My father won five million dollars in the lottery. My friend and I were planning to open a shop, just three thousand dollars short. I asked my family for a loan, but they flatly refused. “How old are you? Solve your own problems.” “Our money doesn’t grow on trees. Why should we let you waste it all?” Left with no choice, I took out a high-interest online loan. Just after the money arrived in my account, my cousin posted a picture of a brand-new Electric Falcon 7 on social media. “Thanks to Uncle for the support, I finally got the car I’ve been dreaming of.” It was then I realized that because my uncle casually mentioned his son wanted a car, my father had immediately transferred two hundred thousand dollars to him. Hearing that he hadn’t even bothered with an IOU, I felt utterly disheartened. Ten days later, my mother called, immediately launching into a furious tirade. “Ethan, it’s your father’s birthday today. Why aren’t you coming back to celebrate?” “Not even a phone call. What kind of son are you?” “Raising a dog would be better than raising you!” I calmly replied: “If that’s the case, then just pretend you never raised me.” 1 No sooner had I spoken than my mother exploded. “Are you even human? You’re making me furious! After twenty years of hard work, I raised such an ungrateful brat!” “We gave birth to you, raised you, fed you, clothed you, sent you to college. Now your wings are strong?” “How dare you say such things to us?” Her voice was sharp, every word laced with poison. “I get it. It’s just because we didn’t lend you money to open your shop last time, isn’t it?” “What a joke! With your pathetic self, you think you can start a business?” “With that little bit of skill, you’ll lose everything after three days of enthusiasm!” “Three thousand dollars thrown into water would at least make a splash. Given to you? You probably wouldn’t even have a whisper left!” She grew more agitated with each insult, her words becoming increasingly hurtful. “The money is ours. How we use it is none of your business!” “You good-for-nothing, can’t earn money so you eye your family’s wealth. Have you no shame?” “I’m telling you, even if this money is thrown away, burned, or donated, it’s better than you throwing it down the drain!” “You’re not cut out for business. Just get a regular job and earn your few thousand dollars.” “Your ambition is sky-high, but your fate is thin as paper. That’s exactly what a waste like you is!” I gripped the phone, my fingertips icy, silent. On the other end, I heard her ragged breathing, as if she was about to faint from anger, interspersed with sounds of her slapping her chest and others trying to console her. After a while, someone else took the phone. “Ethan, it’s your Aunt Lillian.” “Don’t be angry with your mother. She only means well.” “You, son, how could you not come back for your father’s birthday, such an important occasion?” “What’s so difficult that a family can’t get past it?” “Your parents worked hard to raise you. What will relatives and friends think if they knew you were acting like this?” “You can’t be so selfish…” She stood on her moral high ground, rattling off those righteous words like a mantra. I listened quietly until she angrily asked, “Why exactly won’t you come back? You must have a reason, right?” I took a deep breath. “The reason is simple.” “My father casually gave you two hundred thousand dollars to buy a car, without even needing an IOU.” “But when I needed just three thousand for my startup, he wouldn’t lend me a single cent.” “Is that reason enough?” The line went silent for a moment. A few seconds later, Aunt Lillian’s voice became hesitant. “Well, this… this was your father’s decision. We couldn’t really say anything…” “Besides, that money was a loan to your cousin. He’ll pay it back eventually…” “Pay it back?” I interrupted her. “Without an IOU, how will he pay it back? Aunt Lillian, honestly, do you even believe what you’re saying?” She choked, unable to utter a coherent sentence. At that moment, my mother snatched the phone back, her rage burning even fiercer due to my defiance. “Yes! We gave it to him! So what?” “Our money, we can give it to whoever we want!” “We’re happy to buy your cousin a car! What right do you have to question me? Who do you think you are?” “I’m telling you, Ethan, with your attitude, you’ll never get a single cent from us again!” “Opening a shop? If you lose money, go sell your blood, sell your kidney!” “Just don’t come to us!” “We raised you for so long, and you haven’t shown much promise, but you’ve learned to tally up debts with your family?” “Your cousin at least knows gratitude. He often comes back to visit us during holidays.” “And you? Haven’t shown your face in half a year, and the one time you call, it’s for money!” “Do we owe you something?” “If I had known you were this kind of person, I should have aborted you when I was pregnant!” 2 I listened, and a sudden urge to laugh welled up. When her shouting finally paused, I spoke softly: “You’re right.” “It’s your money. Give it to whoever you want.” “I truly have no right to question it.” I paused, feeling my throat tighten, but I pressed on. “Since that’s the case, from now on, pretend you never had me.” “I’ll disappear quietly. I won’t ask you for another cent, and I won’t bother you again.” A few seconds later, my mother’s furious scream came through the phone. I didn’t listen further and hung up. The world was finally quiet. I stared at my phone screen. The three thousand dollars from the online loan had been deposited. The interest was high, and the repayment schedule was suffocating. Originally, this should have been a warm start, backed by my parents’ support. Now, it was just a debt. I opened my cousin’s social media. The post showing off his Electric Falcon 7 was still there. In the photo, he sat in the brand-new driver’s seat, hands on the steering wheel, a radiant smile on his face. Below it was a string of likes and congratulations, my parents’ accounts prominently featured. They had even commented things like, “Family doesn’t need formalities,” and “Our nephew is so accomplished.” How ironic. From childhood, my parents were always exceptionally strict with me. No noise while eating, perfect posture, always in the top ten academically. As for pocket money? Non-existent. They’d say, “What does a child need money for? Just focus on your studies.” But whenever my cousin, Leo, came to visit, my father would always smile and pull a few bills from his wallet, tucking them into Leo’s hand. “Here, Leo, buy something nice.” Then he’d turn to me and say, “You’re the older brother, you should defer to your younger cousin.” I was eight then, Leo was six. In sixth grade, I saved up three months’ worth of discarded items to sell, just enough to get twenty dollars to buy a set of encyclopedias. My mother found out, confiscated the money, and lectured me. “What’s the use of reading these frivolous books? You should be doing more math problems with that time.” The next day, I saw Leo playing wildly with a new remote-control car in the living room. That car cost exactly twenty dollars. In middle school, the school organized a field trip to the Ocean Park, costing one hundred and fifty dollars. I cautiously asked my parents. My father didn’t even look up. “What’s so great about that place? It’s a waste of money. Stay home and study on the weekend.” I locked myself in my room until I heard laughter from the living room. My uncle’s family had arrived, and my father excitedly announced that he would take Leo to the Ocean Park next week. “Don’t worry about the expensive tickets, your Uncle will take you. We’ll play all we want!” Later, I cried under my blanket. That was the first time I wondered if I was truly their biological child. But the next day, my mother earnestly told me, “We are strict with you because we have high expectations for you.” “Your cousin’s family isn’t well off. We should help them when we can.” “You’re the older brother, you need to be sensible.” Her words were so sincere, her eyes so earnest, that my doubts felt like a sin. Throughout my three years of high school, my monthly allowance was fifty dollars. At school, that money was barely enough for the cheapest cafeteria meals, and I often went hungry. I dared not participate in any activities that required money. Even sending a greeting card for a classmate’s birthday was something I hesitated over for a long time. Once, my father visited me at school and happened to see me eating plain rice with free seaweed soup in the cafeteria. He frowned. “Why are you eating so poorly? This is when you’re growing. You need balanced nutrition.” I thought he pitied me, that he would give me more money. Instead, he turned around and said, “But it’s good to be tough. It builds character.” A few days later, I heard Leo had enrolled in piano lessons, tuition costing four hundred and eighty dollars. My father sponsored two-thirds of it. I went to college out of state, thinking I could finally breathe. But my living expenses were still tight, eighty dollars a month. After paying for phone and internet, there was barely enough left for food. My roommates would gather for meals, go to the movies, shop, all happily. I could only find excuses to stay in the library. Once, I couldn’t refuse, bit the bullet and went, then ate instant noodles for half a month afterward. During winter break of my sophomore year, I was going to the bathroom at night and overheard a conversation from my parents’ bedroom. “Honey, is Ethan’s allowance too little? Prices have gone up.” My father frowned. “Too little? What’s too little? Boys need to be raised tough.” “By the way, Leo said yesterday he wanted a new phone. I took three hundred from your account.” My mother chuckled softly. “That’s fine. The boy is so sweet. He even said he’d take care of us when he earns money.” I stood outside the door, my hands and feet freezing. 3 After graduating from college, I struggled to find a job. I called home, cautiously asking if they could help me look for any opportunities. My father was blunt: “We don’t have those connections. You need to make your own way.” “Also, we won’t spend another cent on you. You’re twenty-two; it’s time to be independent.” That month, I lived in a partitioned room in a slum, eating two steamed buns a day. I submitted hundreds of resumes, received only three interview invitations, all of which failed. At my lowest point, I had only seven dollars and thirty cents left in my bank account. Just as I was at my wit’s end, my cousin’s social media updated. He had landed a job at a local state-owned enterprise, with excellent benefits. In the photo, he wore a brand-new suit, with an impressive office building in the background. My parents were the first to comment below: “Our nephew is amazing!” “Keep up the good work. Auntie is proud of you!” I later learned that my father had pulled several strings to get him that position. He had an old classmate who was a manager there. My father treated him to three dinners, gave him two good cartons of cigarettes and a large cash gift, just to get my cousin in. I asked my mother why. She replied casually, “Your cousin doesn’t have as good an education as you. If we don’t help him, who will?” “You’re a graduate from a top university. Do you still need someone to worry about you?” Every single incident, taken individually, could be given a righteous excuse by them. To toughen me up, to help relatives, to make me independent, to be fair… These justifications, strung together, formed the fabric of my life for over twenty years. Putting down my phone, I started packing. This tiny apartment, less than ten square meters, was my only refuge after graduation. A bed, a simple wardrobe, a secondhand desk—that was all my worldly possessions. As I cleaned out the desk drawer, I found an old tin box. Opening it, I found a few odds and ends: an elementary school award certificate for good citizenship, a middle school math competition certificate, a photocopy of my university acceptance letter, and a few crumpled family photos. The newest family photo was taken two springs ago. I stood at the very edge, my expression stiff. My cousin stood between my parents, smiling brightly. My father’s hand rested on my cousin’s shoulder, and my mother had her arm around him. Anyone who didn’t know us would think they were the biological father and son. I stared at the photo for a long time, then tore it in half, then into shreds, and threw it into the trash. The next day, I went to work as usual. During my lunch break, I received a call from an unknown number. “Ethan, it’s me, your Uncle James.” I paused. “Can I help you?” “What did you mean by that yesterday? What do you mean, ‘pretend you never had me’?” “Do you know how furious your mother is right now? Her blood pressure is through the roof!” I coldly replied, “Then you should take her to the hospital, not call me.” “You!” Uncle James choked. “How did you become like this? Do you know how hard your parents worked to raise you?” “Is it just because we didn’t lend you money? Does it have to escalate to this?” “It’s not just about the money, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” “Is there anything else? I need to rest.” “Wait!” Uncle James quickly said, “There’s something I need to clarify. About your cousin’s car… that money, your father offered to give it. We didn’t ask for it!” “And we will definitely pay it back, we’re just a bit tight on cash right now…” “Uncle James,” I interrupted him. “Whether you pay it back or not is between you and my father. It has nothing to do with me.” “I’m still taking my nap. Hanging up.” “Ethan! Ethan!” I hung up the phone and blocked the number. During a break at work that afternoon, I secretly searched for commercial rental information, contacting several real estate agents. After work, I looked at two places, neither ideal. Either the rent was too high, or the location wasn’t good. That night, I returned to my apartment and made a bowl of instant noodles. As I was eating, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find my parents, along with a few relatives. Uncle James, Aunt Lillian, and a distant aunt. They squeezed into the narrow apartment, all looking grim. “Ethan, you’ve really grown up, haven’t you?!” My mother spoke first, her voice sharp and piercing. “Saying such outrageous things on the phone, and even cutting ties with us? Who taught you that?!” “Exactly, it’s utterly disgraceful.” Aunt Lillian folded her arms, her eyes sweeping around the room, her lips pursed. “Your parents worked so hard to come here, and you’re making your elders stand?”

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After the eighth failed attempt at IVF, my husband and I decided to adopt. The final step in the adoption process was a home visit. The caseworker looked at my husband, Liam, and me, a hint of doubt in her eyes. “You two seem like an excellent match, but your file shows that Mr. Walker adopted a daughter three years ago? Where is the child now?” I froze. “That’s impossible. This is our first application.” Liam, however, offered an awkward laugh. “Oh, that was a proxy adoption for my boss. His circumstances made it difficult for him to have her under his name, so she was temporarily registered under mine.” 1 The caseworker’s pen hovered over the paper, her brow furrowed. “A proxy adoption? Mr. Walker, that’s not in accordance with regulations.” Liam’s smile began to falter. He squeezed my hand, his palm damp with sweat. “It was a unique situation. My boss is in a very sensitive position, you understand. We’ve already initiated the transfer of custody, and the child’s registration will be moved very soon.” His voice sounded earnest and sincere, as if he were genuinely going above and beyond for his superior. I sat beside him, squirming with discomfort. In five years of marriage, this was the first I’d heard of Liam having a daughter under his name. A three-year-old daughter, a “proxy” daughter. This was a plot twist even TV dramas wouldn’t dare to attempt. The caseworker was clearly taken aback by his explanation. She looked from Liam to me, her probing gaze making me want to sink into the floor. “Ms. Rosenthal, were you aware of this?” What could I say? If I said no, our home would be a mockery, and our adoption application would be immediately rejected. If I said yes, I’d be an accomplice, a complete fool. My face felt flushed, and I could only manage a stiff nod. “I was.” The two words felt like knives, cutting into my throat. Liam gave me a grateful look, a look that made my stomach churn. The caseworker jotted down a few notes, asking no further questions, but the atmosphere had turned icy. She performed her duties methodically, inspecting the room we had prepared for a child – pink walls, a charming crib, piles of imported toys. I had decorated it all myself, filled with hopeful anticipation for our future child. Now, it looked like a cruel joke. After seeing the caseworker out, I could no longer maintain my composure. “Liam Walker, you’d better give me an explanation.” He closed the door, his smile vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of utter exhaustion. “Willow, please don’t be angry. I was going to tell you about this.” “Tell me when? When our adopted child arrived, would you then inform me they had a sister?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “No, no!” he quickly denied. “That child… it’s a very complicated situation.” “No matter how complicated, she’s legally your daughter! And you kept this from me for three whole years!” I gestured towards the nursery. “How many IVF cycles did we go through for a child of our own? How much pain did I endure? Have you forgotten all that? We struggled so hard to reach this point of adoption, and you test me with something like this?” Liam was speechless. He walked towards me, trying to embrace me, but I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!” His eyes reddened, his voice pleading. “Willow, believe me, my boss and I have a purely professional relationship. Helping him out with this was a huge boost for my career.” “So for your career, you can just casually adopt a child? What do you take our marriage for? What do you take me for?” “I just wanted to give us a better life!” His voice rose, then quickly softened. “This will all be sorted out very soon, I promise. Please don’t overthink it, okay?” He always downplayed everything. But my mind was a chaotic mess. Would a man really “proxy adopt” a daughter for his boss? My head was spinning; I couldn’t make sense of it. That night, we slept in separate rooms. It was the first time in our five years of marriage. Lying on the cold guest room bed, my eyes wide open, I couldn’t sleep a wink. 2. The next morning, Liam acted as if nothing had happened, making me breakfast. He pushed a glass of milk towards me, cautiously observing my expression. “Willow, I know you’re still upset. But we need to provide a reasonable explanation to the adoption agency.” I had no appetite; my chest felt heavy. “What do you plan to say? Continue with the story about proxy adoption for your boss?” “It’s the best explanation we have right now.” He nodded. “I’ve already consulted a lawyer. As long as my boss provides a statement confirming the child is his, and we process some additional paperwork, the custody can be transferred.” He spoke with such conviction, as if everything was under control. But the cloud of suspicion in my heart only grew heavier. “Who is your boss? Why can’t he raise his own child? Where’s the child’s mother?” I fired off a volley of questions. Liam’s eyes flickered away. “My boss’s family situation is… complicated. His wife isn’t well and has been recuperating abroad. This child… was the result of a moment of weakness.” “A love child?” I blurted out. Liam’s face paled, and he nodded with difficulty. “Something like that. That’s why his wife can’t know, and why the child couldn’t be registered under his name.” The explanation sounded perfectly plausible. A wealthy man’s love child, entrusted to a trusted subordinate to avoid disrupting his family and business – it made logical sense. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. “Willow, I know this has caused you distress.” Liam took my hand, his posture humble. “But look at how much we’ve suffered to have a child. Now that we’re so close to the finish line, we can’t let my mistake ruin everything, can we?” He touched upon our shared heartache. Five years of marriage, and no children. From initial hope to desperate medical treatments, to repeated IVF failures – my body and spirit had endured immense pain. Finally, we had to give up and chose adoption. This was our unspoken grief. Liam knew children were my biggest weakness. “As soon as the home visit approval comes through, I’ll immediately deal with that child’s situation. I promise it won’t affect us,” he vowed. I looked at his bloodshot eyes, and my resolve wavered. Perhaps I was truly overthinking things? Perhaps he was just momentarily foolish, doing something stupid for the sake of his career? “I want to meet the child,” I finally said. Liam froze. “And her ‘mother’,” I added. He was silent for a long time, so long I thought he would refuse. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll arrange it.” His quick agreement made me even more uneasy. He seemed convinced that once I met them, all my doubts would vanish. Was this confidence, or was it arrogance? 3. The meeting was arranged at an upscale family restaurant. When I arrived, Liam was already there. Beside him sat a young woman and a little girl. The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with delicate features, dressed in a white sundress, exuding a gentle demeanor. The little girl, about three years old, had two pigtails and sat quietly in her chair, holding a small cake. Seeing me, Liam immediately stood up, looking a bit flustered as he introduced them. “Willow, this is Holly. And this is her daughter, Rosie.” Holly also stood, offering me a somewhat shy smile. “Mrs. Walker, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m so sorry to have caused you so much trouble.” Her posture was humble, full of gratitude and apology. I didn’t speak, my gaze fixed on the little girl named Rosie. The child looked up at me, her eyes dark and bright like two grapes. Whether it was my imagination or not, I couldn’t help but notice a striking resemblance in her features to Liam’s. Especially her nose – it was almost an exact match. My heart plummeted. “Mrs. Walker, please sit down,” Holly warmly invited. I sat beside Liam, who immediately pulled out my chair attentively and poured me a glass of water. “Rosie, say hello to Auntie Willow,” Holly prompted her daughter. The little girl looked at me timidly, then softly murmured, “Hello, Auntie.” Her voice was sweet and gentle. If not for the circumstances, I probably would have adored her. “Rosie is a very good girl,” I managed a stiff smile. Three lines of blank space.

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My wife’s male assistant deliberately ruined a painting I’d spent two years creating. Infuriated, I punished him by making him my manservant for three days, tasked with cleaning my art studio. At first, Eleanor Brooks said nothing, acting as if nothing had happened. But three months later, Eleanor’s company filed for bankruptcy, and she was imprisoned. To repay millions in debt, I worked three jobs a day, toiling relentlessly. For three long years, I lived on the run from creditors, once cornered in an alley and humiliated. For a mere hundred dollars, I even tested haunted houses overnight. Then, while clearing tables, I overheard Eleanor, who should have been in prison, throwing a lavish birthday party for her male assistant. A friend asked, “Eleanor, you bought Aiden a million-dollar watch, and your ‘good’ husband is testing haunted houses for a hundred bucks. Can you really be so heartless?” Eleanor scoffed, exhaling a plume of smoke. “He deserved it, for forcing Aiden to be a manservant back then. These three years are his punishment.” “Once these three years are over, I’ll pretend to make a comeback. He’ll still be my good husband.” My body swayed in the cold wind, like a stunned puppet. So, these three years of living hell, this was all a punishment orchestrated by you. If that’s the case, then I will return it to you, twofold. 1 I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice-cold abyss, and from within, I heard the conversation between Eleanor and her friend, Grace Sloane. “Eleanor, he’s still your husband, after all. Before you got married, he was a spoiled young man, living a life of luxury. Aren’t you being a bit too cruel to him?” “The last time I saw Arthur Blackwood, he looked so haggard, so thin. He must be at his breaking point.” Eleanor spoke calmly. “It was agreed for three full years. Not a day less.” “Anyway, it’s only another month until three years are up. He’s lasted this long; a couple more days won’t make a difference.” Grace hesitated, clearly wanting to say more. “But he came to me recently, just asking to borrow a few hundred dollars.” “The once privileged Mr. Blackwood, I’d never seen him so desperate.” Eleanor snorted. “You didn’t lend it to him, did you?” “Of course not! You said anyone who lent him money would be considered to have cut ties with you. How would I dare?” Through a cloud of smoke, Eleanor smiled coldly. “Good to know you’re sensible.” “Arthur Blackwood’s temperament, so demanding and arrogant. Aiden accidentally stained his painting, and Arthur heartlessly punished him by making him a manservant for three days. That kind of overbearing attitude needed to be fixed. See, this three-year punishment has clearly worked, hasn’t it?” Eleanor’s tone was filled with pride and satisfaction, as if her punishment had reformed me, making me a new man. Grace sighed, swallowing the rest of her unspoken words. She had actually concealed a few things. That day, I had knelt. I had even unbuttoned my shirt. “Just five hundred dollars, please.” “Eleanor got sick in prison and needs medical expenses. I’m still short five hundred dollars.” They exchanged glances, then burst into laughter. “Is this still the former Mr. Blackwood?” “You were so proud back then, wouldn’t wear shoes under a thousand. Now you’re selling yourself for five hundred dollars.” I could only listen in humiliation, my face devoid of any expression. What expression could I even have? All my pride, my self-respect, had been trampled into worthlessness by reality. “If you’re willing to add more money,” I choked out. “Whatever pose you want me to strike, I will.” Their laughter grew even louder. Finally, the woman who had been silent all this time, sitting on the sofa, sighed and spoke. “You should leave.” “Even if you bowed a hundred times today, we wouldn’t help you.” Because Eleanor had already given strict instructions. A punishment was a punishment. For three full years, they were not to show any pity or offer me any convenience. Only then could they truly get revenge for Aiden, her assistant. How did I manage to scrape together those five hundred dollars later? I went to the hospital and sold my blood. I took the five hundred dollars to the prison, but was told Eleanor had been released on medical parole. That money, after much effort, was entrusted to Eleanor’s friend. I was so anxious at the time, I almost knelt. “Please, you must get this money to Eleanor. She mustn’t have any more trouble.” But at that very moment, Eleanor was with her assistant, Aiden, checking in at Disneyland. She treated the five hundred dollars like a receipt, tossing it to a staff member. “Dirty money from an unknown source, how unlucky.” Just like my sincerity, it was trampled upon so carelessly. 2. Now, Eleanor herself had arranged for antique porcelain vases, worth a fortune, to decorate Aiden’s birthday party. Every detail was meticulously planned. But I had no desire to watch any further. Several times, I almost lost control and charged in. I wanted to appear before Eleanor, slap her hard across the face. I wanted to demand why she had deceived me for three years, all because I made Aiden a manservant for three days. I wanted to show Eleanor all the wounds I had suffered, all the scars on my body, over these three years. But in the end, I did nothing. I watched Eleanor, who was supposed to be released from prison in three days, dressed in an expensive designer gown, like a powerful female CEO. She had thrown a grand and respectable birthday party specifically for her male assistant, inviting friends from their circle to celebrate and wishing Aiden a spoiled birthday. Then, I turned around expressionlessly and returned to my cramped, underground rental. It was dark and damp, and I had lived there for three years. The bathroom was right outside the door, the walls covered in years of accumulated mold, constantly emanating a foul smell. I remembered when I first moved in, I was nauseous to the point of vomiting every day. For the first twenty-five years of my life, I lived in luxury, the privileged eldest son of the esteemed Blackwood family, never knowing hardship. I was an internationally renowned painter, accumulating numerous international awards. At the height of my success, I was even pursued and proposed to by Eleanor Brooks, the eldest daughter of the Brooks family. After marriage, I effortlessly lived the life of a “winner.” Until Eleanor hired a timid and gentle male assistant named Aiden. He was the son of my family’s housekeeper, yet he constantly tried to compete with me. His clothes weren’t as luxurious as mine, so he would retort that I was a frivolous pretty boy. His abilities weren’t as strong as mine, so he would gossip behind my back that I only succeeded because of my birth or because of women. He even deliberately sought to become Eleanor’s assistant, and never stopped badmouthing me to her, saying how I bullied his housekeeper mother at home, ruined his clothes, and even made him kneel as a manservant. I believed that the truth would speak for itself and never paid these things any mind. But then came that day. I had finally completed a painting I had worked on for two full years. Just as I was about to frame it, I stepped out for a moment, only to return and find it splattered with ink. Aiden stood nearby, holding the ink bottle, a smug look on his face. “Didn’t you spend two whole years on that painting? Let’s see how you’ll impress Eleanor without it.” I was furious that time. I threw a punch that landed squarely on his face. “Didn’t you always spread rumors that I made you a manservant? Well, for these three days, you can properly be my manservant and clean my art studio.” Just then, the door was pushed open, and a figure burst in. Eleanor frowned, shielding Aiden behind her. “Arthur Blackwood, can’t you control your privileged temper?” “Aiden tries so hard. He may not have a good background, but why do you always target him?” My chest heaved with anger. “Eleanor, get this straight, he was the one who…” Before I could finish, Aiden, playing the victim, hid behind Eleanor, looking terribly wronged. “Eleanor, it’s all my fault. I wanted to help Mr. Blackwood clean his studio, but I accidentally stained his painting. He said he’d sell me to a club as a gigolo, and called my mom a cheap tramp who raised a little tramp.” He spoke tearfully and pitifully. Eleanor didn’t even ask me or investigate; she just believed him outright. She looked at me coldly. “Arthur Blackwood, what’s happened to you? I’m so disappointed.” I was even more enraged. Even with Eleanor trying to persuade me, I insisted that Aiden serve as a manservant for three days. On the last day, Eleanor acted as if nothing had happened, merely sighing lightly. “Arthur, when will you ever get rid of that temper? It’s just a painting.” “Alright, you’ve vented your anger now, let’s just put this behind us.” I was naive enough to believe that it was truly over. But days later, news broke of Eleanor’s company’s bankruptcy. Eleanor herself was soon imprisoned, leaving a huge mess for me to deal with. Initially, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Even if the Brooks family went bankrupt, I still had my parents. I called them immediately, but their numbers were all disconnected. I completely panicked. I rushed home to find them, only to be told by the butler that they had hurried back upon hearing about the Brooks family’s troubles, but were caught in a landslide on the way and both perished. Overnight, my world collapsed. With no parents or wife to rely on, I had no choice but to sell our property and move into a damp basement. To escape gambling debts, I barely slept. They even found my basement, a group of people barging in with sticks and beating me. Two of my ribs were broken, and my wrist was shattered, rendering me unable to hold a paintbrush again. It took me three years to accept my fate, giving up everything just to survive. But now, I’m told that it was all a lie. Eleanor, with her punishment, had stripped me down to the bone, transforming me completely. Just then, my phone rang. It was from Eleanor. “Arthur, I’m getting out of prison in three days. Don’t forget to pick me up.” 3. I unconsciously clutched my phone, a dull ache throbbing in my heart. Even now, Eleanor was still acting. She was clearly at the birthday party already, celebrating Aiden’s birthday, with such a huge, beautifully decorated cake. Yet she was still treating me like an idiot. I stared at the line of text, tears blurring my vision until I could read it clearly again. I typed back: “Okay, I’ll pick you up in three days.” Three days later, I didn’t expose Eleanor’s lie. I went to the prison gates to pick her up. From a distance, I saw Eleanor wearing shabby clothes, pretending to be destitute after bankruptcy, and even using makeup to create a fake scar on her face. Seeing me, she limped, excitedly rushing towards me. “Arthur!” She embraced me, tears welling up in her eyes. “In prison, I truly atoned. They said my behavior was excellent, so they released me early.” “Arthur, you’ve really had a tough time these past few days.” She appeared so genuinely affectionate, as if she had truly suffered in prison for three years. But I subtly pushed her away. “It’s good that you’re out.” Eleanor paused, seemingly noticing my unusual demeanor, but then she suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Arthur, what happened to your wrist?” Her anxious expression seemed genuine. But I found it amusing. Eleanor, what are you playing at? It was clearly your people, pretending to be creditors, who came and beat me to this state. Now you’re acting innocent? I just felt apathetic, perhaps also afraid of directly confronting the truth. “Nothing, I just fell accidentally.” I pulled my hand away. “The doctor said it will heal with time.” Eleanor finally breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.” She took my hand, gently intertwining her fingers with mine. “The injury is on your right wrist. If it gets serious and affects your painting, you’ll be crying again.” Her voice was deliberately doting, but to me, it was incredibly piercing. I was born with immense artistic talent. I had won countless international awards, and everyone said I had a very bright future. But to get money for medicine, to get Eleanor out of prison early, I was willing to let them break my wrist. Now I couldn’t even hold a paintbrush. But now, she was telling me it was all just a punishment game she orchestrated. How ridiculous. I remained silent the entire way, Eleanor seemed very nervous, chattering on about many things. Clearly, these were lines she had prepared from online research, trying to convince me she had really spent three years in prison. But I listened absently, only asking a faint question after she finished. “Eleanor.” “Did I do something wrong?” Eleanor froze instantly, her eyes red as she looked at me. “What is it, Arthur? Why do you ask?” I suddenly remembered the last time, when I was finally allowed a visit. I was so happy, taking the allowance I had saved for a long time to buy meat and vegetables, and preparing them for Eleanor. No wonder she wrinkled her nose and refused to eat it. She must have thought the meat was cheap. And yes, I thought she had spent three years in prison, enduring hardship. But in reality, she was taking her male assistant on a round-the-world trip, enjoying delicacies and imported foods. How could she truly suffer with me? Even that prison visit was a meticulously staged play for which she paid a hundred and twenty dollars. I just felt that for these three years, I had been utterly foolish, manipulated like a toy. Seeing me cry, Eleanor immediately panicked and came forward to wipe my tears. “Arthur, why are you crying? Did someone bully you?” I looked into her eyes. “If someone bullied me, what would you do?” “Would you still, as you swore before, protect me no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing your life?” Eleanor nervously wiped my tears with a tissue. She nodded without thinking, her resolve firm. “Whatever it takes, Arthur, just tell me, and I’ll do it.” I looked into her sincere eyes. “Really?” “I want you to kill Aiden.” Eleanor suddenly looked up, staring at me in shock. “What did you say?” A flicker of panic crossed her eyes. “Did you misunderstand something?” She was so afraid I would discover something amiss. Even her body began to tense. “My company went bankrupt three years ago. Aiden resigned and went abroad; I haven’t had any contact with him.” “Did he come to bully you while I was in prison? If so, I’ll definitely get revenge for you!” I took her hand, scoffing. “I’m kidding.” “Killing is against the law.” “You just got out of prison; how could I bear to put you back in?” “I was just teasing you.” I turned away, lowering my gaze to pick up something. Eleanor didn’t see my true emotions. She thought I was truly just joking and breathed a sigh of relief. “Arthur, I’m sorry.” “You’ve suffered a lot these past three years.” I didn’t turn back, but in my heart, I thought silently. It’s alright. Your karma is yet to come.

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When our daughter passed away, Ian Blackwood promised her that he would never have another child. So, for all these years, no matter how openly he flaunted his mistresses, not a single one dared to provoke me with talk of children. Until our daughter Lily’s third death anniversary. I received a pregnancy test result at her graveside. The name on the form was Jenny Hayes, the innocent bridesmaid Ian had practically stolen from someone else’s wedding reception. He glanced at the paper, delivered to me like a cruel gift. There was no gentle interruption to his reverie. He merely chuckled, an unsettling amusement in his eyes. “The little rascal is playful. Don’t mind her. You go ahead with your remembrance; I’ll be back in a moment.” That day, I waited from morning until night. What I saw instead was a photo Jenny posted on social media: Ian kissing her belly, with the caption, “Our family of three.” They expected me to rage and make a scene, to even beg him, as I had in the past. But I simply exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I quietly took the divorce papers, signed three years prior, and submitted them for registration, keeping it a secret from everyone. No one knew that Lily, on her deathbed, had also made a wish to me. The day her father broke his promise would be the day she agreed to let me divorce him. 1. It was eleven thirty-one in the evening. A biting wind swept through the cemetery. My hands, trembling from the cold, clutched my phone as I called Ian again. The custom ringtone – a recording of him and Jenny’s intimate whispers – played for a full minute and twenty-six seconds. Finally, a robotic voice announced that the call was unanswered. I had calculated the time: it took twenty-five minutes from Jenny’s place to the cemetery. That left three minutes, just enough for him to light an incense stick for Lily and say a few words. But he didn’t answer. I knew his phone would likely be unreachable tonight. Six months ago, when I was ill and called him for help, he told me that when he didn’t want to take my calls, he’d let the ringtone play until I couldn’t bear their voices anymore and would be sensible enough to stop bothering him. I gave a self-deprecating smile. Just before I put my phone away, he sent a rare, unsolicited message. Don’t call. She’s been threatening to get an abortion, and I can’t calm her down. I’ve given her Lily’s necklace for now. I’ll order a new one tomorrow. A day earlier or later, Lily won’t mind. I gripped the phone, yet strangely, I couldn’t muster any anger. Last time, when Jenny threw Lily’s photo in the trash, I slapped her. That night, Ian’s men “accidentally” injured my arm, putting me in the hospital for two weeks. I had known for a long time that Lily no longer held the same place in his heart. But Lily was young, innocent. She always appeared in my dreams, begging me to give her father another chance. I sighed, and then Jenny’s message arrived. Sister, I’m so sorry, I’m pregnant. He said the cemetery was too unlucky, bad for me and the baby, so he made an excuse to miss it. Oh, and do you know when this baby was conceived? It was during the time you went to the temple every year to pray for Lily. I told him you’d be upset, but you know he always likes to force things. The more I resisted, the more intensely he wanted it. Afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she sent a screen recording of hundreds of flirtatious videos on her phone. The last date was January 21st – the same day, three years ago, Lily was diagnosed with her illness. I distinctly remembered Ian abandoning millions in business deals to rush back, crying hysterically outside the operating room, kneeling and begging the doctors to save our daughter. Afterwards, every year on that day, he would clear his schedule to go with me to the temple to pray for Lily. Until Jenny appeared, and I was the only one who went. It turns out that wound in his heart had healed long ago. I didn’t reply. Almost stubbornly, I stood there until the date on my phone changed to the next day. I didn’t feel the sadness I expected. I simply touched the serene smile on Lily’s tombstone. “Lily, it’s time. Dad isn’t coming this year. From now on, you and Mom will go our own way.” 2. That night, I dreamt of Lily crying, throwing herself into my arms, saying she didn’t like Daddy and didn’t want him anymore. I woke up, choking on my own sobs. In the dead of night, the space beside me remained empty. Only Lily’s favorite teddy bear, the one she cherished in life, still carried her scent. When Lily passed, Ian was inseparable from me. Whenever I’d wake from a nightmare, he’d be the first to notice, then he’d hold me, soothing me with soft words or weeping alongside me. Back then, I thought we would reconcile. I never imagined his philandering would remain unchanged, even after Lily and I had left. I couldn’t fall back asleep. After typing out the divorce papers, word by word, he returned. I handed him the signed agreement, still warm from the printer. He paused for two seconds, then scoffed. “So, just because I didn’t visit our daughter? It’s been years; are you still using these tactics? Isn’t it tiresome?” He paused again, seemingly realizing something. “Besides, Jenny’s pregnancy makes it difficult for her to move around. Or do you think this child threatens your position, so you’re playing hard to get to test me?” “Don’t worry. Once the baby is born, as long as you treat it as your own, no one will challenge your status as Mrs. Blackwood.” “While I’m in a good mood, take the hint. Don’t, like before, cry and tear up the agreement, saying you can’t live without me, if I actually sign.” I felt no anger at his mockery, nor did I bother to explain that my past actions were forced, a desperate charade. I just looked at him calmly. “Do you remember what you promised Lily?” His face stiffened, and beneath his serious demeanor was an undeniable hint of guilt. “I will always love her, but the Blackwood family cannot be without an heir. She will understand me.” As he finished speaking, his phone rang. He smiled happily as he answered Jenny’s call. “How could such a small baby be making a fuss?” “Alright, alright, I know you miss me. I just came back to grab some fresh clothes; I’ll be right there.” His voice was tender. For a fleeting moment, I was transported back to when we were most in love. When he learned I was pregnant, he was just as gentle. He would lie on my belly every day and talk to the baby. When the baby’s movements made me uncomfortable, he would sternly tell her not to bother Mommy. He hung up, then glanced at me. “Enjoy your life as a rich wife. Don’t cause trouble for Jenny, and your future will be one of comfort and security.” Watching him rush away to someone else, aside from a pang of bitterness reserved for Lily, I felt very little emotion left. I had the cemetery exhume Lily’s grave. I took out her urn. Then, I carried the divorce papers to the Blackwood family estate and handed them to Ian’s father. “Back then, besides Lily not wanting me to divorce him, you also said I was the only one who could curb his inherent arrogance.” “But now I can’t do it, and he no longer has Lily in his heart either.” Ian’s father, stroking the agreement, looked at me regretfully. “You know he just loves playing games and excitement. Wait a couple more years; he’ll settle down eventually. You two have so many years of history.” We had been entangled for ten years, from campus to marriage. He once defied his elders in the ancestral hall, staining a marriage contract with his own blood, just to marry me, an unsuitable match, vowing to marry no one else in this life. Just when I had finally softened his family’s hearts with my sincerity, he had lost his feelings for me. I smiled and shook my head. “No more waiting. I need to start a new life too.” He sighed, then retrieved the real divorce agreement, swapped out three years ago, from his safe and handed it to me. “The process has been re-approved. Pick up your divorce certificate in three days.” 3. After completing the registration, I returned home. The house had acquired some unfamiliar items. Jenny sat on the sofa. Ian stood beside her, directing the moving company as they cleared things out of Lily’s bedroom. He paused when he saw me. “Jenny’s pregnancy is unstable; she needs care. I’ve brought her home. You and the new nanny look after her. After all, you’ll be relying on this child in the future.” “Lily’s room is empty anyway, so I’ve put some odds and ends in there for storage. The master bedroom, where you sleep, is for Jenny and me. You can clean up the guest room and move in there.” Jenny stood up, stroking her belly, looking shyly at me. “I’m so sorry, big sister. Arthur just cares so much about me and the baby. Don’t worry, I won’t cause you any trouble.” “Once I’ve had the baby, I’ll definitely restore Lily’s room to its original state.” This wasn’t the first time Jenny had tried to provoke me using Lily. Last time, she sent a voice note of them flirting. Jenny said she wanted to give him a child as cute and well-behaved as Lily. So, Ian took her to the children’s room, jokingly saying Lily was kind and would surely grant their wish if she heard it. In front of Lily’s portrait, Jenny emotionally begged Lily to be reincarnated into her womb and become part of their happy family. By the time I arrived, the entire bedroom was filled with a disgusting odor, and Lily’s favorite bedsheets were soiled. I used the most vicious words to curse them, to curse her. And Ian, from beginning to end, acted like a cold psychopath, holding Jenny in his arms, covering her ears, watching my hysteria. The next day, I was sent to a mental hospital for a week under the pretext of being mentally unstable. Thinking of this, I no longer felt that same anger; only a sense of the ridiculous. I calmly glanced at Ian, who looked at me with the guarded expression of an enemy. “Whatever you want, arrange it however you like. I have no objections.” With that, I turned and went back to the master bedroom, pulling out my suitcase to pack. He watched me toss items into the suitcase, one by one, until half the closet was empty. Ian was somewhat surprised by my obedience and meekness. He tentatively spoke. “Father’s birthday banquet is on Friday. I plan to announce this news publicly as a gift. If you have time, whisper a few words to him so he won’t be angry when he hears it then.” I didn’t speak, merely nodding perfunctorily. Friday was the day I would receive my divorce certificate. Seeing that I still had no reaction, his brows furrowed deeper. “Did you change your tune today? Or do you realize nothing can threaten me, so you’re trying a gentle, devoted wife approach?” “Since you’re so sensible, make some soup for Jenny. She liked the last one. It’ll also be a test to see if you can take good care of her.” During a previous attempt at reconciliation, I had humbled myself to make him soup and deliver meals. But he had fed it, mouth to mouth, to Jenny right in front of me. Since then, I had been so disgusted that I never cooked again. I remained silent for a moment, then pulled out paper and pen, writing down the ingredients, steps, and cooking time, and handed it to him. “I need to clear the room for you first. Have the nanny make it. I’ll cook again when I have time.” He looked at the note, a playful smile playing on his lips. He attributed my newfound obedience to my realization that I had lost all my leverage and would no longer cause trouble for him. At the dining table, the nanny served Jenny the soup. But after her first sip, she clutched her stomach, crying out in pain. A few fresh drops of blood stained the floor. Ian’s face registered an unprecedented panic. He glared at the nanny. “What happened?!” The nanny’s gaze subtly flickered towards me. Before I could explain, Jenny looked at me with red eyes. “Sister, I know you don’t like me, but you’re a mother too. Why would you hurt my baby?!”

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My sister loved me obsessively, a sickness. On my eighteenth birthday, she learned the truth: I wasn’t her real brother, just a changeling heir to a fortune that wasn’t mine. She locked me in her estate, showering me with twisted affection. To keep me to herself, she stripped our parents of power and exiled them. When her real brother sought revenge, she crippled him and left him in the mountains. She was paranoid, possessive, a beautiful monster who cut me off from the world. To make me jealous, she found a man who looked just like me—stubborn, calling her “sister” the same way. She made him a star, the youngest A-list actor ever, and named him Jaxson. No one knew why. No one knew my name was Cole. Everyone thought she loved Jaxson. He believed it too, flaunting his role as her fiancé. Drunk on her favor, he stormed into my prison. “You pretty boy! Did you get surgery to look like me? I’ll tear that face off!” He slashed my cheek, killed my dog, broke my hands, and poured pepper solution between my legs. When my sister arrived, he pointed at me—broken in a dog cage—and sobbed, “Darling, this impostor used my face to seduce you! Who do you choose? Me or him?” … I had been Rianne’s prisoner at Silverwood Manor for four years. Four years of relentless training, of honing my body and mind for a single purpose: escape. Today, I finally saw my chance. As I scrambled onto the garden’s back wall, my freedom a breath away, I saw them. A gang of thugs waited below, their faces grim. Leading them was Jaxson, the celebrity my sister kept on a leash. The moment he saw me perched on the wall, a cruel sneer spread across his face. He swung a steel pipe, and it connected with my leg with a sickening crack. “Well, well, what do we have here? Finally caught the rat trying to flee his cage! Feeling guilty, are we? Scared of me?” “So this is why Rianne is always coming out here,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “It’s you, you little leech, who’s been poisoning her mind!” The world dissolved into a universe of pain as I tumbled from the wall. I couldn’t even scream. Jaxson was on me in an instant, the steel pipe smashing against my face again and again. His cronies joined in, their steel-toed boots kicking me relentlessly. “Fucking homewrecker,” one of them snarled. “Let’s see you steal anyone’s girl after we’re done with you!” “You’re mistaken,” I tried to gasp out. “I’m…” Jaxson shoved the end of the pipe into my mouth, ramming it against my teeth and throat. The taste of blood and rust flooded my senses, choking me. I coughed, spraying a crimson mist onto the gravel. “Mistaken? Don’t give me that bullshit! You’re a goddamn slut who surgically altered his face to look like me, trying to steal my wife! You knew I was coming for you, that’s why you tried to run, wasn’t it?” He was screaming now, a madman consumed by jealousy. “I thought you’d hide in your little fortress forever!” The blows rained down, each one a fresh wave of agony. My face was a swollen, fiery mask. Warm blood streamed from my nose. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my head, and then it all clicked into place. The new head of security. He’d been bought. That explained his loud phone call outside my door, talking about Rianne being out of the country for a few days, about how the “opportunity was here.” He wasn’t talking to an accomplice of mine. He was tipping off Jaxson. It explained why he’d helped clear a path for my escape, diverting the other guards. He wasn’t helping me get out. He was leading me into a trap. Jaxson had been waiting for me all along. “You’ve really got it all wrong,” I rasped, my voice shredded. “I’m Rianne Blackwood’s brother. Not some boy toy!” Jaxson paused. The security captain stepped forward and murmured, “I have heard rumors that Ms. Blackwood has an adopted brother, a twin who looks just like her. But he was supposedly kidnapped four years ago, had his legs broken, and was sent abroad for treatment. Hasn’t been back since.” Jaxson’s eyes, cold as ice, scanned my face, then my intact legs. “This pretty boy doesn’t look a thing like Rianne, and his legs are fine. He’s lying!” Just then, a voice cut through the haze of pain. “Who’s there?!” It was Mr. Abernathy, the old butler, who had served my parents for decades. He was here, delivering something. He would recognize me! “Abernathy, help me!” I screamed, my throat raw. “It’s me, Cole!” The old man squinted, his gaze finding me on the ground. A flicker of confusion crossed his weathered face. “Mr. Pierce,” he said, his voice hesitant. “What are you doing here?” He looked at me, then back at Jaxson. “And who is this?” My heart sank. Four years. After our parents were sent away, Rianne had told the world I’d gone with them. I’d been locked away, hidden from every living soul. Even the maids who brought my food only passed it through a slot in the door. After four years, and beaten beyond recognition, how could he possibly remember me? I tried to speak, to prove who I was, but Jaxson’s boot came down on my mouth, grinding my face into the dirt. Darkness swarmed the edges of my vision. “Him?” Jaxson sneered. “Just some plastic surgery freak who thought he could use his face to seduce Rianne. Heard I was coming to teach him a lesson and got scared, tried to climb the wall and run.” The security captain chimed in with a laugh. “Doesn’t even know the real heir’s name and has the gall to impersonate Ms. Blackwood’s brother.” He squatted down and spat near my head. “The young master’s name is Spencer, you idiot. Not Cole. Got it?” But Mr. Abernathy’s face had gone pale. “Cole?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Cole is the young master’s name!” “What?” Jaxson and the captain stared, stunned. “I thought Rianne’s brother was named Spencer!” Abernathy quickly explained my story, how I was the adopted son, the changeling. He told them how protective Rianne was of me, how she wouldn’t let anyone harm a hair on my head. A spark of hope ignited in my chest. I nodded frantically at Abernathy. Yes, that’s me! I’m Cole! The old butler knelt, peering at my bloodied face. With my one good hand, I fumbled inside my shirt and pulled out the small jade pendant our mother had given me. “That’s…!” Abernathy’s eyes widened, his voice shaking. “That’s the protective talisman my lady gave to the young master! Master Cole, is it truly you?” But Jaxson snatched it, ripping the cord from my neck. “He managed to get Rianne wrapped around his little finger. Stealing a piece of jade would be child’s play for a snake like him,” he sneered. “Exactly,” one of his thugs added. “Everyone knows you’re the one Ms. Blackwood really cares about. This bastard got a new face to look like you, hiding out here like a kept man. God knows what kind of dirty tricks he used to get her to protect him!” Jaxson’s eyes blazed with renewed fury. For three years, Rianne had forbidden anyone from setting foot on the estate grounds. If not for his fear of her wrath, he wouldn’t have had to resort to luring me out like this. His friends started egging him on. “What are you worried about? She said no one goes inside. We’re outside. We can waste this fucker right here and now. If she asks, we just say we thought he was some creep trying to break in.” “She loves you so much! You really think she’d punish you over some broken boy toy?” A dark realization dawned on Jaxson’s face. “You’re right! I’m only doing this because I love her so much. She might not even punish me. She might even be touched by my devotion!” With that, he ordered his men to drag me away, but Mr. Abernathy blocked their path. “Mr. Pierce, please, think about this! What if he truly is the young master? The consequences would be dire!” Jaxson’s face was a mask of pure menace. “What did Rianne send you to deliver to this pretty boy? Don’t you lie to me, old man!” His assistant ripped the box from Abernathy’s hands and tore it open. Inside lay an exquisite custom-tailored suit and a handwritten note. My love, I can’t wait to see you in this. Don’t be sad. I have a surprise for you when I get back. All my love. Jaxson’s face contorted in rage. He shredded the note. “See this?” he screamed at Abernathy. “If this was her brother, would she write something so intimate? You yourself said Cole is abroad with her parents. This imposter can’t be him!” Ignoring Abernathy’s frantic protests, he grabbed my hair and began dragging me away. Just as all hope faded, Abernathy’s phone rang. It was Rianne. The butler had barely answered when Jaxson snatched the phone from his grasp. He gestured for his men to gag me and for the security captain to pull Abernathy aside. “Hello? Darling,” Jaxson cooed into the phone, his voice sickeningly sweet. “I just ran into Mr. Abernathy. I absolutely adore the suit you sent. It’s perfect.” “And the note was so sweet, my sister. Made me want to fly over and see you right this instant!” There was a brief, cold silence on the other end. “Oh,” Rianne said, her voice tight. “I’m glad you like it.” She was furious, but she couldn’t let on. She couldn’t let Jaxson know I was her prisoner here, much less that she felt anything for me. It would put me in even more danger. “Where did you run into him?” she asked, her tone icy. “Did he say anything else?” “On the road back to the main house! He was being all secretive, wouldn’t let me open the box. I had to insist!” As he said this, Jaxson shot me a look of pure hatred. “This was for me, right, sister? It’s not like Abernathy was delivering it to some other little slut behind your back, is he?” The threat in his voice was unmistakable. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rianne replied coolly. “You’re the only one I have. Abernathy is just getting old and eccentric. He probably wanted to hide it somewhere to surprise you later. Don’t overthink it. Put him on the phone.” Jaxson glared at the old butler before thrusting the phone at him. “Abernathy, since Jaxson has seen it, just give it to him. Don’t worry, I won’t blame you.” The last part of her sentence hung in the air, a veiled warning that made Abernathy’s blood run cold. “Yes, Miss!” Before he could say more, Jaxson moved to hang up. In that split second, I bit down. Hard. The man holding my mouth yelped in pain and his hand flew back. “Rianne, help me…” The words were a mangled, desperate croak. Jaxson’s face went white with fury. He lunged forward, his boot grinding into my mouth again. “I thought I heard someone call for help,” Rianne’s voice sharpened with suspicion. “What’s going on over there?” “It’s just my assistant, we’re running lines!” the man I’d bitten quickly improvised, his voice slick with false cheer. “Yes, Ms. Blackwood, we’re rehearsing. Jaxson has a kidnapping scene tomorrow…” “I see. Tell Abernathy to remember my instructions. I’m busy. Goodbye.” The line went dead. My world collapsed into despair. Jaxson pressed his foot down harder. “You dare call her ‘sister’ in front of me? Is that how you seduce her?” he hissed. “No one calls her that but me. You really deserve to die, you pretty boy!” He looked down at my ruined face, his eyes filled with a venomous satisfaction. “Not only did you copy my face, you even copied how I talk to her. Today, I’m going to make you regret ever being born.” He dragged me by the hair toward the main gate. Abernathy pleaded, “You’ve got the gift, you’ve taught him his lesson. Can’t you just let him go?” “Yeah, Jaxson,” the security captain added. “Just dump him somewhere else. If Ms. Blackwood asks, we’ll just say he ran away.” Jaxson seemed to consider it. He threw me to the ground. “Fine. Can you promise to leave this place and never see Rianne again?” I nodded frantically. God, all I wanted for the past four years was to escape this yandere nightmare. The next thing I knew, he was pulling out a knife, a cold smile on his face. “I don’t believe you. Better to make sure.”

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Scrolling through a forum at work, a post caught my eye: [I think my wife doesn’t like me.] [She likes looking at my face, but whenever she sees my body, she looks away in disgust.] [She barely touched the breakfast I made this morning.] [And she forgot the bento box I packed for her… Does she not like me at all?] What kind of person is this? I thought, shaking my head. Then I reached into my tote bag for the adorable bento box my own sweet husband had made for me. I rummaged around. And around. Wait a minute. Where was my bento box?! 1 It was just past ten when I finished the proposal, with more than an hour to go until lunch. Operating under the sacred principle of “a workday without slacking is a day wasted,” I happily pulled out my phone. A forum post immediately grabbed my attention: [Help, I think my wife doesn’t like me. What should I do?] The thread was blowing up. Hundreds of comments in just a couple of hours. [Care to elaborate?] [Is this an arranged marriage or something?] The original poster (OP) patiently replied: [Not an arranged marriage. We met on a blind date. Her mom and my mom are best friends.] [It was love at first sight for me. She’s beautiful, kind, and gentle. Just… perfect.] [I’m decent-looking, but my body isn’t her type.] What kind of body? A beanpole? The commenters seemed to think so too, but OP quickly clarified. [I’m the… really built type. I was born with a larger chest, and my shirt buttons are always straining. It’s honestly a problem for me.] [The main issue is, my wife hates my body. Is there any way to make my chest smaller?] A user asked, reasonably: [How do you know she doesn’t like it? If she hated it, she probably wouldn’t have gotten together with you in the first place, right?] OP posted a [sad] emoji. [She likes my face, but whenever she glances down at my body, she turns away with this look of disgust.] [Once or twice, I could tell myself it was a coincidence. But it’s happened too many times to ignore.] [I think she only agreed to date me because of our moms. She’s too kind to say anything mean about my body, and she even tells her parents I’m thoughtful and sweet.] Ah, a gentle, insecure, large-chested househusband. A “himbo,” if you will. And there are people in the world who don’t appreciate this type? Tragic lack of taste. 2 Come to think of it, Liam and I also met on a blind date. And our mothers are also the best of friends. When my mom first suggested I meet her friend’s son, I was reluctant. My type was very specific: big-chested, gentle, husband material. Liam’s mom was five-foot-two and weighed maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. His dad was the opposite, six feet tall and built like a friendly bear. I couldn’t imagine what their son would look like. What if he wasn’t my type? It would be so awkward to turn him down and potentially strain our mothers’ friendship. My mom just waved off my concerns. “Do you think I don’t know what you like? I’ve seen him. Trust me, you’ll be more than satisfied.” My heart sank. Then she produced a photo. A guy in his twenties, sunglasses, leather jacket. Not bad-looking. Broad shoulders, trim waist, lean muscle. But still, not the type to make my jaw drop. As I was about to sigh, my mom grinned. “That’s not Liam.” I was confused. “Then who is it?” “That’s his dad.” My world tilted. There was no way the cool, lean guy in the photo was the same person as Liam’s cheerful, portly father. “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” my mom said, tucking the photo away. “His dad only gained weight because of medication. Back in the day, he was the village heartthrob. And Liam… well, let’s just say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. In fact, it rolled to a much better spot. Just go see for yourself.” 3 My curiosity piqued, I agreed to the date. It was at a cozy café, the kind of place you see in romantic movies. Before I left, my mom gave me a “secret weapon,” a small sealed envelope she told me to open only after we’d met. Standing outside the café, I could feel the envelope in my pocket, a little thrill running through me. I pushed open the door and scanned for our table: third from the entrance, by the window. One, two… three. The first thing I saw was a broad shoulder. Then, a chest so powerful it looked like it was about to burst the buttons of his shirt. The man looked up. A handsome, fair-skinned face met my eyes. My breath hitched. My brain went completely blank. A wave of heat washed over me, and I had the sudden, primal urge to run to the nearest park fountain and beat my chest like a gorilla. I restrained myself. Relying on pure muscle memory, I produced the smile I had practiced a hundred times in the mirror. Liam’s ears turned a shy, adorable red. “You… you must be Audrey?” I gracefully took my seat. He nodded, pushing a glass of peach soda toward me. I blinked. “My mom said you like this,” he said softly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. “So I ordered one for you. I hope that’s okay?” Marry me, my brain screamed. Outwardly, I just took the glass, tucked a stray hair behind my ear, and took a delicate sip. Then I looked up and gave him my most dazzling smile. “Thank you. I love it.” 4 I couldn’t believe my mom knew me so well. Liam was my dream man personified: broad shoulders, narrow waist, huge chest, a handsome face, and that perfect husband vibe. While he was in the restroom, my hands trembled as I opened the “secret weapon.” It was a single slip of paper. Honey, your mom knows best, right? Aren’t you just dying? Dying was an understatement. I love you, Mom! Mwah mwah mwah!!! 5 We exchanged numbers, and after a few more dates, we met each other’s parents and set a wedding date. It all happened so fast, so smoothly. Every time I looked at his face, at that magnificent chest, I wanted to drag him to the courthouse right then and there. They say marriage is the tomb of love, but the thought of having Liam all to myself, even in a tomb, was thrilling. On our wedding day, he wore a custom-tailored suit that accentuated his physique perfectly. During the ring exchange, I finally broke. A warm drop of blood dripped from my nose onto my arm. I didn’t even notice at first, but Liam saw it and panicked, cupping his large hands to catch the flow. The officiant rushed over with napkins, and the ceremony was hastily concluded. Liam carried me, princess-style, to the lounge. I finally got to feel those incredible pecs, but we still hadn’t kissed. Seeing me staring at him, his ears went red again. “Wh-what is it?” “I want a kiss.” He froze for a second, a blush creeping up his neck. Then he leaned down. A feather-light touch. My heart hammered against my ribs. 6 Snapping back to the present, I was still reliving that day. Thinking about Liam was my ultimate work-day pick-me-up. The wife in that forum post had no idea how good she had it. Young people these days, chasing after skinny guys when a real man is right in front of them. The comments were all trying to console the OP, but I just wanted to shake his wife. Cherish him! Not every girl is lucky enough to find her perfect, pure-hearted, big-tiddied man! I kept scrolling, morbidly fascinated by his insecurity. [My wife is amazing. Everyone at her company loves her. Her boss really admires her.] [I’m not on her level. I’m an introvert, not good with people, so I’m a stay-at-home husband.] [I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. I love being her support system, and I love cooking for her.] [But she doesn’t seem to like my cooking. She barely ate breakfast this morning.] [And she left the bento box I packed for her… Does she not like me at all?] A user asked: [So you don’t have a job? Just your wife works?] [That’s not good, man. Everyone needs their own career.] OP replied: [I don’t have a job, but I have an income. I just collect rent every month.] [Thanks for the concern, but I’m happy where I am.] A landlord. Come to think of it, Liam’s family also owned a bunch of properties. Was this a househusband thing? [If you don’t mind my asking, how many properties are we talking about?] OP: [A few here and there. About five buildings in total.] [BUILDINGS?!] [I thought this was a sad story, turns out it’s about a secret tycoon.] A tycoon, maybe. But anyone can be anything on the internet. 7 I went to the breakroom for some water and got caught up in a twenty-minute gossip session with my work bestie. When I got back to my desk, the post had been updated. [My wife’s suitor once met with me and told me to divorce her.] [I know I’m not good enough for her, but I love her so much.] Whoa. Plot twist. I immediately forwarded the post to my friend. [Her suitor is her boss. He said he’s liked her for years, they were college classmates. He knew her long before I did… but I don’t want to let her go.] The comments exploded with advice. [Just ask your wife directly! Be upfront!] [She married you! Obviously, she loves you more!] [If your boss is hitting on you, isn’t that a hostile work environment? She should find a new job!] OP only replied to the last one: [My wife and her boss have always just been friends. I don’t think she even realizes he likes her.] A comment shot to the top: [If you sit next to a bonfire, don’t you feel the heat?] [I think your wife knows, but doesn’t want to ruin the friendship, so she ignores it.] The thread quickly turned against the wife. [But they’re married! Setting boundaries is essential.] [She’d rather hurt her husband than a ‘friend’?] OP rushed to her defense: [No, it’s not like that. My wife is just a very straightforward, simple person.] [Lots of guys had crushes on her before, but she never noticed. That’s why she’d never been in a relationship before me.] [Her mom told me all this. My wife has no idea.] [And the suitor never actually confessed to her. My wife genuinely doesn’t know he likes her.] Never been in a relationship before? That sounded familiar. I was the same way before I met Liam. Our wedding kiss was my first kiss. The comments were merciless, telling OP he was being played by a manipulative woman. But I wondered… could someone really be that oblivious?

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At six, I was brought home by the Daltons. Twelve years later, they learned the devastating truth about the girl they had so cruelly cast aside—the impostor daughter. Her life after leaving them had been a tapestry of misery. And so, on the day Sophie died by suicide, regret consumed them all. My parents and my brother could no longer bear to look at me. They planned to marry me off, to ship me away like damaged goods. But Caden stopped them. He honored our betrothal and married me, but only so he could torture me himself. “It’s all your fault,” he would hiss, his voice dripping with venom. “The day you came back, why did you have to cry in front of Sophie? She had done nothing wrong. Why did you have to drive her away? Why couldn’t you just let her be?” “…Iris,” he’d whisper in the dark, “you have to atone for what you did to Sophie.” Later, I died in childbirth. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning they first came to the orphanage. The little girl in the bed next to mine asked for the heirloom locket I had worn my entire life. I froze for a second. Then I smiled. “Of course. It’s yours.” 1. The words had barely left my lips when the little girl stared, first in disbelief, then with a look of pure, unadulterated joy spreading across her face. “Really?! Iris, you’d really give it to me?” She hesitated, her eyes scanning me up and down. “But… isn’t this your most precious thing? You always said you’d wear it until your family came for you.” Everyone at the orphanage knew that the locket around my neck was more important to me than life itself. The matron told me it was on me when she found me as a baby. “It’s from your mommy and daddy, Iris,” she would say, stroking my hair. “They’ll come back for you one day.” That sliver of hope became my anchor. Other children were jealous; many tried to snatch my locket. Once, when a group of them cornered me, I swallowed it whole rather than let them take it. I nearly had to be rushed to the hospital. After that, they left me alone. But now, I calmly unclasped the locket from my neck and placed it in the girl’s small hand. I smiled at her. “Of course, it’s real. It’s yours now.” “I… I don’t want it anymore,” I added softly. The girl’s fingers instinctively closed around the locket, clutching it to her chest as if she expected me to snatch it back. I didn’t move. In my past life, the Daltons had identified me by that very locket. But this time, I would give up anything to sever all ties with them. In this life, the Daltons would still find their long-lost daughter. But it would not be me. When the Daltons arrived at the orphanage, I feigned a stomachache and hid myself away. Later that day, I heard the news. The prestigious Dalton family from the city had finally found their daughter. It was the girl now wearing my locket, Anna. No, she would be Anna Dalton now. That night, back in the cramped dormitory, I listened to the soft breathing of the other girls. For the first time in my life, a profound peace settled over my heart. In this life, I thought, I finally don’t owe anyone anything. 2. I would later learn that I’d been far too naive. Two days later, the Daltons returned to the orphanage. They said they’d made a mistake. It was then I understood. The Daltons hadn’t just relied on a locket to identify me all those years ago. In my past life, they must have secretly run a DNA test when they took me home. It just happened to confirm I was theirs. This time, Anna was not. The director had all of us girls, aged six and seven, line up in a row. Mr. and Mrs. Dalton followed him, their eyes scanning each of us. Stalking ahead of them, dressed in expensive clothes with an air of profound boredom, was the boy who had been my brother, Elias. I shrank into a corner, keeping my head bowed low. At this age, I was malnourished and frail, a small and unremarkable child. The Daltons passed by me without a second glance. Elias’s gaze swept over me and moved on, completely indifferent. After they left, the matron informed us that all the girls would have to give a blood sample the next day. A chill went down my spine. As I stood there, lost and afraid, I saw the matron escort another woman into the room. She was dressed simply and was alone, a stark contrast to the Daltons’ grand entourage. There was no grand lineup for her. Her eyes, as she looked at us, were gentle, though hesitant. I recognized her. She was a maid at the Dalton estate. I’d seen her there. In my past life, after Sophie’s suicide, the Daltons forbade me from eating dinner. “We heard that after Sophie was cast out, she could barely afford to eat. She developed stomach problems at such a young age, while you were here, living in luxury,” Elias had sneered, his eyes filled with disgust. “The least you can do is feel a fraction of her pain.” Soon, being denied dinner escalated to being allowed only one meal a day—cold leftovers. Back then, she was the only one who showed me any kindness. She would secretly slip a piece of bread or some food through the crack in my door. Remembering this, I made a bold decision. As she walked closer, I lunged forward, wrapped my arms around her legs, and cried out, “Mama!” 3. The next day, while the other girls from the orphanage were being organized by the director to have their blood drawn, I was on a bus with my new mother, heading back to her hometown. The Daltons provided housing for their staff, so logically, I should have moved into the servants’ quarters with her. But I told my mother I was scared and wanted to wait a little longer. Meanwhile, the Daltons, ever suspicious after losing their daughter to a rival’s scheme, grew wary. After discovering the imposter, they feared it was a trap. They didn’t question anyone else at the orphanage, focusing solely on Anna. Anna insisted the locket had been hers since birth. In the end, the Daltons passed her off to a distant branch of the family to be raised, and the trail to their real daughter went cold. By the time I set foot in the Dalton house in this lifetime, two months had passed. The dust had settled. The day my mother and I moved in, a young Sophie was curled up on the living room sofa, crying in Elias’s arms. “Elias, are you sure Mom and Dad won’t send me away? Can I really stay?” Elias looked awkward but patted her back rhythmically. “What are you talking about? Even if she comes back, they won’t kick you out.” He scoffed. “You’ve been spoiled rotten your whole life. How would you survive out there on your own? Mom and Dad would worry themselves to death.” Sophie peeked up at him. “And you, Elias? Wouldn’t you worry about me?” He paused, then a smile broke across his face. “Alright, alright. I’d worry the most, okay?” It was a picture of perfect family harmony. I smiled, too. Then I turned and slipped into the servant’s room. 4. No one at the Dalton estate suspected a thing. My mother explained that I was her daughter and had been living with my grandmother in the countryside. Mrs. Dalton didn’t recognize me. She knelt down to look at me, and for a moment, her eyes grew misty. “…Iris,” she said, her voice soft. “There’s another girl in the house about your age. She’s a very pretty young lady.” “But she’s been very sad lately. Would you be willing to play with her?” Mrs. Dalton wanted me to be Sophie’s companion. I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” Honestly, aside from being a bit spoiled, Sophie was easy to get along with. You just had to coddle her. Mr. and Mrs. Dalton were kind to me because I was their daughter’s playmate, and my new mother doted on me as if I were her own. The only person who kept his distance was Elias. He looked down on the daughter of a maid and treated me like I was invisible. Sometimes, though, I would catch him looking at me with a frown. I always pretended not to notice. It wasn’t long before I saw Caden at the Dalton house. “Caden!” Sophie cried, throwing herself into his arms like a joyful bird. It was then I learned that the marriage pact between the Dalton and Caden’s families was arranged before their children were even born. Caden and Sophie were childhood sweethearts. No wonder. No wonder he had hated me so much in our past life after her death. He had even married me, sacrificing his own life, just to avenge her. In this life, Sophie was safe and sound, still the beloved princess of the Dalton family. They should have a happy ending this time. Lost in thought, I didn’t realize Caden’s eyes had drifted towards me. When they did, I turned my head as if fascinated by something outside the window, deliberately missing his gaze. 5. Time flew. Before I knew it, Sophie and I were seniors in high school. I still lived with the Daltons. Nurtured by her family and Caden, Sophie had blossomed. The childhood trauma of discovering she wasn’t a true Dalton had faded. In this life, she was beautiful, smart, and proud—the queen of our school. As for me, I kept a polite distance from everyone. Elias still couldn’t stand me, occasionally tossing a snide remark my way. I never understood his animosity, but I didn’t care. And Caden… he was cold to everyone but Sophie, a fortress of indifference. The only thing that puzzled me was that Caden didn’t seem to love Sophie romantically. He treated her more like a little sister. One day, I happened to see Sophie run out of Caden’s room, crying. Noticing me, she instinctively covered her exposed shoulder, her face a mixture of anger and shame. Her eyes landed on my face, and she paused. “…Stop.” She stared at me for a long moment. “I heard you sprained your ankle at the track meet last week. And Caden carried you to the nurse’s office?” I blinked, recalling the incident. Someone had knocked me over, and I’d twisted my ankle. Before I could even react, I was being lifted into the air. The person holding me had a cool, clean scent. I looked up at a sharp jawline and realized it was Caden. I had wanted to tell him to put me down, but he just pursed his lips and carried me to the nurse’s office without a word. Truthfully, Caden and I had barely spoken over the years. Yet, for some reason, I always seemed to run into him. Thinking about it, I gave a soft “Mm-hmm.” Sophie’s expression darkened. “Are you two close? Why would he carry you? He wouldn’t even…” She cut herself off. The air grew thick with tension. Finally, her eyes red, she looked at me and said, “When are you moving out of my house?” “You’re not planning to freeload here forever, are you? Do you really think you’re one of us?” I lowered my eyes. “Don’t worry,” I said. “As soon as I graduate, I’ll move out.” I never wanted to stay at the Dalton’s house anyway. My mother had spent all her savings and sold her house to pay for her late husband’s cancer treatments. Taking me in was already a burden. I couldn’t be selfish. Once I got into college, everything would be different. Without looking at her again, I turned and walked away. I had never intended to overstay my welcome. In this new life, I was going to be free. 6. Sophie didn’t say anything about my plan to apply to S-State University. Elias, however, was acting strangely. One day, he abruptly asked me why I wanted to go so far away. “No reason. Just want to see the world,” I said dismissively. He was silent for a moment, then, looking irritated, he suddenly slammed his fork down and stormed upstairs. “What’s with him? His temper is getting worse and worse…” Mrs. Dalton muttered, bewildered. I just kept my head down and ate. Mr. and Mrs. Dalton were surprised by my choice, but they were supportive. After all, I was just the maid’s daughter. My life was none of their concern. I thought that was the end of it. But the next day, during a break between classes, Caden found me. I was confused. He got straight to the point. “I hear you’re applying to S-State.” I nodded. The air suddenly felt colder. I looked up and saw him staring at me, his eyes like chips of ice. “Why?” he asked. “Didn’t you and Sophie promise to go to A-City University together?” That was just to placate her. Besides, I doubted Sophie still felt that way. But I just said, “That has nothing to do with you.” The fingers of his hand, hanging by his side, curled into a fist. Then, without another word, he turned and left. For the rest of the semester, I threw myself into my studies. I signed up for three tutoring programs, my days and weekends packed. Sophie and I, by some unspoken agreement, stopped hanging out. Although I still lived in the same house, I rarely saw her or her brother, let alone Caden. Part of it was intentional. With my new life so close, I didn’t want any distractions. That weekend was Sophie’s seventeenth birthday. I had a tutoring session and figured she probably didn’t want me there anyway, so I asked Elias to give her my gift. He took it, looking displeased. “Sophie’s just having a small party at home with close friends. Why can’t you come?” I apologized and said I really couldn’t make it. He left in a huff. After my session, I still had a difficult problem I couldn’t solve, so I went to a classmate’s house to study. It was almost eleven when my mother called. My friend offered to let me stay the night, and I agreed. Just as I was about to call my mom back, my phone rang. It was Caden. His voice was calm. “Where are you? Send me the address.” “I’m on my way to pick you up.” Before I could refuse, he added, “Your mother is worried.” I paused. “Okay. Thank you.” I sent him my location. Ten minutes later, I got a text. “Downstairs.” I said goodbye to my friend and took the elevator down. Caden’s car was parked in the darkness. I opened the back door and slid in. The car started smoothly. I put in my earbuds and played some music. Out of the blue, Caden spoke. “Do you hate me?” I was startled. Then I smiled. “No, of course not.” I added, “We don’t know each other well enough for me to hate you.” 7. My mind drifted back to my past life. I had just been welcomed back into the Dalton family, finally reunited with the parents and brother I had longed for. Then, I saw Sophie. I was small and thin, shy and insecure. She, the girl who had taken my place, was beautiful and fair, dressed in an expensive princess gown, raised with all the love in the world. She cried the moment she saw me, her tear-filled eyes looking to her parents, to her brother. So I cried too. We were both terrified of being abandoned. After much deliberation, Mr. and Mrs. Dalton made the difficult decision to send Sophie away. And just like that, the beautiful, delicate girl vanished from my life. Until my eighteenth birthday. Sophie took her own life in a tiny, cramped apartment. Only then did the Daltons discover the truth of her miserable existence. They had given her a large sum of money when they sent her away, but she was just a young, lonely girl. She couldn’t protect it. She was swindled out of everything and fell into massive debt. She worked four jobs, developed depression, and… While the Daltons were throwing a lavish coming-of-age party for me, Sophie was being assaulted by thugs in a dark alley. She saw the news of my party and ended her life in her tiny, squalid room. And so, everyone was filled with regret. The day of her funeral, Elias came home and, without a word, slapped me across the face. The force of it split my lip and made my vision swim. Mr. and Mrs. Dalton just stood by and watched. In that moment, I understood. A deep, unstoppable hatred for me had taken root in their hearts.

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The day Vivienne returned to the country, I created a deduction system for Holden Prescott in my phone’s notes app. Every time he ignored me, every time he hurt me, I deducted ten points. When all 100 points were gone, I would leave him for good. On my birthday, he claimed he had to work late, but instead had sex with Vivienne in his studio. I stood outside the door, listening to the intimate moans and gasps inside, and calmly deducted the final ten points. Zero points. I turned and walked away without looking back. Not until he finally realized what he’d lost did he kneel outside my office building, crying and begging me to get back together. And there I stood, arm in arm with my new lover, saying coolly, “Holden Prescott, your love means nothing.” Lucia’s POV In the fourth year of our marriage, I created a deduction system. In my phone’s notes app, I recorded every instance of Holden Prescott’s neglect and every wound he inflicted. Each injury cost him 10 points. When all one hundred points were gone, I would leave him completely. The first time, he called out Vivienne’s name in his sleep. Deducted 10 points. The second time, he asked me to grow my hair long because Vivienne liked long hair. Deducted 10 points. The third time, on my birthday, he gave me the leftover mango cake Vivienne had been eating, forgetting I was allergic to mango. Deducted 10 points. The fourth time, he refused to design clothes for me, saying Vivienne was his only muse. Deducted 10 points. When I returned from my business trip to Milan, I took a cab home from the airport, dragging my suitcase behind me. The moment I walked through the door, I saw Vivienne sitting on Holden’s lap. She was wearing a semi-transparent sample garment. Under the lights, her sexy lingerie was clearly visible underneath. When he saw me, Holden froze for a moment, but there was no joy in his eyes. He frowned and offered an explanation. “Lucia, don’t misunderstand. We’re working.” When I didn’t react, he added, “Vivienne is trying on the new design. You know, only she can properly showcase the advantages of my designs.” I nodded in agreement, then asked in confusion, “So trying on clothes requires sitting on your lap?” His displeasure was immediate. His face darkened as he accused me, “Why is your mind so dirty? We’re measuring dimensions up close. My clothes only work when they’re custom-tailored. They’re not like those ordinary things you buy at the mall.” Vivienne also chimed in carefully with an apology. “That’s right, Lucia. Please don’t misunderstand. I’ll leave right now if it bothers you. Just please don’t fight with Holden.” Holden. How intimate that nickname sounded. I smiled faintly. “I guess I did misunderstand. After all, you fashion people are in your own world. As an outsider, I really don’t understand art.” “I was being vulgar, assuming people in your circle just mess around with each other. I didn’t realize you were so pure. My apologies.” They caught my sarcasm, but since I’d apologized, Holden had nothing to say. But he wasn’t planning to let me off that easily. His gaze fell on my suitcase, and he sneered. “You say you’re not upset? Then why are you dragging your suitcase around?” “Running away from home again? Lucia, that trick only works once. Are you addicted to running away?” Vivienne cooed as she tried to mediate between us, saying understanding things. “Lucia, please don’t run away. Holden and I really were just taking measurements. Don’t leave. I should be the one to go…” Vivienne made to leave, but Holden instinctively tightened his arm around her slender waist, his face dark as he turned to me. “Lucia, have you made enough of a scene? Your work is work, but mine isn’t?” “I used to tolerate your tantrums, but I’ve explained everything. What answer are you looking for? Hm?” In the past when we fought, I did like to drag my suitcase around by the door, waiting for him to ask me to stay. But this time. I looked at him, my tone flat. “Holden, I just got back from a business trip. I’ve been away from home for half a month.” “You never even noticed I wasn’t here?” As soon as the words left my mouth, the expression on Holden’s face froze. I hadn’t been home, and he’d never even realized. Probably because for the past two weeks, he’d been busy designing clothes with Vivienne at home. I ignored his shock and dragged my suitcase further inside. Passing by the master bedroom, the door was half open. The bed was piled with lace lingerie and stockings. Those were Vivienne’s things. I didn’t stop walking and turned toward the guest room instead. “It’s inconvenient for Miss Vivienne to commute back and forth. She can stay for the next few days. I’ll give you two the master bedroom so you can focus on your creative work.” I pushed open the guest room door without looking back. “I still have to go back to the office tonight to work overtime, so I won’t be coming home. Make yourselves comfortable.” As I was closing the door, Holden rushed over and grabbed me. He looked at me with a hint of panic. “Lucia, you’ve always wanted me to design an outfit for you, right? When this fashion show is over, I’ll design one for you.” “Your birthday is next week anyway. I’ll give it to you as a birthday present.” He was certain I would be happy. After all, to get him to design something for me, I had once humbled myself to the dust. I gently pried his fingers off. “Sounds good.” I said, “Go back now. Vivienne is still waiting.” His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, confirming I wasn’t angry. He let out a breath of relief and left. After the door closed, I took off my clothes and showered. Coming out of the bathroom, I took out my phone and began recording carefully. “Eighth time: He was busy designing clothes for Vivienne and didn’t notice I’d gone on a business trip. Deducted 10 points.” I stared at the mere 20 points remaining in my notes. When these were gone, I could leave him.

Lucia’s POV To meet my project deadline, I stayed at the office. During that time, Holden didn’t call once. Probably because Vivienne had moved into the master bedroom, and he was busy finding creative inspiration from his muse. He simply couldn’t remember he had a wife. Not until Friday night, my birthday, did Holden send me a text. “Lucia, Vivienne’s sample garment still needs adjustments. I can’t spend your birthday with you tonight.” “I’ll make up your birthday present later.” I wasn’t at all surprised he was missing my birthday. My only surprise was that he actually remembered today was my birthday. In the past, I’d start hinting a month before my birthday, begging him to spend it with me. But what was the result? The first year, Vivienne was in a bad mood, so he left me sitting alone in the restaurant we’d booked and flew to Paris overnight to be with her. He disappeared for an entire week without a single word of explanation. The second year, he took Vivienne to London Fashion Week while I waited at home in front of cold dishes, from dawn until dark. Back then, I called him frantically, demanding to know, “Holden, who’s more important, me or Vivienne?” How did he respond? He said, “Can you stop being so childish? We’re doing this for work. The adult world isn’t just about romance.” Back then, I would cry and make scenes. I’d grab scissors and charge into his study threatening to cut up those clothes. But now, I felt nothing inside. My finger tapped the screen as I replied with one word: “Okay.” Putting down my phone, I went to the convenience store and bought a small mousse cake. Sitting by the window of the convenience store, I stuck a candle in it. The cheap candle’s flame flickered weakly, ready to go out at any moment. I didn’t make a wish. I just blew it out. Taking the first bite, I remembered that painful experience. It was also my birthday. Holden had come home late for once, bringing back half a cake. He said, “Sorry I’m late. I brought this for you.” I was thrilled beyond measure. Even though it was leftovers, I cherished it like treasure and ate it. But after just one bite, I tasted mango. I’m severely allergic to mango. He knew that. I forced down the swelling pain in my throat and asked him, “Why is it mango flavored? Don’t you know I’m allergic to mango?” He froze for a moment, his eyes evasive. “Oh, I forgot. Vivienne likes mango. I bought it out of habit.” That night, an ambulance took me away. My whole body broke out in hives, and I couldn’t breathe. And there at my bedside, all he said was, “Next time remember to remind me you’re allergic to mango.” The mousse cake in my mouth was sickeningly sweet. I swallowed it down and forced myself to finish before taking out my phone. Opening my notes, below the remaining 20 points, I typed another line. “Ninth time: He missed my birthday again to alter clothes for Vivienne. Deducted 10 points.” Looking at the lonely number on the screen. 10 points left. Just one more time. I closed my phone, stood up, and went back to the office.

Lucia’s POV Around midnight, Grayson called to tell me Holden had gotten into a fight at the hospital and his hand was injured. Grayson was Holden’s close friend. I frowned and asked him what exactly happened. He hemmed and hawed on the phone. “Vivienne was being harassed by some creeps at a bar, and Holden was trying to help her… Don’t read too much into it. Holden was just helping Vivienne. The situation is urgent though. You should come to the hospital as soon as possible.” After hanging up, I smiled silently in the darkness. In the past, I treasured Holden’s hands even more than he did. For a designer, how important hands are goes without saying. I got up slowly and got dressed. Looking at my pale face in the mirror, I even added some lipstick. Only then did I leave and take a cab to the hospital. At the hospital, I asked the front desk for the room number. When I reached the hospital room door, it wasn’t fully closed. There was a gap. The conversation inside drifted out in fragments. “Holden, your hands are insured for over a hundred million. You’d waste them just to play hero for Vivienne? That’s way too high a price for rescuing a damsel in distress.” Holden’s voice was lazy. “This little injury is nothing. As long as she’s okay, it doesn’t matter if they’re ruined.” In that moment, my hand froze in midair. I remembered four years ago when I accidentally spilled coffee and scalded the back of his hand. He didn’t speak to me for three whole days, coldly reproaching me for being clumsy. Another voice from inside continued, full of sighs. “Back when Vivienne got a boyfriend overseas, you got blackout drunk and drove on the highway at 120 miles per hour like you had a death wish. You totaled the front of your car.” “Later when you woke up, to get revenge on Vivienne, you turned around and married Lucia. Lucia’s pathetic enough. She’s just Vivienne’s replacement.” “Lucia can really endure too. These past four years she’s devoted herself completely to taking care of you. She probably still thinks it’s true love.” “Talk about brutal. If she knew her four-year marriage was just a tool you used to provoke Vivienne, that she means less to you than a single tear Vivienne sheds, she’d probably collapse on the spot.” A roaring sound filled my head. The softest part of my heart was being viciously twisted. I stood outside the door, my hands and feet ice cold, even breathing felt painful. So that was it. Before, I thought he was just cold by nature, not good with words. I thought it was because I’d stayed by his bedside for days and nights after his car accident that I’d melted his frozen heart. It turned out it was all for Vivienne. For her, he didn’t even care about his own life. Everything I gave over four years. In others’ eyes, I was just a pathetic woman. So pathetic that in the end, I had nothing. I took out my phone, my fingers trembling as I opened my notes. I took a deep breath, steadied my breathing, and as if nothing was wrong, gently pushed open the door. The laughter in the hospital room stopped abruptly. Everyone in the room looked at me, their expressions incredibly colorful. Grayson looked like he’d seen a ghost, stammering, “When did you get here?” His eyes darted around, afraid I’d heard what they’d just said. I smiled. “Just now. What were you all talking about? Sounded lively.” Hearing this, everyone visibly relaxed. They exchanged glances. Grayson smoothed things over. “Nothing much. We were criticizing Holden for being too impulsive. Since you’re here now, we won’t disturb you.” Another person said, “We were just chatting casually, nothing more. Don’t take it to heart.” With that, the group quickly left.

Lucia’s POV Only Holden and I remained in the hospital room. I walked toward the bed. Holden was leaning against the headboard, his hand wrapped in thick bandages particularly conspicuous. Seeing me approach, he instinctively adjusted his position, displaying the injury more prominently. He seemed almost like he was acting cute with me, struggling to lift his hand as he said, “Lucia, it hurts a bit.” In the past, I would have already had tears in my eyes. I would have felt more distress for his hand than he felt for himself. But I just stopped at the foot of his bed and glanced indifferently at that hand. “What did the doctor say?” I asked. Holden froze. He frowned, seeming very dissatisfied with my reaction, his tone growing heavy. “Five stitches. The tendon almost severed.” I nodded. “Then rest up properly.” After saying that, I had nothing more to add. Holden’s expression grew visibly darker. He stared at me, anger creeping into his voice. “My hand was almost ruined, and this is your reaction?” “What else?” I looked at him, finding it amusing. “Do you want me to cry for you? Or go to church and pray for you?” Holden was momentarily speechless, then let out a cold laugh. “I know what you’re mad about. It’s because I got injured saving Vivienne, isn’t it?” “Lucia, can you not be so narrow-minded? Vivienne was surrounded by creeps. The situation was urgent. What was I supposed to do, just ignore it?” “Can you be a little more generous and stop obsessing over these little things?” In the past when I heard this kind of talk, I would rush to explain myself. But now, I just felt tired. “I’m not bothered at all. I think your actions were great.” “Besides, who you choose to save is your freedom. If you get hurt, you’re the one in pain. I can’t feel it for you, can I?” Holden was stunned. I continued, “If you’re still in pain, call a doctor. I’m not a doctor. I can’t make it stop hurting.” He opened his mouth, his eyes full of disbelief. He’d never seen me like this before. His reaction suggested he’d been expecting me to fuss over him anxiously like I used to. But he didn’t like me that way. After all, just last year, he got his hand caught in a door blown by the wind. I was terrified and insisted on dragging him to the hospital for a checkup. He shook off my hand, looking completely impatient. “Can you not make such a big deal out of everything? Does this little injury really warrant this? Going to the hospital would just be embarrassing.” Snapping back to the present, the hospital room door was pushed open. Vivienne came in with red-rimmed eyes, carrying a takeout container. As soon as Vivienne entered, she placed the thermos by the bedside and threw herself at Holden. “Holden! This is all my fault! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt…” Her voice choked with emotion, crying like a pear blossom in the rain. Holden’s uninjured hand wrapped around her waist. Gently patting Vivienne’s back, “I chose to help you. It has nothing to do with you. Don’t blame yourself for everything.” Vivienne carefully picked up his injured hand and gently blew on it. “Does it hurt? What did the doctor say? Will it affect your ability to draw designs in the future?” Holden’s gaze was indulgent. “This little injury will heal with some rest.” The two clung tightly to each other, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. As if in that moment, the world contained only these two lovers. And I stood to the side, practically like the other woman. Only then did Vivienne notice there was someone else in the room. She withdrew from Holden’s embrace, looking at me apologetically. “Lucia, I was just so worried about Holden. I couldn’t sleep at home at all, so I bought some soup and brought it over.” As she spoke, she opened the takeout container. The aroma of chicken soup wafted out. “Holden loves this place’s soup the most.” Vivienne ladled out a bowl and held it to Holden’s lips. Holden noticed I was standing nearby. Flustered, he pushed away Vivienne’s soup, his tone a bit awkward. “This soup is too rich. I’m not used to it.” Then he looked at me. “Lucia, I want to eat your cooking.” His tastes were quite particular, and his appetite wasn’t great. To get him to eat more, I used to buy quality ingredients and spend three or four hours in the kitchen. If there was anything about me he was satisfied with, it was probably only that I could make good soup. Vivienne’s expression stiffened uncontrollably. He looked at me, his tone softening a bit. “I don’t eat outside food. This place’s taste isn’t authentic either.” He paused, then added, “Yours is just right.” I checked the time on my phone. It was already 3:30 AM. I had an important project meeting first thing in the morning. This place was still some distance from the office. If I went back now, I could barely get a few hours of sleep. Now I was unwilling to sacrifice my sleep time for Holden. “I don’t have time to cook. Miss Vivienne already brought soup. Don’t let her kindness go to waste.” “I have a meeting tomorrow. You rest up here. I’m leaving.” I put away my phone and turned to leave. “Stop.” Seeing I was really leaving, Holden called out anxiously. Then his slightly suspicious gaze swept across my face, as if confirming something. “You’re not angry? Why have you been so generous lately?” “Usually you cry and make scenes. Why are you so calm now?” I smiled and asked him back, “Isn’t this better?” He was rendered speechless, his expression unpleasant, though he said nothing. Yes, I wasn’t this generous before. I loved him so pathetically. At the slightest disturbance, I’d act like a shrew. Never again. Someone I don’t love can’t stir up waves in my heart anymore.

Lucia’s POV After leaving the hospital, I went straight back to the office. After the morning meeting, I received another assignment for an out-of-town business trip. This time, I still didn’t notify Holden. I worked around the clock at the project site for a week, barely touching the ground. During that time, Holden sent me a few texts asking when I’d come back to cook and where I was. I didn’t reply to any of them. Not until the day I was heading back. I was waiting for my flight at the gate. Bored, I scrolled through Ins. The first post was from Vivienne. The image was a mirror selfie. In the photo, Vivienne wore an extremely thin lace dress, almost transparent. Holden stood behind her, holding a measuring tape, concentrating on measuring her waist. Their posture was suggestive, looking almost like he was embracing her from behind. The caption read: “Holden’s hand just recovered and he can’t wait to take my measurements. Is this what it means to be someone’s exclusive muse?” The comments below were full of envy, all praising how perfect they looked together, with some even asking when they’d get married. Holden had replied with a heart emoji. Looking at this photo, I just found it funny. In the past, seeing something like this would have made me shake with anger. I’d screenshot it and send it to Holden demanding an explanation. But now, I just thought the dress cut made her hips look wide. My finger tapped the screen. I casually liked the Ins post. Then I closed my phone and boarded the plane to sleep. The plane landed in the evening. As soon as I turned on my phone, Holden’s call came through. I answered, and before I could speak, his voice came through suppressing rage. “Lucia, what’s the meaning of that like?” “What meaning?” I dragged my suitcase out while asking carelessly. “Vivienne’s Ins post!” Holden’s tone was agitated. “Did you do it on purpose? Liking it to pretend you don’t care when you’re actually angry inside? Using this method to get my attention?” I paused, almost laughing in exasperation. This man’s self-confidence was truly in his bones. “You’re overthinking.” I said flatly. “The photo was nice, the dress was good, so I casually liked it. What, do you want to control other people’s freedom to like posts too?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Where are you?” He changed the subject, his tone slightly softer. “My hand is healed. I want soup tonight. When are you coming back?” Soup again. Did he think that as long as he asked, I had to make it for him? “I’m at the airport. Just got back from a business trip.” “Business trip?” Holden’s voice rose sharply. “You went on another business trip? Where? With whom? Why didn’t you report it?” I frowned and held the phone away a bit. “Holden, remember when we got back together we agreed not to interfere with each other? I’m very busy. I don’t have time to report my itinerary to you.” “If you’re that bored, go take measurements with Vivienne. Don’t bother me.” With that, I hung up directly. I got home late at night. As soon as I entered, the house was dark with no lights on. I’d just changed my shoes when someone grabbed me from behind. My nose filled with a strong smell of tobacco. I frowned. I hated the smell of smoke. Holden used to go to the balcony to smoke for my sake, or let the smell dissipate before coming inside. But now, he reeked of smoke. “Lucia…” He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his voice muffled. “You’re finally back. I missed you.” As he spoke, he turned my body around and lowered his head to kiss me. His movements were urgent and rough. I felt nauseated and shoved him away hard. “Click.” I turned on the entryway light. The sudden brightness made Holden squint. He looked at me, his face dark, his eyes carrying both shock at being pushed away and anger. “Lucia, what’s your problem?” He wiped his lips, dissatisfied. “We’re husband and wife. Being intimate is normal. Why are you so resistant?” I looked at him coldly. “Holden, go shower. You reek of smoke and that cheap perfume.” “It’s disgusting.”

Lucia’s POV After that day, Holden stopped looking for me. Probably felt his ego was bruised. But I could still keep tabs on his activities. Because entertainment news was full of him and Vivienne. Holden attended Fashion Week with Vivienne in a high-profile manner, the two walking the red carpet hand in hand, being called the fashion world’s best couple. The young women at the office were all discussing it. “Wow, Mr. Prescott and the goddess are such a perfect match!” “I heard they grew up together. This is like a novel come to life!” “Vivienne must be that legendary secret ex-wife. Now they’re back together. So sweet!” Listening to these discussions, I focused on revising my design drafts. At lunch, I’d just taken a bite of salad when my stomach churned violently. I rushed to the restroom and dry-heaved for a long time without vomiting anything. The familiar feeling made my heart sink. That afternoon, I took leave and went to the hospital. Getting the test results, I looked at the confirmed pregnancy and felt no surprise whatsoever. Just a bit ironic. Calculating the time, it must have been that night before Vivienne returned to the country. That day Holden had been drinking. In the heat of the moment, he whispered in my ear, “Lucia, let’s have a baby. I want a child that belongs to us.” I didn’t respond then because I didn’t believe him. I knew these were just arousing words he said in bed. Just like three years ago. Back then, I got pregnant for the first time. I was ecstatic, taking the pregnancy test results home to surprise him. But Holden was working on a design. Seeing the test results, his brows furrowed tightly. He said coldly, “I’m not ready for a child. Get rid of it. A baby will interfere with my creative process.” I cried and begged him to keep the child. He stormed out in frustration, dragging his suitcase and flying abroad. That night, I slipped in the bathroom and started bleeding. I was in agony and called him for help. But Vivienne answered the phone. Before I could speak, Holden’s voice came through, impatient. “Lucia, you’re just trying tricks to keep the baby, aren’t you? I made myself very clear. This child comes at a bad time. Stop calling me. I’m very busy right now!” Then the call was disconnected. He said he was busy. I found out later that night he was busy keeping the newly heartbroken Vivienne company. Later it was a neighbor who heard the commotion and sent me to the hospital. The baby wasn’t saved. I stayed in the hospital for half a month. Holden never came once. Snapping back to reality, I crumpled the test results in my hand and tossed them in the trash. This time, I didn’t plan to tell him. This child was just an accident. Since I’d decided to leave, there was no need to keep this burden. Thinking this, I actually missed a step going downstairs. My stomach hit first, and there was blood everywhere beneath me. This child still wasn’t meant to be. The doctor told me I’d need to come back to the hospital in a few days for surgery to prevent complications from the incomplete miscarriage. After all this, I sent my supervisor Mr. Vance a message requesting two weeks off. Mr. Vance asked if something was wrong and whether I needed help. I just said I was handling some private matters. I went home. I wanted to get some clothes to change into and bring my mother’s veil with me. It was the dowry my mother left me on her deathbed, and the only thing I planned to take with me when I left. As soon as I pushed open the door, the living room lights were glaring. I froze in the entryway. In the center of the living room, Vivienne stood completely naked except for a thin white veil draped over her, posing in front of Holden. Holden held a paintbrush, his expression focused. Hearing the door open, both turned their heads simultaneously. Vivienne cried out and immediately threw herself into Holden’s arms as if she’d suffered some great injustice. “Oh! Why is Lucia back!” Holden reacted extremely quickly, grabbing his suit jacket and wrapping her up tightly. He frowned at me, his eyes full of displeasure at being interrupted. “Why didn’t you make a sound when you came back? Don’t you know to knock?” Vivienne peeked out from his embrace, her cheeks flushed, her voice coy. “Lucia, don’t misunderstand. I’m just helping Holden find creative inspiration. The human body itself is art…” My stomach churned again. So-called art required stripping naked and parading in front of him? I said nothing and walked straight past them toward the bedroom. “Lucia!” Holden called out behind me. “What’s with that expression? Is art that dirty in your eyes?” I ignored him and entered the bedroom, rummaging through drawers and cabinets. My mother’s veil had always been kept in a box at the bottom of the closet. I remembered very clearly. But it wasn’t there. The box was empty. My heart skipped a beat. I turned and rushed out of the bedroom. “Where’s my veil?” I stared at Holden. Before Holden could answer, Vivienne suddenly raised her hand timidly from behind him. “Lucia… are you talking about this veil?”She was holding a ball of white lace in her hand. It was the veil my mother had left me. At that moment, that veil was casually wrapped around her wrist, with part of it even dragging on the floor. My mind went blank with a roar. “Give it to me.” I held out my hand to her, my voice shaking. “That’s mine.” Vivienne looked utterly innocent. “I saw it in the closet and thought it looked pretty, so I took it out to try on. I’ll give it back to you right now.” As she spoke, she held the veil out to me. Just as I reached to take it. Vivienne’s fingers suddenly hooked onto a piece of lace edging and yanked hard. The lace veil tore with a huge gash. Vivienne cried out, covering her mouth. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Lucia! I didn’t mean to! Why is this veil such poor quality? It broke with just one touch…” She was saying sorry, but her eyes were full of provocation. In that moment, all my rationality snapped. I rushed over and shoved her aside, trembling as I picked up the veil from the floor. Vivienne fell to the ground with the momentum, crying with tears streaming down her face. “Holden! That hurt… Why did Lucia push me…” Holden’s face was dark. He strode over, helped Vivienne up, then roughly shoved me. “Lucia! What the hell is wrong with you?” He pointed at the torn fabric in my hands, furious. “It’s so old and you still treasure it like that? If it’s ruined, I’ll buy you a new one. Was it really necessary to push someone?” I touched it, my heart feeling like something was squeezing it tight, unable to breathe from the pain. I looked up, staring hard at Holden. “You know.” My voice was hoarse. “This is something my mom left me. I’ve told you many times how important it is to me.” Holden froze for a moment, as if remembering something, a flash of discomfort in his eyes. But he quickly avoided my gaze, turning to check Vivienne’s knee. “That’s still no reason to push someone. Vivienne is a guest, and she came here to help me.” He looked at me coldly. “You’re so emotionally unstable. Calm down. Don’t act crazy at home. Vivienne doesn’t want to see you.” I looked at him. This man I’d loved for seven years. The last trace of reluctance in my heart was finally extinguished. I folded the veil and put it in my bag. “Fine.” I looked at him, my tone terrifyingly calm. “Holden, let’s break up.” Holden’s hand, which had been rubbing Vivienne’s knee, paused. He had his back to me and didn’t even turn around, his tone full of mockery. “Lucia, you said it. If you’ve got the guts to leave, don’t come back.” He still thought I was throwing a tantrum like before. Every time we fought and talked about breaking up, I was the one who eventually came crawling back to apologize. The one who’s favored always acts without fear. I didn’t say anything more. I turned around, took off the spare key, and placed it on the shoe cabinet. I pushed open the door and the night wind rushed in. Before leaving, I looked back one more time. On the easel in the living room sat an unfinished design sketch. The girl in the drawing wore a gorgeous wedding dress with a platinum necklace around her neck. That was something Holden had specially custom-made for Vivienne. The one around my neck was just a freebie that came with buying a necklace. The drawing wasn’t finished. The girl’s face was blank. But I knew it wasn’t me. I closed the door, shutting those four absurd years behind me. Then I took out my phone and deducted the last remaining 10 points from my notes. Zero points, Holden. There’s nothing left between us.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “382323”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I met Westley when I was fourteen and fell in love with him at eighteen. Ten years of deep affection, yet it couldn’t withstand a few words of manipulation from his new secretary: “Tell me, if you and I both fell down the stairs at the same time, who would Mr. Ford save first?” He indeed saved her first. He believed her self staged setup. He locked me in the freezer I feared most as punishment, where rats crawled all over me. My heart died, and I fled. But he chased me to Paris, and when he saw another man embracing me, he begged. “Celine, do you really not love me anymore?” Celine POV My friends all envied my relationship with Westley Ford. As the CEO of a multibillion dollar corporation, Westley was incredibly busy, always on the go. But during my three years studying in Paris, whenever I sent him a message or called, even if he was in an important company meeting, he would respond immediately. Knowing I was sensitive to cold, he would remind me over and over on video calls to bundle up. Hearing that I was losing sleep from thesis stress, he would sit in his office and talk to me on the phone for hours, even overseas, just to read me the fairy tales I loved as a child to help me fall asleep. When he learned I had a high fever, he abandoned billion-dollar contract negotiations and flew specifically to Paris to personally take care of me. Friends often teased him for being completely devoted to love. Westley would just smile indulgently. “My Celine is so outstanding. If I don’t treat her well, what if she falls for someone else and doesn’t want me anymore?” Hearing these words, I couldn’t help but smile, my heart filled with happiness. So I pulled several all-nighters, working hard to finish my defense early before his birthday this year, completing my studies. When I flew back filled with excitement, wanting to give him a birthday surprise, I overheard his conversation with friends outside a private room at a club. The door was ajar, and his friend’s voice carried notes of intoxication and envy. “Westley, when Celine Sterling finishes her studies and comes back, shouldn’t your wedding be put on the schedule?” After a brief silence, Westley’s voice rang out with obvious hesitation. “The wedding… let’s wait a bit longer.” The private room instantly fell somewhat quiet, everyone exchanging glances. Someone broke the silence. “Westley, are you drunk? Didn’t you used to be afraid she would run off with someone else, always saying that once she returned home, you’d propose to her immediately?” “I was indeed looking forward to it before, hoping she could graduate and return home to get married as soon as possible.” Westley seemed to laugh. “But separated by countries for three years, over a thousand days and nights. Somehow, that anticipation doesn’t seem as intense as it was in the beginning.” Immediately, everyone’s voices fell silent. Someone else cautiously probed. “You… don’t love Celine anymore?” Westley’s slender fingers gripped a glass wine goblet as he lowered his eyes and said softly, “Of course I still love her. It’s just that, somehow, I no longer feel that urgent desire for her to return as I did before.” Outside the private room door, my fingertips turned ice-cold, clutching tightly the birthday gift I had carefully prepared for him. The velvet box pressed deep into my palm, yet it couldn’t match one ten-thousandth of the dull pain in my heart. I had rushed back on his birthday with such joy, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I never expected to hear him say he was no longer so eager for my return. What did that make me, standing here? A self-deluded joke? The extreme embarrassment made my chest feel so tight I couldn’t breathe, my eyes stubbornly stinging with tears. I forced back the moisture welling in my eyes and was about to turn and leave when suddenly I saw a girl in a pale yellow dress approaching. I instinctively retreated into the shadows of a corridor corner. The girl in her early twenties walked into the private room and handed a glass of water to Westley. “Mr. Ford, drinking harms your health. Please drink less.” Westley reached out to take it, naturally brushing the loose strands of hair from her forehead. “Didn’t I tell you to clock out? You didn’t need to make a special trip to bring this.” The girl’s expression was sweet and tender. “Today is your birthday. I was worried you’d drink too much and have another headache attack.” “In that case, stay here and help me deal with them.” Westley’s lips curved slightly, the corners of his eyes and brows rippling with a smile as he pulled the girl to sit beside him. Whether intentionally or not, the girl’s foot twisted and she fell into his embrace. Westley instinctively reached out to steady her waist, catching her firmly. The moment their eyes met, an alluring blush crept across the girl’s fair cheeks, and Westley didn’t immediately push her away, saying something to her with helpless indulgence. That kind of look and manner had only appeared when we were passionately in love. The intimate, ambiguous scene in the private room was like a sharp, pointed needle stabbing straight into my vision. My aching heart suddenly felt like a shattered glass bottle. I stood frozen, feeling cold from head to toe.

Celine POV I recognized that girl. Her name was Sophie Evans. She was an intern secretary in the CEO’s office at Ford Corporation. Initially, when Westley mentioned Sophie Evans to me over video calls, his tone was so bland it bordered on displeased. “The new intern spills half the coffee on documents. I don’t know how the HR department hired her.” At the time, I didn’t think much of it and always advised him to be more tolerant. Later, Westley mentioned Sophie Evans more and more frequently. “This intern may be clumsy, but she’s quite hardworking. She works overtime until late every night. Even when I leave at dawn, I can still see her organizing materials at her desk.” “Sophie is actually pretty good. She even noticed that I get headaches when I drink, and every time I finish entertaining clients, she prepares water for me.” “The coffee Sophie makes lately suits my taste more and more. She really takes this job seriously, and she has quite a lively, interesting personality.” His perception of Sophie Evans gradually changed, and her title went from “the intern” to “Sophie.” Actually, all the signs were there. I just trusted him too much, never imagining that Westley, who loved me so much, would eventually change. I can’t remember how I left the club. I walked aimlessly and dazedly along the sidewalk until my phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. Looking at the caller ID on the screen, I didn’t answer until the call was about to automatically disconnect. “Celine?” Westley’s voice on the phone sounded somewhat nervous and urgent. “I just saw your message about returning home early. Where are you now? Have you already arrived at the club?” In the past, hearing his familiar voice would have made me feel sweet inside. But now, recalling the scenes in that private room. A suffocating coldness spread through my heart, painful as a knife twisting in my gut. My nose tingled as my throat choked up for a long time. All the questions I wanted to ask him finally coalesced into one sentence: “I just got off the plane…” Hearing this, Westley breathed a sigh of relief. His tension and unease dissipated, and his tone softened a bit. “Then wait for me at the airport. I’ll come pick you up.” I forced down my sob. “No need. I’m feeling a bit airsick and uncomfortable. I’ll just take a cab home.” “Okay.” Westley didn’t think much of it. “Then I’ll see you at home.” I hummed in agreement, then paused and added, “Happy birthday.” Westley’s tone became even softer. “Why didn’t you wait for me to get home to wish me happy birthday in person?” I didn’t want to have an unpleasant scene with him on his birthday, so I forced a light smile. “I was afraid your party would end too late, and if I waited until after midnight to wish you well, it wouldn’t mean as much.” “It won’t end too late. No one is more important to me than you.” Westley’s voice was as tenderly indulgent as always. “I’ll be home soon. Wait for me at our new wedding villa, okay?” No one was more important to him than me… If I hadn’t heard those words in the private room with my own ears, if I hadn’t seen with my own eyes that he didn’t push away Sophie Evans when she deliberately fell into his arms, I might have believed him. When the call ended, I stood by the roadside under the dim streetlights, pulling my suitcase. I looked up, about to hail a passing taxi, when I inadvertently glimpsed a black sedan speeding past. In just under three seconds, through the half-lowered window, I still clearly saw Westley’s handsome profile in the back seat, and beside him, a smiling Sophie Evans. My heart trembled violently, as if something had torn it apart viciously. I suddenly remembered three years ago when I was leaving, Westley held me tightly at the airport and said reluctantly, “When you come back, we’ll never be apart again.” Now I had returned, but our relationship could never go back to what it was. After only three short years of separation, that passionate, profound love had already changed. He no longer anticipated my return, and he even let another woman fall into his arms. I forcefully pushed back the tears in my eyes. Then I took out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, is it still possible for me to accept your company’s job offer now?” “Of course it is.” The male voice on the other end paused, then asked in confusion, “But Miss Sterling, didn’t you say before that you wanted to return home to get married and focus your career domestically to be with your husband?” I smiled bitterly. “He doesn’t need me by his side, and this wedding can’t happen anymore.” The other party was silent for a few seconds. “Alright, can you start in half a month?” “Yes.” “Miss Sterling, then we’ll see you in half a month.”

Celine POV I returned to the villa at Crescent Bay and handed the birthday gift watch to a servant. “When Westley comes back, please give this to him for me.” “Yes, Miss Sterling.” I lay in the bedroom bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Until I heard the sound of a car outside the villa. I picked up my phone to check the time. The person who said he’d be back soon had actually taken over three hours. Then I saw that Sophie Evans had posted a new update on Instagram. “On his birthday, I said I wanted to see the stars, and without a word he left his friends to take me to the observatory. I even saw the legendary Orion constellation. These stars all over the sky are so romantic!” The accompanying images showed a man with his back to the camera, standing before an astronomical telescope, in a nine-grid layout. I curved my lips mockingly and gave her a like. Footsteps came from downstairs, and soon the bedroom door was pushed open. One side of the bed sank down as a pair of strong, powerful arms pulled me into an embrace. “Celine… are you asleep?” Up close, I could smell an unfamiliar perfume on him. A wave of discomfort rose in my chest as I pretended to be half-asleep and murmured. “Honey, I’m really glad you could make it back today.” Westley’s hand roamed over my body, and when he touched a sensitive area, I pressed both hands against his chest, stopping his next move. I frowned. “I haven’t adjusted to the time difference yet. My head is still dizzy and I’m not feeling well.” It was supposed to be a passionate reunion, like newlyweds. He hadn’t expected me to refuse. Westley paused. “We haven’t had sex in so long. Don’t you want to?” “I really don’t feel well today. Next time.” As my words fell, he was silent for a long while. Finally, he seemed to sigh helplessly and kissed my eyes. “Alright, I won’t touch you. Rest well tonight.” Westley showered and changed into pajamas, and when he lay back in bed, he just held me in his arms. In all our years together, apart from playful little spats, Westley and I had never had a real argument. However, I never imagined that our first real fight would happen at the welcome-home party Westley threw for me. And it would be because of Sophie Evans. At the party, friends were playing truth or dare. Westley lost and drew a penalty: kiss the person of the opposite sex to his left for five minutes. And the person to his left was Sophie Evans. Everyone looked at Westley, then at me. The air suddenly felt awkward. Sophie said softly and weakly, “Maybe… we should just skip it. Miss Sterling doesn’t seem like someone who can handle this kind of game.” Westley gently patted the back of my hand, as if explaining. “Celine, this is just a penalty, nothing more. Don’t worry, at most our lips will just touch. I won’t really kiss her.” I hadn’t said a word yet when he turned to look at Sophie Evans. Under Sophie Evans’s nervous yet expectant gaze, he leaned closer and lowered his head to kiss her lips. The others erupted in teasing cheers. Sophie Evans’s expression became increasingly enjoyable and engaged. She even closed her eyes, her cheeks flushed, slightly opening her mouth to respond to his kiss. Westley felt her response, and his dark, bottomless eyes deepened. An ambiguous atmosphere flowed between them, and the scene looked as if they were the deeply loving couple. My eyes stung painfully, a pent-up frustration blocking my chest. I couldn’t help but set down my wine glass heavily. “You all have fun. I really can’t handle this kind of game!” With those words, I stood up and strode away. In the hallway, Westley chased after me and grabbed my wrist. “It’s just a game. Do you really need to be this angry?” I found it laughable. “Just a game?” Westley’s handsome face was tense. “A bet is a bet. Everyone who lost did their penalty. I can’t be the only one lacking sportsmanship and refusing to accept the penalty.” “Westley, do you think I’m blind? She was using her tongue!” Westley’s expression changed slightly. “She just got carried away…” “Carried away?” What a nice excuse. “She got carried away, but what about you? What’s your excuse?” My lips trembled slightly as my nails dug into my palms. “Were you also carried away, or was it sportsmanship that made you not push her away even though you knew she was using her tongue?!”

Celine POV After speaking, I looked into Westley’s dark eyes. In his eyes was a cold, detached clarity I had never seen before. “Today is your party. Do you really have to make such a big deal over a game penalty?” My heart felt scorched by flames, yet I laughed instead. “Fine, let’s not talk about the penalty. Then let me ask you why is Sophie Evans at my party?” Westley’s brow furrowed tightly. “She’s my secretary. This party was arranged and organized by her. Why shouldn’t she be here?” I was utterly astonished. “A secretary can actually sit together with her boss and his friends, playing games with no sense of professional boundaries or hierarchy?” “Secretaries are employees, not slaves without human rights. What boundaries or hierarchy?” Westley’s expression was clearly displeased. “Besides, it’s not working hours now. Letting her sit and play with us. Is that really so hard for you to accept?” But what proper secretary would deliberately fall into her boss’s arms? What proper secretary would have her boss take her to see stars? Would a proper secretary get “carried away” and use her tongue during a penalty game? Why didn’t any of his previous secretaries behave like Sophie Evans? Before I could ask any of these questions, Westley’s cold, hard voice sounded again. “We’ve been separated for three years, rarely together. We finally ended our long-distance relationship. You came back and were cold to me, wouldn’t let me touch you. I respected that.” “But you shouldn’t use dirty thoughts to misunderstand my relationship with Sophie as something inappropriate.” Was I the one with dirty thoughts, misunderstanding them? As I stood frozen, Westley’s thin lips pressed together. He spoke coolly and distantly. “You know how much I love you. Sophie is a good girl. Hardworking, serious, and responsible. She’s not what you think she is.” “Celine, I’m human too. I get tired. Do you know how exhausting it is when you question me over these little things?” I couldn’t describe what I felt at that moment. I only felt his words were like blades slicing through my flesh, leaving me unable to breathe from the pain. In his eyes, all the inappropriate, boundary-crossing ambiguous behavior between him and Sophie Evans was just trivial. My concern and questioning had somehow become my fault, making him feel tired. I remained silent. Westley realized his words had been too harsh. He had never spoken to me like this before. He said irritably, “Let’s both cool down. I’ll stay at the company tonight. You should think about whether you’re being unreasonable.” With that, Westley turned and went back into the private room, not caring about me anymore. Tears slid down my face and into the corners of my mouth. I tasted their salty, bitter flavor. After an unknown amount of time, I took a deep breath. Finally, I left the party alone. Returning to the villa, passing by the entrance, my red, swollen eyes caught sight of the watch in the trash can. It was the birthday gift I had carefully selected and brought back from abroad for him. And now it had been discarded in the trash. I suddenly remembered how when I was abroad, I made no friends, had no social activities, and spent day and night in the library studying. All because he said he looked forward to me returning home early to marry him. Only three years. I thought in those short three years, his feelings for me had never changed. But the truth was, I was the only one still hoping to return home and get married. As for him, not only did he no longer anticipate it, he didn’t even want the birthday gift I gave him… My fingers trembled as I picked up the watch. But just as I lifted it, after thinking for a moment, I threw it back into the trash. Since Westley didn’t care anymore, why should I be reluctant to let go? A relationship that was no longer pure. Even if it tore my heart to pieces, I would rather discard it than keep it. During the two days Westley didn’t come home, through Sophie Evans’s frequent Instagram updates, I learned he was indeed staying at the company. Sophie Evans’s first post: “He drank too much and had a headache. I massaged it for him and he praised my pressure as just right. So happy.” The accompanying image showed Westley sitting behind his desk, rubbing his temples in pain. I smiled coldly and gave her a like. The second post: “Today I accidentally broke his favorite cup. I thought he’d be furious, but instead he patted my head and said it was okay.” The accompanying image showed a ceramic cup shattered into countless pieces. That was a ceramic piece Westley and I had made together at a pottery studio, our first joint craft project. Westley thought it had great commemorative value and had always carefully preserved it, never letting anyone else touch it. I tugged at the corner of my lips and gave this post a like too. The day Westley came home, I was organizing my belongings. Seeing me pack all my things into cardboard boxes, Westley’s expression changed. He strode over quickly and grabbed my hand. “Why are you packing these things?”

Celine POV I pulled my hand from his palm. “These are all old things I don’t need anymore. I want to pack them up and throw them away.” Westley looked at me and nodded. “You’re right. Old things should be thrown away. When I have time, I’ll take you shopping for new things to replace them.” Never again. I would never bring any of my belongings here again. Before Westley came home, I had already donated the precious items he’d given me to charity. What remained were just some unimportant things. “Celine, let’s stop fighting, okay?” Westley’s chiseled face was warm and gentle. “I’ve thought a lot these past two days. I was wrong before. I should have been considerate of your feelings and refused that vulgar game, and I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” His apology sounded sincere, but I knew our relationship was like the ceramic cup Sophie Evans had broken with his permission. Shattered beyond repair. Even if we tried to mend it, we could never return to the past, never restore it to its original wholeness. I opened my mouth. “Westley, let’s break-” Before I could finish the sentence, his phone suddenly rang. Westley took out his phone. I glimpsed that it was Sophie Evans calling. “What is it?” Seeing him answer without hesitation, my gaze dimmed. Without a word, I picked up a cardboard box and turned away. Outside the villa, I threw the box into the trash, as if discarding our years of relationship along with it. Westley walked over at that moment and took my hand. “Before you came back, didn’t you keep mentioning that restaurant in the east part of the city? Come on, I’ve made a reservation.” Thinking we should have a proper ending with some dignity, I didn’t refuse. “Alright. After dinner, I also have something to tell you.” At the restaurant, I wasn’t surprised to see Sophie Evans. I asked nothing, but Westley explained on his own. “Sophie made the reservation. She doesn’t want the incident at the party to cause a misunderstanding between us. She wants to apologize to you in person.” I lowered my eyes mockingly, saying nothing. The table was filled with dishes I liked. Halfway through the meal, Westley stepped away to take a work call. Sophie Evans stood nearby, examining me with an appraising look, then suddenly said, “Looking at you like this, you don’t seem particularly special. What exactly does Mr. Ford like about you? Your face?” I paused in drinking my juice and raised my eyes to meet hers. “He likes me. Are you jealous?” “Me, jealous?” She said contemptuously, “When you weren’t here, I was the one by his side. He’s gotten used to having me around and takes me everywhere. What do you have that I should be jealous of?” Without Westley present, Sophie Evans shed her meek demeanor, becoming haughty and disdainful. She studied me. “By the way, I’ve noticed you’ve been liking all my recent Instagram posts about him, then acting as if nothing happened. What exactly do you mean by that?” Sophie Evans posted those updates specifically to make me see how special Westley was to her. She was deliberately provoking me, yet unexpectedly, I didn’t make a scene. A mocking curve formed at my lips. “Liking them means I’ve seen them. Acting unbothered is because no matter what game you’re playing, I simply don’t care.” Sophie Evans stiffened, her face about to crack. Suddenly, she laughed coldly with indifference. “Really? But you probably won’t be able to stay this calm much longer.” My brow furrowed slightly. Before I could ask what Sophie Evans had done, I felt an unbearable itching all over my body. Then my skin broke out in red hives, and my throat tightened uncomfortably. Realizing something was wrong, I looked sharply at Sophie Evans. “What did you do?” “Mr. Ford mentioned you’re allergic to mangoes.” Sophie Evans smiled innocently. “So I added some mango juice to the orange juice you just drank.” My face changed dramatically as I immediately stood up to go to the hospital. Seeing this, Sophie Evans quickly stepped forward to block my path, grabbing my arms and clinging to me. “I’m sorry, Miss Sterling. If my presence has affected your relationship with Mr. Ford, I…” I was anxious to get to the hospital and had no time for her performance. “Get out of my way!” Hearing the commotion, Westley arrived just in time to see me push Sophie Evans to the ground. His pupils constricted as he strode forward and pushed me aside. “Celine, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?!”

Celine POV I staggered back several steps, my waist hitting the sharp edge of the table hard. Instantly, I gasped in pain, unable to stand straight. Realizing he’d used too much force and hurt me, Westley guiltily started to come help me up, but then Sophie Evans cried out in pain from the other side. “My… my foot hurts so much.” Westley stopped in his tracks, his attention drawn to her as he quickly turned and walked to her side. “What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” “I think I twisted my ankle. I can’t move…” Sophie Evans raised her soft, pitiful eyes, crying pitifully with tears streaming down. “Mr. Ford, please don’t blame Miss Sterling. She was just too angry so she pushed me. If it weren’t for my presence causing her to misunderstand, she wouldn’t have done this…” Westley’s emotions were complex and conflicted, his handsome face tense. “Stop talking. Let me take you to the hospital to check your foot first.” I was in so much pain I couldn’t straighten my back, cold sweat pouring down as I tried to call out to him. Looking up, I saw only his back as he carried Sophie Evans away. Sophie Evans smiled triumphantly at me, showing off her victory. That scene was like a sharp blade piercing straight through me, stabbing me until I was bloody and riddled with wounds. Thinking of how he had just apologized to me earlier, saying we wouldn’t fight anymore, the moment now felt extremely ironic. Was I the one throwing tantrums, or had he clearly changed his heart but refused to admit it? My whole body itched and ached, my skin covered in large red hives. The suffocating feeling of the allergic reaction surged like a tidal wave. I tried to take out my phone to call emergency services, but just as I unlocked it, everything suddenly went black. After a spell of dizziness, I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital room, the smell of disinfectant filling my nostrils. I stared blankly at the ceiling as a nurse’s voice came from beside me. “You’re finally awake. Do you know you went into allergic shock? If you’d been brought to the hospital any later, your life would have been in danger.” I was severely allergic to mangoes and normally wouldn’t dare eat or drink anything related to them. After the nurse left the room, without hesitation, I decisively picked up my phone and made a call. “Hello, I want to report a crime. Someone deliberately tried to murder me.” The person who arrived before the police was Westley. He stood by the hospital bed, his brow furrowed tightly. “I received word that you filed a police report, accusing Sophie of trying to harm you?” I responded with a cold statement. “That’s correct.” Westley’s frown deepened. “I’ve already notified the police station. The police won’t be coming.” His unexpected words reached my ears, and I looked at him in shock. “What did you say?” “Sophie would never do something like this.” Westley’s expression was dark. “Besides, you were clearly the one who pushed her, causing her ankle injury. How can you falsely accuse her first?” I couldn’t believe it. My hands gripped the bedsheet tightly as I couldn’t control my emotions, accusing him, “Westley, she deliberately added mango juice to my orange juice. When I tried to go to the hospital, she deliberately blocked me, so I couldn’t help but push her!” His gaze grew darker with displeasure. “If you didn’t want to accept her apology, fine, but why must you slander her like this?” “I’m slandering her? Then what is this?” I rolled up my sleeves, exposing the skin on both my arms, covered entirely in unsightly red hives. Actually, I had hives on my face too, but he seemed to overlook them. My lips trembled. “Did I deliberately do this to myself just to slander her? You’ll know the truth if you just investigate!” After seeing the glaring allergic symptoms on my body, Westley froze for a long time. His face darkened as he actually went to investigate.When Westley came to the hospital room again, his tone and attitude were clearly more apologetic. “She’s admitted to it. This matter is indeed related to her.” I pressed my lips together, not yet reacting. Westley immediately continued. “But she didn’t do it on purpose.” I laughed. “Not on purpose?”

Celine POV Westley explained unhurriedly. “She just accidentally mixed up the mango juice and orange juice. She didn’t know beforehand that the glass you were drinking was mango juice.” I said incredulously, “Sophie explained it to you like this, and you believed her?” “Otherwise, what could the truth be? She has no grudge against you. She’s kind-hearted and lively. Why would she deliberately harm you? Celine, don’t you think you’re being overly aggressive and thinking too badly of her?” His words, thrown at me one after another, were like knives cutting into my flesh inch by inch. Westley’s tone remained unchanged as he continued. “However, it was her carelessness that caused your allergic reaction, so I’ve already punished her for it.” “What punishment did you give her?” Westley steadied himself. “I docked three months of her salary.” If he hadn’t said it so seriously, I would have almost thought he was joking. Westley walked over to sit by the bed, reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “There. You also pushed her and injured her, and I punished her for you. This matter ends here.” The man who once cared about me with his whole heart, who felt terrible even when I got a small cut on my finger. Now, when I had an allergic reaction so severe I nearly died, he wasn’t worried or anxious. Even his punishment for Sophie was brushed aside. I was exhausted, wrapped in endless fatigue, without even the desire to argue with him anymore. Westley looked at me with an inscrutable gaze. “Celine, you’ll stay by my side forever, right?” I couldn’t help but curve my lips slightly. “What do you think?” Westley didn’t detect the mockery in my tone, taking it for granted that after all our years together, I couldn’t possibly leave him over these recent unpleasantries. He spoke softly and indulgently. “You said earlier that you had something to tell me after dinner. What did you want to say?” I fell silent for a moment. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I had originally planned to part ways amicably with him, intending to tell him truthfully that I had accepted a job offer from a foreign company and would be leaving soon. But now, he didn’t need to know. Hearing this, Westley didn’t think much of it. He lowered his head to kiss my eyes. “Rest well. I won’t go anywhere these next two days. I’ll stay at the hospital with you.” I paid him no mind, lying down and turning my back to him. Westley hadn’t been at the hospital for even two days when Sophie Evans called. On the phone, I didn’t know what Sophie said to him, but his expression grew grave as his eyes hesitantly turned toward me. After hanging up, he opened his mouth hesitantly. “Celine, I…” “It’s fine, go ahead.” Before he could finish, I spoke up. “I don’t need you here anymore.” Perhaps the words “don’t need you” grated on his ears, or perhaps my recent coldness made him vaguely uneasy. Westley explained sincerely. “There’s a problem with a project at the company. I have to go handle it.” “Mm, I understand. Go ahead.” Westley hesitated for a moment, but eventually stood up. “When you’re discharged, I’ll come pick you up.” Leaving those words, he left the hospital room. When the room fell quiet, I pulled my phone from under my pillow and checked the date. Then I opened a ticket booking app and purchased an international flight ticket. On the day of my discharge, Westley broke his promise after all. He didn’t come pick me up from the hospital. Instead, he sent me a message: “The project issue isn’t resolved yet. Go home first. I’ll bring you an apology gift later.” After reading it, I put my phone away expressionlessly and processed my own discharge paperwork. Returning to the villa at Crescent Bay, I packed my suitcase and gathered my passport, documents, and other items. Just as I was about to leave with my suitcase, Sophie Evans suddenly appeared at the villa. “Miss Sterling!” Sophie rushed over with red-rimmed eyes, grabbing my wrist. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I’ve felt terrible about mistakenly giving you that juice…” I coldly shook off her hand. “What game are you playing now?” Sophie’s expression changed instantly, a cold smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. “You’ll find out soon enough.” She stepped back several paces and suddenly flipped over the balcony railing, falling into the pool below. “Help!” The shrill scream attracted Westley, who had just gotten out of his car. He looked up to see Sophie fall with a splash from the second floor into the pool below. “Sophie!!” And I was standing right at the balcony edge at that moment. Westley dove into the pool without hesitation.

Celine POV “Celine! After three years abroad, I never imagined you’d become so vicious, actually capable of pushing someone off a balcony!” After Westley pulled Sophie from the pool, he glared at me furiously, filled with towering rage. “How exactly did Sophie offend you? Why do you dislike her so much that you’d even try to kill her!” My nails dug into my palms. “I didn’t push her!” “I saw it with my own eyes, and you still want to deny it!” Sophie was soaked through, curled up in Westley’s arms like a frightened deer, her slender fingers clutching his shirt tightly. She seemed traumatized, on the verge of tears, trembling as she said, “Mr. Ford, don’t blame Miss Sterling. I was careless before and caused her allergic reaction. She was angry at me, so she accidentally pushed me. She definitely didn’t mean to…” “She’s always had prejudice against you. Whether it was deliberate or not, she knows in her heart!” Westley said darkly. “Celine, I’ve spoiled you too much, indulged you too much, which is why you’ve become so arrogant and presumptuous!” Finally, he ordered the servants coldly. “Lock her in the basement freezer. Let her calm down and reflect!” Several servants immediately stepped forward, holding my arms on both sides, dragging me toward the basement freezer. “I didn’t push her! This was all Sophie Evans’s self-staged act! Westley, what gives you the right to treat me like this?!” I couldn’t believe it, struggling angrily. The servant sneered coldly. “What gives Mr. Ford the right to treat you like this? Because during the three years you were gone, the person by his side was Miss Sophie! And you dared to push Miss Sophie off the balcony. That’s utterly heinous!” I was shoved into the basement freezer, stumbling and falling to the ground. My scraped palm immediately oozed blood, the pain making me furrow my brow tightly. Looking up, I saw those servants carrying a burlap sack, pouring something inside. My pupils constricted violently. “What did you put in here?” “Miss Sophie was afraid you’d be too lonely in the freezer alone, so she had us catch some rats to keep you company!” The servant finished speaking with a cold laugh and slammed the iron door shut with a bang. The basement freezer was pitch black, so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. In the vast space, not only did a bone-chilling cold spread, but there were also sounds of rats scurrying and squeaking. My scalp tingled as I shivered from the cold, hugging my legs tightly as I curled up in a corner. Rats occasionally crawled onto my body. At first, I would scream uncontrollably and swat them away, but after an unknown amount of time passed, my hands and feet grew so numb from the cold that I no longer had the strength to deal with the rats scurrying all over me. Before losing consciousness from hypothermia, I hazily remembered. Westley knew I feared cold the most. During those years abroad when he couldn’t be by my side constantly, he would video call me almost daily to confirm I was dressed warmly enough. But now, for Sophie Evans’s sake, he had locked me in the place I feared most. How laughable. How ironic. I met him when I was fourteen and fell in love with him at eighteen. Until now, a full ten years had passed. Ten years of devotion, yet it was no match for Sophie, who had only been by his side for less than two years. I don’t know how long I was locked in the basement freezer, don’t know how I was rescued, and have no idea how long I was unconscious. When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital room. The space around me was empty, not a single person. I reached for my phone by the bed and opened Instagram. Sophie Evans had posted another update, as expected. “He knew I was traumatized and upset, so he put aside all company business to specially take me out to cheer me up.” The photo showed them walking hand in hand on a beach at sunset. They looked exactly like a couple in love. Tender, sweet, loving, and romantic. My heart grew utterly cold, yet I laughed instead. Laughed until tears came. He locked me in the basement freezer without a care, then turned around to take Sophie Evans out for fun. Ten years, Westley. So this is all ten years of devotion amounts to. After being discharged this time, I went directly to close my bank accounts, then took my luggage, visa, and passport. As I was going through security at the airport, a message from Westley appeared on my phone. “Do you know what you did wrong?” Less than two seconds later, he sent another message. “The custom wedding dress I ordered for you has arrived. I’ll be back tomorrow. Let’s discuss our wedding date and go try on the dress together.” I stared coldly at the two messages. This wedding would never happen. And we would never see each other again. Soon enough, he would receive the “gift” I left for him.

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After my miscarriage, I changed all the habits that Pathseekers Pack Alpha Ronan found annoying. I stopped asking about his whereabouts. When he didn’t come home all night, I slept peacefully. Even when I was injured in a Rogue attack and the doctor asked me to notify family, I simply answered calmly: “I don’t have any family.” The nurse recognized me: “You’re Luna Nyla, aren’t you? Alpha Ronan is inspecting the office building next door. Should I go notify him?” I shook my head gently. “No need.” Yet half an hour later, Ronan came anyway. His posture was rigid, his voice cold: “Why didn’t you come to me when you got injured?” I lowered my eyes. “It’s minor. No need to trouble you.” The understated tone inexplicably irritated Ronan. Just as he was about to speak, voices from the Beta guards outside drifted through the door: “Alpha Ronan really cares about Vivian. When she got hurt by Rogues and injured her foot, he called in a helicopter and personally carried her on and off, didn’t even let her feet touch the ground.” Ronan’s heart clenched. From the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help glancing at me, seemingly waiting for me to interrogate and argue like before. But I didn’t even flutter an eyelash. I simply leaned quietly against the bed with my eyes closed, resting.

It wasn’t until I sat in his black SUV that he finally explained in a low voice: “Don’t listen to their nonsense. I was just following protocol. Vivian is the performer I hired for the music festival. Of course I had to take care of her when she got injured.” I murmured a soft “Mm” and said nothing more. Ronan suddenly erupted in anger: “You don’t believe me? Are you still holding a grudge?” “Nyla… I came to the hospital for you. What more do you want?” I looked out the window, didn’t even turn my head. “I just didn’t think it was serious enough to disturb you. Let’s go home.” That phrase again, like an automated response, so dismissive. Ronan slammed his fist on the steering wheel. The harsh honk shattered the silence, startling the music academy faculty and students across the street who had just finished performing at the music festival. One of the girls looked up. The moment moonlight fell on her face, the air in the car froze solid. Ronan couldn’t help but speak: “Vivian… what’s she doing here?” Ronan instinctively looked at me. After all, every time I’d seen her before, I’d lost control emotionally. But I only glanced over indifferently, then withdrew my gaze without a ripple. Ronan gripped the steering wheel tight, but his eyes drifted toward her. In the deep winter night, the girl wore only a thin performance outfit, hugging her arms, her nose tip red from cold. His hand was already on the door handle, concern practically spilling from his eyes. I understood perfectly. I pushed open the door and got out, even giving him an excuse: “If you need to patrol the territory, I can walk home myself.” Before he could respond, I’d already turned and headed for the intersection. Ronan caught up and grabbed my wrist: “I didn’t know she’d be here. Why won’t you believe me?” I nodded. “I believe you. She’s just a girl on her own, it’s not easy. Even if things ended, it’s normal to show concern. I understand.” Ronan stared at my face. No expression, didn’t seem like sulking. He felt something was very wrong. Before, I’d had such a strong need to share and possess him. Even finding a single long hair on his shirt would make me interrogate him until midnight. Now I was truly as he’d wished—no fights, no fuss, understanding and considerate. Yet his heart felt stuffed with soaking wet cotton, so stifling he couldn’t breathe. I pulled my hand back and turned to leave. When I reached the corner, I stopped and looked back. By the SUV, Ronan had already removed his coat and draped it over Vivian’s shoulders. He cupped her face and lowered his head to kiss her deeply. My body and soul felt inevitable pain, but I wasn’t surprised by this scene at all. I should have expected it long ago. And I would never again be like the first time I discovered his affair, questioning him like a madwoman: “Ronan! Have you no shame? I’ve been with you since I was eighteen. When we got married you said you’d love and cherish me forever, and now you’re telling me you fell in love with someone else?” Back then he’d laughed coldly after I drew blood: “You want to talk about shame? If you had any shame, would you have had sex with me the second time we met when you were eighteen? You’re an orphan with no parents. I’m the one who brought you out of the orphanage. You should be grateful to me!” Those words were like a poisoned blade, stabbing our years of sharing hardship together to pieces. My phone vibrated, pulling me from the memory. “Luna Nyla, we’ve confirmed your deceased biological parents were the former Alpha and former Luna of Ashclaw Pack. When would you have time to visit Ashclaw Pack? Your uncle, Ashclaw Pack Alpha Dean, very much wants to see you.” I pulled down my sleeve, covering the scar on my wrist: “Once I sever the mate bond with Ronan, I’ll leave here and go to Ashclaw Pack.” The person on the other end paused: “You and Alpha Ronan have been through so much together all these years. You don’t necessarily have to leave Pathseekers Pack.” I answered calmly: “I don’t love him anymore. I just want to leave here forever.”

When I returned to the residence and opened the door, I saw our wedding photo on the wall. The man in the photo smiled brilliantly, his nose affectionately nuzzling my forehead. That was taken when we loved each other most. I grew up in Pathseekers Pack’s orphanage. When I was eighteen, the director wanted to make me the companion of a violent, widowed old werewolf. While climbing the wall to escape the orphanage, I met Ronan, my fated mate. We fell in love at first sight. Ronan took me away from the orphanage. Back then, he was still the Alpha heir, not yet Pathseekers Pack’s Alpha. But he promised me he’d become Alpha as soon as possible and make me the honored Luna, so no one in Pathseekers Pack would ever dare bully me again. In the first three years after our marriage, Ronan trained desperately. Every time he went on dangerous missions or fought off Rogues, he’d tuck my photo into his breast pocket. I handled the household, being his most reliable support at home. Later, Ronan successfully became Alpha. His prestige grew higher and higher, and all kinds of people started surrounding him. Until I found a lipstick mark that wasn’t mine on the inside of his shirt collar. “A young woman was injured in the leg by Rogues. I helped her to the hospital and it got smudged by accident!” He irritably yanked open his collar. “Nyla, can you stop being so paranoid all the time?” “It’s because I’m afraid of you betraying me! Ronan, we said we’d be together forever, not even one day less!” We began fighting endlessly. I checked his mission records, his communication logs, even secretly followed and monitored him when he went to work. It was as if Ronan did it out of spite—he really started having affairs. He cycled through woman after woman. My body and soul suffered unimaginable torment. At his worst, Ronan deliberately displayed scratch marks left by other women on his back to provoke me. “Satisfied?” he sneered. “Didn’t you want to investigate? Now you’ve found out.” I felt like I was losing my mind. I knew I should let go, but I couldn’t. After all these years with Ronan, we’d already grown into each other’s flesh and blood. Separating would be bloody and raw. Staying together was mutual torture. But a year ago, he suddenly became well-behaved, suddenly changed his attitude, distanced himself from all the women around him, keeping only one young woman. I sent people to investigate. The moment I saw Vivian’s photo, I collapsed. The face in the photo looked exactly like me at eighteen—pure and clear. Ronan would rather love a substitute than love me again. That night, I lay in the bathtub and slit my wrists with a special dagger I’d bought from a witch. When Ronan broke down the door, his fingers were trembling. He held me and rushed to the hospital, his eyes frighteningly red: “Nyla! Have you lost your mind?! We’ll live well together. I promise, from now on it’s only you. I won’t see anyone else!” Lying in the hospital bed, I just felt tired. So tired I couldn’t even cry. And it was that very day that a Beta guard from Ashclaw Pack found me and handed me a yellowed file. “Nyla, we’ve discovered you’re the lost daughter of Ashclaw Pack’s former Alpha and Luna. Years ago, Rogues attacked Ashclaw Pack. Your parents sacrificed themselves protecting the pack. You also went missing in that attack. Later, your uncle became Ashclaw Pack’s Alpha. All these years, he’s never stopped looking for you.” I gripped that file, my fingertips ice cold. After the Beta guard left, I was drawn as if possessed to the window. In the garden below, Ronan was holding Vivian tightly in his arms. “I’m sorry, Vivian. She’s emotionally unstable and has attempted suicide before. She’s been hurt psychologically… I can’t leave her at a time like this.” “But trust me. Once her condition stabilizes, I’ll give you an answer.” The two kissed inseparably, like a pair of star-crossed lovers. In that moment, I felt the connected flesh being torn apart, ripped into a huge hole. The pain was so intense I couldn’t make a sound. On the seventh day lying in that hospital bed, I suddenly understood. I had to leave Ronan and personally sever all of this.

For seven straight days, Ronan didn’t return to the territory residence. I didn’t ask. I just started having someone draft divorce papers and organizing my personal belongings. Ronan and I had several properties. I usually lived in the one on the outskirts. But I had some things stored at the house Ronan and I shared in the city center. I decided to go there to retrieve them, but on the way, I suddenly felt pain. I knew—Ronan was having another affair. When I reached the city center house, I heard a woman’s delicate laughter and a man’s suppressed panting inside. Through the crack in the door, Vivian’s performance outfit was scattered on the floor. Ronan had her pinned against the wall, thrusting violently. The hand gripping her waist still wore our wedding ring on the ring finger. I clenched my palms so hard they ached, slowly exhaled, and closed the door. I didn’t go in. What would be the point of barging in? To tear and claw like a hysterical woman? Or to cry and recount all these years of devotion like a resentful wife? It was meaningless. A man who’d already replaced me in his heart—even if I won him back, it would only be an empty shell. I hurried downstairs, but Ronan, who’d chased after me, grabbed my wrist. His breathing was still unsteady, his collar askew. “What are you doing here?” I pulled my hand back, face calm: “Passing by, wanted to get some things. The door wasn’t open, so I left.” He stiffly made an excuse: “Vivian said she wanted a place to practice piano. I just lent her the key… Don’t overthink it.” I didn’t bother exposing this clumsy excuse and turned to leave. Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass came from inside the house, followed by flames shooting up! Ronan’s expression changed drastically. He clamped my chin, frightening fury burning in his eyes: “You did this?! Nyla, I thought you’d really come to your senses. Didn’t expect you to use this kind of tactic!” “Let me make this clear—I’m the one who let Vivian stay here! If anything happens to her, I absolutely won’t forgive you!” He roughly shoved me aside and rushed into the fire. I was about to leave, but suddenly remembered—the marriage certificate and the belongings of my parents that the Beta secretary had brought me were still locked in the old safe in that house. I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the hallway, smashed the glass, and climbed through the window into the heat wave. Inside, thick smoke billowed. Ronan was carrying Vivian out. Seeing me, his eyes turned cold: “What are you doing adding to the chaos?!” I ignored him and headed straight for the bedroom. Flames had already climbed up the curtains. The safe was next to the burning wardrobe. “Nyla! Are you crazy?! Get out!” Ronan roared from the doorway. I lunged toward the safe and turned the combination. The moment the door popped open, the burning chandelier overhead crashed down with a thunderous crash! Ronan instinctively shielded Vivian beneath him and retreated quickly. I was thrown by the blast. Glass shards cut my skin, blood instantly soaking my clothes. I gritted my teeth and pulled out the document pouch, clutching it tightly to my chest. Smoke choked into my lungs, my vision gradually blurring. Before consciousness sank into darkness, I heard Ronan’s footsteps carrying Vivian out, and the faint sound of sirens in the distance. When I woke again, I was lying in a hospital room. Ronan was opening the document pouch I’d risked my life to protect. Inside was the marriage certificate. “The marriage certificate? You risked your life for this?” I reached out and took the pouch back. Good thing Ronan hadn’t seen my parents’ belongings in the document pouch. As for his question—without the marriage certificate, how could I process the divorce? Ronan looked at me clutching the document pouch tightly, his brows furrowed: “All three of us would have been fine. You had to do this absurd thing to make me choose between you, to prove whether you’re the most important?” “I saved Vivian first because she was closer to me.” I stared at the hospital room’s white ceiling and murmured a faint “Mm.” “Nyla.” His tone softened, trying to explain. “Since I’ve already decided to return to our family, I won’t have any more entanglements with Vivian. Vivian… her family’s struggling. I’m just giving her some help, temporarily arranging housing.” Vivian wasn’t doing well, so he helped her right into bed to have sex. I finally lifted my eyes to look at him. My eyes were like stagnant water, without a ripple, abnormally calm. “I know. I understand.”

This calm was driving him insane. He stood up abruptly, but caught sight of the large burn on my arm. “Nyla, one injury wasn’t enough? You need more injuries to tie me down?” “Not anymore. I won’t be foolish again.” He wanted to say something, but the encrypted communicator rang. He quickly walked to the window to answer. I couldn’t hear the content clearly, only vaguely caught Vivian’s tearful voice. Ronan gave some low instructions, then turned to look at me: “There’s an urgent pack matter. I need to go to work. Rest and recover.” With that, he turned and left. Over the next several days, I stayed quietly in the hospital. Ronan had people send supplements and flowers. The internal phone rang daily too. I always had the duty nurse answer, only saying “Condition stable, no need for visits.” The day I was discharged, I went to settle the bill. Just as I handed over the invoice, an old woman shoved me aside. “My son-in-law is Pathseekers Pack’s Alpha. Let me go first.” I frowned: “Please wait in line.” The old woman shot me a look: “Who are you? My son-in-law is Pathseekers Pack Alpha Ronan! If you delay me getting medicine, can you take responsibility?” Before she finished speaking, Ronan had already rushed over from the other end of the corridor with Vivian. He pulled me aside and lowered his voice: “Vivian’s mother has a bad heart and can’t handle emotional stress. As Luna, you should let her go first. It’s only right.” Vivian supported her gasping mother, eyes reddening: “Nyla, I’m sorry… My mom’s old illness flared up. I was afraid she wouldn’t use expensive medicine, so I said Ronan was my boyfriend… Please don’t blame him. He’s just soft-hearted, can’t stand seeing elderly people suffer.” I quietly looked at the three of them. So because Vivian’s mother was sick, he left me injured and alone in the hospital? Forget it. None of it mattered anymore. I nodded and turned to leave. I’d only taken two steps when I heard Vivian’s tearful whisper: “Ronan, is Nyla angry? Will she do what she did last time again… I’m really afraid of affecting your future…” Ronan’s voice was soft but carried clearly: “Don’t overthink it. She grew up without parents. She can’t understand your feelings.” My fingers clenched suddenly, knuckles white. Step by step, I walked through the hospital corridor. Ronan’s footsteps chased from behind: “Nyla, I’ll take you home.” I didn’t turn back. Instead, I quickened my pace. Suddenly a rushing werewolf burst out and knocked me down. I fell hard to the ground, my arm burn seeping blood again. The fall was brutal. Something in my chest seemed to shatter completely. I bit down hard, nails digging into my palms, but tears rolled down beyond my control. Since childhood, I’d feared Christmas most. Watching the warm light through other families’ windows, hearing the laughter inside—that envy was like a dull knife cutting flesh. Ronan knew better than anyone that this was my deepest wound. But now, to comfort Vivian, he personally tore this scar open again and again. He rushed over and picked me up, voice suppressing anger: “Nyla! Do you have to be so stubborn?!” Before he finished speaking, a thermos flew through the air! Scalding soup splashed across my face. Vivian’s mother stood a few steps away, shaking with rage: “Shameless! Seducing my son-in-law?! I’ll teach you to seduce!” She rushed up and slapped me. I was struck so hard my head turned, falling to the ground. Then the cane came down heavily on my shoulder. A dull thud as bone met impact. Ronan grabbed Vivian’s mother’s cane before she could swing it again: “Calm down! It’s not what you think!” “Then what is it?!” Vivian’s mother shrieked. “This mistress throwing herself at you, you think I’m blind?!” I braced myself against the ground and stood: “Control your daughter! Who’s the mistress is crystal clear!” But Ronan whipped around, using a rapid whisper only we could hear: “She has severe heart disease, she can’t handle stress! Nyla, I’m begging you, don’t make a scene right now!” Then he quickly supported Vivian’s mother: “You’ve misunderstood. Nyla is my friend. She’s had psychological trauma, her emotions aren’t very stable…” He even pulled my medical records from his pocket. Vivian’s mother glanced at them and spat: “Brain problems? No wonder her parents died young, lacks proper upbringing!” Ronan half-supported, half-guided her away. From beginning to end, he never looked back at me once. I sat on the ground, watching their backs, unable to even cry anymore. A kind head nurse helped me back to the ward and rebandaged my wounds. “Luna Nyla,” she asked carefully, “Do you need… to notify the Beta guards?” I shook my head: “No need. Process my discharge.” Back at my home, I started packing. My phone vibrated, the screen lighting up. Vivian had updated her status. In the photo she wore Ronan’s jacket, leaning against his chest, caption: “Meeting you through the smoke of war, worth all the pain.” I calmly swiped past the screen and clicked “Unfollow.” Then I placed the divorce agreement I’d already signed on the table, making sure Ronan would see it the moment he came home. Downstairs, the car the guards had reserved for me had arrived. I got in and gave my destination: “Airport.” The car started, driving out of the residence gates. Just then, a black SUV came from the opposite direction, passing us. The back window was half-down. Ronan was turning his head talking to someone beside him. Vivian leaned on his shoulder, smiling brilliantly. The two cars sped in opposite directions. In the rearview mirror, the home I’d lived in for so many years grew farther and farther away, finally shrinking to a dot. Having sex with him at eighteen, exchanging wedding rings in the marriage hall at twenty, watching woman after woman beside him at twenty-eight… All the scenes flashed before my eyes, then were left far behind. It was all over. Now, I was going to find my parents. I was going to the Ashclaw pack they had protected.

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