. They play all day at preschool and get tired.” “But she didn’t use to be like this.” “She didn’t go to preschool before.” Mark put down his phone. “Stop worrying so much. Starlight is so expensive, what could go wrong?” I thought he made sense. But by the third month, Lily started having nightmares. She would suddenly sit up in the middle of the night and cry. Not a loud wailing, but a silent shedding of tears. I’d hold her and comfort her, asking what was wrong. She wouldn’t speak, just clutched my pajamas tightly. One night, she suddenly said something. “Mommy, I’m good.” “Of course you are.” “I won’t tell Mommy.” My heart skipped a beat. “Won’t tell Mommy what?” She stopped talking. Closed her eyes and fell asleep again. I had insomnia that night. Who teaches a three-year-old child to say, “I won’t tell Mommy”? The next morning when I dropped her off at school, she refused to get out of the car at the gate. “Lily?” She looked at the preschool gate, clutching her little backpack straps tightly. “I don’t want to go.” “Why?” She lowered her head. “I don’t like eating the candy.” This was the second time she mentioned “candy.” I squatted down and looked into her eyes. “Lily, what kind of candy does the teacher give you?” “White. Very small.” “Is it sweet?” She shook her head. “Bitter.” I sent her in. At work that day, I couldn’t focus on a single word. During my lunch break, I opened the Starlight parent app to check the cameras. The classroom camera was very clear. I could see the kids having lessons, doing crafts, lining up for water. But the nap room— I searched for a long time. The nap room camera wasn’t working. The page displayed: This area is temporarily undergoing maintenance. I called the preschool. “Hello, when will the nap room camera be restored?” It was Ms. Davis, the homeroom teacher, who answered. Her voice was very sweet. “Oh, that. There was a problem with the wiring for the nap room camera a while ago. It’s being fixed and should be ready next week.” “Next week? How long has it been broken?” “About… two or three weeks.” I didn’t say anything else. After hanging up, I scrolled through the parent group chat history. I scrolled back a long way. I found a message from a month and a half ago from a parent named “Ryan’s Mom”: “Has any other parent felt that their child has been especially sleepy lately? My Ryan falls asleep the moment he gets home, and I can’t even wake him up.” There were a few replies: “Same here! I thought it was just the fall weather making him sleepy.” “It’s normal, preschool activities are tiring.” Then Ms. Davis replied: “Don’t worry, parents. We’ve increased outdoor activity time this semester, so the kids are getting a lot of exercise. It’s normal for them to be sleepy when they get home. It means they’re having a fulfilling time at preschool~ [smile]” After that message, no one brought up the topic again. I stared at the screen for a long time. A lot of outdoor activities, hence the sleepiness. It sounded very reasonable. But what was the “candy” Lily was talking about? 2. That night, I didn’t ask Lily directly. If you ask a three-year-old child a direct question, they can’t explain it clearly. I tried a different approach. “Lily, let’s play a game, okay? You be the teacher, and Mommy will be the student.” Lily’s eyes lit up. She loved role-playing. “Okay!” She hopped off the sofa, stood in front of the coffee table, clapped her hands, imitating the teacher. “Okay kids, line up—drink water—” I sat obediently on the floor, holding an empty cup and pretending to drink. “Kids, now it’s—nap time—” “Okay, teacher.” I pretended to lie down. Lily thought for a moment, walked over to me, and bent down. “Here, open your mouth.” I opened my mouth. She extended her little hand to my mouth and made a gesture of putting something in. “Eat it.” “What is this?” I tried to make my voice sound cheerful. “Candy.” “It’s so sweet.” “Not sweet.” Lily corrected me. “Bitter. But teacher says good kids finish it all.” “What happens when you finish it?” “Then you can go to sleep. If you don’t eat it—” She stopped. “What happens if you don’t eat it?” Lily bit her lip. “Teacher will get angry.” “What happens when she gets angry?” She stopped talking. She walked back to the sofa and buried her face in a cushion. I didn’t press her further. I went into the bedroom, closed the door, and called Mark. “I think there’s a problem with the preschool.” I repeated what Lily had said. Mark was silent for a moment. “Are you sure she’s not just making things up? A three-year-old can’t tell the difference between reality and make-believe.” “She was very specific. White, very small, bitter. And it makes you sleep.” “Could it be a vitamin pill? Some preschools give kids vitamins.” “Vitamins aren’t bitter. And no one mentioned giving the kids anything when we enrolled.” “So what do you want to do?” “I want to take Lily for a check-up.” “Check what?” “Blood work.” The phone was quiet for a few seconds. “Are you overthinking this?” “If I am, that’s great,” I said. “But what if I’m not?” Mark didn’t say anything else. The next day, I took the day off. I didn’t send Lily to preschool. I took her straight to the Children’s Hospital. I registered for Pediatrics. The doctor, Dr. Evans, was in his forties. He looked at Lily, then at me. “Where is the child feeling unwell?” “For the past three months, she’s been extremely lethargic every afternoon, lacking energy, having a poor appetite, and occasionally having nightmares.” “Has this happened before?” “No. She was perfectly normal before starting preschool.” Dr. Evans flipped through Lily’s previous medical records. “I’ll do a routine check-up first.” Temperature, normal. Heart and lungs, normal. Throat, normal. “The basic check-up is fine,” Dr. Evans said. “There are many reasons for lethargy. It could be an iron deficiency, vitamin D deficiency, or a sleep rhythm issue.” “I want to do blood work.” “A routine blood test?” “Yes.” I hesitated for a moment. “Also… can you check for any abnormal… drug components.” Dr. Evans stopped writing. He looked up at me. “What do you suspect?” “I’m not sure. But my child said someone at preschool gave her something to eat. White, bitter, and made her very sleepy.” Dr. Evans’ expression changed. Not the “you’re an overly anxious mom” expression. A genuinely thoughtful expression. “I’ll order a routine blood test and a toxicology screen,” he said. “Provide a urine sample as well.” “Okay.” Lily cried when she got her blood drawn. I held her, my own hands shaking. “Mommy’s here.” “It hurts—” “It’ll be over in a second, just a second.” I looked at the vial of blood, feeling an indescribable sensation in my chest. I was praying. Praying the results would be normal. Praying I was overthinking things. Praying the “candy” Lily mentioned was just a normal vitamin. The results would take two days. I barely slept for those two days. I went through all of Starlight Preschool’s promotional materials. Their website, social media, brochures. The main banner: Children running and laughing on a sunny playground. Teacher qualifications: Foreign teachers from the UK, local teachers all holding bachelor’s degrees or higher, certified childcare workers. Parent reviews: “Professional,” “Reassuring,” “My child loves going there.” $1,200 a month. I remember when we paid the first month’s tuition, Mark said, “That’s more than half my paycheck.” I said, “We can’t skimp when it comes to our child.” Can’t skimp. I paid $1,200 a month to buy “reassurance.” During those two days, I did one more thing. I searched online for “preschool giving children medicine.” The results made me throw my phone on the table. It wasn’t unprecedented. It wasn’t just one or two cases. There were many. The headlines were all similar: Preschool long-term administration of unknown drugs to children, parents call police after discovery. The types of drugs varied. Some were sedatives, some were antihistamines (which cause drowsiness), some were prescription sleeping pills. The goal was the same: To make the children quiet during nap time. No fussing. No crying. No trouble for the teachers. I turned off my phone and went to look at Lily. She was asleep in her small bed. Her little hand clutched a stuffed bunny. She was sleeping soundly. Three years old. She didn’t even know the word “medicine.” She only knew that the thing was called “candy” and it was bitter. 3. On the morning of the third day, I received a call from the hospital. “Ms. Lee, the results are in. Can you come in?” The tone on the other end of the line made my heart sink. If it were normal, they would have just told me over the phone. Asking me to come in meant it wasn’t normal. I drove to the hospital, running a yellow light on the way. Dr. Evans was waiting for me in his office. He placed the report on the desk and turned it toward me. The routine blood test was mostly normal. But under the toxicology screen— I saw a line of text. “Benzodiazepines — Positive.” I don’t know much about medicine. But I know what “Positive” means. “What does this mean?” Dr. Evans spoke slowly, as if weighing each word. “Benzodiazepines are a class of sedative-hypnotic drugs. Common examples include Diazepam (Valium) and Alprazolam (Xanax). They are used to treat anxiety and insomnia in adults.” He paused. “This type of drug should not be present in the blood of a three-year-old child.” I stared at the report. The text was small, black. “Benzodiazepines — Positive.” Two words. My mind went blank for about five seconds. Then a thought hit me like a truck. $1,200 a month. The most expensive preschool in the district. Foreign teachers, solid wood beds, pure cotton blankets, blackout curtains. “Ensure every child feels a sense of security.” Giving my three-year-old daughter. Sedatives. “Ms. Lee?” Dr. Evans’ voice pulled me back. I realized I was standing up. I didn’t know when I stood up. “Please sit down.” I sat down. My hands were shaking. “Dr. Evans, this concentration—is it serious?” “Based on the results, the concentration isn’t high; it’s not a single large dose. It looks more like long-term, low-dose ingestion.” Long-term. Low-dose. Lily had been going to the preschool for three months. “For the past three months, she’s been very sleepy, lacking energy, poor appetite…” “That would explain it all,” Dr. Evans nodded. “The impact of benzodiazepines on a child’s nervous system is much greater than on an adult’s. Long-term use, even in small doses, can affect development, including cognition, memory, and emotional regulation.” Affect development. Cognition. Memory. Emotion. My daughter is three years old. Her brain is developing. Someone put sedatives into her developing brain. “Should I call the police?” I heard my own voice, very flat. Dr. Evans looked at me and nodded. “I suggest you keep this lab report. Also—” he paused, “if possible, urge other parents at the preschool to bring their children in for testing as soon as possible.” “Other children?” “If this is an action taken by the preschool, it’s highly unlikely they targeted just one child.” I stood up. “Thank you.” “Ms. Lee,” Dr. Evans called out to me. “Please stay calm.” I looked at him. “I am very calm.” I was indeed very calm. I left the hospital, sat in my car, and took a picture of the lab report. I saved it in my phone album and backed it up to the cloud. Then I called Mark. “The results are in.” “What did they say?” “They found sedative components in Lily’s blood.” The other end of the line went silent. “Say that again.” “The preschool gave Lily sedatives to make her nap. For three months.” Mark’s breathing changed. “I’m leaving the office right now—” “Don’t come to the hospital. Go straight to the preschool.” “What are you going to do at the preschool?” “I’m going to find Mrs. Carter.” “Don’t be impulsive—” “I’m not being impulsive.” I started the car. “I know exactly what I’m doing.” I hung up. As I drove out of the parking lot, my hands were no longer shaking. $1,200 a month. I spent $1,200 a month to have my three-year-old daughter fed sedatives in the nap room. This is what they call “ensuring every child feels a sense of security.” Security. What a joke. 4. At 2:15 PM, I arrived at Starlight International Preschool. The receptionist recognized me. “Lily’s mom? Lily didn’t come today, is she sick?” “I need to see Mrs. Carter.” “Do you have an appointment? Mrs. Carter seems to be in a meeting this afternoon—” “Please tell her Lily’s mom has an emergency and needs to see her right now.” My tone wasn’t loud, but it was firm. The receptionist probably caught on to something, didn’t stop me, and picked up the internal phone. “Mrs. Carter, Lily’s mother wants to see you… Okay, okay.” She hung up. “Mrs. Carter is in her office on the second floor. I’ll take you up.” Mrs. Carter’s office was spacious. A large desk, a leather sofa, and a row of framed certificates on the wall. “Outstanding Educator,” “Advanced Private Educational Institution,” “Most Trusted Preschool by Parents.” She was sitting behind her desk. Seeing me enter, she stood up and smiled. “Lily’s mom, what’s the matter? You seem in such a hurry.” I didn’t sit. “Mrs. Carter, I want to ask you a question.” “Go ahead.” “What are the children given to eat during nap time at the preschool?” Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Then it returned. “Nap time? They don’t eat anything. Just a normal rest.” “My daughter said the teacher gave her ‘candy’. White, bitter. And it makes her sleep.” Mrs. Carter sighed, walked around the desk, and sat on the sofa next to me. “Oh my, you can’t believe everything a child says. Three-year-olds have very rich imaginations. Last week, a child went home and told his mom there were monsters in the preschool.” She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t overthink it.” “Then how do you explain this?” I handed her my phone. The lab report. Benzodiazepines — Positive. Mrs. Carter looked at the screen, and her smile faded bit by bit. The office was quiet for ten seconds. “This…” she said. “This result might not be accurate, right? Could it be a testing error—” “It’s from the Children’s Hospital, issued by the Head of Pediatrics.” “It’s also possible the child came into contact with something at home—” “There are no sedative medications in my house.” Mrs. Carter stood up. She walked back behind her desk and sat down. This action was subtle. Moving from the sofa—a friendly, approachable position—back behind the desk—a position of power. “Ms. Lee.” Her form of address changed, no longer “Lily’s mom.” “I understand how you feel. As a mother, it’s natural to be nervous when something happens to your child. But you can’t just take one lab report and—” “And what?” “And question our preschool.” Her tone leveled out, no longer smiling. “Starlight has been running for fifteen years without a single issue. Our parents include government officials, judges, and doctors. You can ask around, who has ever said anything bad about us?” I looked at her. “Mrs. Carter, are you telling me that because you have officials and judges among your parents, I shouldn’t pursue this matter?” “That’s not what I mean—” “Then what do you mean?” She paused. “I mean, this is impossible to have happened in our preschool. If you have doubts about this report, I suggest you go to another hospital to get checked again—” “Okay.” I stood up. “Then I’ll go to another hospital. And while I’m at it, I’ll suggest the parents of the other children in the class get their kids checked too.” Mrs. Carter’s expression changed. “Ms. Lee, isn’t that a bit inappropriate? If you make a big scene, the other parents will panic—” “If there’s no problem, why should they panic?” “You—” “Mrs. Carter,” I said. “The nap room camera has been broken for almost a month. When are you fixing it?” She didn’t answer. I turned to walk out. As I reached the door, her voice caught up to me. “Ms. Lee.” I stopped. “You should think about it. Making a big deal out of this won’t benefit anyone.” I didn’t turn around. “Won’t benefit who?” “The child.” Her voice was very light. “Your daughter still has to go to school. If you make a fuss, she’ll be labeled wherever she goes.” I turned my head and looked at her. “Mrs. Carter, my daughter is three. She doesn’t know what a label is. But she knows the candy you gave her is bitter.” I left. Outside the preschool, Mark was waiting for me. He had rushed over from work, his shirt untucked. “How did it go?” “She denied it.” “Expected.” “She also threatened me. Said they have connections among the parents and told me not to make a scene.” Mark’s jaw tightened. “She actually said that?” “Her exact words.” “Call the police.” “I know.” I took out my phone. “But before I call the police, I want to do one thing first.” “What?” “I want to let the other parents in the class know about this.” 5. I sent the message to the parent group chat. It wasn’t a long, accusatory, or appealing essay. I only sent one picture. Lily’s drug test report. Benzodiazepines — Positive. Then I wrote one sentence: “Parents, I suggest everyone take their children for a toxicology screen as soon as possible.” The group was silent for about three minutes. Then it exploded. “What does this mean? Drugs?” “Lily’s mom, are you sure you didn’t make a mistake?” “What are benzodiazepines?” “No way, why would a preschool give kids medicine?” I didn’t explain much. “I’m just suggesting everyone get checked. Especially if your child has been lethargic or lacking energy recently.” The discussion in the group grew more intense and panicked. Five minutes later, Ms. Davis—the homeroom teacher—sent a message. “Parents, please don’t panic! The report Lily’s mom sent is not confirmed to be related to the preschool. There are many possibilities for abnormal test results in children. It’s not necessarily—” I took a screenshot. Ms. Davis’s reply, alongside my report. Saved for later. Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Carter also sent a message in the group. “Hello parents, this is Mrs. Carter. I want to address the information Lily’s mom posted today. Starlight has been operating for fifteen years and strictly follows food and drug safety regulations. We have never administered any medication to the children. The source and accuracy of this lab report still need further verification. Please do not be misled by false information and remain calm. If you have any concerns, you can come directly to the preschool to communicate.” Her phrasing was watertight. “False information.” A lab report from the City Children’s Hospital, and she called it “false information.” A few parents replied in the group: “Mrs. Carter is right, don’t panic.” “It’s probably a misunderstanding.” “My child is perfectly fine.” Some remained silent. That night, I received three phone calls. The first was from “Ryan’s Mom”—the mom who had previously asked in the group why her child was always sleepy. “Chloe, is what you said true?” “You’ll know if you take Ryan to get checked.” “I… I’m a little scared.” “Scared of what?” “Scared that it’s true.” I heard her crying on the other end of the line. “Ryan has been sleepy for over half a year. I always thought he lacked trace minerals. I bought him several kinds of vitamins, but nothing worked.” Over half a year. Ryan enrolled three months before Lily. “Go get checked,” I said. “The sooner the better.” The second call was from “Hannah’s Mom.” Hannah sat next to Lily. “Lily’s mom, I want to ask, which hospital did you go to? What department did you register for?” “City Children’s Hospital, Pediatrics. Tell the doctor you want a toxicology screen.” “Okay… okay. Hannah has also… also been coming home and just sleeping. I mentioned it to Ms. Davis before, and she said it was because of all the outdoor activities—” “Too many outdoor activities.” I repeated. “Right.” “Hannah’s Mom, do you remember when the nap room camera stopped working?” She thought for a moment. “I think… over two months ago? I wanted to check on Hannah during nap time once and couldn’t get in. I asked about it, and they said it was under maintenance.” Over two months. Not “two or three weeks.” Ms. Davis said two or three weeks. In reality, it was at least over two months. The nap room camera was turned off before the incident was discovered. Or was it turned off after something happened? Either way, it points to one thing. They knew. The third call came from an unsaved number. “Hello, is this Ms. Lee?” “Yes, speaking.” “I’m Mia’s dad.” Mia. I thought for a second; she was a child from the adjacent Pre-K 1 class, not Lily’s class. “Hello.” “Ms. Lee, I saw the report you posted in the homeowner’s group. I wanted to ask—” his voice was a bit tight, “the medicine you mentioned, is it a sedative?” “Yes.” “My daughter was hospitalized at the end of last month. Henoch-Schönlein purpura. The doctor said it could be an allergic reaction to medication. But we’ve never given her any medicine at home.” I gripped my phone tighter. “Did the doctor check what kind of medication caused it?” “They did, they said it was… Benzo-something…” “Benzodiazepines?” “Yes! Yes. That’s the one. I was puzzled at the time because no one in our house takes that kind of medication. The doctors asked around but couldn’t figure it out. In the end, they just treated it as an unknown cause.” His voice was trembling. “Ms. Lee, do you think—was it the preschool?” I closed my eyes. “Mia’s dad, find the diagnostic report from the hospital.” “Okay.” “And then—did you call the police?” “No. We didn’t know the cause at the time.” “Now you do,” I said. “Call the police.”

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While I was out shopping, my phone suddenly started buzzing non-stop. 【You’ll go to a hotel with someone just for a little money, do you have no shame?】 【I’m warning you, we’re getting married very soon. Stay away from my husband.】 【If this happens again, I’ll expose you all over the internet.】 I quickly typed an explanation: 【Hello, I think you have the wrong person?】 As soon as the message was sent, a glaring red exclamation mark popped up. The other party had blocked me. I stared at the screen for three seconds, my head full of question marks. Excuse me, lady? You’re getting married, why are you blocking me? I’m the bridal makeup artist your husband paid in full!! 1 I turned into the mall’s rest area, sat down, and started venting to my best friend, Mia. 【Mia, you will not believe what just happened to me!】 【My client checked her husband’s phone, cursed me out thinking I was his mistress, and then just blocked me!】 Mia quickly sent a string of voice messages: “No way? You do bridal makeup every day, and you still managed to get mistaken for a mistress by the bride?” “This girl must be having a severe case of pre-wedding anxiety, just biting anyone she sees, huh?” I felt like crying as I replied to her: 【How was I supposed to know!】 【I haven’t even met her or her husband!】 【Her husband added me on WeChat out of nowhere, paid in full upfront, and asked me to do the bride’s makeup.】 “So what are you going to do now? You already took the money; you can’t just not show up on the wedding day, right?” “If she can’t find a makeup artist then and accuses you of taking the money and running, what happens to the reputation you’ve worked so hard to build as a freelancer?” 2 Those words hit me where it hurts. I’ve been a freelance makeup artist for almost five years, relying entirely on word-of-mouth and referrals from old clients. If I mess up this job, the loss would be huge. I sighed and reopened the chat where I was blocked. Although I was blocked on WeChat, there were other ways. I clicked on his profile picture and opened his personal info. Sure enough, his WeChat ID was his phone number. I quickly dialed the number, and it was picked up almost immediately. “Hello, is this Mr. Smith?” “Hello?” A female voice answered, her tone cautious. My heart sank. It sounded like the bride herself. But on second thought, that’s fine. Since she answered the phone, this was the perfect opportunity to clear things up. “Hello, you must be Mr. Smith’s fiancée, Ms. Johnson, right?” “I didn’t get a chance to explain on WeChat earlier, but I’m the makeup artist your husband hired—” Before I could finish, it was like a powder keg exploded on the other end. “You still have the nerve to call?! “Did you not hear a single word of my warning?!” I held the phone slightly away from my ear, which was ringing. “You’ve misunderstood. I called to say that your husband hasn’t told me the wedding venue yet, I—” “Have you no shame? Are you that desperate for a man?” Her voice was shrill and fast, not giving me a chance to get a word in. “You know we’re getting married soon, and you’re still throwing yourself at my husband! “I’m warning you, don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming! “Are you planning to sneak in on the wedding day and steal the groom? “Let me tell you, no way in hell!” I took a deep breath, trying to interject while she caught her breath: “Please listen to my explanation, I am the makeup artist your husband hired—” “Explain what?!” She cut me off directly, her voice rising another octave. “I’ve seen plenty of shameless mistresses like you! You’re disgusting!” “No, I’m really not—” “Get lost!” “Beep—beep—beep—” The call disconnected. I sat frozen in the chair, holding the phone, unable to process what just happened for a long time. In all my life, this was the first time I had been ruthlessly cursed out twice in a row. It took me a while to recover. I gritted my teeth and pressed dial again. No matter what, this needed to be cleared up, otherwise, it would be a disaster on the wedding day. But this time, it only rang once before an automated voice said: “The number you have dialed is currently busy, please try again later.” I refused to give up and called again a minute later. Still busy. Again. “The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time.” Great. Blocked on WeChat, blocked on the phone. I looked at my phone, unable to laugh, unable to get angry. So, I received full payment, and now I don’t even have the right to speak to my employer. 3 This situation gave me a massive headache. I slumped in the rest chair, staring blankly at my phone screen. Maybe I should just let it go. This thought popped up uncontrollably. If worse comes to worst, I’ll just refund the money and drop the job. I can’t risk the reputation I’ve built over years for a measly $400. I opened the chat history with Mr. Smith and scrolled up, trying to see if there was any other contact information. As I scrolled, I remembered. He was the one who added me. After I accepted his friend request, he immediately called me on voice chat. He said he saw the bride’s makeup at a wedding a few days ago, thought it looked great, and wanted to hire me for full-day bridal makeup. Even when I explicitly stated that my rates were significantly higher than average and quoted him $400. He didn’t hesitate at all. He immediately said no problem, price wasn’t an issue. He added that the wedding date was set for the end of this month, but the hotel was still being finalized. Once it was settled, he would send me the address and specific itinerary right away. Then, I could just go directly to the bridal suite at the hotel to do the makeup. Having been in this industry for five years, I’ve met quite a few grooms who thoughtfully handled wedding arrangements, so I didn’t think anything was weird. I just repeatedly reminded him on the phone that he absolutely had to send me the hotel address and the bride’s preferences at least three days in advance so I could prepare the appropriate makeup products and hair accessories. He readily agreed, promising he wouldn’t delay anything. As soon as we hung up, the $400 was transferred over. I accepted the money and replied: 【Received, I will definitely be at the hotel on time.】 And then there was nothing. He didn’t contact me again, and I didn’t ask. After all, he said the hotel wasn’t booked yet, so rushing him was useless. Until today, when his fiancée, Ms. Johnson, inexplicably cursed me out and blocked me. I glanced at the date in the top right corner of my phone. Today is the 23rd. I remember he said on the phone that the wedding is on the 28th. Doesn’t that mean… it’s in five days?! My head was buzzing. I was so shocked by being cursed out earlier that my mind was full of exasperation. Only now did I realize the wedding date was right around the corner! I shot up from the chair. $400 is a small matter. But in five days, if there’s no makeup artist, then what happens to this bride’s wedding…?! Given her current state, it’s absolutely impossible she prepared a backup makeup artist. And since it’s peak wedding season, there’s no way she can find a reliable makeup artist in three days. A once-in-a-lifetime wedding, if she has to do her own makeup and hair… that wedding is completely ruined! 4 Although I felt stifled, emotions are emotions, and work is work. Even if I don’t take this job, I have to find Mr. Smith, refund the money, and clear things up. I took a deep breath, sat down, and calmly sorted things out. First, to find him, I needed to figure out how he found me. He said he saw my makeup on a bride at a wedding a few days ago and asked the host for my contact info. That was twenty days ago. That means the wedding he attended should have been roughly a week before that. To be safe, I decided to look back over the past month. Fortunately, last month wasn’t peak wedding season, so I didn’t have that many couples. I opened my client files, found those dozen or so clients, and messaged them individually on WeChat. 【Sorry to bother you! Just wanted to ask if any friends asked about makeup services at your wedding last month?】 【A client named Smith said he found out about me through your wedding, so I just wanted to verify~】 I waited the entire afternoon. Everyone’s reply was either “No” or “Don’t know him.” I felt a bit discouraged. I scrolled through my WeChat Moments, trying to dig up some clues from my memory. But honestly, in our line of work, we see so many faces on the wedding day. Aside from the couple… I couldn’t match any names to faces. Just as I was thinking, a WeChat message popped up. It was Leo. His fiancée had done a makeup trial with me before, and their wedding was set for next month. I clicked to open it. 【Hey Chloe, my wedding is canceled. You don’t need to refund the deposit. Sorry for the trouble.】 5 I stared at the message, stunned for two seconds. The wedding was canceled? What a shame. I remember when his fiancée came for her makeup trial, he came with her. He was bustling around, getting her water, his eyes completely focused on her. Only after chatting did I find out that he had been chasing this girl since high school. But she always had someone else in her heart. It wasn’t until that person was about to get married that she finally turned around and saw this fool who had waited ten years for her. I was quite moved when I heard that and told him he had to treat her well. His eyes crinkled into a smile, and he said, “Of course, Chloe. I waited ten years, finally got her, I will definitely treat her well.” And now he’s telling me it’s canceled? I sighed. Just as I was about to reply with a comforting cliché, something flashed in my mind. Wait. The time of his fiancée’s makeup trial… seemed to be right before Mr. Smith contacted me? I quickly scrolled up through our chat history. Leo’s fiancée came for her makeup trial on the 1st of this month. And Mr. Smith added me on WeChat on the 2nd. —Right on each other’s heels. Leo and Mr. Smith look to be about the same age. Maybe Leo really did recommend me! I typed a line and sent it: 【Leo, is it okay to ask if you know a groom with the last name Smith?】 【His WeChat profile picture looks like this.】 【[Image]】 Message sent, I stared at the screen, full of anticipation. About two minutes later, Leo replied. 【Yeah, I know him. What’s up?】 I sat straight up. 【Is he getting married on the 28th of this month?】 Leo’s side showed “typing…” For a long time, he finally sent one message: 【Chloe, how did you know?】 【Did my fiancée tell you?】 【What else did she say to you?】 I stared at these three messages, my fingers hovering over the screen, not knowing what to reply for a moment. Why did this suddenly involve his fiancée? I instinctively typed a line: 【Didn’t you recommend Mr. Smith to come to me for a makeup trial?】 6 I was just about to hit send when my finger suddenly stopped. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. This didn’t seem that simple. I tried hard to recall and think. I suddenly remembered that Leo’s fiancée looked very sad the day of her makeup trial. I casually asked her then, “What’s wrong? Pre-wedding jitters?” She shook her head and said it was nothing. Later, halfway through the makeup session, she suddenly spoke up: “Chloe, tell me, if someone liked you for ten years, would you marry him out of being moved?” I was drawing her eyeliner at the time, and my hand jerked, almost drawing it crooked. I said, “You shouldn’t be asking me that; you should ask yourself.” She didn’t say anything else. After the makeup was done, she looked in the mirror for a long time. Her eyes were a little red, but finally she smiled and said, “It looks great, thank you, Chloe.” I thought she was touched at the time. Thinking about it now… That look in her eyes didn’t seem like she was touched. It was regret. It was a farewell. It was “I know I should let go, but I’m still a little sad.” And the very next day after her makeup trial, that Mr. Smith added me on WeChat. He said then that he saw a bride’s makeup at a wedding, thought it looked great, and asked the host for my contact info. But I just checked. That wedding simply never existed! I gripped my phone, my head buzzing. And that person who made Leo’s fiancée wait for years, who was finally getting married soon… couldn’t be… Mr. Smith, could it? No way. No way, no way, no way? So, the reason Mr. Smith came to me was because… that afternoon, Leo’s fiancée met with him? 7 【Chloe?】 The phone buzzed again. Leo’s message popped up, carrying a hint of cautious urging. I took a deep breath, suppressed those messy speculations, and typed on the screen: 【I was busy just now, only have time to reply now.】 【It’s nothing, I just lost contact with this guy. You two are about the same age, and our town isn’t that big, so I thought I’d ask you to test my luck. I didn’t expect you two actually knew each other.】 After thinking about it, I still couldn’t suppress my curiosity. Like being possessed, I tested the waters: 【Leo, you and this Mr. Smith were high school classmates, right?】 After sending it, I stared at the “typing…” indicator, my heart beating inexplicably fast. A few seconds later, Leo replied. 【I didn’t know him originally. I met him because he’s my fiancée’s childhood friend; we had dinner together a few times.】 Childhood friend. And the wedding dates for both couples were so close. All those messy speculations in my head seemed to slowly be confirmed. I couldn’t help but sigh: No way, I actually ran into such a melodramatic plot? No, no. Now is not the time to eat melon (gossip), it’s time to figure out how to contact Mr. Smith! I shook my head, throwing those gossipy thoughts away. 【Leo, I have a situation here, I’m not afraid to tell you even if you laugh at me.】 【This Mr. Smith booked me for bridal makeup earlier, but his fiancée mistook me for a mistress trying to intervene and blocked all my contact info.】 【The wedding is in a few days, and I have absolutely no way to contact him now.】 Leo replied very quickly: 【His fiancée comes from a wealthy family and has a rather fiery personality. Please bear with it, Chloe.】 Bear with it. I smiled bitterly, thinking to myself, I was cursed at until my ears rang, and I’m supposed to ‘bear with it’. But I couldn’t say that to Leo, so I kept typing: 【Leo, do me a favor.】 【Act as a middleman for me. Ask him for a bank account number so I can refund this money to him.】 【Given this awkward situation, I don’t want to do this job anymore.】 The other side showed “typing…”. Still typing. Typing for a long time. I stared at that status bar flashing, feeling a bit nervous. This request was indeed too presumptuous. His own wedding was canceled, he must be in a bad mood, and here I am asking him to pass along a message… Just as I was about to say “forget it, it’s fine,” Leo’s message popped up. 【I’ll help you, Chloe.】 I opened the transfer interface and refunded the $100 deposit Leo had paid previously via the original payment method. Then I sent a message: 【Leo, I’ve refunded your deposit. Thank you so much for doing me this huge favor. I’ll treat you to dinner sometime.】 This time he replied quickly: 【Chloe, it’s no trouble at all, don’t mention it.】 【Wait for my news.】

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