My husband, Arthur, dared to cheat on me, thinking I was too old to leave him. When the young woman suddenly showed up at my door, I initially thought she was a university friend of my daughter. The next second, I was stunned by the intimate photos she thrust at me. She believed she could force a divorce, unaware that Arthur only dared to stray because he thought I, being older, wouldn’t leave him. Even my closest friends and family only advised me to endure it, never to leave. Their reason? I married at twenty, and it had been exactly two decades. They said Arthur’s betrayal only came now, so he had already been more than fair to me. Furthermore, he was handsome and wealthy, and I controlled the family finances, making him better than other men. This betrayal, they insisted, I should tolerate. 1. And at first, I truly considered enduring it. The young woman, Daisy, was so young, looking barely seventeen or eighteen, while my husband, Arthur Finch, had just celebrated his forty-first birthday. Our daughter was already in college. Daisy came to me, looking utterly aggrieved, begging me to fulfill her wish for love. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, just like mine once were when I threw caution to the wind. Now, my own eyes were etched with fine lines, and I’d seen a gray hair on my pillow just this morning. “Sweetheart, I can get a divorce.” I was, of course, teasing her. But Daisy didn’t understand, blinking with surprise and delight. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, you’re really willing to step aside?” “Sure. And what are your plans then?” She pouted, thinking for a moment. “I’m planning to go to the Maldives for our honeymoon, and then have a son for him. Mrs. Finch, you don’t know, he really wants a son and keeps pestering me to have one for him.” Arthur wants a son? He was the one who, out of concern for my severe postpartum hemorrhage, voluntarily got a vasectomy. Clearly… times had changed. My desire to tease her vanished. I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Daisy, is it? What I just said was a joke. Arthur and I have been married for twenty years. Our families’ businesses are inextricably linked. We can’t get a divorce. Instead of planning your honeymoon, you should focus on how to extract more money from him.” When I got home, Arthur was sitting on the sofa, looking at documents. Time had truly been kind to him. Even at forty, he only gained a deeper maturity in his brow, making him even more captivating. Hearing me return, he didn’t look up. This was our twenty-year understanding: as long as I didn’t speak, it meant there was nothing to discuss. I went into the kitchen and soon brought out three dishes and a soup. Arthur put down his phone and sat at the dining table. “Vivian said she’ll be back for Thanksgiving. She wants you to pick her up.” “Okay.” “Mom’s not feeling well lately; she needs a check-up.” “Alright, you handle it.” “The bathroom at home is a bit slippery. I want to find someone to redecorate.” “Okay, whatever you say.” “Daisy came to see me.” He finally lifted his head from his bowl and looked at me. His gaze was calm, cold, with a hint of bewilderment. “And?” His mistress came to see him, and he asked me, “And?” Even though I was accustomed to being mild-mannered, I was still caught off guard. Frowning, I looked at him: “Arthur, we’re married. You’re cheating.” I don’t know which word struck a nerve, but he slammed his bowl down. “Eleanor, don’t use such harsh words.” “Daisy is just a child. We don’t have that kind of relationship you’re imagining. Don’t talk nonsense.” A child? How could I not know Arthur had become so adept at self-deception? That night’s dinner ended in discord. I expected a standoff for a while. But the next day, after buying groceries, I returned home to find Daisy in the living room. She was wearing the slippers I bought for our daughter, watching Arthur peel an apple for her. “Oh, Arthur, you’re so amazing! The peel didn’t even break!” “Hmph, making a big deal out of nothing. Here, take it, eat slowly.” Looking at the perfectly round, shiny apple, my mouth tasted bitter. I used to love apples, and he learned to peel them for me. I never imagined that skill would now be used for another woman. Daisy sat happily on the sofa, her fair legs swinging back and forth. I noticed Arthur’s eyes darken slightly. That was the symbol of what he wanted. He pulled her, lifting her onto his lap. Just before the two of them could get any closer, I pushed the door open and walked in. Seeing me, Daisy didn’t move from Arthur’s lap; she just tilted her head and looked at me. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, we meet again!” “I’m sorry, I twisted my ankle. Arthur is helping me look at it. You don’t mind, do you, Mrs. Finch?” She twisted a couple of times, and Arthur let out a suppressed groan. My first half of life had been too protected, so much so that now, I suddenly didn’t know how to retaliate. Should I attack her like a common shrew? Or scratch the scoundrel’s face until it bled? Neither seemed like a wise move. After thinking for a moment, I placed the groceries on the dining table. Then I turned to Arthur and said, “Let’s get a divorce.” 2. He forcefully pushed me away. Arthur refused, claiming he hadn’t committed any fundamental errors. He even mobilized relatives and friends to persuade me. My in-laws, whom I had cared for for twenty years, said he hadn’t physically cheated, so I should just tolerate it. They would intervene and make him transfer five percent of the company shares to me. Our mutual friends said that the girl was only after money, so if I left, wouldn’t that just play right into her hands? Arthur’s business was thriving, his net worth constantly increasing. Only a fool would hand over such wealth to someone else now. My best friend was also going through a divorce recently. Her husband had cheated too, the only difference from me being that her husband had no money and was ugly. She sighed, advising me to just let it go. All breathing men cheat, and at least Arthur was rich. You see, it seemed money had become a get-out-of-jail-free card, capable of absolving all marital sins. I said nothing, still preparing the divorce documents. My father heard the news and came over, slapping me across the face the moment he walked in. His face was red with anger: “What successful man doesn’t socialize? What’s wrong with having one or two women? Wasn’t twenty years of him treating you well enough? Do you have to end up in a miserable divorce? You’re forty now. Who would want you after a divorce?” His face was flushed with health; it seemed my stepmother took excellent care of him, and my new younger brother was well-behaved. Naturally, he couldn’t spare a thought for whether I was hurt or not. The last one to come and persuade me was my daughter, who was in college. When she returned, I instinctively reached out to hug her. But she pushed me away. “Why do you have to divorce Dad?” I, who felt confident in front of everyone else, suddenly flinched. “Your father has another woman, and Mom doesn’t want to live with him anymore.” “You mean that Daisy? Dad said she’s just a friend.” My daughter looked at me impatiently, her expression exactly like Arthur’s. “Mom, you’ve lived a pampered life forever. Can you really handle being divorced? If you can’t adjust, I won’t take care of you.” To be honest, before she came back, I always thought that at least this child, whom I had raised by hand, would give me a hug. She would angrily confront her father, question him about why he was hurting Mom, and then stand by me, firmly cutting ties with the cheating man. Unexpectedly, the moment she returned, she unleashed a torrent of anger on me, then stomped upstairs. Bang! The door slammed with earth-shattering force, making my very soul tremble. That night, while showering, Arthur, for the first time in a long while, came into the bathroom. It had been a year since our last intimacy. When he entered, his gaze was cold and clear. But his hands didn’t stop, moving familiarly over me. “Don’t be angry anymore, hmm?” “Tomorrow I’ll send her away. She won’t appear in front of you again.” My body gradually warmed, but my heart grew colder. I closed my eyes, letting tears mix with water droplets and fall. “Arthur.” “You… truly disgust me.” That Daisy, she was the same age as our daughter. Even if he had found someone in their twenties or thirties, I could still attribute it to a man’s lust. But he found a girl the same age as our daughter. That girl was so young, fresh out in the world. How could he lay his hands on her? 3. Arthur fumed, pushing me away violently. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Before I could even look, he grabbed my chin and pulled me to the mirror. “I disgust you? What about you? Don’t you disgust me?” “Look at that ridiculous haircut, does it have any femininity? Look at your chest, it’s already sagging to your belly! And look at your face, those splotches make me lose my appetite!” “Eleanor, do you even look like a woman anymore?” “We’ll continue like this, and I guarantee you’ll live a life of comfort. But if we divorce, you’ll wish you were dead.” Even after Arthur left, I was still trembling all over. I couldn’t believe that the man I had loved for twenty years could say such things, or perhaps… he had changed long ago, and I was too blind to see it? I clenched my hands tightly, letting blood run into my palms. A sharp pain surged, making my mind even clearer. Arthur, do you think I have no way to deal with you? That you can do whatever you want? Just wait. This divorce, I’m getting it for sure. The next day, downstairs, Arthur had uncharacteristically prepared breakfast. Our daughter was eating, and seeing me, she lowered her head again, unwilling to engage. He, however, played the good guy, softly coaxing our child: “Vivian, we agreed yesterday, you have to forgive Mom.” Only then did our daughter reluctantly say, “Mom.” “The child was tired from the car ride yesterday. Come quickly and eat, I made your favorite sandwich.” He and I met eyes, and there was undisguised triumph in his. I said nothing. A moment later, the doorbell rang, and the maid brought Daisy in. “Mrs. Finch, good morning. I’m here to deliver documents to Mr. Finch.” They openly clasped hands. Our daughter didn’t think anything of it; instead, she invited Daisy to eat. Daisy demurred for a moment, then turned and sat in my seat. As if to spite me, Vivian placed my breakfast in front of her. She also poured her a glass of the orange juice I usually loved. Daisy also put all her effort into trying to win Vivian over. After exchanging school information, they discovered they were university alumni. “Oh, Vivian, you have such a nice personality! I thought you’d dislike me just like Mrs. Finch…” “My mom’s just going through menopause lately, she’s paranoid. She insists you and my dad are having an affair. Just ignore her.” By the end of the meal, the two had actually become good friends. I hadn’t listened to anything since Vivian said I was paranoid, and I walked out of the house. I needed to find someone, an old classmate I hadn’t seen in over ten years. My first love, the renowned lawyer, Ethan Grant. 4. At the coffee shop, I told Ethan about my desire for a divorce. He scoffed. “You’d really give that up?” Still so ill-tempered, even at his age. If only he had been a little more gentle, I never would have broken up with him. Too lazy to argue with this stubborn mule, I pulled a card from my bag. “I’ve checked around. Your market rate is a million. Here’s half a million; I’ll pay the other half after the divorce. This is business, no personal feelings.” Ethan toyed with the card, then tucked it into his bag. “Alright, boss.” On the way back, he offered to drive me. Compared to my own harmonious family life over the years, his had been much harder. I heard his wife passed away a few years ago from illness, and they had no children. He simply poured all his energy into work, and his career flourished, making him a top lawyer in Sterling City. Ethan’s car was a flashy Maserati, roaring as it drove. I kept frowning. “At your age, why do you still like such flamboyant things?” I wondered why his wife had ever fallen for him. Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You used to like this kind of flashy stuff too, remember?” That left me speechless. In my twenties, I certainly did like gaudy things, but what sane person at forty can still play around like that? He truly had a lot of energy. Too lazy to talk more with him, after getting out of the car, I transferred him three hundred dollars. Ethan: “?” Me: “Cab fare.” Ethan: “Alright, boss.” Though his car was flashy, Ethan taught me a lot about preparations for divorce. Following his guidance, I managed to uncover Arthur’s bank account details and hired a private investigator who got photos of the address where he was keeping his mistress. It was a house I had bought before marriage. We lived there during our courtship and for the first few years of our marriage. Later, when Vivian was born, we hired a nanny, and the house was too small, so we moved to the current villa. I hadn’t visited it in years. Arthur actually hid her there? I found the keys, chose a day when they weren’t there, and opened the apartment door. Everything inside was unchanged, except for some added clutter. It was clear that Daisy truly wanted to marry Arthur. Behind the sofa hung their framed photo. By the dining table, there were knitted dolls she had handmade. In the kitchen, a rich soup was still in a thermos. If the photo’s pose didn’t exactly match mine from back then. If the dolls she knitted weren’t my favorite orange plushies. If the soup she brewed wasn’t the exclusive recipe I developed for Arthur’s stomach condition. Then I might have applauded this loving, illicit couple. But the soup recipe, I had only ever given to my mother-in-law. Which meant, besides me, only she knew it. Yet now it appeared in Daisy’s living space. The continuous betrayals made me question if I truly was such a failure, to make everyone around me so readily choose to hurt me? Just as my emotions were churning, the door suddenly opened. Daisy walked in happily. Then turned and flung herself into Arthur’s arms. “It’s wonderful! Arthur, I’m finally going to have a son for you!” Arthur stroked her face indulgently, then looked up, and our eyes met. 5. For the first time, I saw panic on Arthur’s face. He probably never imagined he’d see me here. At that moment, I, on the other hand, calmly took out my phone and started recording. Seeing this, he tried to snatch it away, but I blocked him: “Arthur, think carefully. This room has surveillance cameras. If I retrieve the footage, both your reputations will be ruined.” Arthur let out a ragged breath. He had dominated the business world for years, accustomed to controlling everything. Faced with this loss of control from me, he instinctively felt irritated. “Eleanor, stop making a scene and go home.” “I want a divorce.” “I’m not divorcing you. Give up!” “I want a divorce. We’ll finalize it tomorrow, or you can expect to be all over social media.” “Why are you causing trouble? Haven’t you thought about your father, my parents, and our daughter?” He brought up Vivian, and I finally broke down. I picked up a vase and smashed it to the floor. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don’t you dare mention them!!!” I rushed over and slapped him hard. “You bastard! You didn’t think about them when you cheated, you didn’t think about them when you had a child with another woman, and now that I’ve caught you red-handed, you want me to think about them? What kind of double standard are you, so good at letting yourself off the hook?” “You’re just an old pervert who can’t keep his pants on. After disgusting me, you want to shut me up? I’m telling you, in your dreams! Either you divorce me tomorrow, or we’ll fight it out in court, and let the chips fall where they may. Your call!” I went straight to Ethan Grant’s law firm. He happened to be free, so he found me an office and poured me a glass of water. “What’s wrong? You’re so upset.” “Don’t even ask. I ran into the mistress. She’s pregnant.” “What are you thinking now?” At this, my anger flared. “What do you think I can think? Is thinking even useful now?” Ethan paused, pushing the water glass closer to me. This small gesture immediately extinguished my anger: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He shrugged: “No problem, the client is always right.” Ethan said that the current situation was very favorable for me. I had photos of the apartment, and the fact that Arthur had a child with someone else was an undeniable de facto marriage. This situation would be even more advantageous for subsequent asset division. My mind felt numb; I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. When I left the law firm, he offered to drive me, but I refused. I wanted to walk alone.

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After cancelling my engagement to my arch-nemesis I finally got my wish: I married his uncle, Arthur Marston. For three years, I curbed my rebellious streak, playing the dutiful Mrs. Marston. Even when he forgot my birthday, I swore I’d melt his heart. Then came our anniversary. I’d booked a yacht, hired a line of male models, and video-called Arthur. His face remained impassive, despite the lavish scene on my end. “Something wrong?” he asked. The next second, I heard a woman’s voice from his side. “Arthur, who’s calling?” Before I could press for details, the call ended. Simultaneously, a tipster sent a photo. In it, Arthur was smiling gently, tenderly draping his jacket over his college sweetheart. Just then, a text popped up from my arch-nemesis. “Auntie Evelyn, are you getting a divorce this month?” Usually, I’d snap back, calling him crazy. But this time, I was finally going to give him what he wanted. … I typed two words into the chatbox: “Let’s do it.” The moment I hit send, all my excitement drained away. “Alright, everyone, that’s a wrap. You’ll all be paid.” The male models exchanged glances, then discreetly headed into the cabin, clutching their tips. My best friend, Serena Hayes, slid onto the seat beside me, offering a glass of warm water. “Evie, are you… actually serious this time?” She looked at me, as if struggling to believe I’d truly let go. I sighed. “Three years. Even if Arthur Marston were a stone, cradled against my heart, it should have warmed by now.” I used to believe that hearts were made of flesh and blood. For him, I’d risked being labeled a betrayer, breaking off my engagement to Julian Marston. It all stemmed from that kidnapping seven years ago. Trapped in a dark, damp abandoned warehouse, I’d despaired, convinced I was going to die. It was Arthur who burst in, bloodied, taking a fatal knife blow for me. In that moment, I knew he was my soulmate. And he hadn’t always been this cold. I was Evelyn Sterling, the rebellious heiress of the Sterling family. Car racing, boxing—I dabbled in everything. At family gatherings, the elders would passive-aggressively criticize my lack of “ladylike” charm, shaming the family name. Only Arthur would quietly defend me. “Evelyn’s fine the way she is. Besides, the Sterling family doesn’t need an heir who’s just for show, does it?” Those words sealed my fate. I plunged headfirst into a marriage destined for heartbreak. What I didn’t realize was that his tenderness and protection would vanish the moment I insisted on marrying him. After the wedding, Arthur was a changed man. Distant, cold, like a machine programmed only to fulfill obligations. No matter how much I tried to rein in my temper for him, learned to cook his favorite dishes, or even ditched my beloved racing gear for demure outfits he preferred, he never noticed. Then, Julian told me about Laura Kennedy. A girl from a humble background, she was his college sweetheart, his “white moonlight.” The Marston family matriarch disapproved of her origins. Coincidentally, I was also clamoring to marry into the Marston family. So, with a sum of money and a plane ticket, Laura was forced to leave the country. To avoid a family rupture, Arthur reluctantly married me. But he blamed me for everything. He believed I had bullied his beloved away. I tried to explain, but all I got was his icy stare. “Evelyn, I already agreed to marry you. What more do you want?” It wasn’t until today, seeing it with my own eyes, that I truly understood: all his warmth was reserved for Laura. In the photo, he gently took off his coat and draped it over Laura’s shoulders. The tenderness in his eyes was something I wouldn’t dare dream of. I admit it, I lost. It turns out that relentlessly pursuing a dead end only leads to a broken spirit. My phone vibrated suddenly. It was Julian’s reply. I could almost picture him, on the other side of the world, raising an eyebrow at my message. My thoughts drifted back to the day I broke off our engagement. Julian tossed me the keys to his limited-edition Bugatti, a playful smirk on his face, though his eyes held no real warmth. “Evelyn, are you absolutely sure?” he’d asked. “You know, forcing a relationship never ends well.” At the time, my heart was so full of Arthur, I couldn’t hear a word he said. “Mind your own business! I’d rather die in his hands!” Julian stared at me for a long moment, then let out a scoff. “Alright, don’t come crying to me later.” Despite his harsh words, for the past three years, his texts had arrived like clockwork at the beginning of each month. “Still not divorced?” “This month? Yes or no?” I’d always call him insane, but he seemed immune, repeating the pattern the next month. One time, furious at Arthur’s cold shoulder, I went back to my family home and ran into Julian. He was leaning against his car, smoking, his voice a little hoarse through the hazy smoke. “Evelyn, just say the word.” “Even if the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you, and you’ll walk out of the Marston family clean.” Now, I wondered if I should have turned back sooner. My phone vibrated again, two new messages from Julian: “One week, tops.” “I’ll be back to handle the paperwork myself.” Serena glanced at my screen, her brow furrowed. “A family alliance like ours is a complex thing. If news of a divorce gets out, both family stocks will plummet. Walking away clean won’t be easy.” I forced a bitter smile, draining my wine glass. That night, I was practically carried home, utterly drunk. By Arthur’s schedule, he’d be long asleep by now. I stumbled into the villa, but then a strange feeling crept over me. Usually, Arthur’s wolf, Fang, loved to rest here. It gave no quarter to anyone but Arthur. Even if I offered it the freshest meat, it would only bare its teeth and growl at me. But now, its custom-made kennel was empty. I sobered up instantly. Fang was Arthur’s beloved pet. If it ran off, or got hit by a car… It was still a living creature, no matter what. Even if I was getting divorced, I didn’t want anything to happen to Fang. “Fang… are you around?” I whispered, searching through the bushes, stumbling over my feet. Finally, behind a thick patch of grass, I saw those glowing green eyes. It watched me warily, a low, warning growl rumbling in its throat. Thank goodness, it was Fang. I sighed in relief, squatting down, cautiously extending my hand. “Don’t be scared, come back with me…” The next second, it lunged, its fangs savagely embedding themselves in the web of my hand. I cried out, blood gushing instantly. After that bite, it turned and darted deeper into the garden. Ignoring the pain in my hand, I stumbled after it. The main house garden, which should have been dark, was now lit by several warm, yellow floor lamps. I chased, breathless, about to call for help to catch the wolf. But when I saw the scene before me, the words caught in my throat. On a garden bench, Arthur and Laura sat side by side. Fang, who had just been so aggressive towards me, was now docilely lying at Laura’s feet, as obedient as a house dog. Laura bent down, her eyes wide with surprise, and embraced it. “Fang, is that really you? I can’t believe you’ve grown so big, and you still remember your mama!” I froze. How did she know Fang? Laura looked up at Arthur, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “Arthur, I thought this wolf we rescued had been sent away long ago. I can’t believe you brought him home and raised him so well.” Listening to her reminisce, Arthur nodded. “He really does still like you. These past few years at home, he wouldn’t let anyone touch him but me.” No wonder. For three years, no matter how hard I tried to approach it, I was met only with coldness and suspicion. It turned out this wolf was just like its owner. Its heart had already chosen someone. I felt like a clown, endlessly trying to warm up to someone who couldn’t care less. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Laura seemed to “suddenly” notice someone else was there. She gasped, shrinking into Arthur’s embrace as if startled. “Arthur, who’s that?”

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When I was making late-night snacks for Luna Bright to come home, I stumbled upon a video of a couple tossing a coin to decide who would do the dishes. The guy held a coin, but before he could flip it, a woman’s hand covered his. Her voice was full of affection: “Just tell me what you want. No need for games, you might hurt your hand.” The woman’s voice sounded familiar. Even the bracelet on her wrist was identical to Luna’s, and the guy’s watch was the same limited edition Arthur Vance had bought his father three months ago for eight million dollars, the only one of its kind. But Luna should be working overtime at the office right now. As I stood there, stunned, the guy in the video shook his wrist, his voice laced with annoyance: “I’ve been wearing this watch for three months now. Don’t you think it’s time for a new one?” I stared at the expensive watch in the video, its dial studded with small diamonds. A chilling realization dawned: the woman in the video was my wife, Luna Bright. … I clicked on the blogger’s profile, discovering hundreds of posts. Besides himself, a three-year-old boy frequently appeared in the videos. I scrolled all the way to the bottom and found his first post from three years ago. He was holding a woman, their faces hidden. The caption read: “Thank you, my dear wife, for bringing our little one into the world.” Next to him, another middle-aged man was holding a newborn baby. That man was Luna Bright’s father. My grip tightened on the phone. I didn’t know how to process this. I racked my brain, recalling the past five years and how Luna’s father had treated me. Initially, he couldn’t stand me. After our marriage, I became a stay-at-home husband at Luna’s insistence, failing to provide for the family. Worse, due to a health issue, I couldn’t have children, making me, in his eyes, an unworthy son-in-law. But ever since Luna went on a year-long business trip to her hometown three years ago, his attitude towards me had done a complete U-turn. Not only did he stop looking down on me, but he even encouraged me several times to make things work with Luna. It turned out he already had a more satisfactory son-in-law in mind. I went back and replayed the video I’d just seen. It had been posted three days ago. That night, coincidentally, was our fifth wedding anniversary. I’d booked a restaurant a month in advance, planning a romantic dinner with Luna. She’d promised she’d be there. But that night, I waited until the restaurant closed, and she never managed to finish her “overtime” at the office. Now, watching the video, I finally understood. That night, she was with another man. When Luna finally came home, the late-night meal on the table was already cold. She noticed my dazed stare and smiled, asking, “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen when you went out today?” I shook my head. Luna pretended to think for a few seconds, then sat across from me, took my hand, and said softly, “Still upset about me breaking our date the other day, aren’t you? Tell you what, pick any gift you want. I’ll buy it for you tomorrow, and then you’ll forgive me, okay?” Feeling the tenderness in her voice, and remembering the video, I quietly said, “Then buy me a watch.” Luna hadn’t expected such a simple request and readily agreed. I opened my phone and showed her the watch’s picture. “Get me this one.” But when Luna saw the watch in the image, a flicker of discomfort crossed her face. I pretended not to notice, asking in a low voice, “What’s wrong?” Luna gave a forced laugh. “I heard that watch was already reserved a few days ago. But don’t worry, darling, I’ll find a way to get it for you.” “Alright, thank you, my dear wife.” After that, I didn’t want to talk to her anymore and went to the bathroom to shower. Through the trickling water, I heard Luna arguing with someone on the phone. When I came out, she was sitting on the sofa, clutching her phone, her face flushed with anger. Luna looked at me with a hint of dejection. “I’m sorry, honey, that watch has already been bought. No matter how high a price I offer, they won’t sell it to me.” She then reached out and hugged my neck, inhaling the scent of my shower gel. “It’s all my fault. I can’t even fulfill such a small request for you.” I let her hug me, saying nothing. I already knew she couldn’t buy that watch. Because in the bathroom, I had just seen the blogger post a new video. “Just received my new watch from my husband.” “Phew, so close! Some jerk almost snatched it away.” The comments below were a mix of envy and teasing. “You should be worried about someone snatching your wife, not just the watch.” “Your wife is so rich and generous, surely many men out there want your spot.” The blogger posted a disdainful emoji. “Those men out there are old and ugly, and they can’t compare to me in bed. How could my wife possibly be interested in them?” I understood his insinuation. Five years into our marriage, I hadn’t worked due to my health. In our intimate life, she had always accommodated me, a few times a year without complaint, never pressuring me. Now it seemed, her leniency was more out of guilt. The next day, as soon as Luna left, I hailed a cab and followed her. There was nothing at her company today, so I was sure she would go to see that man again. I needed to find out where he lived, this man who had allowed Luna to juggle two families for years without me ever finding a single flaw. However, to my surprise, she drove directly to an amusement park. At the entrance, I saw a man in the distance, holding a child. The moment the child saw Luna, he loudly called out, “Mommy!” “Since I promised to come, I wouldn’t break my word.” Luna skillfully took the child from the man, kissed the child, then kissed the man. The man pouted in dissatisfaction. “If I hadn’t opened the watch and worn it last night, were you going to give it to your husband?” Luna chuckled, teasing the child. “How could I? I was just putting on a show for him. Anything I give you is yours, I wouldn’t take it back. Besides, in my heart, where would he even rank compared to you?” My hands clenched, my mask hiding my face as I followed them. Hearing her words, my heart twisted with an agonizing pain. Just last night, Luna had held me, promising that even if I never worked a day in my life, it wouldn’t affect our relationship. She would work hard and support me forever. Not having children was fine; being DINKs for life was perfectly good. For a fleeting moment, I had truly believed her. Believed the video I saw was fake, and the blogger’s account was fake. But now, her actions unequivocally told me that everything I saw was real, and her love for me was fake. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. Luna bought tickets with the man at the entrance, then they entered the amusement park. Watching the two of them with the child, my heart was filled with the bitter resentment and anger of deception and betrayal. As they were about to turn a corner, I pulled out my phone and called Luna. The first time, she hung up when it rang. I wouldn’t give up, and called again. Luna frowned, handed the child to the man, and answered the phone. “Arthur, what’s wrong?” I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice sounding normal. “Nothing. Just thought you’ve been working so hard these past few days. I made some soup for you at home and just arrived downstairs at your company.” Luna on the other end of the line immediately sounded flustered. “Could you… maybe wait at the coffee shop nearby? I’ll be right down.” “Okay.” I hung up. Not far away, Luna spoke to the man, who seemed a little angry. But eventually, the two of them came out with the child. I stood aside, watching her hail a cab for the man and child, then drive straight to her company. Inside the coffee shop, Luna looked at my empty hands, her eyes filled with surprise. “Honey, didn’t you say you came to bring me soup?” I gave a bitter laugh, looking at her calmly. “Luna, let’s get a divorce.” “Why?” Luna’s eyes were filled with shock and disbelief. “Arthur, did something happen to you? Haven’t we been perfectly fine all these years? Why are you suddenly talking about divorce?” I remembered the harmonious image of their family of three at the amusement park entrance, and smiled forlornly. “My health isn’t good, and I won’t be able to have children. I shouldn’t hold you back.” However, Luna took my hand, her eyes full of sincerity. “Honey, I already told you, even without children, our feelings for each other won’t be affected at all. This divorce business—” Before she could finish, her phone rang suddenly. Luna glanced at the screen and immediately hung up. But the next second, the call came in again. Luna frowned, didn’t answer, but looked at me and said in a low voice, “Arthur, I won’t divorce you. There’s an emergency meeting at the company, I need to go up. I’ll talk to you more when I get home tonight.” Watching her hurried escape, I already guessed who that call was from. After she left, I clicked on the man’s profile again. His latest video was filmed at the amusement park. A woman holding a child appeared in the shot, but her face wasn’t visible. He buried his head in the woman’s shoulder, his face looking somewhat unhappy. “That damn jerk is so annoying. No wonder he’s plagued by illness his whole life.” “My wife promised to celebrate Baby’s birthday today, but he still called her away.” However, the comments below this video weren’t admiring him as before; people had noticed a blind spot. The woman who constantly appeared with him was expensively dressed, worth at least tens of millions, but under what circumstances would she be called away at any moment by another man? A daring netizen directly pointed it out in the comments section. “Is the blogger this woman’s kept man?” “Otherwise, why has your wife never shown her face all this time?” “And she can casually buy you an eight-million-dollar watch, how could she be called away so easily?” Other netizens quickly caught on. “Yeah, it must be the wife calling him away, that’s why his ‘wife’ was called away.” “Oh, can’t call her his wife now. After all, he’s just a kept man.” “Disgusting homewrecker, so shameless, still complaining about the actual wife.” The man wanted to prove himself, but besides the pile of gifts Luna had given him, he couldn’t produce any evidence to prove his relationship with her. A netizen asked him to post their marriage certificate directly, and the man, flustered, immediately deleted the video. I smiled, watching his panic and helplessness. Of course, he couldn’t produce it, because the person who registered their marriage with Luna back then was me. Luna and I met in college. She came from a poor background and tried to start a business repeatedly, but always failed. To reassure her, I married her right after college, even breaking ties with my parents for it. “Luna, don’t worry, no matter what happens, I’ll be with you forever.” Luna, looking at the two marriage certificates, her eyes instantly red, cried out loud in my arms. “Arthur, I will never let you down in this life. I’ll make sure your parents believe you didn’t choose the wrong person.” Later, Luna carefully treasured those two marriage certificates. But the damp basement seemed too small to contain two young, fervent hearts. I touched the marriage certificate, its edges already worn from the damp environment years ago, my heart filled with bitter pain. Seven years of love, from a basement apartment to a grand flat, I always thought we were the happiest couple. But it turned out that for more than half of our relationship, she was busy managing her other family. My phone chimed, a new video from that man. “Tonight is Baby’s birthday party.” “My wife and father-in-law will be here soon.” “Then you’ll all know I’m not a homewrecker.” I looked at the location tag under his video and realized the hotel was less than ten kilometers from me. Since that was the case, I should also prepare a gift for Baby. Before leaving, I called Luna again. “What time are you coming home tonight?” In the past, whenever I mentioned breaking up or divorcing, she would always rush home early to coax me. But now, the person on the other end of the line was clearly flustered. “Honey, I have to work overtime tonight, so I probably can’t come home to be with you. Don’t worry, when I get back tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you properly.” Then, afraid I was still angry about what happened at lunch, she quickly added, “If there’s anything I’m doing wrong, just tell me. But you can’t talk about divorce again.” Before I could speak, she hung up directly. I calculated the time, changed my clothes, and took a taxi there. The hotel was huge. As I searched, one by one, Luna was holding the child and toasting with the man to people nearby. On the large screen, joyful red letters read: “Thank you all for coming to the birthday party of Lucas Bright-Kennedy, son of Luna Bright and Liam Kennedy.” I sneered and walked directly in. Back when Luna and I got married, we didn’t have a wedding ceremony. So, over the years, besides her father, I hadn’t met any of her other relatives. But even though I was a stranger to them, no one noticed me. They were all looking up at the two people in the center. “Luna is so lucky! Great at making money, and her husband is so family-oriented.” “Yes, and they had a son as their first child, such good fortune.” “Indeed, I always said she was most compatible with that Kennedy boy.” “Look at them now, such a happy and complete family.” “Her dad said they’re planning to have a daughter this year too.” “After all, having both a son and a daughter is truly a great blessing.” I listened to the conversations around me, feeling the blood in my body turn cold inch by inch. They wanted a son and a daughter, but no one ever cared what would happen to me, whose marriage had been destroyed. Looking at Luna not far away, I was about to step forward but was pulled back by someone. “Hey, young man, are you Luna’s colleague?” “You look quite young. Are you married?” “We have a few pretty girls in our village, want me to set you up?” They talked and tried to pull me to a seat. I struggled fiercely, but my voice was calm. “I’m not Luna Bright’s colleague. I’m her husband.” Someone nearby laughed. “You’re talking nonsense! Luna’s husband is right there beside her. It’s such a happy day, you shouldn’t joke around. If you really want to get married, I’ll introduce you to someone good.” “I said I’m her husband.” I violently flung off the hand holding me, accidentally knocking a glass to the floor. The crisp sound of shattering glass instantly drew everyone’s attention. My father-in-law saw me and his face instantly filled with panic. Before he could stop Luna, she had already turned around. Luna’s eyes were wide with shock and helplessness, and even the child in her arms started wailing. Watching this absurd scene, I ignored the stinging pain from the broken glass on my wrist and walked step by step towards her. “Wife, didn’t you say you were working overtime at the company?” Luna noticed the injury on my hand and quickly handed the child to the man beside her, then helped me sit down. “Arthur, you’re hurt.” But I repeated my earlier question. “Didn’t you say you were working overtime at the company?” Luna heard the choked sob in my voice, and a trace of guilt flashed in her eyes. “Arthur, I can explain all this. But you need to go to the hospital and get your wound treated first.” She was about to take my hand, but I pushed her away, suppressing the tears that threatened to overflow, and asked in a hoarse voice, “What more do you have to explain? Is everything I’m seeing here fake?” Seeing the relatives around us beginning to watch with a hint of schadenfreude, Luna’s patience visibly thinned. “Arthur Bright, can you please stop making a scene? I have my reasons for all this.” “Slap!” The moment her words fell, I slapped her across the face. I looked at Luna’s turned head and said with a cold laugh, “Luna Bright, I thought you at least had some backbone. But I never imagined that even after cheating, you wouldn’t have the courage to admit it to my face. You say you have your reasons, but are your reasons for having another man’s child behind my back?” Before Luna could speak, my father-in-law rushed over, raising his hand and slapping me across the face. “How dare you hit my daughter?” I endured the stinging pain in my cheek, glaring at him, and roared, “How dare I? Because she’s been two-timing, deceiving me, betraying me! She did this to me, so why can’t I hit her?” My father-in-law, his face full of fury, scoffed disdainfully. “Hmph, I’ll tell you the truth, Luna has long been tired of you. A man who isn’t even a real man, daring to occupy my son-in-law’s position. Even if you hadn’t shown up today, Luna was going to divorce you.”

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When Matthew Noth returned to Northwood after a five-year assignment, he brought a mother and daughter with him. He said Evelyn Wilson and her daughter were in a difficult situation and needed his care. The little girl nestled in his arms, sweetly calling him ‘Daddy.’ Our own daughter, Charlotte, cowered behind me, timidly greeting him. “Hello, sir.” I stood there, stunned, for a long time when I saw that scene. This time, I wasn’t jealous, nor did I argue or make a scene. But when he reached for my hand, an intense wave of nausea washed over me. I instinctively recoiled. He froze, his expression lost. 1. I froze, seeing two people standing outside the door. Matthew was holding a little girl. She was nestled in his arms, her voice soft and sweet, calling out, “Daddy, I’m hungry.” The woman standing beside him had long, wavy auburn hair. The scene looked exactly like a family of three. Five years ago, Matthew and I argued incessantly over Evelyn Wilson. The fiercest argument was when I called Evelyn a homewrecker. When I threatened divorce, I accidentally pushed Evelyn, and she fell, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Seeing that blood, a chilling fear ran through me. When Matthew arrived, he looked at me, his narrow, indifferent eyes filled with a thin anger. That was the first time he had ever yelled at me. “Skylar, have you had enough of this damn drama?” But I’ll never forget the look Matthew gave me then. He carried Evelyn, covered in blood, to the hospital. After they left, I discovered I was bleeding too. That night, Matthew never came back. He requested a transfer and left Northwood. It was six months after he left that I discovered I was pregnant. I had wanted to terminate the pregnancy, but because it was too far along, I had no choice but to carry the baby to term. During that time, I sent him countless texts, made countless calls. Without exception, those messages disappeared into the void. I never contacted him again. I thought he was gone from my life forever, but he returned. After five years, we were both silent. My daughter, standing behind me, peeked out, cautiously calling to him. “Hello, sir. Are you here to deliver a package to our house?” Matthew looked down. When he saw my daughter, he froze, then his features softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. I quickly introduced her. “Oh, this is my daughter.” As I introduced her, it suddenly hit me. This was Matthew’s daughter too. But it was incredibly awkward. I didn’t know how to explain to little Charlotte that the man holding another little girl was her biological father. Matthew stared at Charlotte, his eyes a little red. He asked softly, “Our daughter?” I nodded. Matthew looked up, his deep, dark eyes meeting mine. “What’s her name?” Charlotte’s clear voice answered before I could. “Hello, sir, my full name is Charlotte Sterling.” “My nickname is Lottie.” I added, “Charlotte. ‘Charlotte’ as in the character, not the plant.” Hearing that, Matthew’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. He parted his lips as if to ask something, then closed them. Evelyn Wilson smiled faintly, her voice soft. “Skylar, this is my daughter. She’s four this year. I have Matthew to thank, he’s been taking such good care of us.” Matthew’s gaze was still fixed on me. He said, “I’ll take Evelyn and her daughter home first. I’ll be right back.” 2. When Matthew returned, Charlotte was already asleep. Left alone, facing each other, I felt incredibly awkward. His return was too sudden. I said, “I only have bottled water, no coffee beans or tea. Is bottled water okay?” Matthew looked at me, his eyes clear. His dark gaze held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. His voice was calm and low. “Skylar, this is my home too.” “Ah,” I responded awkwardly. “Then make yourself at home.” I’d almost forgotten, his name was still on the property deed. We sat facing each other, on pins and needles, enduring the unbearable silence. After a moment of thought, I couldn’t help but speak. “Why are you back? When are you leaving?” Matthew looked at me. He repeated, “Skylar, this is my home too.” I nodded. “When did you have the child?” I thought carefully. I had conceived right before he left five years ago. I’d started bleeding when he carried Evelyn away. “Just before you left five years ago.” Matthew paused. “I’m not leaving this time. Evelyn and her daughter are in a tough spot. One lost her husband, the other lost her father. I promised David on his deathbed that I would take care of them. I have to.” His tone brooked no refusal; it wasn’t a discussion, but a notification. I just didn’t know why he would return after being gone for so long. I gave a faint smile. “Alright, welcome back to Northwood. The guest room was cleaned by Mrs. Davis this afternoon, you can stay there.” As I stood up, his strong hand gripped my arm. He held me tightly. “What about you? Aren’t you staying with me?” I turned, pulling my hand free from his grasp. “I’m sleeping with my daughter.” Matthew’s thin lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. Being alone with him was so awkward that I immediately said, “It’s getting late. I’m tired, you should get some sleep too.” Then I quickly darted into the bedroom. The next day. Charlotte woke up earlier than I did. Matthew was kneeling in front of her, and Charlotte looked utterly bewildered. “Sir, did you stay at our house last night?” Hearing that address, Matthew’s smile stiffened slightly, then he said gently, “Lottie, I’m your daddy. Not ‘sir.’” ‘Daddy’ was too unfamiliar to Charlotte. So, when she heard the word, she shyly buried herself in my arms. I didn’t quite know how to explain to her that Matthew was her father. “Lottie, he’s your daddy.” Charlotte softly whispered, “Daddy.” Matthew’s brows lifted slightly. “Sweetheart.” After Matthew returned, we were more like roommates. His expression was calm and collected, while I felt uncomfortable and awkward. Discovering his regular schedule, I made sure to avoid him every day. He left at 8:30 a.m., and until then, I would hide in my bedroom. Only after confirming he had left would I venture out. Today, I miscalculated. When I came out, I found him and Charlotte sitting at the dining table. He was looking down, patiently feeding Charlotte. The moment our eyes met, I wished I could disappear into a hole in the ground. He, however, was perfectly natural. “Eat.” I refused. “No thanks, I’m going to be late for work.” With that, I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. The moment I opened it, Mrs. Davis happened to be returning from grocery shopping. Seeing Mrs. Davis was like seeing a lifeline. Matthew, however, walked around in front of me and leisurely began to put on his shoes. “I’ll drive you.” “No need.” With that, I zipped into the elevator. 3. That night, I carefully observed Matthew’s routine. He should be resting by now. But when I pushed open the door, I found him lounging on the sofa, dozing. I tried to minimize my presence, tiptoeing back to the bedroom. His clear, masculine voice broke the silence. “Skylar.” I stopped. “It’s so late, are you still awake? You should go to bed, I’m heading to my room now.” He said, “Why are you back so late?” I answered matter-of-factly, “Overtime.” Matthew stood up and walked over to me. He looked down, his eyelashes fluttering. “Tomorrow morning, I bought tickets to Universal Studios. At dinner, Charlotte said she wanted to ride the Ferris wheel.” I hesitated, then considering the child, I agreed. “Okay.” With that, I quickly ran back to the bedroom, closing and locking the door in one swift motion. 4. Before going to Universal Studios, Matthew leaned down and said softly, “Lottie, how about Daddy carries you?” Charlotte shyly glanced at him, then looked at me. I smiled. “If you want, let him carry you.” Charlotte nodded, timidly nestling into his arms. In the confined elevator, Matthew suddenly took my hand. My body stiffened, and I gently tried to pull away. But I couldn’t. His grip tightened. Matthew’s clear voice sounded, “Don’t move, I’m holding your hand.” Just as I gave up struggling, Matthew’s phone rang. He held Charlotte with one arm and my hand with the other. He looked down at me. “Can you answer that for me?” I felt a little awkward pulling his phone from his pocket. When I saw the caller ID, I froze. [Evelyn.] “It’s Evelyn Wilson.” Matthew’s expression changed immediately, turning cold. The voice on the other end of the line: “Matthew, my daughter has a fever, what should I do? I can’t get a cab.” Matthew set Charlotte down from his arms and said, “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, his eyes dark as he looked at me. “Evelyn and her daughter need me; I have to go. I’ll have my assistant drive you and Charlotte.” I took my daughter’s hand. “It’s fine, you go.” Hearing my answer, Matthew’s brows relaxed. He said, “Okay.” I called Mrs. Davis, and we took Charlotte to play all day. Matthew returned only after Charlotte had settled down for the night. I was in the dining room, drinking water. The door was pushed open. I ignored my water, setting the glass down and heading straight for the bedroom. Matthew called out, “Skylar.” His gaze was fixed on my face. I gave an awkward, polite smile. “What is it?” He slowly walked towards me, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m taking care of them, don’t be jealous.” My lips curved upward slightly. “Matthew, I’m not jealous. Evelyn and her daughter truly have a hard life; she should definitely reach out to you if she needs anything.” I thought to myself, it’s not my problem anyway. “Are you angry?” I laughed. “Of course not, I’m not angry.” Matthew probably didn’t want me to be angry, but even after I said I wasn’t jealous or angry, his expression remained grim. “It’s late, you should rest.” 5. Just like five years ago, whenever Evelyn Wilson encountered a small problem in her life, she would call Matthew away. Matthew was out early and back late, and my time with him became less frequent. I felt a lot more relaxed. However, Charlotte’s kindergarten announced a parent-child activity. Charlotte looked at me with hopeful eyes. She asked, “Mommy, can Daddy come with us?” Other children’s parent-child activities always included both parents, but not Charlotte’s. Even though she was young, she would still feel the difference. Since Matthew was back, as Charlotte’s father, he truly needed to be responsible and fulfill his role. I didn’t need a husband, but Charlotte still needed a father. Tonight, I waited for Matthew in the living room. Seeing me sitting there, he was visibly surprised. Matthew’s lips curved into a smile. “I thought you’d keep hiding from me.” Was I that obvious? Being called out so directly made me even more awkward. “It’s like this: Charlotte has a parent-child activity next week. Can you come?” Matthew’s eyes held a faint smile. “Yes.” I told Charlotte, “Daddy agreed, he’ll come to your parent-child activity next week. All three of us will go together.” Charlotte hugged me excitedly. “Thank you, Mommy.” My heart felt a little warm, and a little sad. Charlotte was too understanding. 6. On the day of the parent-child activity, I waited a long time for Matthew, but he didn’t show up. What came instead was a phone call. Matthew’s voice on the other end was a little hoarse, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I broke my promise. There was an urgent assignment; I can’t make it.” After a moment of thought, I said, “It’s alright.” During those silent minutes, I wondered if Charlotte would be heartbroken. I crouched down to comfort her. “Lottie, Daddy might not be able to make it.” Charlotte looked up, her tiny hand reaching out to hold mine. “It’s okay, Mommy. You’ll go with me.” I softly said, “Alright.” At the venue, there were very few single-parent families like Charlotte and mine. But as I looked up, I saw a familiar figure. The man’s tall stature stood out in the crowd. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, dressed in sportswear, looking clean and sharp. A female parent whispered, “That’s the parents of the new transfer student. The child’s name is Amelia Wilson, and her parents are Matthew Noth and Evelyn Wilson. Evelyn Wilson and her husband are both so good-looking, she’s beautiful herself, and her husband is so handsome, no wonder the child is also lovely.” Evelyn Wilson’s child actually had Matthew’s last name. I smiled, saying nothing, and continued listening to their gossip. Matthew still didn’t know that Charlotte and Amelia were in the same kindergarten. Because we were a single-parent family, many games were difficult to participate in. I withdrew Charlotte from the activities. As we were about to leave, I looked up and met Matthew’s gaze. He was holding Amelia in his arms. My eyebrow lifted, and I gave him a faint smile. I decided it was time to bring up the divorce. It was bound to happen sooner or later, might as well get it over with. Matthew looked momentarily lost, his expression stiff and flustered. He put the child down, pushed through the crowd, and ran towards Charlotte and me. I led Charlotte into the car. Charlotte sat in her car seat in the back. I had been steeling myself for this. “Lottie, if everyone else has a daddy, but you don’t, would you be sad?” Charlotte’s voice was clear. “No, I wouldn’t be sad. I’ve never had a daddy.” Hearing that answer, I was silent for a long time. “What about Daddy Matthew?” Charlotte said, “He’s Amelia Wilson’s daddy, not my daddy. I have a mommy.” I don’t know what to say; the sadness in my heart was overflowing. This feeling of sorrow was only because of Charlotte. Matthew had been gone for too long, so long that when I saw him again, for a moment, I couldn’t remember who the person in front of me was. I almost forgot that we were still legally married. I took Charlotte to my company. She was very well-behaved. While I worked, she sat quietly. The company was recently selecting a regional director for the Americas, and I had a chance to be promoted and transferred there. Aside from spending time with Charlotte, most of my time and energy was dedicated to work. Even if we separated, I could still provide Charlotte with an excellent life. I remember when I first found out I was pregnant, my friends and family were afraid I would fall into despair. But I didn’t. Instead, I worked even harder. Because the baby was too far along to abort, only if I was capable, with a good job, could I have the confidence to keep Charlotte by my side and the strength and courage to leave this marriage at any time.

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When Alistair Gummer once again postponed our wedding, I decided to go back to my hometown. Before leaving, we had a breakup fling. In the throes of passion, his voice grew hoarse. “You don’t need to force me with a breakup. I told you, when the time is right, I’ll marry you.” Later, I boarded the little mini-van back to my village and completely disappeared. He, however, went mad searching for me. My phone was bombarded with texts. “Don’t let me find you, or I’ll kill you.” “Send me your location. Let’s talk calmly.” “Baby, I’m sorry, it was my fault. Please don’t leave me…” 1. My mom started hounding me about marriage again. I sat across from Alistair Gummer at his office desk and asked him, “When exactly are you going to marry me?” He looked up, casting a cool glance my way. “This is work time. Let’s not discuss personal matters. This proposal needs to be redone; it’s too cliché, no originality.” I suspected he was subtly criticizing me. Suppressing my emotions, I walked out of the office. Colleagues gathered around. “Did the ‘King of the Underworld’ chew you out again?” I lowered my head, silently confirming. Alistair and I had been together for three years, and our secret was incredibly well-kept. By day, he was the cold, unapproachable ‘King of the Underworld.’ By night, he was a pure, playful wolf. Besides me, no one had ever seen that stark contrast. He was incredibly good to me. He gave me everything I wanted, except marriage. But my mom said, if you love someone, you marry them. You don’t just string them along like this. My mom also mentioned that many promising young people were returning to the village to help with farming. So, I decided to go back to my hometown. The big city was too cold and ruthless. The warmth of rural life would be more comforting. That evening, I returned to Alistair’s grand villa. The moment I walked in, he pressed me against the door, kissing me with urgency. I tilted my head back, responding. Between kisses, I repeated, “If we’re not getting married, then let’s break up.” Alistair’s eyes were glazed. His actions crushed my words. In the depths of passion, his voice was seductive: “You don’t need to force me with a breakup. I told you, when the time is right, I’ll marry you. And you don’t need to keep testing me, my patience has its limits.” He thrust deeper. I took that as his tacit agreement to break up. I bought a ticket to my hometown for a month later. Before going home, I planned to sell all the luxury items and properties Alistair had given me. Combined with my salary from these past few years, my personal savings were quite substantial. Enough to build a grand house in the village, raise pigs, chickens, and cows. Enough to live a carefree life. When I submitted my resignation, Alistair thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He called me into his office, his face grim, and pulled down the blinds. “Georgia Gummer, I can tolerate your little moods, but now you’re threatening me with resignation? Are years of hard work going to waste just because of a man?” Who would guess that the man he was talking about was himself? I sat upright before him. “Mr. Gummer, this is work time. Let’s not mix personal emotions. I have other career plans, and I hope you’ll approve.” A long silence. Alistair scoffed lightly. “Georgia, I must remind you, a woman needs a career. Being overly anxious will only push your partner further away. With your current abilities, working at Gummer Corp is already the ceiling.” He was right. With my education, I probably couldn’t even get through the doors of other major companies. If it weren’t for Alistair, I wouldn’t have a place at Gummer Corp. But for a woman like me, with little career ambition, what did that matter? I had already decided to go back to my village. The cunning and deceit of the big city had exhausted me. I repeated, “I hope you’ll approve, Mr. Gummer.” Alistair’s frustration was palpable, and he finally left me with a single sentence. “You’d better not regret it.” He probably didn’t know. I never do things I regret. 2. At Alistair’s instruction, my work handover was shortened from a month to a week. I had plenty of time to pack my belongings. While Alistair was at work, I called in an appraiser and sold all my jewelry. After an eight-figure sum landed in my account, life felt brighter than ever. I asked my mom to start scouting potential dates for me. I’d fill my schedule once I was home, leaving no time for the so-called withdrawal period to kick in. After I resigned, Alistair started coming home later and later. Once, I even found an opened box of ultra-thin condoms in his suit pocket. I didn’t expose him; I just quietly put it back. He was more concerned about his personal health than I was. I wasn’t worried about catching anything. But he seemed unhappy. Alistair, usually so composed, would inexplicably lose his temper, complaining that I was neglecting him, that I was too cold towards him. I could only appease him. I indulged his every whim, wanting to leave a good impression before returning to the village. I also stopped talking about breaking up, no longer getting jealous. Until one time, he’d had too much to drink and pinned me to the bed, quietly asking, “Georgia, do you not love me anymore?” My heart trembled. I did. I loved him quite a bit. But my youth was fleeting. I couldn’t afford to waste it. His words made me feel like the villain. I reached up and stroked his brow. “Then why won’t you marry me?” Alistair’s voice was hoarse. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t marry you, it’s just that right now…” I kissed him. I didn’t want to hear the words “just that.” Once they were spoken, the outcome no longer mattered. Persistent probing would only turn into a joke. There were so many of my things in the villa. So many that my presence was in every corner. In the end, I only packed one small suitcase. I thought, once I left, Alistair would surely have his housekeeper thoroughly discard all my belongings. He was always so cold and ruthless, whether with people or things. The week before I left, I attended my best friend’s wedding. Seeing her in her wedding dress, I cried like a baby, moved to tears. When she handed me her bouquet, the first person who came to mind was Alistair. But he wouldn’t marry me. Perhaps it was because I came from a rural background, and we were mismatched. People like them, I heard, always had arranged marriages. The wedding reception ended. Alistair, uncharacteristically, came to pick me up. Opening the car door, he immediately saw the bouquet in my hand. I quickly explained, “I didn’t mean anything by it, please don’t misunderstand. It was just a simple blessing, my friend just handed it to me.” Alistair’s eyes dimmed. The drive was silent. I inadvertently noticed a lipstick on the floor. It wasn’t mine. I picked it up and put it in the compartment. Screech! Alistair slammed on the brakes, growling, “Georgia! Is that yours? Now you don’t even ask?” I was stunned by his shout; I’d been so understanding. What was he so angry about? I spoke with annoyance, but still indulged him with a question. “Then whose is it?” Alistair gripped the steering wheel tightly, veins bulging. “My mother’s.” “Oh, your mother’s.” “You…” The engine restarted. Alistair’s face was dark. When we got home, he locked himself in his study. I didn’t understand. I sent my mom a text. [Mom, my date absolutely has to have a good temper.] After sending it, I added another line. [And abs, too.] He didn’t come back to the bedroom that night. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. My heart felt empty. 3. I met Alistair Gummer right after graduation. I was interviewing at Gummer Corp, and he held the elevator door for me. My thick country accent left a deep impression on him. Gummer Corp, remarkably, hired me. Everyone said Alistair was the ‘King of the Underworld,’ not to be provoked. But I was fearless, completely captivated by his appearance. After a company dinner, I deliberately got into his car and confessed my feelings. Alistair was stunned for a long moment. Then he told me, “Dating within the company is prohibited, and will result in termination.” I scoffed. “Just don’t let anyone know, right? You’re the boss, no one would dare fire you.” And then we were together. One bold move led to several years of a lavish life. Thanks to Alistair, my work abilities improved rapidly over these years. I also gained a lot of insight. He was a great benefactor in my life. But not the right partner. My mom saw that all my peers in the village were having kids and started pressuring me too. I tentatively asked Alistair. He always said it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t know when his auspicious day would be. But people around me were settling down, one after another. I also started thinking about marriage. When I repeatedly tried to get a commitment from him, he got annoyed, and I grew tired. While idly scrolling through short videos, I saw some depicting idyllic rural life and suddenly yearned for it. The seed of returning to my village was planted then. 4. The day before I was supposed to leave, I cooked a table full of dishes with my own hands, intending to say a proper goodbye to him. I texted Alistair in advance, asking him to come home early. The message sank without a trace. Calls also went unanswered. I waited until nine in the evening. He still hadn’t come home. I took a cab to the company. My colleague said Alistair had left in the afternoon. I felt annoyed. Seriously, after I resigned, I had no idea about his whereabouts. I waited all night. The food on the table grew cold. My heart ached. I never thought that morning’s “be safe” would be our last words. Bitterness welled up in my heart. I grabbed my small suitcase. I took one last look at the villa. Then I got into the car headed for the airport. Before boarding, I was still hoping Alistair would reply to my message. But he didn’t. I scrolled through short videos to distract myself. I stumbled upon a video from the same city. No one’s face was visible in the video. But I recognized those hands clearly. The plain band on the ring finger was one I had bought. The video blogger was a woman. So, Alistair hadn’t come home because he was having French dinner with another woman. Thinking of the sweet and sour pork, sautéed mixed vegetables, and iron pot stew I had spent all afternoon making for him yesterday… my heart ached. Clutching my chest, tears streamed down my face. Before boarding, I texted my mom. [Mom, I’ll be home tomorrow. Can you arrange a blind date for me tomorrow night?] After sending it, I turned off my phone, swapped in a new SIM card, and casually blocked all of Alistair’s contacts. The plane took off and landed. After getting off the plane, I needed to take a bus to the county town. Then, from the county town, I’d transfer to a mini-van to the village. The whole journey, I was half-asleep, my mind full of Alistair. His affectionate side, his cold side, his passionate side. I couldn’t shake him. Arriving at the village entrance, I inhaled the earthy smell mixed with a hint of chicken manure. It was a familiar scent. My heart gradually calmed. Every time I came home, it felt like a cleansing of the soul. The villagers were simple. No scheming. No endless rules in anyone’s home. My mom was right. A large number of promising young people had indeed flocked to the village to help with farming. Youthful, energetic, sunny, and thoughtful. Time was plentiful. I designed blueprints, planning to build a two-story house. I bought dogs, chickens, cows, and sheep. My days were fulfilling. But at night, Alistair would come to mind. And when he did, my heart ached, as if something was clenching it. I also went on a few blind dates. None of them satisfied me. Once you’ve tasted the best, ordinary people just don’t catch your eye anymore. The only one who did was gay. Three months passed like that. Under my day and night supervision, the two-story house was built. It was then that an unknown number called. I swiped to answer, politely saying, “Hello.” The moment the words left my mouth, I heard a roar from the other end, almost breaking my eardrums. “Georgia Gummer! It’s really you!” Terrified, I immediately hung up. He called again. I hung up again. I blocked the number. He called again with a different number. I simply turned off my phone. It had been too long since I heard Alistair Gummer’s voice. My heart was pounding. Damn it. Why was he bothering me again just when I was finally living freely? I thought long and hard. It’s not like I owed him anything. I’d said goodbye before breaking up. It was his fault he didn’t come back for our last meal. I had nothing to feel guilty about. I turned my phone back on. A flood of texts popped up. “Georgia, don’t let me find you, or I’ll kill you.” “Why the hell did you leave without a word? Couldn’t you have just talked to me properly?” “Turned off your phone, huh! I’ll dig three feet under and drag you out!” “…” There were too many texts. I couldn’t imagine under what state the cold and aloof Alistair Gummer could type such frantic messages. When I was with him, aside from seeing him lose his temper at work, he was always very good to me in private. I shivered involuntarily. Winter hadn’t even arrived, but I felt a chill.

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The day they auctioned off my fiancée’s virginity, I didn’t bid. I just watched. Then I called off our arranged marriage and left the country. In my past life, after I rescued her, she accused me of forcing her to marry me. For years after our marriage, she treated me like air, and later, even bore children for her first love. She even let their children poison me. As I lay dying, her voice cut through me, sharp as shattered glass. “Our family of four can finally be together.” I died, filled with nothing but hatred. Reborn into this life, my first decision was to step aside. I would grant them their perfect ending. …… “Next up for auction is the virginity of Chloe Miller, former heiress of the once-mighty Miller Corporation.” The fire in my gut went cold. My eyes flew open. I was back. At the very auction where my childhood friend Chloe was being sold. Taking in the familiar scene, I understood: I had been reborn. On stage, Chloe shot me a desperate, pleading look. This time, I didn’t even glance up. I kept my eyes on my phone, scrolling through nothing. In my previous life, the moment she appeared, I had paid five million to buy her freedom. Chloe and I had been engaged since childhood. Grateful for my rescue, the Miller family rushed our marriage. And I, who had loved her since we were children, agreed eagerly. But after the wedding, Chloe Chloe met me with ice every single day. I thought her her coldness was shame over her family’s ruin, so I showered her with even more care. Until the day I watched her and Blake’s twin children slip poison into my drink. She didn’t lift a hand to save me. Instead, she stood over me. “If you hadn’t used that debt to force me to marry you, Blake and I would have been together years ago.” “Do you know why I never let you touch me? Every second with you made me sick.” “Now you’re dying, our family of four can finally be whole.” Only then did I understand.She hated me to my core. “Twenty thousand!” “Thirty thousand!” The constant shouts of bids from the audience dragged me back to reality. Most of the bidders were older, portly, lecherous executives. Chloe on stage looked like she was about to cry. When her eyes met mine again, she clung to me like a drowning person, her gaze filled with desperate pleading. But I remained perfectly calm, making no move to bid. Her virginity was finally auctioned off for one million to Mr. Caldwell, the fifty-something CEO of Caldwell Enterprises. Chloe collapsed to the floor. Everyone in our circle knew Mr. Caldwell’s reputation. Old, but notoriously depraved. He delighted in breaking young, beautiful girls, often beyond recognition. His men took her away. As she passed me, her eyes burned with a hatred. I had seen that look only once before. It was in my last life, as she watched me die. I hadn’t expected to see it again so soon. “Why didn’t you save me?” Her tone was filled with a sense of entitled accusation. I knew then that she, too, had been reborn. “My apologies, I’m not interested in your virginity.” I smiled playfully. “But this particular exhibit, however, does pique my interest.” With that, I gestured to the jeweled necklace on display on the stage, casually raised my hand, and placed a ridiculously high bid, buying the necklace outright. Chloe instantly exploded in a rage. “We grew up together, we were even engaged! How could you just watch? You’d rather spend a fortune on some gaudy necklace than save me!” I scoffed. “What’s your virginity worth, anyway? This necklace, now this is a true investment.” “You!” Chloe stared at me, her eyes blazing with fury. She never expected me, who had always doted on her every word, to say such a thing. For a moment, she was speechless. “Julian, stop messing around, okay? It’ll be too late if you don’t hurry.” “Just save me. I can pretend nothing happened.” Of course, those who are loved always feel entitled, don’t they? I inwardly sneered. In my last life, everyone knew how much I loved Chloe. Even when her family went bankrupt, I never left her side. But Chloe? She took advantage of my love, treating me with utter disdain after our marriage. She wouldn’t even make out with me. Not only that, she even had children with her first love. Thinking of all this, a wave of bitter sadness washed over me. “Mr. Caldwell, why haven’t you taken your plaything for tonight away yet?”

I mocked Mr. Caldwell, who then belatedly realized Chloe was still standing there. He promptly ordered his men to escort her out. Chloe shot me a look of pure contempt before storming out. After the auction, I went to the Millers’ house. Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s eyes were filled with worry. Seeing me, they immediately dropped to their knees before me. “Julian, please, save Chloe. She’s our only child, and it’s all our fault she’s in this mess.” Looking at the two old people before me, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of emotion. In my previous life, when they found out I’d been poisoned, they immediately called an ambulance, but it was too late. They had watched me grow up and always treated me with kindness. After Chloe and I married, they treated me like their own son. I told them about Chloe’s current situation and gave them a million-dollar card, telling them to rescue Chloe themselves. While Mr. Caldwell was a lecherous man, the Millers had once been prominent in Silverwood. He’d still give them some face. I then brought up the topic of ending our engagement, and repeatedly cautioned them not to tell Chloe that I had provided the million dollars. “Julian, you and Chloe have always been so close. Why are you suddenly canceling the engagement?” “She has someone she loves, and it’s not me. In fact, they’ve been together for a while.” I explained the reason for breaking off the engagement. A flicker of surprise crossed their eyes. “Could there be a misunderstanding? Chloe has never told us about having a boyfriend.” “I saw it with my own eyes.” Though reluctant, seeing my earnest attitude, they couldn’t help but agree, saying they’d talk to Chloe when she returned. Chloe was brought back home, and I went to apply for a visa, preparing to leave everything behind. But while waiting for the visa, I still ran into Chloe at a friend’s gathering. Everyone had heard about the auction, but out of politeness, they kept quiet. Only the brief glances between Chloe and me carried an unspoken tension. When Chloe saw me, her eyes were filled with hatred. “Julian, there’s a limit to playing hard to get. Don’t come crying to me to take you back later.” I didn’t understand. I was letting them have their happiness, yet she still felt the need to humiliate me. I offered a slight smile, saying nothing. Finding herself ignored, she didn’t push it further. Just as everyone was having a good time, Chloe’s first love, Blake, burst in. He lunged at me, his fist connecting squarely with my face. I couldn’t dodge in time and hit the ground hard. “They auctioned off Chloe’s virginity, and you didn’t even look at her. You just threw money at some stupid necklace!” “Her life would be ruined if she married a man like you.” My gaze flicked to Chloe in the corner. The moment she saw Blake, her eyes lit up, softening with unmistakable tenderness. My mind drifted back. To that other life. In my previous life, she never gave me a moment of kindness, let alone such an expression. Only when she needed my help would she offer a symbolic smile, which always looked worse than a frown. And only when Blake was in trouble did she need my assistance. For Blake, she would swallow her pride and try to win me over. I thought that if I was good enough to her, one day she would see me. But I forgot, solid ice can never be truly warmed. My silence only fueled Blake’s anger. He lunged forward and grabbed my collar. “Are you deaf? I’m talking to you!” “What kind of monster are you? Just standing by while your fiancée suffers?” At Blake’s words, the gathered friends broke into hushed whispers.. “Julian always acted like Chloe’s lapdog. How could he not spend a million when she was in real trouble?” The taste of iron flooded my mouth, pulling me back to the present. I shoved his hand away violently. “Why do you sound more concerned about my fiancée than I am?” “Why didn’t you bid for her that day, no matter the price?”

At my words, everyone fell silent. Everyone in our circles knew about my engagement to Chloe, and she had always, with complete entitlement, accepted all my affections. Everyone assumed we were already a married couple, and now, suddenly, Blake appeared. All eyes turned to Blake and Chloe. Blake was choked up, unable to respond. “I… I just can’t stand what you did. I don’t have the money, but if I did, I would have thrown it all at her rescue.” Chloe looked at me, her expression changing. “You… you found out.” In my previous life, I only found out about Chloe and Blake on our wedding day. Blake appeared at the wedding with red eyes, and Chloe’s eyes were red too. Out of respect for Mr. and Mrs. Miller, the wedding proceeded as planned. But on our wedding night, she ran off to find Blake. She claimed I owed them, that it was because I had taken advantage of her distress that they couldn’t be together. Yet, when I finally couldn’t take it anymore and suggested divorce, she refused, saying she didn’t want to disappoint her parents. I loved her, and I was willing to wait for her to change her mind. But my repeated concessions only made her more brazen. She even had children with Blake while abroad and then brought them back home. When I learned the truth, I was furious, demanding answers. Her chilling reply was: “I’m already married to you. What’s the big deal about having two kids for Blake?” When I finally made up my mind to divorce her, I was poisoned by their twin children. At this thought, a bitter, tragic smile twisted my lips. “If I hadn’t known, would you still be planning to play me for a fool?” “After all, your precious Blake couldn’t cough up that much money to save you, could he?” With that, I challenged Blake with a glance. Before Blake could speak, Chloe snapped. “You’re lying! Blake was the one who scraped together a million dollars to save me from Mr. Caldwell!” Hearing that, I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. The sheer audacity. It proved just how far true shamelessness could go. I had explicitly asked Mr. and Mrs. Miller not to reveal that the money came from me. I didn’t want Chloe feeling obligated to me again. I never expected Blake to claim the credit. “What’s so funny? You think that money was yours?” “Julian, you heartless monster. You don’t deserve anyone’s love.” Blake glared at me, his confidence clearly faltering. I scoffed. “You’re right. It wasn’t my money. But it is impressive-scraping together a million dollars in just a few hours.” “Especially for a man who can’t usually scrape together a thousand.”

A flicker of guilt crossed Blake’s face. Chloe also looked stunned. “Chloe, don’t listen to him. I agreed to be a test subject for some experimental drugs to get that million.” As he spoke, he exposed his arms, covered in dense needle marks that looked horrifying. The people around us gasped. Chloe gave me a cold stare. “You wouldn’t help, and now you’re slandering someone else!” “I want you to apologize to Blake!” Blake was a university student Chloe had sponsored, from a poor background. In my previous life, he never worked a day after college. Chloe always covered for him. Even after her family went bankrupt and she married me, I provided a generous monthly allowance. It was enough for her to maintain her old lifestyle without compromise. Yet she gave nearly all of it to Blake. My friends began to whisper among themselves. “No wonder Chloe chose that poor guy. At least he’s there for her when it counts.” “A million dollars is nothing to Julian, yet he wouldn’t even spend it.” “Chloe, we’re on your side. You absolutely shouldn’t marry Julian.” “If this is how he treats you now, imagine what it would be like after marriage.” Everyone started to criticize me, one after another, as if I were some heinous criminal. But in my previous life, I had cared for Chloe with all my heart for so many years, only for her to allow her children to kill me. What wrong had I done? I frowned. How could everyone believe such an obvious lie? Who gets a million bucks for a drug trial, let alone one that pays out that fast?! These pampered socialites, born with silver spoons in their mouths, clearly had no clue how real money was made. At that moment, Chloe grabbed Blake’s hand, looking furiously at me. “Julian, I declare that I’m canceling our engagement!” After saying that, she kissed Blake’s lips, and he responded with equal fervor. Even now, she thought her place in my heart was irreplaceable, that this would be enough to threaten me. “You can’t cancel the engagement!” Just as I was about to reply, Mr. and Mrs. Miller burst in. “Chloe, we always thought you and Julian were just having a small disagreement.” “Julian was still willing to give a million dollars to save you, which shows he still cares about you.” “That day he said you had someone else in your heart, we didn’t believe it, but it was all true.” “Chloe, do you know what kind of person he is? You can’t be with him!” Mr. Miller jabbed a finger at Blake and flung a stack of photos in his face. “He’s on drugs!” But Chloe was past caring. She stared at me, her face etched with disbelief. “Was that money really from you?” I ignored her question and offered only a cold reply. “I agree to break the engagement. From now on, we are nothing.” With that, I turned and walked out. That night, Chloe stood outside my apartment building until dawn. I didn’t look at her. Instead, I messaged the elders of both families, calling off the engagement for good. The next day, the moment my visa cleared, I boarded a plane and left the country.

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My roommate is a competitive show-off who always speaks in sarcasm. When someone posted about being insecure due to illness-related obesity, she commented below: “I’m so jealous you can be soft and chubby. I’m 5’3″ and only 110 pounds. Please share your weight gain tips.” When someone celebrated escaping their toxic family, she posted screenshots of her parents doting on her, adding: “Support you. My mom forgot to give me my goodnight kiss today. So mad.” Because I’m mute, she’s never taken me seriously. Until our dorm dinner, when a child complimented me on my looks— She AI-generated photos of me drinking with different men in bars and posted them online. “I’m so jealous of my roommate. She’s so beautiful and gets to hang out with so many guys.” “Unlike me—not only am I not as pretty as her, I’ve never even held a man’s hand.” The comments below all called me a slut while praising her as a pure innocent flower. Soon, the rumors spread. I was reported and lost my guaranteed admission to an Ivy League graduate program. She took the replacement spot and looked at me: “Lyra, being mute means you have to take your losses in silence.” “But honestly, I really envy that you get to experience society. Unlike me—I can only go to grad school.” Looking at her smug expression, I narrowed my eyes. What she doesn’t know is that I’m not actually mute. I don’t speak because I have the supernatural ability of reality manifestation through words. Since she loves speaking in reverse so much, I’ll make her reverse words come true.

“What’s that awful smell?” In the classroom, Clara circled around me, covering her nose in disgust. “Lyra, you should really get yourself checked out. I swear there’s a nasty smell coming from you.” Hearing her words, the students sitting near me immediately scattered. I only smell like soap, but no one cares about that except me. Their gazes swept over me like searchlights, as if they wanted to strip me naked. “I knew I smelled something earlier—turns out it’s her!” “Stay away from her. Playing around that much, who knows what diseases she’s carrying. I’m done for if I catch something!” “She kept looking at me during class. Is she feeling the itch? I don’t want this kind of trash!” Overwhelming shame engulfed me. I almost bent down to smell myself. I glared furiously at the smug Clara, wanting to explain but unable to speak a single word. Because I was reckless as a child and caused plenty of trouble with my reality manifestation ability, my mom took me to many places. We finally found a temple where a master helped seal my vocal cords, warning me: “This is a great fortune. You cannot use it carelessly—it damages your karmic merit.” He gave my mom a vial of medicine: “When the child understands right from wrong, you can use this to break the seal. Then she’ll be able to speak normally.” My mom gave me the medicine when I left for college. “Honey, being mute isn’t so bad. Once you start using this ability, it’ll be very hard to stop.” “I’m giving this to you so you have a way to protect yourself. Promise me you won’t misuse it, okay?” For over a decade, I’d never wanted to speak this badly. I tried to explain in sign language, but no one could understand. At that moment, my phone rang. It was my academic advisor. A flicker of hope rose in my heart—had the school cleared things up? After I answered, the advisor’s cold voice came through. “Lyra, due to your personal conduct issues, the school is revoking your scholarship and financial aid.” “Additionally, you need to submit a ten-thousand-word self-criticism to the Academic Affairs Office tomorrow.” “Do you have any objections? Speak now.” I anxiously made sounds, but all I heard was the busy tone of a disconnected call. At the same time, Clara answered a phone call. “Clara, the department just had a scholarship spot open up. It’s been reassigned to you. Come fill out the paperwork.” It was the advisor’s voice. After Clara hung up, she saw me glaring at her viciously and smiled. “Lyra, I really don’t want this money, but what can I do about the school’s decision?” “Oh right, I forgot you need this money for your mom’s medical bills.” “But I’ve always envied you for juggling school with three part-time jobs—such a fulfilling life. Unlike me—all I can do is travel and see the world.” I couldn’t be bothered arguing with her. I turned to go find the advisor. My mom had a sudden heart attack this year, and her health has been deteriorating. This money was all I needed to get her a cardiac stent procedure. Before I could even leave the classroom, I heard a familiar voice. “You’re spreading lies! My daughter would never do these things!” It was my mom’s voice. And it was coming from Clara’s phone!

I rushed over and snatched the phone away. In a livestream, a man was holding forth: “Everyone, support Clara! Let’s see what the mom who raised such a slut looks like!” “Maybe the daughter learned it from the mother? You all say I’m so manly—what if she takes a liking to me!” “Actually, never mind. She’s been played into the hospital—bit too dirty for me!” As he spoke, he turned the camera toward my mom lying pale in her hospital bed. The man threw a handful of photos onto her, his voice dripping with malice. “Do you know your daughter’s selling herself out there?” “Did you introduce her clients? Why don’t you two offer a package deal—sell yourselves together. Business might be even better!” My mom lunged at him angrily, like a furious lioness: “Get out! My daughter would never do such things! If you keep slandering her, I’m calling the police!” Her emotions grew more and more agitated, yet her face grew paler. Suddenly, she clutched her chest and collapsed onto the hospital bed! The man panicked and left without pressing the call button for help. My hands trembled as I dialed the hospital, trying to call a doctor for my mom. But when the call connected, I couldn’t say a single word! I could only listen as the nurse on the other end said “Hello?” twice before hanging up. I looked pleadingly at my classmates—people I’d spent day and night with—but they all avoided my gaze, looking toward Clara instead. Thick despair consumed me. Clara laughed lightly: “Lyra, don’t worry. I’ve always thought you were so free without a father—one less person controlling you.” “Maybe you’ll be completely free soon. Unlike me—my parents make me call them every day to check in. Later I’ll just have to go home and inherit the family business. No autonomy at all.” The surrounding students began flattering Clara. “That’s not no freedom. That kind of life—I’d literally get on my knees to accept it.” Clara looked at me provocatively amid the crowd’s adulation. I ignored her, just kept messaging and calling my mom’s attending physician. I don’t know how much time passed before the doctor finally answered. Knowing I couldn’t speak, he reassured me while checking his messages. His voice grew serious. Soon, my mom was rushed to the operating room. My taut nerves finally relaxed slightly. My back was already soaked with cold sweat. Clara walked up to me, her gaze challenging: “Lyra, I’ve discovered being mute is actually really nice. You’re always so quiet, giving people a sense of emotional stability.” “I just got the scholarship, so I’m treating the whole class to afternoon tea. I’m so envious that your money can go toward saving your mom—so meaningful!” “Unlike me—I have no worries at all. My money can only be used for enjoyment.” With bloodshot eyes, I shoved her hand away and rushed toward the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital, the surgery was still ongoing. I don’t know how long passed before the operating room doors opened! I rushed forward urgently, looking at the doctor. The doctor shook his head heavily. “Your mother’s body was already weak, and we got to her too late this time.” “We did our best. She’s now in a vegetative state. With good care, she might wake up—it’s just that the costs will be quite high.” The doctor looked at me with difficulty, taking in my clothes washed so many times they’d faded to white. I staggered, my eyes erupting with bone-deep hatred. Clara must pay the price! Since she loves speaking in reverse so much, I’ll make it come true for her.

I first went into the hospital room, stroking my mom’s pale, gaunt face, my heart full of self-reproach. Because of my reality manifestation ability, my dad treated me like a monster. It was my mom who resolutely divorced him and left our hometown with me, searching for a solution. But now she was lying in bed because of me, with no telling when she might wake up. I deposited most of my part-time job earnings into her medical account. Then I went back to the dorm to find the medicine. When I pushed open the dorm door, I found my area in complete disarray. My desk was piled with junk, my closet had been opened, and my clothes were thrown on the floor, covered in gray footprints. I took a deep breath and decided to find the medicine first. I’d hidden it in a storage box at the foot of my bed. As soon as I climbed onto my bed, I discovered the entire bedding was wet and reeked of an unidentifiable stench. But fortunately, my storage box was still there. I pulled out the key and opened it, tucking the intact vial of medicine into my pocket. I needed to find a place with no people to use it, ensuring I wouldn’t be interrupted. As I climbed down, Clara watched my lack of reaction and pouted with boredom: “Lyra, I’m so envious of emotionally stable people like you. Even when we accidentally spilled mop water on your bed, you don’t get angry.” “Unlike me—my parents spoiled me so much I can’t handle the slightest grievance.” The other roommates quickly chimed in: “That’s actually better! Having a real personality means not getting bullied. Not like Lyra—what a doormat!” Their mockery didn’t change my expression one bit. Because her retribution was about to arrive. I left the dorm and checked into a hotel for an hourly room. I took out the medicine from my pocket and was about to apply it to my lips when the door was suddenly shoved open. Clara burst in, livestreaming. “Everyone, my roommate just came back to the dorm to get something, then rushed out again.” “I was worried something would happen to her, so I followed. I can’t believe she came here to rent a room!” “I can’t just watch my roommate fall this far!” After Clara rushed in and found only me in the room, disappointment flickered in her eyes. When she saw me bringing the medicine to my lips, her face took on a pitying expression. “Lyra, I actually really envy that you can’t speak—saves so much social hassle.” “But even if you’re dissatisfied, you can’t just put random unlabeled medicine in your mouth. Aren’t you afraid of poisoning yourself?” Comments flew rapidly through the livestream: “Liked. Clara is beautiful and kind-hearted. She even feels sorry for this kind of trash person—way too nice.” “Clara’s right. There’s so much meaningless socializing in society now. Being mute means she can avoid so many hassles!” “Exactly. She just can’t speak—there are people way worse off than her. I don’t know what she’s putting on an act for!” Clara smiled with satisfaction. At an angle the livestream couldn’t see, she reached out and pushed the medicine into my mouth. Half the medicine went down my throat, half spilled on my lips. An intense burning sensation spread across my mouth. Pain appeared on my face. Clara sighed, looking at me. “Lyra, I really envy your courage and freedom—you dare to consume anything. You get to experience so many things.” “Unlike me—my parents only allow things verified by professionals into my mouth.” The livestream comments uniformly read: “Good advice can’t save a ghost determined to die. Clara, don’t learn from her. This kind of trash has a hard life. Your delicate body can’t handle such treatment!” At that moment, a hoarse voice spoke. “Clara, are you speaking from your heart?”

Clara looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost. I stared straight at Clara, questioning her: “Do you really want to become mute? Do you really want to play around with lots of men? Do you really want a college life working three part-time jobs?” I returned her previous words to her, one sentence at a time. Clara’s face turned iron-gray from my questioning, but with the livestream still running, she couldn’t slap herself in the face. She gritted her teeth and nodded. The livestream started praising her again. “See everyone? Some people said Clara was being passive-aggressive and deliberately showing off, but these are clearly her true feelings!” “Protecting the world’s most straightforward and sincere Clara!” I smiled. “Clara, those are your words. So from now on, every sincere word you speak will come true.” With that, I walked past her and left the hotel. I didn’t go to the hospital. Instead, I came to an old residential complex. After Clara started doing social media, she went viral with her persona of a naive young heiress. Every month she’d have a livestream, posting malicious remarks under various videos. A pet blogger posted a video showing her face. Fans all said the blogger was beautiful. She commented: “I’m so envious that you’re cat is so well-behaved. Unlike mine—a little rebel. What method do you use to make your cat so obedient?” One ambiguous sentence led Clara’s fans to directly attack the blogger for animal abuse. When the blogger tried to defend herself, extreme fans found her address and fed her cat poisoned treats. With no evidence left, it ended with the blogger’s mental breakdown and withdrawal from the internet. Even a middle schooler who simply posted a video recording her joy at academic improvement— She commented below: “Really envious of how smart you are, improving so fast. Unlike me—I can only progress step by step. What study method do you use?” Countless people began speculating whether the child had cheated. Even when the parents came forward to clarify, Clara just smiled innocently. “Oh my, you can’t just say things like that. We’re just curious.” In the end, the child took medical leave due to depression. Not only should Clara reap what she sowed, she should also face legal consequences. I knocked on the door and explained my purpose to the pet blogger. She nodded firmly. Together we contacted the child’s parents. They agreed to go to the police station with us to file a report. After filing the report, I returned to the hospital to stay with my mom. The next day, Clara started this month’s livestream as usual. Seeing someone abnormally obese from medication, she casually said: “Your chubbiness looks so blessed. I wish I could be like you.” I watched Clara suddenly gain weight in the livestream and smiled. She continued. A girl felt insecure about persistent acne scars, and she laughed: “Your face is like the starry sky. Unlike me—I have nothing. So envious!” Someone sought help about an arranged marriage, and her eyes lit up: “I’m so envious you don’t have to worry about anything—your parents arranged everything. Unlike me—my parents make me find my own partner. If I can’t find one, I’ll just stay home and keep them company!” As she spoke, Clara noticed the livestream had gone eerily quiet. Only a couple scattered comments said: “Did the host always look like this?” She looked down to see her abnormally bloated body, covered in stretch marks, and a profound unease rose in her heart. Clara’s hands trembled as she grabbed a nearby mirror. Seeing the pockmarked face in the reflection, she let out a piercing scream!

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After the seventy-eighth time I received nude bed photos of my husband with his mistress. I posted all the photos on social media. My husband’s mistress cried her heart out, shouting that she was utterly humiliated. The next second, Adrian Chase’s call came through: “Delete them.” I didn’t delete them. Ten minutes later, all my social media accounts were logged into from remote locations. Deleting posts, deactivating accounts, removing trending topics. The entire operation took Adrian Chase less than ten minutes. Three days later, he came to me with divorce papers, his voice a soft threat: “It’s just a game to humor the girl. Play along.” I nodded and signed. He probably didn’t believe that I could actually give up being Mrs. Chase. Half an hour after signing the divorce papers. Adrian Chase probably didn’t know that his “innocent” lover actually had a vicious heart. Even after I divorced him, she still couldn’t wait to have someone run me over with their car. I lost the baby in my belly. Good. With the baby gone, the last tie between him and me was gone too. My phone rang shrilly just as I was wheeled out of the operating room after my miscarriage. The anesthesia had just worn off, and the pain made beads of sweat break out on my forehead. I answered the call through the pain. Adrian Chase’s icy voice came through: “Jade, take all your things and get out.” “Okay.” I agreed readily. Five years of marriage, and he’d kept one girl after another on the side. To keep me from interfering with his relationships with these girls. He had his secretary rent me a house on the outskirts of North City. He said: “If I want to find you, I’ll contact you. I’ll have my secretary transfer living expenses to you. Without my permission, you’re not allowed to appear in front of me.” Last time he knelt before me, begging me to come back. He sincerely said he’d settled down and wanted to live a good life with me from now on. I was foolishly moved to tears and believed him easily again. So I moved back home. But one week later. A girl stumbled during a modeling show, stepping on her dress hem and falling, bursting into his line of sight like a startled deer. I saw the way he looked at her. My resentful emotions screamed in my heart, but I had to admit—he’d fallen again. That evening, news of him taking the model into a hotel dominated the headlines. I became everyone’s joke once more. This girl seemed truly special. For a whole year, Adrian Chase didn’t tire of her. And in that year, I received seventy-eight provocative videos and photos, and countless harassing texts. Every word revealed the sender’s desire to take my place. Until three hours ago. For the first time, he placed divorce papers before me: “It’s just for show. Be good, don’t make me angry.” I struggled to hold back my emotions, looking at him with reddened eyes. Unwilling to sign. No matter how he’d played around before, this document had never appeared. But now, he calmly stroked my head, like soothing a bristling kitten. I knew the consequences of making Adrian Chase angry. Just like this time—he only needed to lift a finger. And he could solve all of Bianca Cole’s problems. So I signed the divorce papers, writing only “Okay.” When I returned home, I didn’t see Adrian Chase or Bianca Cole. Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, was busy in the kitchen. She saw me come back and asked happily: “Jade? How did the prenatal checkup go?” My face was pale. I shook my head. I’d originally planned to tell Adrian Chase tonight that I was pregnant. But plans couldn’t keep up with changes. In just a few days, I’d lost my marriage and my child. “I had a miscarriage.” Under Mrs. Hudson’s shocked expression, I spoke slowly, “Maybe it’s for the best. This child wouldn’t have been happy anyway.” Before Mrs. Hudson could respond, the door was pushed open. Bianca Cole was carrying armfuls of luxury goods. The dozen or so bodyguards behind her had their hands even fuller. Seeing me, Bianca Cole wasn’t surprised. She leaned against my chaise lounge, smiling, but her words dripped with sarcasm. “Actually, I really don’t understand—Adrian Chase treats you this way, yet you still won’t leave. Why?” “Yesterday, I said I wanted chestnut cake, and without a word, he walked five kilometers through heavy snow to buy it for me.” “Have you ever gotten that kind of treatment?” I was silent for a moment. Yesterday was the anniversary of my father’s death. When I contacted Adrian Chase through his assistant, I heard the wind howling through his phone. But I still clearly heard him say he wasn’t available. So he’d gone to buy chestnut cake for Bianca Cole. I helplessly clutched at my clothes. Once upon a time, Adrian Chase was the person who loved me most in this world, aside from my parents. He was my family’s driver’s son, not some noble identity, completely out of place among the surrounding young masters and ladies. Back then, the other children loved to bully him. But he never cared what others thought of him. He said: “I only care about Jade.” When I had a fever as a child, he stayed by my bedside all night without sleep. When the earthquake happened, he shielded me with his body, letting debris hit his head. He endured the pain without a sound, even gently comforting my emotions. In college, he and I had an argument. Holding my favorite candied hawthorn and a handwritten ten-thousand-word apology letter, he stubbornly stood outside the dorm building through heavy snow all night. On graduation day, we had our wedding. At the wedding, when my father placed my hand in his, his tone was serious. “If I find out you’ve changed your heart, I’ll take her away without hesitation. She doesn’t lack people to love her.” Adrian Chase clenched his fist and solemnly promised he would never change his heart. He said: “I want to make you the happiest person in the world, to banish sadness from your life.” From school uniforms to wedding dress—the envy of everyone. A year after marriage, my father passed away, and Adrian Chase managed everything in the company. He was exhausted, collapsing into the hospital several times from overwork. I felt sorry for him. The formerly pampered young lady cooked for him, making soup with her own hands. Every day after work, he’d bring me a bouquet of my favorite yellow roses. He said they were flowers full of love. Every day he’d sit in the courtyard with me counting stars. He’d hold me as I fell asleep. When did things start to change?

I thought about it. Probably when he completely shed the label of “the driver’s son” and transformed into CEO Chase. He started having endless business dinners, and when he came home, his clothes reeked of cheap perfume. Facing my questioning eyes, he smiled and explained: “It’s from a business partner’s perfume. Honey, don’t overthink it.” I believed him. He used clumsy excuses to repeatedly consume my unconditional trust. Until he gained complete control, he stopped pretending. And I, foolishly immersed in the prison of love Adrian Chase had woven for me. Unable to break free. The first time I caught him cheating was at the surprise birthday party I’d prepared for him. The party was on a yacht. Everyone waited until exhausted, but the guest of honor never showed up. I had no choice but to have someone check his location and discovered he was working overtime at the company. The whole way there, I complained in my heart about him not taking care of himself. When I pushed open the office door, I was still holding the cake I’d made myself. But on his office desk sat the remains of a candlelit dinner. Intimate clothing was scattered on the floor. Most ridiculous of all, two bodyguards stood outside his lounge. When I kicked the door open, Adrian Chase’s face showed no panic. He gently covered the person beneath him with a blanket, then casually draped a bathrobe over himself. When he looked up at me, he was as cold as a block of ice. “Close the door. If you have no shame, she does.” His calmness made me look like a clown. I rushed forward like crazy to drag out the homewrecker. But I was slapped dizzy by a bodyguard beside Adrian Chase. In the chaos, I finally saw clearly who was lying in the bed. It was the little nurse who had changed his dressings after he collapsed in the hospital. The little nurse was scared to tears: “Ma’am, please don’t misunderstand. I just came to bring Mr. Chase some liver-protecting medicine today. I never meant to interfere with your marriage.” “We had some drinks, and in our confusion, we…” Adrian Chase pressed his lips together, his cold eyes fixed on me. “Jade, I’m warning you, don’t lay a finger on her.” So he’d been cheating this early on. The so-called flowers of love were just random compensation to his wife after he’d had his fun outside. From then on. At business dinners, as wine flowed freely, the women around him changed too. He no longer cared about my feelings, no longer cared about anything about me. It seemed only the fame and fortune in business and different women keeping him company in pleasure. Could truly make him feel the meaning of life. I gradually grew numb in the sense of loss. Until one day, I no longer expected him to appear before me. I ignored Bianca Cole’s mockery. I went upstairs to get my passport and some ID documents, then came back down. When I came downstairs, I saw Bianca Cole going through the purse I’d left on the sofa. I caught my breath and immediately rushed forward to snatch the bag back. Bianca Cole spread her hands and rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing valuable anyway. What are you so nervous about?” I felt for the hospital examination report at the bottom of my bag and breathed a sigh of relief. Bianca Cole walked up to me and suddenly smiled. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” “I saw the vitamin pills in your bag.” “You know, right? Adrian Chase hates kids the most. If he finds out you’re pregnant, he definitely won’t let you keep this baby.” “I advise you to get rid of it early, otherwise…” Just then, Adrian Chase came back. Adrian Chase glanced at me, his tone casual: “What fell?” I smiled and stuffed the documents back into my bag: “Nothing.” Adrian Chase was silent for a moment. As I was about to leave, he took out two cards and held them before me. “The presidential suite at Cloud Court Hotel—you can stay there for now.” “This card has ten million on it. Use it for now.” “Yesterday… I really was busy.” Busy? Busy buying chestnut cake for Bianca Cole counts as busy? At this moment, I only found the man before me utterly disgusting. I smiled gently. The next second, a slap landed on Adrian Chase’s face. I shook my numb palm, the smile on my face unchanged. “Adrian Chase, you’re disgusting.” “A driver’s son who, by chance, rose to power, and now you’ve forgotten how you used to beg me to help you through hard times?” I’d never said such hurtful words to him before. Adrian Chase didn’t strike back, but his face darkened suddenly. But before Adrian Chase could react, Bianca Cole grabbed an ashtray and smashed it at my head. Warm blood flowed down from my temple. My head spun. The living room lights suddenly became blinding, making me almost unable to stand. Mrs. Hudson rushed forward to support me. She anxiously shouted at Adrian Chase: “Adrian! Don’t you know that Jade, she…”

I cut off what Mrs. Hudson was about to say. ” Mrs. Hudson, I’m fine.” The man before me had no reaction, only casually glancing at Mrs. Hudson. His voice was cold: ” Mrs. Hudson, remember clearly whose servant you are.” “Since she’s divorced me, she’s no longer Mrs. Chase.” Mrs. Hudson looked at me anxiously. I shook my head gently. There was no point saying anything to him now. He was no longer the Adrian Chase who would smile and lean down to listen carefully to what I said. Adrian Chase nervously gripped Bianca Cole’s trembling hand: “Did you hurt your hand?” Bianca Cole shook her head with slight sobs: “It doesn’t hurt… I just can’t stand seeing someone bully you…” The light illuminated the tenderness in his eyes when he looked at Bianca Cole: “Silly girl, it’s okay if they bully me, but I can’t let you be wronged.” Hearing this, Bianca Cole became smug immediately. “That slap just now—I want to pay it back tenfold for you.” Seeing Adrian Chase didn’t respond. Bianca Cole shook his arm coquettishly: “You’re CEO Chase. If word gets out that your ex-wife slapped you, how embarrassing!” Adrian Chase still didn’t agree. Seeing this, Bianca Cole stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. Adrian Chase finally smiled with satisfaction. He wrapped his arm around Bianca Cole’s waist and kissed her lips lightly. “Alright, I’ll listen to you.” I stepped back in disbelief, staring at the two in shock. The bodyguards immediately pushed Mrs. Hudson aside roughly and grabbed my wrists. I began to struggle: “Adrian Chase! You…” Bianca Cole sneered and delivered a quick, vicious slap to my face. At the same time, sharp pain attacked from my abdomen and head, making me break out in cold sweat. After ten slaps, I collapsed miserably on the floor. Tears streamed down my face, disappearing into my hair. I used all my strength to suppress the sob in my throat, keeping myself from crying out loud. He didn’t look at me once, taking Bianca Cole upstairs. Before leaving, I heard Adrian Chase’s low, magnetic voice: “Wear that hollow lace tonight?” Bianca Cole blushed in his arms, looking at me lying on the floor with provocation. After the door closed. Mrs. Hudson helped me stand up. But the dull pain in my abdomen didn’t decrease—it only grew stronger. I don’t know how long I lay unconscious. I only know that when I woke up, Adrian Chase sat in my hospital room with cold, indifferent eyes. His voice held no emotion: ” Mrs. Hudson told me you fainted. With such a weak body, don’t make trouble for yourself. If you behave, I can relax too.” The lazy tone seemed casual, but every word cut deep. “Jade, I’ve reached this level. Everyone around me plays with women. Your requirement for me to be faithful to one person for life is too demanding.” “I can’t do it. Whether in life or business, everyone is pushing women toward me, openly or secretly.” “I’ve said before, this divorce is just an act. As long as you’re obedient and give me some time, once I’ve had my fun, I’ll return to the family. We’ll have children and be even happier than before.” “But the premise is that I need to tire of playing around first.” He paused, only now lazily lifting his eyelids to glance at me. The moment our eyes met. I saw not a trace of guilt in him, only his certainty that I would give in. “Jade, you really should learn to be more obedient.” Be more obedient? But Adrian Chase wasn’t like this before. He liked when I threw little tantrums at him. He said obedient girls were mostly spineless, without character. I looked down at the wedding ring on my hand. Dense pain surged in my chest, like ten thousand arrows piercing my heart. After a long silence, I spoke in a hoarse voice. “I understand.” “In the bag I left on the sofa, there’s something Bianca Cole wants. When she sees it, she’ll be very happy.” My concession made Adrian Chase smile genuinely. “The pigeon blood jewelry set from the auction? Jade, if you’d realized this earlier, things between us wouldn’t have gotten this bad.” No, it’s the hospital bill for my miscarriage surgery and post-procedure care instructions. I silently answered his question in my heart. We’ll never have children again. Adrian Chase took my silence as confirmation. He left happily. And I checked out of the hospital and moved into the presidential suite Adrian Chase had prepared for me. I spent half a month liquidating all the jewelry Adrian Chase had given me over the years and transferring the money to a trust company. After the money from the last piece of jewelry came through, I bought a plane ticket leaving North City. As I left dragging my suitcase, the bodyguards asked where I was going. I didn’t answer. They asked when I’d be back. I thought about it. “In a couple of days.” Later, two days became many more days, and I never came back. A month later. The first to realize I’d completely disappeared were those two bodyguards. They tremblingly dialed Adrian Chase’s number, saying I had vanished.

One second, two seconds, three seconds. “Beep beep beep…” The person on the other end hung up with heavy breathing. At that moment, Adrian Chase was pressing Bianca Cole against the huge floor-to-ceiling window. He hadn’t heard the content of the phone call at all. As kisses fell like a storm, Bianca Cole’s clothing was gradually removed. At the critical moment, Bianca Cole pressed against Adrian Chase’s burning chest. “Wait.” Adrian Chase gripped her chin, forcing her misty eyes to meet his. “What’s wrong?” Bianca Cole blushed. Like a magic trick, she produced a pregnancy test report, her voice unable to hide her excitement. “Adrian Chase, you can’t have me tonight because I’m pregnant.” The air around them grew cold with Adrian Chase’s emotions. The burning desire vanished in an instant. Adrian Chase released his grip weakly and methodically put on his bathrobe. Looking at the stunned woman before him. He couldn’t help but sneer inwardly. This woman had crossed the line. Like other foolish women, overestimating herself. He gave a flat “Mm,” sat on the sofa, pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. Nothing more. Just an “Mm”? Bianca Cole was confused. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. In her fantasy, Adrian Chase should have excitedly embraced her and told her he would take responsibility. Then she would naturally marry him, have servants waiting on her, never worry about food or clothing, and live a life of luxury. But now, the man before her had only given a flat “Mm.” The huge gap made her emotions start to crack. “What does ‘mm’ mean? Don’t you want this child? Before, in bed, didn’t you say you only wanted children I gave birth to?” Adrian Chase’s voice turned cold, the desire in his eyes completely gone. “You believe what men say in bed?” “Bianca Cole, I thought you were different from other women, that you knew your place. I didn’t expect you to be as stupid as them.” Bianca Cole staggered back several steps, almost thinking she’d heard wrong. “What…” Adrian Chase slowly exhaled a smoke ring. “If you abort it tomorrow, I can overlook your rashness tonight.” “If you insist on having this child, I don’t care.” “I’ll pay child support every month, but as for how much, I decide. Could be a million, a hundred thousand, ten thousand, one thousand, or maybe a hundred. If you want to sue, fine—I’ll hire the world’s top lawyers.” “Your chances of winning are less than ten percent.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it ruthlessly crushed all of Bianca Cole’s pre-planned schemes. After weighing the pros and cons. Bianca Cole lowered her eyes, bit her lip hard, and nodded in humiliation. Adrian Chase smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. This type of woman was easiest to handle. No cards to play, no confidence—living in fantasy on a man’s scraps of mercy and gifts, willing to compromise everything. He suddenly remembered what Jade had said in the hospital. So he reached into the bag beside him to feel for the pigeon blood jewelry set, preparing to use it to pacify Bianca Cole. He didn’t feel the velvet box but instead touched some papers. Curious, he pulled the papers from the bag. The large characters on the examination report jumped into his vision. “Jade Warren.” “Patient’s pregnancy loss due to major traffic accident.” He froze. His hand holding the paper grew sore and painful, yet he still hadn’t processed it. What did “pregnancy loss due to major traffic accident” mean?!

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There’s a whiteboard in our house. It tracks my countdown. “Days until Memoria’s estimated heart failure: 47 days.” Every morning, Mom carefully erases yesterday’s number and writes the new one. Just like a supermarket sale countdown. Precise, cold, full of anticipation. My name is Memoria. I’m twelve years old. Congenital heart disease. The doctor said without surgery, I won’t live past six months. The surgery costs three million dollars. My dad, Richard Monroe, is worth two billion. But he said: “Three million. Not worth it.” Because there’s another healthy child in the family. My younger brother, Adrian. Eight years old, smart, handsome, plays piano, knows how to please adults. He’s the only one “worth it” in this family. 1 The first time I heard them discussing my death was on a Wednesday evening. The study door wasn’t fully closed. I was passing by with my medicine bottle when I heard the conversation inside. Mom Diane’s voice was calm, like she was discussing an investment. “The insurance company confirmed it. Memoria’s policy is worth five hundred thousand. Death benefit, with us as beneficiaries.” Dad Richard was flipping through documents. “Five hundred thousand? We only paid eighty thousand in premiums when we bought it. That’s a solid return on investment.” Diane nodded. “And if it’s death by illness, there’s no waiting period. Direct payout. I had the lawyer confirm it.” “Then let’s not do the surgery.” Richard put down his pen. “Three million for surgery with only a sixty percent success rate. Better to save it, wait for the insurance payout, net five hundred thousand profit.” “That five hundred thousand would be perfect for Adrian’s Swiss summer camp, plus buying a property in a good school district.” Diane hesitated. “But people will talk.” “Talk about what?” Richard sneered. “Congenital heart disease. The doctors said it’s incurable. We’re just respecting medical facts.” “When the time comes, we’ll tell everyone we tried everything, but it was God’s will.” “We’ll hold a respectable funeral, invite some reporters for coverage. Perfect opportunity for positive PR for the company.” My medicine bottle slipped from my hands. Crash. The study went silent instantly. I picked up the bottle and turned to leave. Diane’s voice came from behind: “Memoria? Why are you out there?” I didn’t turn around. “Getting my medicine.” “Take your medicine and get to bed early. You have a hospital checkup tomorrow.” “Okay.” I returned to my room and closed the door. Looking at the whiteboard on my nightstand. 47 days. So this wasn’t a countdown. It was their “profit arrival date.” That night, I made a decision. Since they’re waiting for me to die. Then I’ll die for them to see. But not the way they want. The next day, I didn’t go to the hospital checkup. I went to the insurance company. The receptionist was startled to see a twelve-year-old girl walk in alone. “Sweetie, who are you looking for?” “Ma’am, I’d like to check my policy. My name is Memoria, the policyholder is Diane.” The receptionist hesitated but looked it up for me. “Your policy… death benefit of five hundred thousand, beneficiaries are your parents Richard and Diane.” “Ma’am, can the beneficiary be changed?” “Yes, but the policyholder needs to agree. Your mother is the policyholder.” I nodded. “What if the policyholder doesn’t agree?” “Then it can’t be changed.” I thought for a moment. “What if I buy a policy myself? Can I name someone else as beneficiary?” The receptionist looked confused. “Sweetie… you’re only twelve. You can’t buy insurance yourself. And… why are you asking these things?” I smiled. “Nothing. Just wondering if, when I die, the money could go to someone other than my parents.” The receptionist’s expression changed. She crouched down, looking into my eyes. “Sweetie, is something wrong?” “No. Thank you, ma’am.” I turned and left the insurance company. Standing on the street, the sunlight was beautiful. But I knew I probably wouldn’t see many more of these sunny days. Not because of my heart disease. But because I’d decided that before they receive that five hundred thousand, I would spend all the money. Or give it to someone else. So they wouldn’t get a single cent. When I got home, my brother Adrian was practicing piano in the living room. Seeing me return, he didn’t even look up. “Memoria, Mom said you didn’t go for your checkup. She’s really mad.” “Oh.” “She said if you don’t cooperate, she’ll reduce your medication.” I stopped walking. “What do you mean?” Adrian played a chord, saying casually: “Just what it sounds like. Your medicine is expensive, right? Twenty thousand a month. Mom said if you don’t cooperate with treatment, she won’t buy it anymore. Because anyway—” He paused, seeming to find the next words difficult. “Because anyway what?” “Because anyway it can’t be cured.” My eight-year-old brother said this with exactly the same tone as Dad. Casual, matter-of-fact. I looked at him. This child who’d been treasured since birth. He wasn’t bad. He just never thought my life had any value. Because from the day he was born, everyone in this house had been telling him— Sister is a burden, a money pit, a defective product that could break at any moment. “Adrian.” “Yeah?” “You play really beautifully.” Adrian finally looked up, somewhat surprised. “…Thanks.” I went upstairs to my room. I opened the old tablet Dad gave me—this was the only electronic device that belonged to me in the house, and it was Adrian’s hand-me-down. 2 I started searching: “Can a minor write a will?” “How to prevent parents from receiving insurance payouts?” “If a beneficiary commits a crime, can they still get the money?” The search results gave me one key piece of information: If the beneficiary intentionally causes the death of the insured, the insurance company will not pay out. I stared at that line for a long time. Then I started writing a diary. Not an ordinary diary. Evidence. I used that old tablet and started recording audio and video. Every time they discussed my insurance, every time they reduced my medication, every time they updated the countdown on the whiteboard. I recorded it all. Three days later. The number on the whiteboard changed to 44. Mom Diane did reduce my medicine. I used to take three pills a day, now only two. “Mom, I’m missing a pill.” Diane was cutting fruit for Adrian, not even looking up. “The doctor said at this stage you can reduce the dosage.” “The doctor never said that.” Diane’s knife paused. “I’m your mother. If I say reduce, you reduce.” I said nothing more. Back in my room, I turned on my recording pen. Saved the conversation I just had. That evening, Richard came home. He brought a strange man. Wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase, with a professional smile. “Memoria, this is Uncle Lewis, a claims advisor from the insurance company.” Richard’s tone was unusually gentle. Whenever he was gentle with me, it meant he needed me to cooperate with something. “Uncle Lewis needs to do a health assessment. Can you cooperate?” Advisor Lewis crouched down, smiling: “Sweetie, uncle just needs to ask you a few questions. It’ll be quick.” “How are you feeling? Is anything bothering you?” I glanced at Richard. His eyes held a warning. I smiled. “Pretty good. Just sometimes my chest feels tight.” “Are you taking your medicine? Taking it on time?” “On time. Three pills a day, not one less.” Richard’s lips curved slightly upward. Diane let out a sigh of relief nearby. After Lewis finished his notes, he shook Richard’s hand. “Mr. Monroe, rest assured, I’ll get the materials organized quickly. If… something unfortunate really happens, I’ll expedite the claims process for you.” “Thank you, Lewis.” After seeing Lewis out, Richard patted my head. “Good job today. As a reward, you can watch an extra half hour of TV tonight.” An extra half hour of TV. That was my payment for cooperating with their “death rehearsal.” I returned to my room and exported the file from my recording pen. Filename: “Evidence_007_Insurance_Claims_Pre-Review.” I backed up all files in three copies. One on the tablet. One on a USB drive, hidden under the mattress. One I needed to give to someone I could trust. But I had no one I could trust. Classmates? They only knew me as a rich family’s daughter, never getting close. Teachers? Last time I had bruises on my arm, the teacher asked once, and Mom settled it with one phone call. Relatives? They all worked at Richard’s company. No one dared offend him. I thought about it all night. The next morning, I saw someone at the neighborhood entrance. A homeless man. He sat on the bench across from our complex every day, holding a dirty cat. Security had chased him away many times, but he always came back. I walked over. “Sir, what’s your name?” He looked up, cloudy eyes looking at me. “Mark Smith.” “Mr. Smith, do you have a phone?” “No.” “Can you read?” “…I used to be a teacher.” I paused. A homeless man who used to be a teacher? “Mr. Smith, can I come talk to you every day?” He didn’t speak, just nodded gently. From that day on, I went to see Mark every day after school. Brought him a bottle of water, a piece of bread. All saved from my own meals. Mark used to be a teacher. After his wife died, he ended up on the streets. We gradually grew close. One day, I pulled out the USB drive from my backpack. “Mr. Smith, if I die someday, can you give this to the police for me?” Mark’s hands trembled. “You… what are you saying?” “My parents bought me five hundred thousand in insurance. If I die, they get the money. So they’re not treating me, and they’re reducing my medication.” “This USB has all the evidence. If the police determine they deliberately didn’t treat me, the insurance company won’t pay.” “When they wait for me to die, they won’t get five hundred thousand. They’ll get a prison cell.” Tears streamed down Mark’s face. “I can’t let you die. You’re only twelve!” I crouched beside him, gently patting his back. I was the one about to die, yet I was comforting a stranger crying for me. 3 The number on the whiteboard changed to 3

My body was getting worse. Before, I just occasionally felt chest tightness. Now I was out of breath after a few steps. Diane looked at my pale face with no sympathy in her eyes. Only calculation. “One more month.” She told Richard in the kitchen. “The insurance company has everything ready. We’ll say the condition worsened, natural death.” “What about the medicine?” “Already down to one pill. In a few days, we’ll stop completely.” “Good. Just make sure no outsiders find out.” I stood outside the kitchen door, the recording pen quietly spinning in my pocket. Filename: “Evidence_015_Medication_Cessation_Plan.” That afternoon, I collapsed at school. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The attending physician was Dr. Brown, a woman in her forties. She looked at my medical records, her expression grim. “Your medication dosage is wrong. Given your condition, you should be taking three pills daily. Why only one?” I said nothing. Dr. Brown was silent for a moment, then sat by my bed. “Memoria, tell me the truth. Is something wrong at home?” I looked at her. Her eyes were serious, not dismissive. “Dr. Brown, if I tell you something, can you keep it secret?” “What is it?” “My parents want me dead.” Dr. Brown’s pupils constricted sharply. “They bought me five hundred thousand in insurance with themselves as beneficiaries. They’re reducing my medication, waiting for my heart to fail naturally so they can collect the insurance money.” “I have evidence. Recordings, videos, diary entries. Everything.” Dr. Brown’s hands were shaking. She’d practiced medicine for twenty years, seen countless life-and-death situations. But she’d never seen a twelve-year-old child describe in such calm tones how her parents were murdering her. “Why… why didn’t you call the police?” “My dad is Richard.” Dr. Brown froze. Richard. The city’s biggest real estate developer. The new inpatient building at the hospital was built with his donation. His name still hung at the building entrance—”Monroe Tower.” “Memoria, stay at the hospital for a few days. I’ll keep you here under the pretext of observation.” “During this time, I’ll contact someone for you.” “Who?” “My college roommate. She’s a prosecutor in the provincial capital now. Your father’s reach, however long, doesn’t extend to the provincial level.” I looked at Dr. Brown. This was the second person willing to help me. The first was the homeless man, Mark. The second was this doctor. Both were strangers with no blood relation to me. “Dr. Brown.” “Yes?” “Thank you. But… if my dad finds out, will he do something to you?” Dr. Brown smiled slightly. “The first day I became a doctor, I took an oath to heal and save lives.” “Your father donated a building. Very impressive. But one building can’t buy my conscience.” Diane came to the hospital to pick me up. Her face wore a standard “loving mother” expression. “Memoria, Mommy’s here to take you home.” Dr. Brown stopped her. “Mrs. Monroe, the child’s condition isn’t stable. I recommend a few more days of observation.” Diane’s smile froze for an instant. “Dr. Brown, we can take care of her at home.” “Then why is the child’s medication dosage wrong?” Dr. Brown looked directly into her eyes. “Given her condition, she should be taking three amiodarone tablets daily. But the drug concentration in her system is only one-third of normal. Unless someone reduced her medication.” Diane’s face went white. “What… what are you implying?” “I’m not implying anything. I’m stating medical facts.” Dr. Brown closed the medical record. “The child can’t be discharged for now. If you insist on taking her, please sign a ‘Refusal of Medical Advice Discharge Statement.’ This statement will be filed, and if anything happens to the child, the hospital will submit it to the relevant authorities.” Diane stood there, lips trembling. She knew that signing that statement would be leaving evidence against herself. “…Then let her stay.” She turned to leave. Passing by my bed, she whispered: “Memoria, don’t think you can make any waves.” I didn’t look up. Just pressed the save button on my recording pen under the blanket. Filename: “Evidence_019_Hospital_Confrontation.” Almost enough now. Without hesitation, I packaged all the evidence and sent it out, Quietly watching the other end confirm receipt. Mom, Dad, this is the last gift I’m giving you. You’d better catch it.

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My former boss called me, and before I could even speak, he tore into me: “What time is it and you’re still not here? If this project falls through, can you take responsibility? Get over here right now!” My former boss spoke as if it were perfectly natural, like I was still some disposable workhorse he could summon at will. Before I could say anything, he hung up. Then HR called: “Why aren’t you here yet? The boss is furious! You’re usually so reliable! Even if you’re upset about your year-end bonus, you can’t just abandon your work!” I laughed and explained: “It’s not that I won’t work—I resigned last month!” Today was supposed to be my first day at my new company. When I mentioned my resignation from before the holidays, Melissa from HR’s tone became dismissive: “Oh, that. I saw your resignation letter, Mr. Grant saw it too. But you know how busy everyone was before the holidays—we just didn’t get around to discussing it properly. Now that the holidays are over, let’s sit down and talk it through, okay?” “Talk about what?” I asked. I’d already successfully resigned. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing left to discuss. “Terms, of course!” Melissa immediately replied. “Mr. Grant said he’d give you a $500 raise. In this economy, what other company would give you a raise so easily? Think about it—that’s $6,000 over a year.” I couldn’t help calculating in my head. Those few employees in the department who left right at quitting time every day and never followed through on projects—I heard they each got a $10,000 year-end bonus. Last year, I generated over a hundred million in revenue for the company. That major project I followed from start to finish had a contract value of eight million dollars. I did the work of three people alone, had the most overtime hours in the department, and didn’t take a single sick day. But at the annual meeting when they handed out the Outstanding Employee awards, all the projects I’d signed became Claire’s. She got a $50,000 bonus plus the latest smartphone. My year-end bonus was $250. Just thinking about it felt absurd. I wanted an answer: “Melissa, why was my year-end bonus $250?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Sophia, you have to understand—the company has its policies.” She chose her words carefully. “Even though you do a lot of work, sometimes you’re too rigid, you don’t focus enough on teamwork. You rarely attend team-building activities, and you don’t communicate much with colleagues. Year-end bonuses naturally have to consider overall performance.” I laughed bitterly. I remembered last year’s company team-building—a weekend mountain hike. I didn’t go because I had to work overtime. Friday night dinner. I didn’t go because I had to rush a proposal. And that time the department went to karaoke—I declined. Because I had a client meeting the next day and couldn’t afford to be careless. Every time I skipped a department gathering, it was to do better work. And now they were using that against me? What about everyone else? What were they doing when I wasn’t there? Drinking, singing, taking group photos, posting on social media. The captions were always: We’re family, best team ever. So that’s what “overall performance” meant. “Are there other reasons?” I asked. Melissa thought for a moment, then lowered her voice: “Also, Mr. Grant said that last year you had a few projects where, um, client feedback had some issues, so…” “Which client? What issues? When was this feedback given? Why have I never heard about it?” I immediately pressed. “Well… I’m not really clear on the details. It’s just what I heard.” They heard I didn’t do well. They heard there were complaints about me. They heard I didn’t fit in. So my year-end bonus was $250—no more, no less. The perfect insult. I gave up completely, my voice calm: “Melissa, I understand.” “But I already resigned before the holidays and completed the normal exit procedures.” “Sophia, why are you being so stubborn? Listen to me—” “Melissa.” I cut her off. “Seven years. I never missed a day of work, never took a day off sick, never refused overtime once. I believe I’ve done right by this company. If there’s anything that needs to be handed over, I can cooperate. Beyond that, don’t call me again.” “Sophia Bennett” She lost it, her voice shrill: “What kind of attitude is that? I’m trying to help you and you don’t know what’s good for you!” I hung up directly. I didn’t want my former company ruining my good mood on my first day at the new job.

My phone hadn’t been quiet for five minutes when it rang again. This time it was a FaceTime call from Claire, my former subordinate who’d stolen my Outstanding Employee award last year. I declined. Half a minute later, SnapChat messages popped up, one after another. “Hey, why aren’t you answering?” “Mr. Grant is really angry. Please reply!” “You’re usually so reliable—why are you being so difficult this time? Don’t make things hard for Mr. Grant.” I looked at these messages, my heart perfectly calm. Claire—full name Claire Patterson—had been with the company three years. I was the one who trained her from an intern. I taught her how to negotiate with clients, how to step in when projects had problems. But she stole my credit and my year-end bonus. My phone buzzed again. She sent a long message, probably panicking because I hadn’t replied: “Look, I know you’re upset about the bonus, but you can’t blame the company for this.” “Last year was tough for everyone with the economy. Mr. Grant actually values you a lot. If you quit over this little bit of money, what will people say? Besides, the company invested so much in training you all these years—can you really just walk away with a clear conscience?” Conscience. I stared at those two words and suddenly found it almost funny. I typed back: “Who secretly copied my client files while I was on sick leave? Who repackaged my ideas at staff meetings and presented them as her own? Who bought bubble tea for the entire department before year-end evaluations—and ‘forgot’ only me?” “You’re the last person who should talk to me about conscience!” Less than three minutes after I sent that message, she sent another one with a tone of disappointment: “What’s the point of saying all this? You’re just making trouble, and you’re the only one who’ll suffer in the end. Where do you think you can go after leaving the company? Do you know how many graduate students can’t find work right now? You’re just a bachelor’s degree holder, thirty years old and still unmarried. Everything impressive on your resume came from company resources.” “Melissa already said if you don’t come back, Mr. Grant will spread the word. Who in this industry will dare hire you then?” So this was a threat! My phone buzzed again: “Hello? Say something! We’re all waiting.” I opened the chat and sent an emoji: A smiling bean. Then I blocked her and got up to wash up. My new job today was at Horizon Group—our former company’s client, the one with the eight-million-dollar project. The client contact was Mr. Walker. We’d gotten to know each other through the project, and he was very straightforward. When my former company backstabbed me before the holidays, Mr. Walker sent me a message: “Ms. Bennett, our company desperately needs talent like you. You’re wasted where you are. Name your salary—contact me anytime if you’re interested!” I finished washing my face and looked at myself in the mirror. This year, I was going to live differently.

I walked through the doors of Horizon Group, my new company. The receptionist already recognized me and greeted me with a smile: “Ms. Bennett! Mr. Walker is waiting for you in his office.” Mr. Walker’s office was at the end of the corridor, door open. He was looking at something on his computer. When he heard the knock, he looked up and smiled: “Sophia, come in. Have a seat.” I sat across from him. “There’s something I want to discuss with you.” He got straight to the point. I sat up a bit straighter: “Go ahead.” “That project from before the holidays—you remember it, right? The eight-million-dollar contract with your former company.” The project I’d pulled countless all-nighters for, revised endless times, only to have Claire accept the award for it in the end. Mr. Walker continued: “This project needs to be inspected now. Originally I was going to send someone else, but then I thought—you followed this project from beginning to end. Nobody understands it better than you.” “So I’d like you to go,” he looked at me, “to your former company this morning to inspect the project.” I looked into Mr. Walker’s candid eyes. I remembered the day I resigned, how Mr. Grant didn’t even look up as he set my resignation letter aside. I remembered Claire standing on stage accepting my award, eyes red as she thanked everyone. I remembered Melissa saying my $250 year-end bonus was because I didn’t fit in. I remembered this morning—the phone calls they’d taken turns making, ordering, threatening, coaxing, finally turning into furious cursing. “Alright, I’ll go right away.” I smiled slightly. “Besides, I’m curious to see what they’re like on their first day back.” After leaving Mr. Walker’s office, I went to HR to complete my onboarding. Finally, the HR manager handed me an ID badge. It read: Project Director—Sophia. Back at my desk, just as I sat down, Mr. Grant called. Over seven years, this number had appeared on my phone countless times. Late-night urgent calls, weekend overtime orders, last-minute tasks during business trips. Every time, I answered immediately, saying “Yes, Mr. Grant,” “Right away, Mr. Grant,” “No problem, Mr. Grant.” I answered. “Sophia!” He was furious. “Well, well! Not answering calls, not replying to messages, blocking everyone! Think you’re something special now, don’t you?” “Let me tell you—don’t be so ungrateful!” He got angrier as he spoke. “If you don’t show up today, I’ll mark you as absent without leave and fire you! I’ll put it on your record—let’s see which company will dare hire you then!” Fire me. I laughed internally. “Mr. Grant,” I said calmly, “I’ll be at your company shortly.” Mr. Grant’s voice couldn’t hide his smugness: “Ha, so you do know what’s good for you. Hurry up—I’m waiting.” When I received Mr. Walker’s job offer before the holidays, I didn’t accept immediately. The night of the annual meeting when Claire stole my credit, I received that $250 year-end bonus. That night, I stayed awake until six the next morning. I figured something out. This company never valued ability. All it could give me was more work, more blame, more silent suffering in the corner. And when you finally broke through, the person on stage accepting awards would always be someone who knew how to play the game. That very night, I decided to resign and join my former biggest client’s company. Coming back to the present, I stood up and hung the ID badge around my neck. When I showed up at my former company as a client, I wondered what their expressions would be. I was looking forward to it.

The taxi stopped in front of the familiar office building. I pushed open the door. Everything was still the same as before. I’d barely taken a few steps inside when Melissa walked over with a cup of tea. “Sophia, I thought you had such backbone,” she stopped in front of me, looking me up and down. “That attitude on the phone this morning—I thought you were going places. What happened? Flew around in a circle and landed right back here?” I looked at her and let out a cold laugh without saying anything. Seeing I wasn’t responding, Melissa got bolder: “What, playing meek now? Where’s that attitude from yesterday?” As she spoke, she deliberately glanced at my chest, then made an exaggerated sound: “What’s that? What’s with this badge? Our company badges aren’t this color. Sophia, did you walk into the wrong building? Or—” Her eyes darted around, her face showing that look of sudden realization, laughing even louder: “Or did you become a delivery driver? That blue lanyard—don’t all delivery drivers wear those? Hahaha!” Because the badge was flipped around, they couldn’t see the company name. Claire’s voice rang out: “There you are! Finally!” “Look, you’ve made your point, haven’t you? Hurry up and wrap up the project—the client’s people are coming soon.” She tried to grab my arm. I shook her off. Claire’s expression turned unpleasant. She lowered her voice: “I’m trying to help you. Mr. Grant’s in a bad mood today. Just do your work and don’t provoke him. You don’t want to get chewed out when the client’s people arrive!” I sneered: “Didn’t you complete this project independently? Mr. Grant said so himself at the annual meeting—you handled it all alone and did an excellent job.” “The Outstanding Employee award and bonus were both yours. Why do you need me to finish it now?” Melissa chimed in from the side: “Sophia, that’s not right. This isn’t the time to be petty! Just get to work!” I stood there without moving. During the standoff, Mr. Grant’s roar came from inside: “Where’s Sophia? Is she here yet? Tell her to get in here now!” Mr. Grant strode out of his office. He looked at me, sizing me up and down. “Sophia, look at you,” he said condescendingly. “You’ve made your scene, caused your drama. Now you know to come back?” I nodded calmly: “I’m here on business.” Mr. Grant snorted: “I’ve seen plenty of people like you. Do a little work and think you’re something special, think you’ve been wronged, want to make a scene so the boss will coddle you. Let me tell you—it won’t work! That’s just how the world is. The earth keeps spinning without anyone. You think the company would collapse without you? Ridiculous!” He put his hands on his hips, his voice getting louder: “I thought you actually had some backbone. But here you are, back like a good little employee, aren’t you?” “First official day back and you’re already late. That attitude won’t fly. This month’s salary—completely docked. Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson.” He looked at me, waiting to see that familiar expression of resignation on my face. I laughed coldly: “Are you sure you want to treat me this way?” Claire chimed in: “Mr. Grant, please calm down. Ms. Bennett might just be in a bad mood. I asked her to work earlier and she snapped at me.” Mr. Grant glared at me: “Bad mood means you can abandon your work? Bad mood means you can ignore phone calls? Let me tell you—the workplace isn’t your home. Nobody’s going to indulge you!” He waved his hand: “Hurry up and get ready. The client’s sending someone today to coordinate on the project. You’re in charge of reception. They’re paying the bills—be polite and don’t screw this up for me.” “Mr. Grant, the client’s representative is already here.” He froze: “Already here? Where?” “Right here!” I flipped my badge around. All three of them froze in place when they saw what was written on it.

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