Married for three years, and now, finally, a positive pregnancy test. My hands trembled as I stared at the two faint lines, a joy so fierce it almost hurt. This was the baby I had fought for, enduring countless hormone injections and heartbreaking disappointments. I was about to call my husband, Simon, to give him the surprise of his life, when a text message lit up my phone. It was a shared notification, a booking confirmation from Royal Caribbean cruises. “Dear Mr. Jones, your waterbed service has been upgraded to a swing waterbed. We wish you a pleasant stay.” A sweet smile touched my lips. Of course. It had to be a birthday surprise for me. But that evening, when Simon came home, he held me close, his eyes filled with an apology that felt all too real. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “I have to go on a business trip. I won’t be back for your birthday.” The light in my eyes died. I hid my shock, my hand slowly falling from my belly. The words “I’m pregnant” caught in my throat and stayed there. 1 After dropping the bomb, Simon disappeared into the bathroom. Maybe it was my imagination, but ever since we started trying for a baby, his touch had become less frequent, more hesitant. Sometimes, he would just look at me and say, “Sweetheart, have you lost weight?” or, “Why don’t you get a facial? I thought all women liked that stuff.” All these little moments, these seemingly innocent comments, now flooded my mind, each one a tiny, sharp piece of glass. In the middle of the night, some unseen force pulled me toward his phone. I opened his Amazon app. Order after order of condoms and sex toys stared back at me. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob, my body wracked with tremors. The earliest order… it dated back to the second year of our marriage. In the darkness, I looked at the man sleeping soundly beside me. Only one thought echoed in the sudden, silent void of my mind. He had someone to compare me to. Simon Jones was cheating on me. The next morning, Simon left with his suitcase. I hailed a cab and followed him at a distance. Ding. A text from him. “Sweetheart, I’m almost at the airport. About to take off. You go have fun with your friends, okay? It’s on me.” “Sweetheart, I miss you already.” A wave of nausea rolled through me. Fifteen minutes later, I watched his car pull up to the Port of Miami. The massive, colorful sign seemed to mock me. I felt the world tilt on its axis. I saw him take a picture with his phone, then make a call. The expression on his face—a soft, sweet tenderness I, his wife, had never seen—was a knife to my heart. The cab driver, startled by my deathly pale face, practically shoved me out of his car. I hid behind a large decorative pillar and watched my husband, the man who was supposed to be on a “business trip,” board the cruise ship. Then, another text. It was a video. “Sweetheart, it’s so hot here. Missing you every second.” I saved the video and clicked on the ‘details’ tab. The recording date was from a week ago. He had lied to me. Again. In that moment, I was almost grateful for his old-fashioned habits. He only used text messages, never social media. It made getting the raw, unedited footage so much easier. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen, a chill that had nothing to do with the July heat. But the physical pain was nothing, not even a fraction of the agony ripping through my heart. I sank to the ground, watching the crowds of happy people ebb and flow around me. My hand trembled as I dialed his number. As always, he answered almost immediately. “What’s wrong, baby? You miss me already?” His voice was always so gentle, like a soft breeze. But now, it felt like a silken blade, each word a fatal cut. “Simon,” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the distant cruise ship, unfocused and devoid of light. “Do you love me?” He paused for a second, then answered without hesitation. “Of course, I love you, sweetheart. Why would you ask that?” But he didn’t know that I could hear it. The soft rustle of clothes, the friction of skin on skin. It was faint, but it was there. I didn’t speak again. In a fit of self-torture, I listened to the muffled groans and heavy breathing on the other end of the line, my heart twisting into a tight, painful knot. The sky, clear just moments before, suddenly darkened, the clouds heavy with unshed rain. I pressed a hand to my stomach, unable to tell if the moisture on my face was from the sky or from my own eyes. “It’s nothing,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “Simon, when you get back, I have a gift for you.” He grunted a distracted “mm-hmm,” and then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he hung up. On the way to the hospital, I scheduled an abortion. Lying on the operating table, I could feel a life, a tiny spark I had wanted so desperately, being extinguished. When the anesthesia wore off, I searched for the Royal Caribbean’s port schedule. It had departed from Miami, with stops in Nassau and Cozumel, before returning. Then, I called my sister. “Your husband… didn’t he invest in one of Royal Caribbean’s projects?” “Yeah, he did. Why? What’s wrong?” My fingers tightened into a fist. “The cruise that left Miami today… can you get me on board when it docks in Nassau in two days?” My sister’s voice sharpened with concern. “Of course. But, Anna, what are you going to do?” The trembling I had been suppressing finally broke through. “I’m going to catch a cheater.” 2 “You’re what?!” My sister’s reaction was explosive. Everyone knew how hard Simon and I had fought to be together. Even to me, it felt like a dream that had suddenly turned into a nightmare. “He’s cheating on me,” I said, my voice hollow. “I found out last night.” The words tasted like ash in my mouth. “Anna, where are you?” I touched my stomach, the tears finally coming, soaking my pale, drawn face. “At the hospital. I… I got rid of the baby.” On the other end of the line, I heard her frantic footsteps come to a dead stop, followed by a roar of pure, unadulterated fury. “That bastard! I’m going to kill him!” After we hung up, another text from Simon arrived. “Sweetheart, I miss you so much, my heart aches. It’s all old guys here. I need my beautiful, sweet-smelling wife.” I used to call this constant stream of messages “dependency.” Now I knew it for what it was: the guilty conscience of a man caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I couldn’t even bear to think about it. Had every business trip for the past three years been a lie? The hospital room door opened. “Anna…” my sister, Kate, walked in, her eyes red. “Did you find anything?” Just before, I had asked her to use her husband’s access to look up the passenger information for Simon’s cabin. She nodded, practically vibrating with rage. “It’s a woman named Veronica Vance.” My head snapped up. “Veronica Vance?!” My hands started to shake, my breathing ragged. I couldn’t believe it. The woman I had personally promoted to be my executive assistant at my own company. Kate looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. “That son of a bitch! I’m going to ruin his company! Cheating on you with his own secretary!” A thought struck me. I opened Veronica’s Instagram profile. I had stumbled upon it by chance, a random suggestion from the algorithm. She didn’t know I followed her. The latest post was a picture of the ocean, her hand forming a heart shape around a man’s bare back. The caption read: “They were right. Older men really know what they’re doing.” My fingers froze. The blood in my veins turned to ice. The room started to spin. The post before that. “They say the right person will be a part of your future. And he is.” The picture was of an internal promotion assessment at our company. Next to Simon’s name, the word ‘Approved’ was circled. My numb fingers kept scrolling down, a masochistic compulsion. “365 days with my old man today! He has a surprise for me, so excited!” The picture was a silhouette of two people kissing, reflected in the window of a Ferris wheel. Tears I could no longer hold back streamed down my face, blurring the sharp, painful words on the screen. The Ferris wheel. Of all places. The one place he always said he was too busy to take me back to. The place where we first fell in love. Simon, you are so cruel. I read through her posts again and again, trying to burn these ugly images into my brain, to replace the beautiful memories I held so dear. “Anna…” Kate’s worried voice pulled me back to the present. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “Maybe… maybe you shouldn’t go.” I shook my head, my grief hardening into a cold resolve. “No. I’m going. The ones who deserve to live in the shadows are them, not me.” The next day, Kate and I flew to Nassau. We boarded the ship at the port. The moment I stepped on deck, it was as if my eyes had a built-in tracking device. I spotted him immediately, the tallest, most handsome man in the crowd. I was hidden behind sunglasses and a mask, a ghost in the boisterous crowd. No one noticed me. I watched the man who always complained that ice cream was too sweet for him, take a bite of her leftover cone. I watched the man who always hated public displays of affection, hold her at the bow of the ship and shout “I love you” to the wind. I watched him pull a ring from his pocket and slide it onto her ring finger. I looked down at my own bare hands. And felt the last of my soul drain away. 3 Looking at my own reflection in a nearby window, I felt a surge of bitter, tragic laughter. I had defied my family, given up everything to be with him. Back then, all we had was love. We started from nothing in a tiny, 200-square-foot apartment, and built the empire that was now Jones Industries. But why? Why was the reward for all my courage, all my faith, this bottomless well of bitterness? The tears I had been holding back finally came, a torrent I couldn’t stop. They were endless, like the corrosive sorrow that was eating away at my heart. Kate stood beside me, seething. “I’m going to rip those two to shreds!” I grabbed her arm, shaking my head. Maybe it was a pathetic, foolish hope, but I still had to try. I called Simon. I watched him take out his phone, look at the screen, hesitate, and then decline the call. My vision blurred. But, like a moth to a flame, I dialed again, desperate for some kind of answer. This time, Veronica snatched the phone from his hand and, with his silent, indulgent permission, declined the call again. My arm fell limply to my side. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. I heard Veronica pout. “Simon, how much longer do I have to hide?” Her voice was thick with a manufactured grievance. “We love each other. Why can’t we just be together?” Simon pocketed his phone without another glance. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her again and again. “Shh, baby, don’t be difficult. I just… I don’t know how to break it to her.” His voice was the same soft, gentle murmur he always used with me. So nothing I had was ever truly mine. He continued to soothe her. “Don’t worry. As soon as I get back, I’ll tell her, okay? Hmm? Don’t be mad. Give me a smile.” Veronica buried her face in his chest, a playful pout on her lips. “You’re terrible!” I hid behind a cluster of fake palm trees, my tears long since run dry. My eyes, burning and raw, stared at them, unblinking, a self-inflicted torture. And that last, pathetic flicker of hope was crushed into dust by Simon’s empty words. Kate couldn’t stand it anymore. She dragged me back to our cabin. She wanted to say something, but seeing my vacant, shattered expression, she wisely kept her mouth shut. My phone buzzed again. “Baby? What’s wrong? I was in a meeting, couldn’t answer.” I didn’t reply. The words were nauseating, an insult. Then, a notification: a friend has updated their story. I clicked on it. It was Veronica. “This time, it’s finally for real!” I walked out onto the balcony, staring at the vast, endless ocean. A cold numbness began to spread through me. I pulled myself together and placed a video call to Simon. This time, he answered instantly. “Baby, what’s wrong? Why did you call so many times?” Looking at his familiar face on the screen, I felt a wave of disgust. “Nothing, honey. I just missed you. I’m out with Kate today. Where are you?” He smiled, that same carefree, charming smile. “At a client’s office. You two have fun. I just transferred two million to your account.” I saw the text notification for the transfer. I ended the call without another word. Just then, Kate burst into the room, out of breath. “I found out. Tonight, in the main ballroom, there’s going to be a huge, public marriage proposal.” My eyes turned to ice. A cold, cynical smile touched my lips. “Simon Jones?” She nodded, her face contorted in a grimace of disgust. My fingers tightened around my phone until my knuckles were white. “Good. Then we’ll have to go give the happy couple a gift.” 4 I sat on the balcony, unmoving. From day, to dusk, to night. I stared at the ocean, my vision a constant, blurry haze. It finally dawned on me. The end for Simon and me was this: two people sharing a bed, but living in different worlds, drifting further and further apart. The love was real, once. The lack of love is just as real now. Memories played on a loop in my mind, only to be shattered by the brutal hand of betrayal. During that time, Kate used her husband’s credentials to patch me into the ballroom’s security feed. I watched him sitting in a corner, Veronica perched on his lap. She playfully slipped the ring from his finger—the ring I had made for him with my own hands—and dropped it into a glass of red wine. Simon just smiled, indulging her every whim. I zoomed in. The ring, engraved with both our names, lay at the bottom of the glass, a tiny, sunken treasure. My heart seized for a moment. Then, I heard Simon’s voice through the feed. “Be good, now. It’ll be a problem if she finds out.” “I have a surprise for you later.” Veronica smiled, her arms wrapping around his neck. “What is it?” I laughed coldly to myself. I chose that exact moment of their tender intimacy to call him. Simon gestured for her to be quiet before answering. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” My fingers trembled. “Nothing. I just saw an ad for a Royal Caribbean cruise online. It looked beautiful. I want to go.” On the other end of the line, there was a sharp intake of breath. I watched the man on the monitor push Veronica off his lap, his eyes darting around nervously. He let out a long, slow breath before answering. “Okay. As soon as I get back from this trip, I’ll take you, baby. How does that sound?” “Sounds great,” I said, my voice light. “I wonder if that day will ever come.” A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Sweetheart, where are you?” I laughed. “At home, of course. Where else would I be?” The man on the screen let out another sigh of relief, yanking at his tie in frustration. He forced his voice to remain calm. “Good. You be a good girl and wait for me at home.” I didn’t answer. I just hung up. I watched him stare at his phone, frowning. Veronica had to call his name several times before he snapped out of his trance. Eight p.m. Kate and I were already in the beautifully decorated ballroom, hidden in a dark corner. Veronica entered alone. As she walked, strangers handed her a single red rose. She covered her mouth, her eyes welling with tears, lost in her own fairytale. The man of her dreams was waiting for her in the center of the room, holding a ring. “Simon…” she whispered, tears streaming down her happy face. I smirked. I was actually looking forward to this. Simon dropped to one knee, holding the ring up to her, his eyes full of adoration. “Will you marry me?” Amidst the cheers and applause of the crowd, Veronica extended her hand. “I do—” “You do what?” My voice cut through the air, shattering the dream. Every head in the room turned to look at me as I emerged from the shadows. In the center of the room, the two of them were frozen, their expressions a priceless mixture of shock and horror. I smiled, walking slowly towards them. Under Veronica’s stunned, disbelieving gaze, I took the ring from Simon’s hand. And dropped it into a glass of red wine. Then I pulled out the pregnancy test and held it up for the slowly rising, pale-faced Simon to see. “Honey,” I said, my voice sweet as poison, “I do believe bigamy is illegal.”

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After curing my fiancé Eugene’s five-year paralysis, I discovered he’d hired a college girl as his “practice partner.” Tabloids buzzed about the Thorne heir dragging her into his room nightly, her moans echoing through halls. When I confronted him, his excuse was pitiful: “Vivienne, I needed to regain stamina before marrying you. Just 99 more days.” On day 91, I arrived with my acupuncture kit—only to hear him promise to keep her potential baby: “Vivienne’s just an orphan my family took in. What right does she have?” My trembling hands returned the silver needle to its case. I never told him: missing nine consecutive treatments would make his paralysis return permanently. Today was his last chance. 01 The sounds from the room—panting, moans—grew louder, more grating. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned to leave, but my shoulder brushed against a vase on a pedestal by the door. The shattering porcelain startled Eugene. He threw the door open, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw my own, red and brimming with tears. “You heard all of that?” I managed a tight, painful nod, my throat closing up. Before I could speak, he did. “Well, since you heard, there’s no point in hiding it.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “I don’t believe in abortion. The pregnancy was an accident, and it would be inconvenient for Chloe to raise a child while she’s still in school. After we’re married, we’ll just register the baby under your name.” I stared at his entitled expression, my mind a complete blank. When had the man who once cherished my every mood become so utterly careless with my feelings? He had spent five years in that wheelchair. To speed his recovery, I had spent every moment I wasn’t performing acupuncture right by his side. Five years, day in and day out. He knew me better than anyone. And still, he chose to test my limits with one cruel absurdity after another. Seeing my silence, Eugene grew impatient. “You’re a healer, Vivienne. Surely you’re not going to hold a grudge against an unborn child.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and looked at the man I had once adored. “Of course, I wouldn’t. It’s just… I’m not good enough for you now. Let’s just use this opportunity to call off the engagement. You can marry Chloe.” His face tightened instantly. He lunged forward, his fingers digging into my wrist. “You’d break off our engagement over something so trivial? Don’t you realize everything I’ve done has been for you?” He spun around, dragging a disheveled Chloe from the room. He yanked at her silk robe, tearing it open to reveal a canvas of angry marks and fading bruises across her skin. “Do you see this, Vivienne?” he demanded. “In the heat of the moment, I can’t always control myself. These scars should have been on your body. But I couldn’t bear to hurt you, so I used Chloe to practice. She’s sacrificed so much for you. Why can’t you accept her child?” His sanctimonious speech made my vision go red. He was cheating on me, blatantly, yet he framed it as a noble act done in my name. “It’s okay,” Chloe murmured, her voice trembling. “This baby shouldn’t exist anyway. I’ll get rid of it, so it doesn’t upset Vivienne.” She looked at me, her eyes wide and pleading. “Our contract is up in nine days, Mr. Thorne and I. For all my hard work, could you please just… stop trying to get his attention with these little games?” Her words seemed to remind Eugene of his own timeline. His tone softened slightly. “Vivienne, we agreed. After the 99 days, I’m all yours. I’ll spend these last nine days with Chloe, making it up to her. You should go start planning our wedding.” At the words “making it up to her,” Chloe’s voice turned syrupy. “Oh, Mr. Thorne… does that mean you’ll take me horseback riding? And hiking in the mountains?” 02 Eugene chuckled, pinching her chin lightly. “You’ve given so much for the sake of my happiness with Vivienne. Of course, I’ll grant you a few small requests.” Chloe shot me a look over his shoulder, a flicker of triumph on her flushed face. “Would you like to join us, Vivienne?” I laughed coldly to myself. Enjoy these last nine days, Chloe. Squeeze every last drop of fun out of them. You won’t get another chance. “No, thank you,” I said softly. I turned to leave, but Chloe’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I frowned, and in the next instant, she threw herself to the ground. Before I could even process what had happened, she was looking up at Eugene, her eyes filling with tears. “Mr. Thorne, please don’t be angry with Vivienne. I’m sure she’s just upset, that’s why she—” Eugene didn’t let her finish. He charged forward, slamming his body into mine. I stumbled backward, caught completely off guard. My hand landed directly on the sharp shards of the broken vase. A blinding pain shot up my arm, and a scream tore from my throat. But Eugene didn’t even look at me. He was already cradling Chloe, his expression a mask of tender concern. When he finally turned his gaze on me, his eyes were chips of ice. “Vivienne, how could you be so vicious? Apologize!” I stared at him, stunned. I didn’t know what hurt more—the gash in my palm or the stone of betrayal crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe. During the five years I cared for him, the words he said most often were: “Vivienne, you’re so kind. Whether I ever walk again or not, I will always protect you.” When he first stood up from the wheelchair, he was so ecstatic he tried to lift me up and spin me around. “Vivienne, I can walk! You’re my lucky star. I swear, for the rest of my life, I will never let you suffer.” I was just as happy as he was, waiting for him to fulfill his promise and marry me. Instead, I got a sugar baby. When I found out, he knelt before me, begging. “Vivienne, I promised you’d never suffer any hardship, not even in our marriage bed.” I begged him to end this ridiculous charade. I warned him that his legs couldn’t handle too much strain so soon, or he’d risk a relapse. He reacted as if I’d struck him. “I’m trying to give you the perfect wedding night, and you’re cursing me to be paralyzed again? Vivienne, when did you become so malicious?” He was the one who called me kind. He was the one who now called me malicious. From that day on, he paraded Chloe around openly, showering her with affection. Just like now, he condemned me without a single question. “I didn’t push her.” I wouldn’t admit to something I didn’t do. “Mr. Thorne, my stomach!” Chloe suddenly shrieked. “It hurts so much! Take me to the hospital!” Eugene forgot everything else. He swept her into his arms and rushed out the door. My palm was bleeding freely, but he didn’t spare me a single glance. There was a time when, if I pricked my own finger during his acupuncture sessions, he would fuss over me, calling a doctor to tend to the tiny wound. He used to say my hands were precious, that they were meant to heal people and had to be protected. The ping of a text message broke my reverie. [Vivienne. This time, you have to come with me.] I stared at the number, one I hadn’t seen in five years. Without hesitation, I typed back: [Okay.] I bandaged my own wound and was about to pack my things when Eugene returned. His face was a thundercloud. He grabbed me without a word and dragged me to his car. He didn’t speak the entire drive, until we screeched to a halt outside a slick downtown bar. “Today is Chloe’s birthday,” he said, his voice flat. “You hurt her. You’re going to go in there and apologize.” He hauled me out of the car and into a private room, shoving me so hard that my knees slammed against the floor. I gasped, cold sweat beading on my forehead. I looked up to see Chloe perched on a sofa, flanked by a few other college girls. One of them lined up several bottles of red wine in front of me. Chloe let out a little laugh. “Vivienne, thank you for coming to my birthday party. Drink all of this, and I’ll forgive you for pushing me.” I looked at Eugene in disbelief. He simply folded his arms. “You did something wrong. You have to accept the punishment.” 03 My fingernails dug into my wounded palm. A sharp, acidic pain bloomed in my chest. He knew. He knew I had a severe alcohol allergy. I pushed myself to my feet, my body trembling with defiance. “I didn’t push her. And I am not drinking.” Eugene’s face turned to stone. “Vivienne, you almost made her miscarry. Forcing you to drink a few bottles of wine is a mercy.” He gave a slight nod, and two of the girls grabbed my shoulders, holding me down while a third forced a bottle to my lips. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was no use. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eugene wrap an arm around Chloe, whispering something that made her smile sweetly up at him. My heart seized. The alcohol burned my throat like a blade. My breathing grew shallow, ragged. Panic clawed at me. I looked at Eugene, a silent plea for help. He glanced at me once, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before turning his back and leading Chloe out of the room. As soon as they were gone, one of the girls grabbed my face, her grip vicious. “You think an orphan like you can compete with Chloe for a man? I’ll pour this down your throat until you drown in it.” “Chloe said once she’s Mrs. Thorne, she’ll get us all positions at Thorne Corp.” My parents aren’t dead, I wanted to scream. They’re on a classified ten-year mission. I glared at them, summoning my last ounce of strength to shove the girls away. But as I staggered to my feet, a wine bottle smashed against the back of my head. The world exploded in a shower of black stars. My last conscious thought was of Eugene’s retreating back. “Eugene,” I whispered into the darkness, “I don’t love you anymore…” When I opened my eyes again, Eugene was sitting by the hospital bed. A flash of relief crossed his face when he saw I was awake, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Vivienne, Chloe almost miscarried. If she’d pressed charges, it would have been a real problem for you.” “There are only eight days left,” he said, his voice softer now. “Then I’ll be back by your side. I’ll plan the most magnificent wedding for us.” I looked at him, a bitter, mocking smile on my lips. Was it so hard for him to admit he’d fallen for Chloe? I would never marry him now, but my throat was so swollen I couldn’t form the words. My cold expression seemed to irritate him. He was about to say something else when Chloe herself walked in. “Oh, Vivienne, I’m so sorry,” she said, holding up my medical kit. “I was curious about your acupuncture tools, and I accidentally… well, they bent.” “And this box of cream…” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I don’t know what it is, but the smell made me want to vomit, so I flushed it down the toilet.” She spoke while clutching her nose, as if the memory of the scent was still torturing her. My gaze fell on my precious kit and the empty box that had held the proprietary Osseous Unguent. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the sharp, cold fury that sliced through me. I launched myself out of bed and snatched the items from her hands. The custom-made silver needles, a family heirloom passed down for three hundred years, were all bent and twisted. The box of unguent was empty. I couldn’t contain my rage any longer. I swung my hand back to slap her. But just as my palm was about to connect with her cheek, another hand intercepted mine, striking my own face with brutal force. I stared at Eugene in shock. He looked down at his own hand, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, before his brow furrowed in annoyance. “It was just a set of needles and some leftover cream. Is that any reason to lose your temper?” I clutched my stinging cheek, my voice a raw rasp. “Eugene, have you forgotten? The legs you were paralyzed in for five years… they work because of that set of needles and that cream.” “And you knew,” I whispered, the words tearing at my raw throat. “You knew they were all I have left of my mother. You knew how important they were.” A flicker of unease crossed his face. He remembered. He remembered what I had told him. The art of neuro-acupuncture was a secret passed down through my mother’s family for centuries. But the key to his recovery, the true miracle, was the Osseous Unguent.

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The day the true Ashworth heiress returned, my life ended. I became a ghost on the streets, fighting stray dogs for scraps from dumpsters. With a ruined face and missing arm, no one challenged me for meals. “Ugh, she’s not even wearing pants!” a passerby sneered. Dignity was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I devoured a discarded cake, shoving it into my mouth with what remained of my fingers. Then I noticed him—staring in horrified disbelief. “Must be losing my mind,” he muttered, “mistaking a homeless woman for Roxanne Ashworth.” As he walked away, his voice warm with love for his wife, my tears mixed with the last bitter bite. I’d walked a thousand miles for this final look at him. Now that I had it… it meant nothing. 01 This cake was incredible. It would keep the hunger at bay for at least three days. I lay back on the cold stone steps, letting out a soft, contented burp. The man pointed at me, his handsome face an unreadable mask. “Mark,” he said to his assistant, “take her to a shelter. Help her find her family.” The man named Mark crouched down, his gaze sweeping over me with undisguised contempt. “Mr. Gabel, she’s been a fixture around here for years. I saw her… ‘working’… with a few other vagrants last year, if you catch my drift.” He wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure you want to help someone like her?” I was used to that look. The disgust. I let my matted hair fall away from my face and lunged at him with a guttural cry. He yelped, stumbling backward and falling flat on his ass. The man—Ethan Gabel—flashed a brief look of surprise, then shook his head, a frown tightening his lips. “Never mind.” “Just get her out of here,” he commanded. “I don’t want her on the grounds of Gabel Enterprises again. It’s bad for the company’s image.” He looked at me, his eyes as cold as a winter sky, and in them, I saw the Ethan I remembered. “Roxanne hurt Natalia, stole from the family safe, and fled the country. This can’t be her.” His tenderness, his affection—that was reserved for Natalia Ashworth and Natalia alone. A bitter acid churned in my stomach. Before Mark could say another word, I used a nearby pillar to haul myself to my feet and began to shuffle away. Mark scrambled back to Ethan’s side. “Sir, you have an appointment for Ms. Ashworth’s prenatal check-up in an hour. Will you go directly to the hospital, or shall I have a car take you home to pick her up?” “Natalia can’t stand the way you guys drive,” Ethan’s voice softened, a note of pure adoration creeping in. “I’ll go get her myself. Three years of marriage, a month away from being a mother, and she’s still got the temperament of a child. I wonder who spoiled her so badly.” The words were like a physical blow, a spike of pain through my ears. I froze, my gaze falling to the small, faded heart tattoo on my wrist with the initials ‘E & C’ inside. We’d gotten them together, the night of our engagement party. Four years. A lifetime ago. They were married now. They were having a child. Tears I could no longer control burned their way down my cheeks. Two years, walking a thousand miles, just to get back to Crestfall City. Another two years, haunting these streets, just for a glimpse of him from afar. And now, my wish was granted. There were no more regrets left to have. Nearby, Mark nodded. “I’ll pick you up at 2 p.m., then.” Ethan took the car keys from his hand and started toward the parking garage. He noticed I was still standing there, unmoving, and shot me a glare. “Why haven’t you gotten rid of her yet?” Mark rushed over, his voice sharp. “What, are you waiting for me to call security to throw you out? You bums are all the same—lazy, freeloading, preying on people’s kindness. Gabel Enterprises is not a place you want to mess with.” As he spoke, a pair of patrolling security guards hurried over. “It’s her! She tried to steal the keys to the guardhouse last time.” “Get her out of here!” The words had barely left his mouth before their rubber batons came down on me. I crumpled to the ground, curling into a ball and covering my head with my one good arm. Just endure it, I told myself. Let them get it out of their system, and then you can leave. But one of the guards had other ideas. He kicked my mangled left hand, the one with only three fingers, and then stomped on it, grinding his boot into the fragile bones. “Maybe breaking this one will teach you a lesson.” “Let’s do it, boys! I’ll take the heat if anything happens!” A wave of pure terror washed over me. I knew what was coming. I risked one last look at Ethan, a final, silent goodbye, and squeezed my eyes shut. Ethan, I thought, in the next life, we will not meet again. But the blinding pain I expected never came. A sharp “Stop!” from Mark cut through the air, and then a strong hand gripped my wrist. Ethan Gabel yanked me to my feet, his face pale, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Where,” he demanded, his eyes locked on the faded ink, “did you get that ‘E & C’ tattoo?” 02 I stared up at him through my mess of hair, my face a roadmap of scars, and bit my lip until I tasted blood. What was I supposed to say? That I was her? That I was Roxanne Ashworth, the wild, headstrong girl who was once the bane of everyone’s existence? I, who had used my family’s power to force Ethan Gabel into an engagement. I, who had drugged him, then dragged his unconscious body to a tattoo parlor to brand us with matching symbols of a love he never wanted. I, who had watched him wake up, seething with a fury that was almost beautiful. Now, seeing me like this—a broken, homeless creature—would only bring him a grim satisfaction. His grip on my wrist was crushing, a vice of steel and ice. I tried to pull away, but he was immovable. Just then, his phone rang. I gestured weakly toward his pocket, but he didn’t move, his gaze still boring into me. It was Mark who finally answered the call. “Mrs. Gabel, yes. Mr. Gabel is just leaving the office now. He’ll be home shortly to take you to your appointment.” It must be Natalia. The icy fury in Ethan’s eyes thawed for a moment. He released my wrist, his voice regaining its commanding tone. “Take her to the shelter. Run a background check. Find out who she is.” He stared at me one last time before turning on his heel. “I want to know the second you have anything.” I watched him go, my eyes fixed on his retreating back long after he disappeared. Mark was efficient. Within the hour, I was not only at a shelter but in a private room. After I had washed, he returned with a doctor. The doctor examined the scars on my face, his expression grim. “My god,” he sighed. “Who did this to you? These wounds are at least three years old. A sharp blade, cut deep enough to graze bone. With her scar tissue, reconstructive surgery will be… difficult.” Even Mark, a man who I was sure had seen his share of unpleasantness, had to cover his mouth to stifle a gag. The doctor moved to my right side, gently rolling up the empty, tattered sleeve. The beam of his penlight illuminated the stump of my arm. “The right arm was severed. Hacked off, by the looks of it. Probably a cleaver or something similar.” He leaned in closer. “But it was clearly an amateur. Or maybe the blade was dull. See the hesitation marks? The ragged flesh? It was a brutal, clumsy job.” I looked down, a humorless smile twisting my lips. Natalia, who had never so much as harmed a fly, had complained that my bones were too hard. It took her more than a dozen swings to finally sever the limb. Did that count as an amateur? Mark let out a string of curses under his breath. “Jesus Christ. What kind of monster does something like this?” “That’s not all,” the doctor said, gently tilting my chin up. He shone the light into my mouth. “Her tongue… it’s been partially severed. She can’t speak properly.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with a pity that felt worse than any blow. “Young lady, who did you cross to end up like this?” I couldn’t stand their sympathetic gazes. They were a thousand times more painful than the guards’ batons. After Natalia was found and the DNA test proved she was the true Ashworth heiress, everyone I had ever slighted came for their revenge. Natalia had pointed at my right arm with a sweet, girlish smile. “Oh, Daisy, was it this arm she slapped you with? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you.” Her best friend had held a pair of pliers, and with a sickening crunch, had snipped off the tip of my tongue. As I screamed, Natalia had poured a bottle of high-proof gin over my face, the alcohol searing my skin. “Every time you scream,” she’d whispered, “I’ll cut you again.” “You stole Ethan from me,” she’d said, her voice a singsong of madness. “So I’ll steal your name, your family, your life.” “This is what you owe me, Roxanne.” The memories of those three days and nights of torture clawed their way back into my mind. I began to tremble uncontrollably, my teeth chattering with a violent, rhythmic clicking. The doctor quickly pulled a syringe from his bag and administered a sedative. As my body went limp, he carefully tied off my good arm and inserted a needle. “Her emotional state is extremely fragile, and she can’t communicate. I’ll take this blood sample and run it through the database for a match. We should have results in about three days.” 03 I drifted in a hazy state, half-asleep, half-drowning in memory. In my mind, I was back in the Ashworth mansion. After Natalia had broken my legs, she’d had me thrown into the cellar. I couldn’t make a sound, only listen to the happy chatter of the family I once called my own living their lives above me. On the fifth day of my disappearance, I heard my mother, Eleanor, speaking to Natalia in a hushed voice at the top of the cellar stairs. “It’s been a week since Roxanne came home. You two went out together that day, didn’t you come back together?” Natalia’s voice was the picture of innocence. “Oh, Mom, you know how Roxanne is. Such a snob. She can’t stand my friends. We went to Daisy’s house, but she left after a little while, said she had something to do. She’s probably shacked up with some new boyfriend.” Eleanor sounded worried. “That doesn’t seem right. Roxanne can be a handful, but she’s always been responsible. She never stays out all night without calling.” She was about to say more when my father, Richard Ashworth, cut her off. “Why are you still talking about that little monster?” His voice was a low growl. “I just went to open the safe. The cash is gone. So are the gold bars. It’s pretty damn obvious who took them.” “And look at Natalia’s leg!” he roared. “She was a rising star in the National Ballet Company, and that little witch pushed her down the stairs and broke it! Natalia may never dance again! And you’re worried about her? I hope she rots out there!” Any lingering concern Eleanor had for me vanished in the face of my father’s rage. “It’s all my fault!” she spat, her voice thick with regret. “I should have known when I saw she didn’t look like me. I should have done a DNA test in secret years ago. Think of all the hardship our Natalia endured with that servant woman. It’s only fair that Roxanne gets a taste of it.” “She’s just like her biological mother,” Eleanor declared. “Rotten to the core! Heartless! A vile, ungrateful wretch!” I clung to the crack in the cellar door, their curses stabbing into me, a pain far deeper than any physical wound. Seeing me lying on the damp floor like a gutted fish, Natalia had smiled, her face radiant. “Roxanne, Dad and Mom have agreed to let me marry Ethan.” “And I have you to thank for it,” she’d chirped. “After you threw away all my little gifts to him, he came to find me, to apologize and beg for my forgiveness. Thanks to you, we slept together that very night.” My eyes, dry for days, burned with a sudden fire. I turned my head slowly, my lips forming words that would not come out. Natalia’s smile widened. She stepped forward, grinding her heel onto two of my fingers. The agony was so intense it made my scalp tingle. I whimpered, struggling against the pain. So those little things I’d found in Ethan’s office—the hand-knitted scarf, the poorly-made clay mug—they were all from her. I had asked Ethan where they came from. He’d looked at me, his expression flat. “Jealous? They’re from a student I sponsor. If you like them, you can have them.” My possessiveness over Ethan was a fierce, ugly thing. While he was in a meeting, I’d swept everything that wasn’t from me into the trash. When he returned, he’d merely glanced at the clean desk. “You actually threw them out? You have quite a temper.” At the time, I truly believed he didn’t care. Natalia saw the despair in my eyes. She lifted her foot and brought a small hammer down on my already twisted fingers. “Don’t blame me for being cruel,” she whispered. “It was you who forced your way in. It was you who forced him to marry you.” “We were so close, Ethan and I. It was all your fault. Your fault. Your fault!” Natalia’s face twisted and warped before my eyes, growing larger and more grotesque until it consumed my vision. I snapped awake, gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was just a dream. Thank God. Hearing the movement, Mark stood up from a chair in the corner, a frown on his face. “Mr. Gabel,” he said into his phone, “she’s awake. Are you planning to come back to ask about the tattoo?”

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The day my husband’s plane crashed into the sea, I broke down. I followed him into the waves, ready to die. It was only after they pulled me from the water that I remembered it was April Fool’s Day. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I heard the teasing voice of his mistress. “Oh, darling, your wife is just madly in love with you,” she purred. “Can you imagine how she’d freak out if she knew you were just messing with her?” He chuckled. “Freak out? Please. After giving birth, Nora’s become tamer than a rabbit. Just make sure none of you let this slip. This is the last time I need to test her love for me.” A wave of laughter followed, along with promises to keep the secret. Lying on the stretcher, I found I had no more tears to cry. What my husband, John, didn’t know was that this was also the last chance I was giving him. From that moment on, my love for him flatlined. 1 I woke up in a hospital room. A perfectly peeled apple sat on the bedside table. In the past, whenever I was sick, John never showed his face. He’d just send his assistant with a pile of expensive supplements. Seeing my blank expression, he picked up a slice of apple and held it to my lips. “So happy to see I’m not dead you’re speechless?” I turned my head, my eyes catching a faint love bite on his neck. My voice was calm, eerily so. “John, let’s get a divorce.” His hand froze. He popped the apple slice into his own mouth, crunching it loudly, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Then he made a call right in front of me. Soon, his assistant brought our son, Leo. In the few months since I’d last seen him, he’d shot up in height. But he was still a stranger to me. I’d barely finished nursing Leo when John’s grandfather took him away. I was only allowed to see him during holiday dinners at the family estate. I knew why John had brought him. In the past, whenever he’d taken his fun a little too far, and I’d given him the silent treatment, he’d send our son to placate me. I’d lost count of how many times he’d used that trick. But that trump card was no longer my weakness. Seeing Leo, who had grown a little chubby, sparked no joy in me. He frowned, a perfect miniature of his father. Even the way he said my name carried John’s dismissive tone. “Nora, you’re still so boring. Dad, I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and have Miss Lily play with me…” Miss Lily? No wonder he never called me “Mom.” He already had a replacement. John’s eyes narrowed. Leo immediately clammed up and tried to crawl into my arms. “Daddy’s being mean to me!” I would have always defended him before. But this time, I pushed him away. “Go cry to your Miss Lily.” Two identical faces, one large and one small, stared at me in shock. I pressed on. “John, I’m serious about the divorce. This isn’t a joke.” A flash of anger crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by a sneer. “Nora, if you play hard to get for too long, it’s not going to end well. Piss me off, and you’ll never see your son again.” So that was it. He thought this was another one of my tactics. I remembered last year, when news broke that he’d sent some starlet to the hospital with serious internal injuries. I’d demanded a divorce then, too. He’d locked me in a room for six months, refusing to let me see Leo. That’s when I finally learned my lesson. And that’s when I realized I couldn’t love him anymore. “John, after I’m discharged, I’m moving out.” I said it again, my voice firm, my gaze locked on his. Sensing I wasn’t playing games, his expression turned grave. “You want a divorce? You’ll have to earn it.” Only after he left with Leo did I pick up my phone and text a number I didn’t have saved. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll leave after the dance competition next week.” After leaving the hospital, I went back to the villa to pack a small bag before heading to the dance studio. Now that I had made my decision, I wanted no more entanglements with John. 2 When I walked into the studio, everyone stared at me with an unreadable expression. A colleague pulled me into a corner, her voice low with concern. “Nora, what did you do to tick off Mrs. Sterling? She not only stole your spot in the competition, but she also had the director fire you.” Mrs. Sterling? I followed her gaze to the center of the stage. There stood Lily, dripping in gold and diamonds, looking every bit the pampered mistress. I’d almost forgotten that she paraded around the studio calling herself “Mrs. Sterling.” Right now, she was basking in the admiring glances of the other dancers. Then she saw me in the shadows. “Oh, Nora,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “I’m so sorry. I guess my dancing is just a better fit for the competition. That’s why the director gave the only spot to me.” I didn’t care what games she played before, but this competition was important to me. I wasn’t about to let her have it. “Lily, what level is your dancing at, exactly? The level where you perform for men in private rooms? And while we’re at it, why don’t you tell everyone who you really are?” She had started as a small-time influencer, a livestreamer showing off her “talents.” She’d only gotten into this prestigious studio because of John. She used to be meek as a mouse around me. The fact that she dared to challenge me now was the last straw. Lily’s face flushed crimson. She was speechless, tears welling in her eyes. Just then, a hand snaked around her waist. John. He looked at me, his eyes radiating pressure. “And who are you to question her?” My lips moved, but the words were bitter in my throat. His mother had died because of me. Nine years of marriage, even giving him a son—it wasn’t enough to repay that debt. He’d once grabbed me by the throat, drunk and furious, and snarled, “Nora, you married into this family to atone for your sins, not to enjoy a life of luxury. Don’t you ever forget your place!” Seeing me lost in thought, John leaned in, his voice a low threat. “Nora, if you want to keep this job, you will move back home.” That’s when I understood. He was the “director” Lily had been talking about. He’d given my spot to her and then threatened the studio owner to fire me. He was trying to break me, to force me to take back my words about the divorce. When I didn’t react, a cold smile twisted his lips. “Feeling bold now, are we? Think you can fly away from my control? I’ll just have to break your wings. Then let’s see… how… you… fly.” He made a quick call. A moment later, a text came from my best friend. “Nora, I think I pissed someone off. I just got promoted last month, and my boss just called me in and said they’re letting me go…” My lips pressed into a thin line. I went to gather my things. As I was leaving, I heard Lily’s mocking voice behind me. “See, Nora? You’re just like me, dependent on a man. And here I thought you had some backbone.” My hand, clutching the handle of my suitcase, tightened. I shot back, “Have you forgotten? We’re not divorced yet. He’s still my husband.” Suddenly, John’s hand clamped down on my arm, his grip like iron. “Nora, who gave you the nerve to bully Lily right in front of me? And have you forgotten everything I’ve warned you about?” A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced my heart. In all our years of marriage, he had never publicly acknowledged me as his wife. People knew he was married, but they also knew he was never short of beautiful women on his arm. If I couldn’t compete, then there was no reason to wait another week. The thought brought a small measure of relief. Before returning to the villa, I stopped by a law firm and printed out a divorce agreement. I sent another text to that same number. “Don’t need to wait a week. I’m leaving in two days.” 3 Back at the villa, I sat on the sofa, lost in a daze. John came home unusually early. He stood in the entryway, his eyes meeting mine. It was like seeing a ghost of my former self. The wife who would sit in the living room, waiting late into the night for her husband to return. The wife who would smile and rush to help him with his coat and shoes. “Honey, are you tired? I learned a new massage technique, would you like…” For years, when I wasn’t teaching dance, my life had revolved around him. An endless cycle that never earned me so much as a kind glance. Now, stepping back and looking at it all from a distance, I felt like the world’s biggest fool. Seeing my lack of reaction, John frowned. “What are you thinking about? Running away?” I almost laughed. “And if I was? What would you do?” He walked toward me, then suddenly pushed me down onto the sofa, deftly changing the subject. “You don’t like our son. Let’s have a daughter. A daughter would be quieter. She could keep you company. It would make your life here easier.” When I first married into the family, the staff saw how indifferent John was to me. Combined with my quiet nature, they treated me like dirt, dumping all the hardest chores on me. I had been so in love with him then, I never complained. He saw my predicament, but he just watched, a cold, detached observer. My thoughts snapped back to the present as he pulled down my nightgown. His kisses fell on my skin. Fierce and dominating, with a punishing edge. But no matter what he did, I felt nothing. I realized then that when you don’t love someone, your body doesn’t respond. Losing interest, John got off me. “Nora, I know your body. This isn’t how you should be reacting.” He tilted my chin up, his eyes scrutinizing me. “Tell me. Have you been with another man?” John played around, but he was a possessive hypocrite. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching a woman he’d slept with. A security guard at the studio once complimented my dancing. John saw it. The guard was fired the same day. I bit my lip, a bitter laugh escaping through the humiliation. “Yes. It’s exactly what you think. I’ve slept with every man at the studio. Are you going to have them all arrested?” John’s eyes narrowed, his voice turning husky. “Is that so?” Suddenly, he swept me into his arms and carried me toward the bathroom. He actually believed me. “If you’re dirty, then we’ll just have to wash you clean.” He threw me into the bathtub and turned the showerhead on my face, drenching me in ice-cold water. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. I struggled, but I couldn’t break his grip. The shock of the cold water triggered my PTSD. The image of my parents’ plane crashing when I was thirteen flooded my mind. I trembled, curling into a ball in the corner. John thought I was faking it. “Nora, don’t forget why you married me. You’re here to atone, not to live in luxury!” There it was again. The same line he’d repeated countless times. Our entire relationship in a nutshell. Nine out of ten things he said to me were laced with malice. Seeing my eyes glaze over, my body lurching toward the wall, John finally panicked. He pulled me out and laid me on the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s happening to you…” “John, you’ve tormented me enough over the years. Let’s just let each other go!” Rage consumed me. I grabbed the divorce agreement from the nightstand and threw it in his face. He stared at the signature line, then snorted. “In such a rush to divorce me. You have another man waiting, don’t you?” I said nothing. He slammed the door on his way out. Tears streamed down my face. But it was alright. After tomorrow, I would be free. 4 The next day, John sent me a text. “If you want my signature, come to the Hilton. Suite 708. I’ve had the staff prepare an outfit for you.” It was a modern cheongsam, tailored to accentuate my slender waist and shoulders. I pushed open the door to the suite and was met by a wall of noise and a crowd of leering faces. Lily’s smile was particularly blinding. “Oh, Nora. Mr. Parkinson wanted to see someone dance, but I sprained my ankle. I’ll have to trouble you.” A man’s eyes devoured me, as if he wanted to swallow me whole. So this was John’s plan. To have me dance in Lily’s place. “Nora, you want a divorce, don’t you?” John’s voice was a low whisper in my ear. “Fine. I’ll grant your wish. As soon as you’ve danced to his satisfaction, I’ll sign the papers.” He then pushed me toward Mr. Parkinson. Mr. Parkinson’s arm wrapped around my waist, his eyes glazed with desire. “They say a dancer’s waist is a thing of beauty, and today I see it’s true. Don’t worry, I promised John. I’ll just get a little feel, I won’t do anything to you. You just dance for me tonight until I’m happy, and I’ll agree to contract with Sterling Corp for the next six months.” I stared at John in disbelief. Everyone in their circle knew about Mr. Parkinson’s… obsession. He couldn’t control himself around a woman with a slender waist. A client had once gifted him such a woman; she’d ended up in the hospital with a broken back. I tore myself from Mr. Parkinson’s grasp and tried to run, but John caught me before I could get far. “Nora, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a touch. It’s not like you’ll lose a piece of flesh. This is your bargaining chip.” So, this was the price of my freedom.

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My husband’s childhood sweetheart died in childbirth, leaving behind twin daughters. When he asked me to adopt them, I refused. But then, floating lines of text, like comments on a livestream, appeared before my eyes. 【ARE YOU KIDDING ME, NORA? DON’T BE AN IDIOT! ONE OF THESE GIRLS MARRIES A TYCOON AND THE OTHER BECOMES A SUPERSTAR. YOUR FORTUNE IS MADE!】 【What are you worried about? This is a “raising kids” story. She’s the protagonist. Of course she’ll adopt them—how else does the plot even start?】 Twenty-five years flew by. Under my tireless guidance, the twins became as successful as the comments had promised. But on the day of my older daughter’s engagement party, the long-dead childhood sweetheart reappeared. She linked her arm through my husband’s, her face a mask of smug triumph. “I really have you to thank for raising my and Kit’s daughters so brilliantly,” she purred. “Without you, I’d be the one with all the wrinkles and worry lines.” My husband then handed me divorce papers, ready to welcome his old flame back, to reunite their perfect little family of four. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just smiled serenely and said, “Alright.” 1 “Mom, my engagement party is tomorrow. Make sure you get all dressed up. I want you to walk in and take everyone’s breath away.” “Yeah, Mom! If you need money, just ask. Don’t you dare hold back. Maisie and I have plenty!” Hearing my daughters’ warm words filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction. All these years, all my love, had not been in vain. Twenty-five years ago, when my husband Kit’s childhood sweetheart died, he had proposed adopting her twin girls. I had vehemently refused. The woman had been entangled with my husband her entire life; I had no desire to live forever in her shadow. But that was when the floating lines of text had appeared. 【ARE YOU KIDDING ME, NORA? DON’T BE AN IDIOT! ONE OF THESE GIRLS MARRIES A TYCOON AND THE OTHER BECOMES A SUPERSTAR. YOUR FORTUNE IS MADE!】 【What are you worried about? This is a “raising kids” story. She’s the protagonist. Of course she’ll adopt them—how else does the plot even start?】 After reading the comments, I’d changed my mind. After all, it was a chance to have two talented, devoted daughters without going through the pain of pregnancy myself. For all these years, I had poured my heart and soul into raising them. And now, just as the comments predicted, they were accomplished and successful. My lucky day had finally come. “Of course, of course. Thank you, my two sweet girls.” “I’m going to post this in the family group chat right now and show everyone how wonderful my daughters are!” After hanging up, I did just that. The group chat immediately exploded. “Maisie and Iris are so impressive!” “They really are! And so thoughtful, too! I’m so jealous. Nora, you’re the luckiest woman alive!” “They say a daughter is a treasure, and they’re not wrong!” The compliments flooded my screen, but from my husband, Kit, there was only the usual silence. Ever since his childhood sweetheart had died, he’d lived in another city. We barely saw each other once a year, and he had never once involved himself in the girls’ lives. I couldn’t be bothered with him. I shut my phone off, took the unlimited black card my daughters had given me, and went on a well-deserved shopping spree to prepare for the party. 2 I was up at the crack of dawn, a professional stylist working on my hair and makeup. I arrived at the hotel early to double-check every detail of the event; I wouldn’t allow a single misstep on my daughter’s big day. The guests were all from Kit’s side of the family. None of my own family were here. My parents had always looked down on Kit, a boy from a poor family, and my insistence on marrying him had caused a major rift. When I later went against their wishes again, determined to raise another woman’s children, their disappointment had turned to despair. They’d given up on me completely. I’d tried to tell them about the floating comments, but they just thought I’d lost my mind. My thoughts were interrupted as my in-laws walked in, supported by my sister-in-law and her family. My mother- and father-in-law ignored me completely, marched straight to the head of the table, and sat down in the seats of honor. My sister-in-law, Brenda, and her family promptly sat beside them, occupying one side of the main seating area. Left with no choice, I moved to the other side. But as I went to sit, my mother-in-law snapped at me. “There’s no place for you here. You don’t deserve to sit with us!” I froze. There were only eight seats at the main table. They had taken them all. Did they expect me to sit with the younger generation? I stood there, trapped in an awkward limbo, unable to sit or walk away. “What are you standing there for?” Brenda sneered, cracking a sunflower seed between her teeth and rolling her eyes at me. “Go get Mom and Dad some water! You have no sense at all.” Brenda had married some deadbeat and had a lout of a son. She used to torment me for being “barren.” Now that I had raised two successful daughters while her own useless son sponged off her, her taunts had simply shifted to passive-aggressive digs. “No matter how amazing a daughter is, she’s still just someone else’s problem eventually,” she’d mutter. “Not like a son. A son is an heir. You might not need one right away, but you have to have one!” She finished by patting her son’s fleshy cheek. “Isn’t that right, my precious boy?” So I spent the next hour circling the table, serving my in-laws like a waitress. Not a single one of the relatives said a word in my defense. The moment my two daughters and my wealthy future son-in-law arrived, the atmosphere changed. The relatives swarmed them with fawning compliments, pushing me aside so forcefully that my carefully styled hair was knocked into a disheveled mess. After calming the crowd, my daughters and their fiancé tried to lead me to a seat. But when they saw the main table occupied by my in-laws and saw the state I was in, my daughters’ faces flushed with anger. Forced to show respect to their elders, my daughters could only grit their teeth and guide me to the seat on the left of the head table. “Maisie, Iris, she has no right to sit there,” their grandmother snipped. “That seat should be for the person you’re closest to.” “Mom carried us for nine months and worked tirelessly to raise us into who we are today,” Maisie shot back, her voice tight with anger. “No one is more qualified than her.” She didn’t wait for a reply, firmly seating me. At the mention of “nine months,” my in-laws and Brenda exchanged mocking smiles. “Well, our family certainly has to thank your sister-in-law for raising such outstanding children, hahaha.” My father-in-law eyed the girls with satisfaction. “Maisie and Iris look just like my son. So beautiful. And now with such a rich son-in-law… our ancestors must be smiling down on us!” After thanking his ancestors, his tone shifted. “By the way, Nora,” he said, “your mother-in-law and I are getting older. We need money now more than ever. I heard Maisie and Iris gave you a black card. It’s a waste for you to have all that money. Why don’t you give the card to us? Consider it a gift of respect to your elders.” Brenda and her family listened, their eyes gleaming with greed. “I hear those black cards have no limit! We can finally buy a house for my son’s wedding!” “Mommy, if I have that card, can I get a wife?” her son asked stupidly. “Of course, my silly boy.” I was about to refuse, but my daughters spoke first, their voices smooth as silk. “That’s our mother’s card. It’s tied to her name. No one else can use it.” My in-laws looked skeptical. “Can’t you change it? It’s a complete waste for her to have it. She doesn’t deserve to spend that much money.” My daughters’ faces darkened. “Once a black card is issued, it can’t be changed. And she is our mother. If she doesn’t deserve it, who does?” Brenda muttered under her breath, “Her mother? I’m not so sure about that…” My in-laws shot her a furious glare. Seeing that my daughters were genuinely angry, they quickly backtracked. “Fine, fine, we don’t want the card.” “Mom! If you don’t take it, how will my son get married?” Brenda cried out in panic. “Shut up!” my father-in-law barked, before turning his attention to my son-in-law. “A wealthy young man like you must be offering quite a generous wedding gift, yes?” 3 Ah. So that was their game. My son-in-law glanced at my daughter, who then looked at me. I gave a subtle nod. He clapped his hands. The doors opened, and four imposing bodyguards entered, hauling four large suitcases. At his signal, they opened them, revealing stacks of cash that nearly blinded the greedy relatives. “Two million, as a start,” my son-in-law announced. Then he produced a deed and a set of car keys. “Nora,” he said, addressing me directly, “this is the deed to a villa and the keys to a Rolls-Royce. I know that you are the most important person in the world to Maisie. This gift is a token of our respect for you.” My in-laws and Brenda stared, their eyes practically popping out of their heads. I could literally hear them swallowing. Just as I reached out to accept the gifts, the doors were pushed open again. A man and a woman walked in, holding hands. I looked up and saw my husband, Kit, whom I hadn’t seen in ages. He’d finally decided to show up. My eyes then shifted to the woman by his side. Even after all these years, I recognized her instantly. It was Stella Vance, his childhood sweetheart, the woman who was supposed to have died over two decades ago. The relatives were dumbfounded, their heads swiveling between me and Stella, unable to comprehend why my husband was holding another woman’s hand. My in-laws, however, were completely unfazed. They calmly welcomed Stella, had a waiter add a chair for her between them, and seated her at the head of the table. Now, the seat of honor belonged to Stella. “Nora,” Kit spat, his voice filled with venom, “if you hadn’t schemed to separate us back then, I never would have married you. This is your karma!” He gestured to my daughters. “And while you may be plain, you’re a decent educator. You’ve raised my and Stella’s daughters to be quite exceptional.” I laughed silently. What a joke. Kit had groveled at my feet for my family’s money, eagerly abandoning Stella himself. And now he was rewriting history. “Maisie, Iris,” he continued, turning to the girls, “don’t blame me for not being around. It was this vicious woman’s fault. She’s the reason you grew up without a mother or a father.” “Stella is your real mother,” he declared. “We’ve been separated as a family for over twenty years because of Nora!” Stella walked over and took my daughters’ hands. “Maisie, Iris, I’m your mother. Your father sent me pictures of you every year. Please, forgive me for being away for so long. I’ll make it all up to you.” Then she turned to me, the triumph in her eyes impossible to hide. “I really do have you to thank, sis, for raising my daughters so well. Without you, I’d be the one with all the wrinkles and worry lines.” My daughters stood frozen, looking at me with wide, confused eyes. My in-laws and Brenda rushed forward to brainwash them. “Maisie, Iris, this is your real mother! Nora stole you away, deprived you of your parents’ love!” “You should hate her! You have to hate her!” Kit pulled out a divorce agreement and threw it in my face. “Sign it, Nora! Just looking at you makes me sick. The only woman I’ve ever wanted to marry is Stella.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even argue. I just smiled serenely. “Alright. I’ll reunite your family of four right away.”

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I’m a cocktail waitress in a seedy bar, squeezed into a bunny costume that was more humiliation than fabric. In the VIP booth, the tycoon’s son, Sean, was arguing with his one true love, a black card pinched between his fingers. “Five million on this card. Are you sure you don’t want it?” The girl, dressed in a janitor’s uniform, sneered at him from behind her mop. “My money is clean! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” Furious, Sean grabbed me. “The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” I took the card. “I dare.” Later, the girl had regrets. And Sean? He came back to me. “Seraphina is bothered by our past,” he’d said. “Maybe you should date someone else for a while.” “Fine,” I’d replied. … The sky was already dark when I left the hospital after visiting my grandmother. I hopped on my e-scooter and raced toward the bar where I worked. Halfway there, the rain started pouring. For a split second, I was distracted, and my wheels skidded on the slick pavement. Of course, I had to crash into a Maybach. A rear-end collision in the rain. I was completely at fault. A door opened and a man stepped out, unfurling a black umbrella. He tilted it kindly in my direction. As he got closer, I saw he was around my age, but with a refined, almost delicate beauty. Fair skin, a high-bridged nose, and sharp, elegant eyes that tilted up at the corners. His suit, though brandless, was impeccably tailored, making him look even more coolly aristocratic in the rain. I moved my aching arm and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, the rain was too heavy, my scooter slipped, I’m really so sorry…” A pathetic little whimper escaped my lips, brimming with self-pity. I held up my scraped arm, rubbing at my eyes. If I was going to play the victim card, now was the time. I was a student by day and a worker by night. Medical bills, tuition, living expenses—I was short on everything. There was no way I could afford to fix his car. I’d heard stories of rich car owners magnanimously forgiving broke commoners. A desperate prayer formed in my mind: Please let him be a kind, wealthy man who doesn’t care about the money. A familiar female voice cut through the rain, sharp with impatience. “Sean, hurry up! Don’t make me late for work!” Work? A high-society heiress who takes a Maybach to her part-time job? A pale, oval face appeared in the car window. It was Seraphina, the scholarship student from the class next to mine. Sean pushed the umbrella into my hand and helped me right my scooter. He sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. “Forget it. Just go. Be careful on the road.” I thanked him profusely, terrified he would change his mind, and sped off into the rain. As I left, I heard Seraphina complain, “What a hassle. I’m never riding in your car again.” I recognized him then. Sean. The old-money heir from the campus forums. He was the sole heir to the Sterling Corporation, and he was hopelessly in love with the scholarship student, Seraphina. The whole school knew he was pursuing her. He’d showered her with luxury gifts and arranged internships, all of which she had publicly refused. The last time, he’d staged a massive drone light show confession outside the women’s dorms. Seraphina had finally appeared, looking distressed, begging him to “stop putting her on the spot,” insisting she didn’t want his “charity” and that she wanted to “make her own way in life.” I thought their tragic love story had finally ended, but here he was, still trying. I suppose it made sense. Everyone praised Seraphina for her integrity and backbone. I’d even heard girls getting lectured by their boyfriends when they asked for birthday presents. “Look at Seraphina. She never spends a man’s money.” In the bar’s staff room, I shivered as I changed into the bunny costume. The skirt was scandalously short, barely covering anything. I pulled on two pairs of thick tights and pinned the neckline higher. My manager knew my situation. “You get a 15% commission on drinks,” she’d told me. “As long as the customers don’t get out of hand, don’t turn your nose up at the money.” I nodded. A week’s pay as a bunny girl could cover several more days of my grandmother’s hospital stay. The door at the end of the hall opened. I froze. Seraphina? She was wearing an oversized janitor’s uniform, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, struggling with a heavy water bucket. Our eyes met. A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a look of derision. “You work here too?” “Yeah. You? Janitor?” “The hourly wage is higher here,” she said, straightening her back. “And it’s clean.” I glanced at her washed-out sneakers and almost laughed. What was the difference between being a janitor here and anywhere else? You were still scrubbing floors. Or was she implying that, compared to my job, hers was infinitely cleaner? We weren’t close, so we didn’t speak further. I carried a tray of drinks into a private room to make a sale. The room was thick with smoke. Sean and his circle of rich friends were lounging on the sofas. A shattered bottle of Ace of Spades lay on the floor, its contents pooling on the carpet. Seraphina was called in to clean it up. “Isn’t that the girl Sean’s after?” someone whispered. The guy next to her quickly took the mop. “Here, let me get that for you.” Seraphina’s head snapped up, her eyes like ice. “No need! You break a bottle to force me to serve you, and now you’re playing the nice guy?” The room fell silent. Sean’s face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” Seraphina said, standing up straight, “that I earn my money honestly. Not like some people!” “Seraphina!” Sean cut her off, pulling a black card from his wallet. “Just listen to me. Think of it as a sponsorship. You don’t have to work in a place like this.” I stood to the side, a silent observer. For people like us, a “place like this” was the best opportunity we could get. Seraphina was trembling with rage. “Sean!” she shrieked. “I’m not for sale!” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Me, in my bunny costume with its barely-there skirt. Someone coughed awkwardly. “Hey, don’t mind her. She didn’t mean it like that.” I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My nails dug into my palms. I was afraid if I let go, I would lunge at her and pull her hair. Who the hell was she to judge me? She preached about making her own way, yet she was secretly benefiting from the extra scholarship money Sean had arranged for her. And from her moral high ground, she had the audacity to mock those of us who were truly struggling in the mud. “Last time I’m asking. Five million on this card,” Sean said, slapping the black card on the coffee table. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Seraphina sneered. “I earn my money honestly! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” The room went quiet again. A humorless laugh escaped Sean’s lips. He grabbed my wrist. “What about you? The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” The black card gleamed under the dim lights. I thought of the IV needle buried in my grandmother’s wrist. I thought of the mountain of tuition and fees that were about to crush me. Dignity? That was a luxury only the rich could afford. “I dare,” I said without hesitation, taking the card from his hand. Seraphina’s expression froze. She stared at me, her gaze dropping to Sean’s hand, which was now wrapped possessively around my waist. “You’re pathetic,” she spat at me. Then, for Sean’s benefit, she added, “You’ll regret this.” She stalked out, mop in hand, her head held high. Sean’s friends, however, burst into cheers. “Out with the old, in with the new!” “It’s about time you moved on, man! What’s the point of chasing someone who just throws it back in your face?” “She’s addicted to playing the victim! Turning down good money just to suffer.” “Yeah, this one is much sweeter!” Yes, I was pathetic. So pathetic that I could see the truth she refused to acknowledge. The special “underprivileged student” spot that magically appeared in last semester’s international competition. The extra TA position in the science lab that the professor had hand-picked her for. I wanted those unseen advantages and privileges, too. She wanted to be a saint. Fine. I hope she enjoys her sainthood. After that night, I became Sean’s official girlfriend. He told me to spend the five million on the card as I pleased, and to let him know if I needed more. I used his card to pay for my grandmother’s hospital stay, pre-loading her account with two million. It would be more than enough. The moment the transaction notification popped up on my phone, for the first time, I felt the frantic, spinning top of my life begin to slow down. Before this, every day had been a struggle. Two meals a day: a bun and an egg for breakfast, rice and one vegetable dish for lunch. The egg was my only protein. The vegetables were the cheapest on offer at the cafeteria. One day, I was in line at the cafeteria, deciding to splurge on a meat dish. A short burst of laughter erupted behind me. It was Seraphina and her friends, whispering to each other. Their eyes were fixed on the designer cashmere scarf Sean had given me. It was, undoubtedly, evidence of my gold-digging ways. When I went to the logistics office to quit my campus jobs, the manager gave me a pointed look. “A young girl like you should focus on being practical.” At the elevator for my weekend English class, I ran into the top student from my department. “You’re in the summer intensive course, too?” The moment I nodded, I heard whispers from behind me. “She’s just buying her way in with her boyfriend’s money.” They were right. But I was going to use this shortcut to build my own path. With money in my pocket, my hostility toward the world began to soften. Of course, every time I used the card, Sean got a notification on his phone. One night, he called me to pick him up from a bar. As I approached the room, I heard his friends talking. “Not bad, Sean. This new one actually knows how to spend money. A lot better than the last one!” Sean jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Careful what you wish for,” another friend slurred, drunk. “You just got rid of one extreme. Don’t end up with a money-sucking vampire on the other end.” Sean slipped his phone back into his pocket. He’d been looking at the transaction alerts. They were all from the hospital, the cafeteria, tutoring centers. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “She’s spending it well,” he said, downing his drink in one gulp. “Better than letting it sit in my account like a savings passbook.” When I pushed the door open, they all straightened up, respectfully calling me “sister-in-law.” The title was absurd. At best, I was his arm candy, a soulless gift-receiving machine. Sean seemed addicted to giving me things. The latest Chanel collection, priceless pearl earrings, a crocodile Birkin bag, entire sets of luxury skincare. “Dress the part, and people will listen to what you have to say,” he told me. He had said the same thing to Seraphina once. She had thrown the coat he’d given her back at him, muttering that it was “too flashy.” Then she’d worn her faded, old jacket to a job interview and came back complaining that they hadn’t even bothered to look at her resume because she looked too young. My intimacy with Sean was limited to holding hands and an arm around my waist. It was as if he just needed someone by his side who knew how to spend money, to complete the picture. And I just happened to desperately need money. One weekend, while we were out shopping, we ran into Seraphina at the mall. She saw the shopping bags hooked on my arm. This time, there was no disdain in her eyes. Only envy. Sean awkwardly let go of my hand, as if he wanted to explain something, but the hatred in her eyes silenced him. Three days later, I heard Seraphina had applied for the student exchange program. Sean was at a street food stall with me when he got the call from his advisor. He’d been patiently peeling crayfish for me. For a while, the great heir to the Sterling Corporation had been happily slumming it with me at night markets and food stalls. The red oil from the crayfish had splattered on his white shirt cuff, and I felt a pang of guilt. After he hung up, he didn’t say anything. He just kept peeling the crayfish and piling them on my plate. Everything seemed normal. But in the middle of the night, his friend called me. “Sean’s at his downtown condo. He’s locked himself in. We’re a little worried. Can you go check on him?” The moment I opened the door, the thick stench of alcohol hit me. The floor-to-ceiling windows were wide open, the curtains whipping violently in the night wind. Sean was curled up on the rug. He heard me and looked up. His eyes were alarmingly red. His usually straight back was slumped, as if all the strength had been drained from him. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice so hoarse it made my own throat ache. “I used to tell her she was a fool for working so hard to save money. But yesterday… she transferred me some money. She said… she said it was a travel fund we’d saved up together when we were both working part-time.” He suddenly laughed, a sound mixed with a sob. “Why is she so stubborn? I wish she were more like you.” But I knew the truth. If she were like me, Sean wouldn’t love her. I didn’t know how to comfort him. I cleaned up the apartment and helped him to bed. As I was about to leave, he grabbed my hand. “You’re leaving, too?” “You said you would love me.” I hadn’t realized he remembered what I’d said in the VIP room that night. In the moment I hesitated, he pulled me into his arms, and I fell onto the bed. When he kissed me, even though I had prepared myself to be a sugar baby, I was still scared. I turned my head, and the kiss landed on my cheek. His fingers traced the side of my face, his voice a soft, patient coaxing. “Don’t hide from me, Ava. You’re mine.” The night dissolved into a blur. After that, physical intimacy became a constant between us, a feverish habit he couldn’t get enough of. One day, he insisted I dress up as a bunny girl for him. I snuggled against his shoulder, a rare moment of coquettishness. “Not today. Next time.” He pinched my waist, always leaving his marks on me, fingerprints and bruises from his kisses. “It’s always ‘next time,’ isn’t it?” He kissed my cheek. “My timid little bunny.” Later, as we were both scrolling through our phones, I saw in the alumni group chat that Seraphina was coming back to the country. I’m sure he saw it, too. His phone rang. “Sean, Seraphina’s back. She’s throwing a welcome home party. Are you coming?” He shot me a guilty look and snapped into the phone, “Don’t bother me!” I pretended not to care. “You should go if you want to.” I don’t know if it was my timing, or if my feigned magnanimity had struck a nerve. The smile vanished from his lips. I wrapped the sheet around myself and reached for my clothes on the floor. “I’m heading back to campus.” “Okay,” he said distractedly. I couldn’t focus in the library. I put on my headphones and logged into a burner account on a game. And then I heard it. His friend’s voice, clear as day through the game’s voice chat. “So, if Seraphina is willing to give you a shot, what about Ava?” Sean’s voice was cool and distant. “What about her?” “I mean, she’s been your girlfriend for two years.” I held my breath. In the game, my character had already been killed. He sighed. “We’ll break up. I can’t be with two people at once, can I? Besides, I’ve been more than generous with her these past two years.” His friend agreed. “True. It’s a shame, though. We’ve all gotten used to having Ava around.” “That’s enough. Not a word about this in front of Seraphina.” The one who isn’t loved is always the third wheel. I understood. I quit the game. Suddenly, the last two years with Sean felt completely meaningless. But tears still fell onto my phone screen. My fingers trembled as I typed out the words. It was better to make a graceful exit now than to wait for him to deliver the sentence. “Sean, Seraphina’s back. Let’s break up. I hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted.” I waited a long time. The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared. Sean hated texting. He always said, “Why waste time texting when you can clear things up with a two-minute phone call?” A “ding” signaled a new message. “Okay. If you ever need anything, just ask.” When things were good, I had dared to hope he might love me. Now that we were breaking up, I finally understood my place. I was just the opportunistic clown who had taken advantage of a situation. “Seraphina has always had a misunderstanding about you. I hope you two can avoid each other in the future.” I understood that message, too. He was afraid I would use some cheap trick to hurt his precious white moonlight. He was warning me. The past two years had given me the illusion that we were equals. Now that we were breaking up, I realized that he had always had the right to look down on me. I froze, my hand gripping the phone. “Okay. Understood,” I typed back. I moved out of the dorm immediately and started at the internship I had already arranged. That night, there was a welcome dinner for the new interns. Of all places, it was at the same bar where I used to work. The moment I walked in, I saw Seraphina on Sean’s arm. I quickly ducked into the next room. As I was about to leave, someone stopped me. I recognized him. A VIP at the bar named Marcus. I had met him once with Sean. I remembered they didn’t seem to like each other. His eyes raked over me. “Sean’s girlfriend?” I frowned. “Sorry, wrong room.” He smirked, a lecherous look in his eyes, and tilted my chin up with his fingers.

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My husband, a notorious neat freak, suddenly developed a passion for second-hand goods. He even joined our neighborhood’s online buy-and-sell group. He spent his days rushing to other people’s apartments, collecting all sorts of used baby items. From diapers to strollers, he crammed them into the nursery until it was overflowing. He was so obsessed that when I collapsed from a sudden, sharp pain in my abdomen, he couldn’t even be bothered to come home. “Honey, I’m in the middle of haggling with someone,” he’d said over the phone. “Just grab an Uber to the hospital, okay?” That was the last straw. After I was discharged, during a family dinner to discuss baby names, I announced I was getting an abortion and a divorce. Ethan slammed his hands on the table, sending dishes crashing to the floor. He proceeded to smash everything within reach. “Just because I was haggling and didn’t drive you to the hospital? You want a divorce over that?” he roared, his face contorted with rage. “I bought all that second-hand stuff for you! Why else would I be pinching every penny like that?” I watched him calmly, a cold smile touching my lips. “Since you love second-hand so much,” I said softly, “I’ll do you the favor of becoming your second-hand wife.” 1 “You’re looking down on me for buying used things, is that it?” “Do you have any idea how much a baby costs? Or your own recovery fees? Where do you think that money is coming from!” “Besides, the stuff is practically new. I’ll sanitize everything if you’re so worried.” His eyes were bloodshot as he screamed the words at me. Beside him, his mother shot up from her chair, her face a mask of anxiety, and grabbed my arm. “Oh, what’s all this nonsense? We’re a family. No need for such angry words.” She turned to her son. “Ethan, you shouldn’t argue with a pregnant woman. They get emotional. You have to be more understanding.” I coldly shook her hand off me. “I am not joking. I’m serious. Let’s get a divorce. There’s no point in us staying together anymore.” His mother dug her nails into my arm. “Now you’re just pushing it! Ethan is doing all of this for you. I’ve seen the things he brought home—they’re all top brands!” “Besides,” she added with a sneer, “you were a bargain yourself. We got you for a bride price of ten grand, you can’t just up and leave.” Even my own mother sided with them, her voice pleading. “Eva, don’t be childish. You and Ethan were together for seven years before you got married. You have a baby on the way. How can you talk about divorce?” “Your hormones are all over the place. Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days?” My expression remained unchanged. “The courthouse, tomorrow morning. To file the papers.” The entire family erupted in anger, accusing me of being impulsive and irrational. Only Ethan seemed to realize I was serious. His tone softened, and he tried to apologize. “I’m sorry, Eva. I lost my temper. If you want to go stay with your mom, I understand.” “Just… don’t talk about divorce so lightly. You know how hard it was for us to get here. You said it takes seven years to truly know someone, so I gave you seven years. That time, that energy… that’s a huge investment for anyone.” I scoffed internally. I thought seven years was enough to see through a person. I was wrong. “In that case,” I said, my voice flat, “it’s best to cut our losses now. Let’s not waste any more time.” The words had barely left my mouth when my mother, who had always been so gentle, slapped me hard across the face, her own face flushed with fury. “Eva, I have spoiled you rotten! I’ve let you become this selfish brat.” “Have you forgotten who bought you medicine every time you had a stomach ache? When you said you wanted a baby, Ethan immediately started consulting with doctors. I’m your mother, and even I wouldn’t go to those lengths for you!” “If you get a divorce now, what about the baby? You’ll raise it yourself? Don’t think for a second I’m going to help you clean up this mess.” Ethan immediately rushed to my side, gently guiding me to the sofa and pressing an ice pack to my swollen cheek. He frowned at my mother. “Mom, you can’t just hit her! It’s my fault, I’m the one who made Eva upset.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. This gentle act of his had fooled me for seven years. It had fooled our entire family. The sight of it made me want to vomit. I wanted to scream the truth, but the thought of my mother’s heart condition held me back. “I’ll get an abortion,” I said, my voice hollow. “I don’t want my child to be born into a loveless home.” Ethan froze, staring at me in disbelief. “What did you just say?” “You’ve always wanted a child. I… I’ve already bought all the baby supplies. I even booked a spot at that exclusive postpartum wellness retreat. How can you just… give up on it?” “Eva, take your anger out on me, but don’t hurt the baby.” Even his mother was panicking now. “Eva, we can argue, but don’t do something so drastic. Ethan went to so many doctors to help you conceive this child.” “Even if you two have fallen out of love, think about us! We’re old, we’re just waiting to hold a grandchild.” My mother was also terrified by my words. “Don’t scare me like this, Eva. An abortion is so damaging to your body. Don’t do something foolish.” Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, Ethan dropped to his knees and began slapping himself across the face. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry I didn’t take you to the hospital that day.” “But I saw this amazing breast pump, it was brand new, and I was trying to talk the price down… I just lost track of time.” He was crying as he spoke, as if this were all my fault. The family’s gazes turned on me like daggers. “Eva, what is there to be so angry about?” his mother chided. “Ethan was doing it all for you. Besides, it’s not like you couldn’t have called someone else. What if he wasn’t home? Would you have just stayed there and not gone to the hospital?” 2 Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Raelyn, the young widow from the building next door. She stepped inside, her expression timid. “I heard people saying you two were fighting, so I came to see if everything was okay.” Her eyes fell on Ethan kneeling on the floor, and she quickly added, “Ethan was at my place picking up the breast pump that day. That’s what delayed him. Please, don’t get a divorce over this.” I stared hard at Ethan. Sure enough, the moment Raelyn walked in, a flicker of panic had crossed his face. His mother scowled at me. “Eva, you heard her. Raelyn came all the way here to explain. There’s no point in dragging this out.” “Besides,” she continued, “Ethan has to work and he has to manage your moods. As the old saying goes, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. As a wife, you should be a little more considerate.” I took a deep breath, my voice firm and serious. “Ethan, I don’t want to make this ugly. If you won’t come to the courthouse, then just sign these divorce papers.” To my shock, Raelyn snatched the papers from my hand, clutching them to her chest. “I won’t let you two get divorced,” she said stubbornly. “Eva, just blame me. It’s my fault for giving him the breast pump and making you late for treatment.” “I’ll move out tomorrow. I’ll never bother you again. And I’ll give you back all the money for the other things. You can just have them.” As she spoke, she sank to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face in a show of false sincerity. Ethan immediately pulled her into his arms, a protective gesture laced with anger directed at me. “Eva, this is between us. You don’t need to bully someone else. Raelyn is a widow, where is she supposed to go? And she’s helped you so much, you should at least show some gratitude.” Tears welled in Raelyn’s eyes as she put on a magnanimous front. “Eva, Ethan is a really good man. He was even asking me questions about pregnancy, all so he could take better care of you.” “I’ve been married before, and now I’m alone. I know how precious it is to have someone by your side. You’re pregnant, for heaven’s sake. That’s a blessing some people would kill for.” “If you’ve fallen for someone else out of a moment of impulse,” she said, her voice dripping with concern, “please, think it through. Good men like Ethan are hard to find.” She had turned the tables, pointing the finger directly at me. My mother-in-law grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at me. “I knew it!” she shrieked. “I knew there had to be a reason you’d want to divorce a man as good as Ethan. You’ve got some other man on the hook!” “Let’s get the divorce then! Our family doesn’t want a cheap slut like you! And you can walk away with not a single penny!” “Plenty of women would be thrilled to have him. I think Raelyn here is a much better fit.” At that, a blush crept up Raelyn’s cheeks. Ethan didn’t deny it. His silence was an admission. His own eyes grew red as he put on a heart-wrenching performance. “Eva… tell me it’s not true. What does he have that I don’t?” I glanced at my mother, swallowing the rage that was threatening to boil over. “You know exactly what the truth is.” With that, I turned to leave. But as I moved, Raelyn’s hand shot out, reaching for my stomach. On pure instinct, I shoved her hand away. But she used the momentum, collapsing dramatically to the floor. “Raelyn!” Without a second thought, Ethan lunged at me, shoving me hard. My head spun. A sharp, searing pain shot through my abdomen, and I felt a warm gush of blood between my legs. “Someone call an ambulance!” my mother screamed in panic. 3 When I woke up, the first thing I felt was a dull, aching emptiness in my belly. Something was gone. Ethan was slumped in a chair by my bed, dark circles under his eyes. He saw me awake and immediately started fussing. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” I looked straight at him, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “It’s better that the baby’s gone.” “Ethan,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Are you still going to pretend with me? Even now?” He blinked, then put on a confused expression. “Eva, what are you talking about? I don’t understand. Whatever I did wrong, just tell me, and we’ll fix it together. Don’t be like this.” I was about to lay out all his disgusting secrets when the older woman in the next bed cut me off. “You young girls,” she clucked, “you’ve all been poisoned by the internet. Always threatening divorce. Who would want to live with that?” “Besides,” she added, gesturing at Ethan, “I saw this young man sit by your side all night long. A man that good is a rare find these days.” Just then, my mother-in-law pushed the door open. Seeing me awake, she rolled her eyes. “Ethan took care of you all night. The least you could do is be grateful.” “I’ve been thinking,” she continued, her voice dripping with malice. “Letting you leave with nothing is too easy. Who’s going to compensate my son for the seven years he wasted on you?” “Here’s the deal. You tell us who your lover is, and then you give us a grandson. Then we’ll call it even.” Ethan clearly agreed with this plan. “We’ve been together so long,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “How could I bear to let you leave with nothing?” “Who is he? Don’t worry, you can tell me. I won’t cause any trouble for him.” Something inside me snapped. “How many times do I have to say it? I just don’t want to be with you anymore! Is that so hard to understand?” “You accuse me of cheating? Why don’t you take a good look at yourself first?” The room fell silent, everyone stunned by my outburst. Only Ethan had the nerve to reach for my hand, his voice laced with false concern. “Don’t get excited, Eva. Just calm down. You just had a miscarriage.” I yanked my hand away. “Stop acting. You make me sick.” He froze, at a loss for words. After a moment, tears started to well in his eyes. “Eva, I know I’m not perfect. I know I neglect you sometimes. But for all these years, my love for you has been real.” “In school, I let you copy my homework. After we started working, I bought you designer bags. When you got pregnant, I rubbed stretch mark oil on you every night. Whenever you had a craving for something sour, I would…” I cut him off. “Are you done? The homework you let me copy was all wrong. The purse was a cheap knockoff. And you didn’t even know the right way to apply the stretch mark oil.” “Let’s just end this. I’m tired. Since you won’t agree to a divorce, I’ll see you in court.” Ethan was silent for a long moment. Then he said one last thing before he left. “You really don’t have a heart, Eva. I guess it makes sense. You never had a father, after all.” My face remained a placid mask, but under the thin hospital blanket, my hands were trembling. A little while later, my mother came in with a fruit platter. “Eva,” she began hesitantly, “I heard what was said. Ethan asked me to come take care of you. How can you divorce such a good man?” “They’re all gone now. You can be honest with me. Did you fall for someone else? It’s okay, I won’t blame you.” I let out a sharp, humorless laugh and turned my head away. “It’s not working out. It’s just not working out. Why is that so hard for everyone to understand?” That was the breaking point. My mother’s long-suppressed anger finally exploded. She swept the fruit platter to the floor and started hitting me, tears of rage streaming down her face. “Eva! I raised you all by myself, and for what? So you could throw a tantrum and get a divorce?” “Do you want to end up like me? Alone for the rest of your life?” “You go and apologize to Ethan right now! If you don’t, I will never acknowledge you as my daughter again!” She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

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The day my parents’ long-lost biological daughter returned was the day my life was supposed to end. Mom held her in a tight embrace, her eyes red raw from crying. Dad swore he would make it all up to her. “My darling girl,” he choked out, “anything you want, it’s yours.” The girl pointed a slender finger at me, her face a mask of innocence. “I want my sister to be able to go back to her own home, too.” She thought I was the villain in her story, the imposter who had stolen her silver spoon. What she failed to notice was the way our parents’ faces changed the moment those words left her lips. 1 When I arrived for the family dinner, the first thing I saw was my mother clutching a frail, small-boned girl, her cries so raw they were gut-wrenching. Even my father, a man I’d always known as a pillar of strength, was fighting back tears. Mom’s hands fluttered over the girl, her touch both desperate and tender. “Zoe,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Mommy has finally found you.” “It’s my fault. I didn’t watch over you, and you’ve suffered so much because of me.” The girl’s identity was unmistakable. This was Zoe, the biological daughter my parents had lost in a tragic accident years ago. As I was studying the familiar lines of her face, she looked over at me, her voice a timid whisper. “Mommy, who is that?” She pressed herself deeper into my mother’s embrace, her expression a perfect portrait of bewildered vulnerability. Mom stroked her hair, her voice softening. “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. That’s your sister.” Then she turned to me. “Claire, this is your little sister. Her name is Zoe Reed now.” I nodded, my eyes meeting hers. I felt a strange, sharp prickle of hostility from her gaze. She seemed to doubt what she was hearing. “Mommy,” she hesitated, “when did I get a sister?” Seeing my mother’s discomfort, I stepped in. “I was adopted.” Zoe’s brow furrowed in confusion. She shook her head, her voice barely audible. “How could that be?” Her voice rose slightly, laced with a new, trembling panic. “Mom and Dad already had a child… so what am I?” With that, fat tears began to spill, soaking into the fabric of my mother’s blouse. Mom immediately went into soothing mode. “You, my love, are our precious baby, our heart and soul.” “And your sister is family, too. It just means there’s one more person in this house to love you.” Zoe’s gaze dropped to the floorboards, her expression lost and forlorn. “But you didn’t want me,” she mumbled. “You have another child now. You won’t love Zoe anymore.” Her pitiful act, layered over the genuine tragedy of her lost years, was more than enough to wrench my parents’ hearts. I even felt a pang of sympathy myself. I was about to open my mouth, to try and explain— “Zoe, please don’t be upset, the truth is, I’m actually…” But my words were swallowed by a fresh wave of her sobs. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back. I’m just intruding on your happy family of three.” That sent my parents into a panic. They crowded around her, a flurry of reassurances. “Zoe, why would you ever think that?” “You are our daughter. We’ve dreamed of this day for so many years. We’re overjoyed, how could you possibly be an intrusion?” Zoe sniffled, catching her breath. “Really?” “Of course,” they chorused, nodding eagerly. Finally, a smile broke through her tears. She rubbed against my mother’s arm like a kitten. “Does that mean… I can have anything I want?” “Anything!” my father boomed. In the next second, her finger shot out, pointing directly at me. Her voice, though sweet, dropped like a stone into the quiet room. “Then I want my sister to be able to go back to her own home, too.” The air in the room instantly turned to ice. She gave my mother’s arm an expectant little shake, but Mom pulled away slightly. The reaction was clearly not what she’d anticipated. A flicker of panic crossed Zoe’s face. “Mommy? Daddy? Did… did I say something wrong?” My father cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. “Having two daughters is a blessing, sweetheart. Let’s not… change that.” My mother added quickly, “Yes, and you’ve just come home. There’s so much your sister can help you with.” Zoe couldn’t believe her request had been so swiftly and firmly denied. Her gaze darted to me, a flash of disbelief and fury in her eyes. I offered her a slow, deliberate smile. “Fine by me.” Then I turned on my heel and walked out the door. Behind me, I heard my mother’s frantic voice calling my name. “Claire! Claire, come back!” 2 Once outside, I slid into my car and peeled away from the curb, the engine roaring. My destination was another villa across town, where the butler, Lewis, opened the door for me with a polite, familiar smile. As Zoe wished, I had returned to my own home. This mansion belonged to the people I called my aunt and uncle, but who were, in fact, my biological parents. It was true I was adopted, but it was more complicated than that. I was given, not taken. It was my uncle—my mother’s brother—who had lost his child. He and his wife had begged my parents to let them adopt me. My parents, the Haringtons, had refused at first. My older brother had cried, refusing to let me go. But seeing my aunt and uncle wasting away, hollowed out by a grief that was consuming them, my parents’ hearts had softened. They’d let me go. Zoe thought I was a cuckoo in her nest, basking in the love and luxury that should have been hers. But while she might be a true heiress, I was no fake princess. In the years since, my biological father’s business had skyrocketed. He was worth billions. If I had never been adopted by the Haringtons, my life would have been immeasurably more lavish—and arguably, much simpler. A bitter smile touched my lips as I recalled the raw resentment in Zoe’s eyes. Peace and quiet were officially off the table. The housekeeper, seeing me, immediately bustled off to the kitchen to prepare a meal. By the time my adoptive parents—the Haringtons—rushed over from the disastrous welcome-home party, I was seated at the dining table, calmly cracking open a crab. My mother, Clara, hurried to my side, her hand gripping mine. “Claire, you were driving so fast! That was reckless.” My father, Richard, didn’t waste a second, sitting down and starting to shell a crab for me. “My darling girl, you’ve been wronged. Zoe’s just… she’s just returned, she’s not used to things. Don’t hold it against her.” “So I’m the one who’s supposed to feel unwelcome?” I asked, my voice cool. Mom looked horrified. “Who would dare make you feel unwelcome? I’d be the first to tear them apart.” “Claire, you’re twisting a knife in our hearts when you say things like that,” Dad added, his voice pained. I feigned a weary sigh. “Well, she told me to go home, so here I am. I’ll stay here for a couple of days. At least I won’t have to look at her sour face.” “Absolutely not! I’d worry sick if you weren’t at home,” Mom said, already trying to pull me to my feet. Dad placed a perfect piece of crab meat on my plate. “You’re our daughter, Claire,” he said softly. “Come home with us.” I popped the crab into my mouth, nodding with satisfaction. The test was over. They still had my back. If they had cast me aside the moment their biological daughter returned, I would have gladly let them have their perfect little family reunion without me. After patiently waiting for me to finish my meal, they escorted me home. As my parents flanked me, ushering me through the front door like a returning queen, I caught a glimpse of a figure on the upstairs balcony, staring down at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. I let a small smile play on my lips. Round one to me, Zoe. 3 To be honest, I didn’t hold much malice toward her. She was, after all, my parents’ daughter, my cousin. Blood is thicker than water. My initial feeling had been one of pity. But her performance since walking through the door had been a massive turn-off. If she didn’t want to acknowledge me as her sister, I wasn’t about to chase after her friendship. But I had underestimated her ambition and her methods. Every day, she engaged in a campaign of petty sabotage, constantly trying to get a rise out of me and usurp my position in the family. She was always playing the part of the meek, gentle daughter in front of Mom, shooting me a triumphant glance after every word of praise. She made a show of helping the staff with chores, a clear attempt to highlight how different we were. I simply watched from the sidelines, a cold observer. Her ploys were transparent. She was starved for affection, a predictable consequence of her upbringing. I, on the other hand, had been drowning in it my whole life. Her pathetic little schemes were beneath me, and I couldn’t be bothered to engage. After what felt like the hundredth little irritation, I finally broke down and called my real father, who was overseas. After listening to my complaints, he immediately declared he was flying back to have my adoption formally reversed. He wouldn’t let his daughter be “bullied” for a second longer. It took a while to calm him down, after which he insisted on buying me a new car to make up for it. A few days later, I got the call from the dealership. My new car was ready. I headed over, excited for a test drive. As I pulled up, I saw Zoe in a heated argument with a sales associate near the entrance, her gaggle of new friends flanking her. I could hear her shrill voice from across the parking lot. “Do you have any idea who I am? How dare you stop me, you’re just a lowly employee!” Her friends chimed in with their own chorus of indignation. “Open your eyes! This is Miss Reed! Get out of her way!” “She’s the kind of client you should be begging to have!” “Get your manager out here, now!” I wondered what on earth she was doing here. Just then, the manager, Mr. Collins, spotted me and approached with a welcoming smile, ready to escort me to the VIP lounge. As we passed Zoe, she jabbed a finger at me. “Why does she get to go in?” I almost laughed. “Because I’m an SVIP, little sister. Of course I can go in.” Zoe bit her lip, her jaw tight with defiance. “So what? It’s just a VIP card. How much can it possibly cost? I’ll take ten!” she snapped at the flustered employee. A chuckle escaped my lips. “Oh, sweetie. This SVIP status isn’t something you can buy.” Her friends scoffed. “What kind of stupid VIP is that? Zoe is an heiress, she can buy whatever she wants!” “If you can have one, all Zoe has to do is say the word!” Mr. Collins, looking pained, finally intervened. “Ma’am, our SVIP status is by invitation only, for clients who have maintained a minimum spend of thirty million dollars over the past five years.”

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1 Life with Joey Buckingham was a struggle. Our pantry stayed empty, so Blake and I worked weekends as street clowns. I earned 100/day;hemade50, but beamed, “One more weekend, and we’ll buy Dad that suit!” Then I saw Joey—in a custom suit, shopping lavishly with his first love. A salesman locked the boutique, bragging, “Six-figure commission today!” I clutched our $75 earnings as Blake gasped, “That rich man looks like Dad!” The manager sneered, “That’s the Mr. Buckingham. You think billionaires have clown relatives?” Heart shredded, I dragged Blake past a restaurant. Glancing at the menu and our $75, I gritted my teeth and walked in. A waiter greeted us with a professional, plastic smile. “Ma’am, this is a fine dining establishment. The fast-food places are to your right, just outside.” I swallowed the anger rising in my throat and pointed to the cheapest option on the menu, the $888 prix fixe tasting menu. “We’ll have one of these.” This was the money Blake and I had worked weeks to save. The money for Joey’s suit. The waiter just waved a dismissive hand, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m sorry, but Chairman Buckingham has booked the entire restaurant for a private event tonight. Perhaps you could try somewhere else?” I followed his gaze and saw it. In the main hall, a ridiculously long, French-style table was laden with dishes I couldn’t even name. A team of six model-esque servers catered to their every need. Even the little boy, who looked about Blake’s age, was confidently directing the staff, telling them what to do. “Is that… Dad?” Blake’s voice was barely a whisper. I grabbed him and fled, running as if our lives depended on it, not stopping until we were back in our cramped apartment. My eyes fell on the sewing machine in the corner, where a pair of shorts I’d made for Blake from a pair of his old pants—pants he’d already worn for three years—lay waiting. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. The truth is, I always knew I was just his backup plan. Years ago, when his first love, Vivian, left him for some handsome French artist and moved abroad, he fell apart. One night, he showed up at my small apartment, blind drunk. He crossed a line, and in his drunken haze, he took what he wanted, ignoring my protests. Soon after, I found out I was pregnant with Blake. After we married, he never bothered to find a job, content to let me work three of my own to barely keep us afloat. But I never imagined it was all an act. A lie. Blake padded over to me, holding a small towel, and gently wiped my tears. “It’s okay, Mom. I don’t really like fancy food anyway. My favorite food is the stuff you make.” I pulled him into my arms and held him tight, my sobs growing stronger. This couldn’t go on. I couldn’t do this anymore. Wiping my eyes, I sat down and began to write, drafting a document word by painstaking word. Just as I finished the last sentence, Joey stumbled home, reeking of alcohol. Like always, Blake ran to greet him, holding out his slippers with a cheerful smile. But Joey’s face was a cold mask of displeasure. “Why weren’t you out working tonight?” Blake froze. “Do we… do we still have to go out and work?” He had seen it all today. I hadn’t said it out loud, but he knew. He knew the man in the fancy store, the man buying all those bags and perfumes Mom was too scared to even touch, was his father. A man so rich he could eat at a table filled with food so expensive Blake couldn’t even count that high. Did Mom really need to keep working a third job? She was already so, so tired. Joey’s temper flared. “If you don’t work, what are you going to do? Sit at home and freeload until you die?” Blake burst into tears, terrified. That only made Joey angrier. He grabbed Blake by the ear and kicked him, sending him sprawling across the floor. Something inside me shattered. I flew at him, grabbing the first thing I could find—a dinner plate—and hurled it at his chest. It wasn’t enough. I seized the old-fashioned kettle, full of scalding water, and threw it at his feet. Hot water soaked his trousers, but he didn’t flinch. He just stared at me, his voice dangerously low. “Jenica, have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how much these things cost?” His words were the final match on the gasoline. “Lost my mind? Yes, I’ve lost my mind! Joey, after all these years of marriage, what have you ever given us? What did Blake do to deserve this? Why would you scream at him? Why would you hit him?” My voice cracked with years of suppressed pain. “For his birthday, all he wanted was a piece of cake! He begged you for a whole month, and you finally agreed, but only if he washed your feet every night for that month! And he did it! But what happened on his birthday? You came home empty-handed! Joey, when you saw the disappointment in your own son’s eyes, didn’t your heart break, even a little?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that familiar, weary annoyance. “It was just a cake. What’s the big deal? I’ll buy him one tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “Joey, how many tomorrows have you promised us? Does your tomorrow ever actually come?” “Jenica, can you not dredge up the past every time we have a fight?” he snapped, before turning and slamming the bedroom door behind him. I stared at the closed door, my hands trembling with rage at his indifference. This was the first time we had ever fought like this. And it would be the last. I went to Blake and gently helped him up. His face was streaked with tears. “Mommy,” he whispered, his small body trembling, “are you and Daddy going to get a divorce? If you do… does that mean I’ll be an orphan?” He handed me a piece of paper. It was the divorce agreement I had just drafted. I fought back a fresh wave of tears, pressing a long, deep kiss to his forehead before pulling him into a hug. “Mommy will never, ever leave you, Blake.” The truth was, I once had a promising career ahead of me. But the contract I signed at my first real job had a clause: no pregnancies within the first three years. Joey’s drunken mistake cost me that job. After that, pregnant and desperate, I couldn’t find any decent work. I took odd jobs, telling myself I’d find something better after the baby was born. But with a newborn to care for around the clock, it only got harder. My only saving grace came from the hospital director where Blake was born. He saw our struggle and offered me a job as a cleaner at the hospital. It was a steady day shift, Monday to Friday, which meant I could still breastfeed and care for Blake. The pay was low, but it was reliable, so I’d kept the job ever since. The day after my explosive fight with Joey, I dropped Blake at school and went to work as usual. Around noon, I was cleaning a hallway when I saw a familiar figure hurry past. It was Joey. This was the obstetrics and gynecology wing. What was he doing here? Out of a morbid curiosity, I followed him. I watched as he paid a bill at an automated kiosk and then walked straight into an ultrasound room. A few minutes later, he emerged, tenderly supporting his first love, Vivian. She was leaning against him, his hand placed gently on the small of her back. “You have to be more careful in the first trimester,” Joey chided softly. “How did you manage to throw out your back?” “It’s all your fault,” Vivian pouted, playfully swatting his shoulder. “You bought me so many bags and perfumes to celebrate the pregnancy. I had to put them all away, and I just… twisted wrong.” She looked up, and her eyes met mine across the hall. A flicker of recognition, then a sly smile spread across her face as she leaned in and whispered in Joey’s ear. 2 “But don’t you worry,” she said, her voice just loud enough for me to hear. “The doctor said the baby is strong, just like its father.” She knew exactly who I was. Suddenly, I felt the sharp, humiliating sting of being caught snooping. I spun around in a panic, forgetting I was standing in front of a solid wall. My body slammed into it, hard. A starburst of pain exploded in my head, and I couldn’t help but let out a small cry. Joey heard the sound and turned. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me, and he started to walk in my direction. But then Vivian cried out, “Oh! Ouch!” and clutched her stomach, sinking to the floor. Joey hesitated for only a second before turning back to her. He scooped her up in his arms and rushed back into the clinic. I stood there, fighting to keep the tears from falling, but the pain in my heart was a physical, crushing weight. The gash on my head from the wall was deep. When the nurse cleaned it, it stung so badly that the tears finally came, and once they started, I couldn’t stop them. Seeing my state, the kind hospital director let me go home early. I pulled myself together and walked to the bakery. Earlier that morning, I had ordered a cake for Blake. I knew Joey would never remember his promise. I would make up for his failure this one last time, and then I would never expect anything from him again. But when I got there, the baker told me they were sold out of that particular cake. My eyes widened in disbelief. “But I ordered one this morning. How can it be gone?” The owner squinted at me. “Did you pay a deposit?” I shook my head. “No.” “Well, there you have it,” he said, his voice rising as if he’d won a great victory. “Without a deposit, it’s not an order, is it?” I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. A young clerk leaned over and whispered, “A man came in a few minutes ago and bought it for ten times the price.” I followed her gaze out the window. It was Joey. He was carrying the cake, my son’s cake, and walking toward the parking lot. A small, foolish flicker of relief went through me. At least he remembered his promise to Blake. I decided not to argue with the baker and got on my old e-scooter to pick up Blake, ready to share the good news. But as I rounded the street corner, I saw the truth. It wasn’t what I thought at all. Joey was giving the cake to Vivian’s son, Daniel. And the boy, after taking it, immediately opened the box, placed the entire cake on the sidewalk, and started feeding it to a stray dog. Vivian stood by, recording the whole thing with her phone, while Joey praised him. “Daniel, you have such a big heart! You’re going to be such a compassionate man when you grow up.” A white-hot rage erupted inside me. I stormed over to them. “Joey! Have you lost your damn mind?” I screamed. “Your son begs you for a birthday cake you never buy, and when I finally order one for him, you steal it just to feed it to a dog?” He looked at me, a flash of surprise in his eyes, before it was replaced by his usual condescending glare. “It’s just a cake, Jenica. Stop making a scene in public. It’s embarrassing.” He had the nerve to talk about being embarrassed? Blake was his own flesh and blood, and in his eyes, he was worth less than a stray dog. Who was the real embarrassment here? Vivian stepped in, playing the peacemaker. “Oh, dear, we had no idea this cake was for you. Daniel saw the poor stray and just wanted to feed it. He’s always had such a kind heart.” She picked up the half-eaten, dirt-smeared cake from the ground. “The dog barely had any before you scared it off. Here, you can still take it.” She tried to shove the filthy cake into my hands. I was about to slap it away in disgust when Daniel snatched it from her. He threw it hard onto the pavement. “Shameless! Fighting with a dog over its food! I’d rather throw it away than let you have it!” I was so furious I couldn’t speak. “Arguing with a child,” Joey muttered, shaking his head. “How pathetic.” Then he turned and walked away with Vivian and her son, leaving me standing there in the wreckage of my son’s stolen dream. I took a deep breath, went to another bakery, and bought a new cake.

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I was the man the Celestial Queen had sworn to marry. But on the eve of our wedding, she listened to the venomous lies of my brother, Cain, and with a flick of her wrist, cast me down to the mortal realm. My sentence: to endure ten lifetimes of suffering on the wheel of reincarnation. After endless torment, I finally clawed my way back to the Celestial Realm. The moment my eyes met her icy gaze, my very soul trembled, and I scrambled to confess the sins I had never committed. “My Queen, this wretch knows his error.” “This wretch never should have defied my brother. You and he are the ones who truly belong together. My heart… my heart belongs to a swine-beast from the lower worlds…” Later, when I severed my own Celestial Core and willingly descended into the Underworld, the Celestial Queen—the woman who had hated me to the bone—humbled herself. She led the entire celestial host to the gates of the Underworld to beg for my return. … Ten lifetimes. After ten lifetimes, I stood once more in the Celestial Realm, yet I didn’t dare take a single step toward the Queen’s Elysian Palace. I had been a mere mortal. By a twist of fate, I found the Celestial Queen, gravely wounded after a cataclysmic battle between gods and demons. I nursed her back to health, caring for her tenderly for a decade, and in that quiet solitude, a love bloomed between us. When she recovered, she brought my family and me to the Celestial Realm, vowing to marry me as a reward for saving her life. But that peace was short-lived. A petty argument with my brother was all it took. The Queen and my own father cast me back into the mortal world to “learn my place.” Ten lifetimes of agony. I was reborn as a cripple, wasting away in despair. I was reborn as a pig, a dog, destined only for the butcher’s block. I became the laughingstock of the Celestial Realm. “What are you waiting for? Get in there. Don’t keep the Queen waiting, or she might add another lifetime to your sentence.” My father’s voice, sharp and cold, prodded me from behind. I turned to look at his face, a mask of frosted stone, and a bitter ache bloomed in my chest. I remembered him in the mortal world—a kind, gentle man who indulged my every whim and tantrum. Since entering the Celestial Realm, everything had changed. He grew colder by the day, his heart consumed by ambition and a lust for power. “You deserved every moment of your punishment,” he added, his voice devoid of warmth. “It’s what you get for running your mouth and trying to steal your brother’s glory for saving the Queen.” Once, I would have screamed, cried, and fought back. Now, I just lowered my head in silence. Ten lifetimes on the wheel had extinguished every spark of defiance in me, grinding my spirit down to dust. I’d even come to believe that being a pathetic, cowering dog was a good thing. At least it meant I would live. Suddenly, the great doors of the palace creaked open. A violent, unseen force ripped me from my feet, dragging me into the hall before vanishing just as quickly. I crashed to the marble floor like a puppet with its strings cut. My soul, already fractured from the cycles of rebirth, screamed in protest, threatening to shatter completely. Pain. A white-hot, blinding pain. My cry of agony echoed in the vast throne room, yet no one—not a single soul—cared if I lived or died. My father acted as if he hadn’t seen a thing. And there, upon the throne that marked her as the supreme ruler of the heavens, sat Seraphina, the Celestial Queen. Her expression was utterly indifferent, her eyes barren of pity or compassion. She was a goddess carved from ice. It was hard to believe she had once told me I was like the radiant sun, unique and irreplaceable in all the realms. “You are in the presence of your Queen. Are you not going to kneel?” my father’s impatient voice snapped in my ear. Once, my pride would have refused. I would have stood, defiant to the last. Now, I was the very picture of obedience. I scrambled to my knees, pressing my forehead to the cold floor. “This wretch… greets the Queen.” The silence in the hall stretched for an eternity before her voice, cool and distant, finally broke it. “Raise your head.” Fear coiled in my gut. “This wretch does not dare.” But a gentle gust of wind, a wisp of her power, forced my chin upward. I saw her brow furrowed in a tight knot, and my heart plummeted. “Have you learned your lesson this time? Have you finally learned your place?” Seraphina asked, her voice dripping with frost. “This wretch has learned his lesson.” “This wretch understands the rules.” “I beg the Queen to be merciful. Spare this wretch.” I bowed again and again, my body trembling as if submerged in a frozen lake, terrified of what new punishment she would devise. The celestial officials surrounding the throne began to whisper amongst themselves. “Look at Aidan. So proud before, wasn’t he? Stood in this very hall and swore he’d die before he’d kneel. Now he’s more obedient than a whipped dog.” “Obedient? It’s an act. When defiance failed, he turned to groveling. He’s just trying to win the Queen’s pity.” “I agree. A leopard can’t change its spots. Aidan is the same worthless fraud who tried to steal his brother’s glory and manipulate his way into the Queen’s bed.” Their words were easy, spoken from a place of safety and privilege. If they had been forced to endure what I had, they too would live every moment with their tails tucked between their legs, terrified to even breathe wrong. Seraphina seemed to believe their poison. She lifted a hand, and a wave of force slammed into me, sending me flying across the hall. I collided with a massive pillar and crumpled to the ground, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. The world swam in a haze of pain. I was close to losing consciousness. Even so, I forced myself to push up onto my elbows and plead with her. “My Queen, after ten lifetimes, I finally understand. I will never again stand between you and my brother.” “My heart belongs to a swine-beast from the lower worlds.” “I beg you…” Before I could finish, Seraphina shot to her feet, her eyes blazing with a sudden, sharp fury. I froze, too terrified to continue. “A swine-beast? You dare dishonor the heavens with such filth? Guards! Drag Aidan out and give him three hundred lashes from the divine whip!” she commanded, her beautiful eyes narrowed into cruel slits. “No!” “My Queen, have mercy! Please, just this once, forgive me…” I kowtowed desperately. But Seraphina was unmoved. My father stood by, silent, allowing the guards to drag me from the hall. They bound me to the great Sky-Piercing Pillar and the divine whip began to fall. My blood soaked through my grey tunic, painting it crimson. My shrieks echoed through the plaza. I fainted multiple times, only to be jolted back to consciousness by buckets of icy water. After three hundred lashes, I was cut down and lay in a heap on the cold stone like a broken animal, unable to summon even a sliver of strength. A bottomless, bitter sorrow flooded my heart. What had I done? What had I ever done to deserve this endless torture? “Ten lifetimes, and you still haven’t learned. You truly are a lost cause,” my father sneered, stepping carefully around me as he passed. “Walk home yourself. I don’t want your foul luck rubbing off on me.” I had no tears left to cry. It was I who found Seraphina, bleeding and broken. It was I who had never told a lie in my life. It was I who had given her my whole, honest heart. So why, after a single sentence from my brother claiming my deeds as his own, did she and my father believe him without question? After ten lifetimes, I still couldn’t understand. A long time passed. I finally managed to gather a sliver of strength. I pushed myself to my feet and staggered forward into the biting wind. After a few steps, my legs gave out. As I started to fall, a pair of gentle hands caught me. I turned my head and saw a woman in emerald-green robes. It was Luna, Seraphina’s junior celestial sister. “I was only in seclusion for three hundred years,” she murmured, her eyes filled with a pained confusion. “Aidan, how did you become… this?” For the first time since my return, someone showed me an ounce of concern. The old Aidan would have poured out his heart, desperate for someone, anyone, to listen to his story and believe his innocence. But now, I could only manage a bitter smile. “I committed a grave sin. I was sentenced to ten lifetimes on the wheel.” People change. I had learned that lesson all too well. My father, my brother, Seraphina… they had all changed. I couldn’t trust anyone anymore, terrified that any word I spoke would be carried back to my tormentors, earning me even more pain. “A grave sin?” Luna’s brow furrowed. “I have been in the Celestial Realm for a long time, and I have never heard of anyone being sentenced to ten lifetimes. Your very soul is on the verge of dissipating.” She clearly wanted to know more. I didn’t dare speak. I just lowered my head. “Never mind,” Luna sighed softly. “Let me take you home.” She placed a small, glowing pill in my mouth and then, before I could protest, lifted me into her arms and took to the sky. The warmth of her soft embrace was so foreign, so unexpected, that it left me stunned. I felt a faint heat rise in my cheeks. “Luna,” I managed to say, “you should put me down. Being seen with me will only bring you trouble.” This time, she remained silent. I didn’t know what else to say. The pill she’d given me was already working its magic. I could feel my fractured soul knitting itself back together, and the searing pain in my body faded to a dull ache. When we arrived at my family’s estate, my parents and Cain were at the dining table, laughing and talking. The entire residence was draped in crimson banners and silks. It seemed Cain and Seraphina’s wedding was imminent. No wonder she had been so cruel to me in the throne room. She was proving her devotion to my brother. The moment Luna landed with me in her arms, my father’s chopsticks clattered to the floor. “Aidan!” he roared, his face a mask of fury. “How dare you! You are a condemned sinner! How dare you allow the celestial Luna to carry you! Get down! Get down at once! Don’t you dare soil her robes!” My mother quickly chimed in with her agreement. Cain said nothing, but a flicker of jealousy and resentment burned in his eyes. I still couldn’t understand why he hated me so much. He was an orphan my parents had taken in, and they had showered him with love and affection. I had always treated him as my true brother. When Seraphina brought us to the Celestial Realm, I made sure he wasn’t left behind. And in return, he stabbed me in the back. He claimed it was he who had found the wounded Queen. He claimed that for the first three months of her coma, it was he who had cared for her, even using his own blood as a magical catalyst for her medicine. The truth was, the night I brought Seraphina home, Cain was disgusted. He forced me to move her to a ruined temple deep in the mountains, where I cared for her in secret. But Seraphina believed his every lie, and my parents sided with him completely. “It’s no matter,” Luna said, waving a dismissive hand. She glanced around at the celebratory decorations, her voice laced with meaning. “No matter what terrible crime Aidan has committed, you are still his family. You shouldn’t treat him with such contempt.” “Celestial Luna, you don’t know the whole story,” my father said, rushing to pull her aside to list my supposed transgressions. I didn’t bother to argue. “Aidan, you be a good boy now that you’re back,” my mother said, dragging me towards the back courtyard. “You should learn from your brother.” I just nodded, not daring to even look at Cain, afraid that the slightest thing would displease him and he’d run to Seraphina with another complaint. Another round of whipping was the last thing I needed. My room was stark and bare, containing only a bed. Not even a table. But compared to my life during the reincarnations, it was paradise. When I was an animal, I had no bed, only the filth of a pigsty or a sheep pen. When I was lucky enough to be reborn human, I was a disfigured outcast, abandoned at birth, forced to sleep on the streets. So now, lying on this simple bed, I was content. The moment my mother left, I collapsed onto the mattress. I was so tired. I fell asleep almost instantly and, as I always did, dreamed of my childhood. A time without a care in the world. A time when I could cry when I was sad and laugh when I was happy. Suddenly, a searing pain jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to see Cain standing over my bed, a whip in his hand and a cruel, mocking smile on his lips. “Brother, I was wrong! I’m sorry! I’ll never compete with you for the Queen again, I swear!” I tumbled off the bed and onto the floor, desperately kowtowing. “When you two marry, I’ll… I’ll perform a dance to bless your union!” “Hmph.” Cain snorted, his voice dripping with venom. “You think because you’ve cozied up to Luna, you have a new protector? That your life will be easy now? That’s a pipe dream, little brother. I won’t rest until I’ve tortured you to death.” Hearing this, I began to tremble uncontrollably, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. I couldn’t help but look up and ask, “I’m already like this. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” “Because,” he hissed, his smile turning truly sinister, “I’m afraid that one day, Seraphina’s old feelings for you might reignite.” Just as he finished speaking, the door to my room shattered inward. A celestial guard stood in the splintered frame. “By order of the Celestial Queen, the sinner Aidan is to be apprehended.” The guard bound me with celestial ropes and dragged me away. Behind me, Cain’s triumphant laughter filled the air. I knew, without a doubt, that this was his doing. Once again, I was thrown violently onto the floor of the Elysian Palace. Once again, Seraphina sat high on her throne, looking down on me with cold contempt. “Aidan,” she began, her voice edged with a new fury, “have you no shame? You have barely returned to the Celestial Realm, and you are already scheming to seduce the celestial Luna. The audacity!” This must have been Cain’s new lie. “I did not.” “Is that so?” Seraphina’s eyes narrowed. She raised her voice. “Sister Luna, show yourself and tell this court whether he speaks the truth.” As her words faded, Luna descended on a soft breeze. My heart leaped into my throat. I stared at her, my face pale, my hands and feet turning to ice. I felt a horrifying sense of déjà vu. This was it. Another betrayal was coming. Instead, Luna walked to my side and took my hand. In front of the entire court, as I stared in utter shock, she turned to the Queen and said, “It was my choice to escort Aidan home.” In that instant, my eyes welled with tears. A tiny stream of warmth flowed back into my cold, desolate heart. Seraphina’s gaze locked onto our joined hands. She gritted her teeth. “This is madness! Utter madness! A condemned sinner and a celestial maiden… how can you be together? Sister, do you feel no shame?” So that was it. The real reason she had cast me down so casually. She was ashamed of me. Luna shook her head. “Sister, I am not like you, so paralyzed by what others think, so afraid to face what is in your own heart. The first time I saw Aidan, I fell for him. But he was promised to you, so I entered seclusion to hide from my feelings.” I was stunned. I looked at Luna’s profile, my mind a whirl of confusion and disbelief. She had to be making this up. It was just a desperate ploy to save me. “Sister, you…” Seraphina’s face was a thundercloud. She clenched her fists. “Your shamelessness must be punished! It must!” Her voice boomed like thunder, echoing through the heavens. “From this day forth, Luna is stripped of her celestial rank! She and Aidan are to be banished to the Underworld! They will not return until they have guided every last wandering soul to peace! Everyone, to the Sundering Peak! I will personally tear out their Celestial Cores!” The sentence, like a bolt of lightning, reverberated through all the realms. A cold sweat drenched my body. I turned to Luna, my voice a desperate whisper. “You don’t have to throw away your immortal life for me.” To have one’s Celestial Core torn out and be banished to the Underworld… it was a punishment so severe it would destroy her future, her very existence. “It’s fine,” Luna said with a faint, carefree smile. “I’ve grown tired of the Celestial Realm anyway. A change of scenery might be nice.” She turned and began walking toward the Sundering Peak. I followed behind her, my heart a lump of bitter ash. Every being in the Celestial Realm had gathered around the Sundering Peak. When my parents saw me, they just shook their heads in disgust. My brother, Cain, wore a smirk of triumphant satisfaction. He had won again. Seraphina hovered in the air above the peak, her eyes fixed on Luna. “If you admit your mistake now, you can be spared—” Before she could finish, Luna acted. With a cry of defiance, she struck her own chest, severing her Celestial Core herself. As she did, a cascade of images, her memories, flashed in the air for all to see. Countless moments of her watching me from afar, her eyes filled with a secret longing. Even in the depths of her seclusion, suffering from a backlash of power that left her unconscious, she had whispered my name. The memories faded. Luna, her face pale but resolute, turned and leaped without hesitation into the shimmering portal to the Underworld. I was frozen. I couldn’t believe it. Luna… truly loved me. Loved me enough to destroy herself for my sake. In that moment, the dam broke. Tears streamed down my face. If I survived this, I swore to myself, I would spend the rest of my existence cherishing her. “Aidan, look at the ruin you’ve caused!” Seraphina shrieked, her rage now turning on me. “If you hadn’t seduced her, would she have done this?” With a wave of her hand, she flung me onto the center of the Sundering Peak. “I should never have been merciful! I should have let you be reborn as livestock and cripples for all eternity, to taste every last drop of suffering this world has to offer!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393811”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel