On my boyfriend’s social media, a girl commented: “Dude, your girlfriend’s a murderer’s daughter? Seriously? You into that? I’m way better, hmu.” Before I could even figure out how to explain to Julian, I saw his reply to the comment: “DM me.” I tapped on her profile. My palms turned instantly clammy. Tiffany. For over ten years since high school, I’d wondered how she was doing. Now, I scrolled through her perfectly curated posts. I learned her mom had remarried a wealthy man, bringing Tiffany along. Her life was clearly fantastic, her feed filled with vacation photos from all over the world. But seeing her face, I still remembered over a decade ago, when she and her cronies cornered me in the girls’ restroom. It was the dead of winter, and icy cold water poured over me from head to toe. “You, a murderer’s daughter, how dare you show your face in front of me!” “Your whole damn family is rotten to the core! Give me back my dad! Give me back my dad!” I couldn’t argue. Couldn’t fight back. Because my dad really was a murderer. He’d killed her dad. Later, a new guy transferred to our class and actually tried to befriend me. The day after we walked home together after school, Tiffany loudly declared in front of him. “You’ve got some nerve! Her dad’s a killer!” “Quinn, you’re just like your slutty mom, a real man-eater!” The guy immediately freaked out and cut all ties with me. That day, I finally gathered the courage to retort, “Your dad was the one who wronged my mom first!” Her face twisted. She lunged at me like a maniac, pinning me to the ground and slapping me a dozen times. “Bullshit! Your mother was a homewrecker! A cheap homewrecker who raised a copycat slut just like herself!” The teacher saw the whole thing unfold. But he just silently pulled Tiffany up, looked at me with an expressionless face, and said, “A student like you, consider it a privilege you’re even allowed to stay in school. Don’t you dare cause trouble for your classmates again. From now on, you’re sitting alone in the back.” After I became the victim, no one remembered the terrible things Tiffany’s father had done when he was alive. Everyone only remembered that my dad was a murderer. Countless dark, lonely days, I just pushed through them on my own. But I never expected Tiffany to reappear. Julian, my boyfriend, I’d never told him about my past. Now, he must know, right?

It felt like waiting for a death sentence. I picked up my phone countless times, wanting to call him, but terrified of him calling me. Knowing his personality, he’d definitely come to get answers. But by the evening of the next day, he still hadn’t made a move. Restless, I grabbed the half-empty trash bag and headed downstairs. Just my luck, I bumped right into Julian. My heart lurched. I forced myself to stay calm, opening my mouth in the most normal tone I could muster. “Hey, you’re here? Have you eaten? What do you want? Cook at home or go out?” But no matter how composed I tried to be, I could feel the change in him. I couldn’t ignore it. I tried to act nonchalant. “What’s wrong? You look preoccupied.” Julian gazed at me, his expression complex. “Is there something you’re hiding from me?” My stomach dropped, but I still feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?” “Ugh, what are you waiting for, Julian? Just ask her if her dad really is a murderer!” A sharp female voice cut through the air from nearby. I frantically looked over. Even after all these years, I recognized her instantly: Tiffany. Julian turned to her, displeased. “Are you stalking me?” So, they’d already met? I couldn’t stay calm anymore. My composure shattered, and I instinctively stumbled back a few paces. “Tiffany!” “Well, well, still remember me, Quinn?” She smiled at me, just like she had over ten years ago. “Yeah, your dad killed mine. Guess you’re never gonna forget me, huh?” Forget? No, I could never forget. She once grabbed my hair and held my head under ice-cold water. She once locked me in a pitch-black warehouse for an entire night. She once cornered me, grinning maliciously as she made everyone line up to slap me. … There was too much. I’d never forget any of it. I managed a stiff smile. “Long time no see.” Tiffany strolled closer, her gaze dismissive. “Yeah, it’s been a while. And you’re still living so comfortably! Don’t you feel any guilt seeing me?” I clenched my fists. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, Julian spoke calmly. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” Tiffany smirked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Hear that? He doesn’t want to see you. If you know what’s good for you, get lost!” But this was my apartment building. I seemed to have lost my ability to speak, unable to form any explanation or rebuttal. Until I heard Julian’s voice again. “I was talking about you. Can’t you understand plain English?” I looked up, seeing him direct a look of utter disgust at Tiffany. Tiffany froze, then shrieked in disbelief. “Are you insane?! Everything I told you today meant nothing?! Quinn’s dad is a murderer! He killed my dad!” Julian merely stated, his voice even. “Her father was the murderer, not her.”

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Everyone knew the rumors that Caspian, the head of the powerful Vance family, was completely impotent. But I didn’t believe it. I secretly slipped an aphrodisiac into Caspian’s drink. That night, I clung to him until he lost control. And finally, I got what I wanted – his child. When Caspian found out, he didn’t lash out at me for my reckless act, for exposing his secret. Instead, he canceled crucial projects, coming home on time every day to be with me during my pregnancy. My friends all teased, saying I, his ‘trophy girlfriend,’ would soon secure my place and become Mrs. Vance. Until five months into the pregnancy. Caspian suddenly ordered his men to beat my unborn child out of me with wooden sticks: “I knew there was something wrong with the wine you gave me that night. The people you slept with were just two homeless men I picked up, all to make sure you understood your place.” “This child can’t stay. Afterward, I’ll send you to The Serenity House to properly learn what it means to be a mistress.”

Looking at Caspian’s cold, unfeeling face, my heart turned to ashes. By the time he finally bothered to pick me up, I was already a broken mess, a shadow of my former self. The moment I saw Caspian, I recoiled like a frightened cat, scurrying into the corner. Caspian’s outstretched hand hung awkwardly in mid-air, his face stiffening. I used to cling to him the most. Before coming, he’d probably imagined how I would playfully complain and demand his attention. The stark contrast clearly annoyed Caspian. He immediately yelled at me, “I went to all this trouble to send you here for ‘re-education,’ and you can’t even be grateful for that!” “Now that I finally made time to pick you up, you treat me like this. Elara, you’ve truly disappointed me!” “Serena was right, a heartless, low-class girl like you doesn’t deserve my efforts at all.” Low-class tramp. Those few words pierced my eardrums, dragging me back to the past. That year, during my junior year of college, my mother was diagnosed with brain cancer. To cover her medical bills, I dropped out and went to work as a hostess at a bar, where the money came quickly. It was there I met Caspian. This man, whom I’d only met once, not only paid for my exorbitant medical expenses but also ‘bought me out’ of the bar to keep me by his side. My colleagues said I was incredibly lucky; he was the richest man in the entire state. I paused, thinking, Someone so powerful, it’s hard for them to be faithful, right? As I expected, Caspian had a never-ending string of women; I was just one of hundreds of his ‘kept women.’ At first, I wondered why all hundred-plus of us had an uncanny resemblance. It wasn’t until I saw the delicate and rarely seen Serena by Caspian’s side that it dawned on me: we were all just substitutes for her. Initially, I could still tell myself to stay grounded, to be ready to walk away anytime. But my colleagues’ envy and Caspian’s special attention gradually made me forget my status as a mistress. I grew greedier, wanting to stay by his side forever, so I went to extreme lengths to get pregnant with his child. Caspian said nothing, even taking better care of me than before. I secretly rejoiced, letting myself believe I was truly his exception. It wasn’t until he brutally beat my child out of me with sticks and threw me into The Serenity House that I finally faced reality. Caspian’s final warning burned itself into my memory before I left. “Remember your position,” he’d said, his voice cold as steel. “A kept woman should never forget her place or entertain foolish dreams.” Three years of brutal conditioning taught me the devastating price of forgetting that lesson. If I had a second chance, I would stay far, far away from him. The man’s curses snapped me back to reality. I looked at his ugly expression, feeling utterly confused. I wasn’t crossing any lines anymore, so why was Caspian still angry?

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To avenge the humiliation of his broken engagement years ago, I stole his company’s core secrets. The once high-and-mighty CEO, begging me to let him go, willingly became my kept man. His lover, driven by me to a miscarriage, fled town. Julian hated me, called me a viper. By day, he played the doting husband, but by night, he tormented me relentlessly in bed. It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer that I decided to let him go, and finally, let myself go too. I signed over all my assets back to him, along with a divorce agreement. “Julian, game over.” But he shattered. He tore the documents apart, his eyes wild as he crowded me against the wall. “You started it. How dare you decide when it ends? Scarlett, even if we’re going to hell, you’re coming with me!” … I once loved Julian with all my heart. That kind of love was etched into my very bones, the kind that made you believe you’d never be apart. I still remember, one winter, I had a terrible cold, burning with fever. Julian, that pampered man who never lifted a finger, clumsily stood in the kitchen, insisting on making me a hearty homemade soup. In the end, the soup wasn’t even ready, but he’d already scalded his hands with the steam. He hid his red hands behind his back, still trying to act tough. “What are you looking at? Drink your soup, and you’ll be better.” Back then, the tenderness in his eyes could drown a person. But now, that tenderness was long gone, given to someone else. I turned off the stove and ladled the slow-cooked soup into a bowl, placing it on the dining table. The sound of keys turning in the lock echoed from the entryway. Julian was home, bringing with him the cold chill of winter and the faint scent of another woman’s perfume. He stripped off his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the sofa, and loosened his tie. When his gaze landed on the bowl of soup, a sneer, raw and undisguised, curved his lips. “What new game are you playing today, Scarlett?” He sauntered over, pulling out the chair opposite me and sitting down. “Poisoning the soup? Yes, that sounds exactly like you.” I picked up my spoon, stirring the soup slowly, not bothering to look up. “You think too highly of yourself, Julian. Poison is expensive. You’re not worth it anymore.” His face instantly darkened. He tapped his fingers on the table, a dull, rhythmic sound filling the silence. “Then you’d better give me an explanation, or I’ll pour this entire bowl over your head.” “Nothing to explain,” I finally met his gaze. “I just suddenly wanted some, and figured I’d ladle you a bowl too. Drink it or don’t, it’s up to you.” We were like two porcupines, never saying a kind word, as if whoever showed weakness first would lose. I had been living this way for three years. He hated me for stealing his company’s secrets, for bringing down his family, and even more, for driving away his beloved Layla. I hated him for publicly breaking our engagement, for making my family and me the laughingstock of the city. We tormented each other, neither willing to let go. “Scarlett, stop looking so pathetic. It’s disgusting.” He scoffed, standing up, as if being in the same room as me was unbearable. “Wait.” I called out. The familiar wrenching pain began in my stomach again, but I couldn’t let it show. He turned impatiently. “What do you want?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I pulled out the documents I’d prepared from a nearby drawer and pushed them across the table to him. One was a divorce agreement. The other was the full transfer of his company’s shares. “These are all yours again.” My voice was weary. “Julian, I’m tired.” I expected him to be overjoyed, to sign them without a second thought, and then rush off to his Layla. I had even planned to go to the hospital after he left, to spend my remaining time in peace. But his eyes turned bloodshot. He snatched the divorce agreement and tore it into a million pieces. He lunged forward, slamming both hands on the wall beside my head, trapping me between his body and the cold surface. “Game over? You started it, Scarlett. How dare you decide when it ends? Even if we’re going to hell, you’re coming with me!”

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The Hayes family came to the orphanage to choose a daughter – a sister for their son, Adrian. Every child hoped to be selected. Everyone except me. I was hiding in the old tree in the backyard. In this life, I refused to become a Hayes. I wouldn’t become Adrian’s wife, trapped in that gilded cage, suffocating, wasting away my life. This time, I only wanted an ordinary, free life. But as I climbed down, I found Adrian leaning against the trunk. He looked up at me, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Chloe. Did you have fun up there?” The moment I saw Adrian, I almost thought my worst nightmare was unfolding again. It wasn’t until Ms. Evelyn, the orphanage director, scurried over, her voice a mix of reprimand and urgency. “Chloe! What are you doing here? Mr. Hayes has been looking for you everywhere!” Only then did I snap back to reality. This wasn’t a dream. This was a second chance, a crucial turning point in my restarted life. I froze. Ms. Evelyn pulled me down from the tree, brushed the dust off my clothes, straightened my collar, and gently pushed me towards Adrian. “This child is usually very well-behaved. I don’t know what got into her today.” She explained in a low voice. Adrian, however, just stared at me, his gaze holding a disturbing intensity I couldn’t read. He offered a slight smile and extended a hand. “Chloe, it’s a pleasure.” The way he said my name sent a familiar jolt through me, a heart stopping sensation like being caught in a web. I took an instinctive step backward, avoiding his eyes as alarm bells screamed in my head. Why? I’d tried to hide, to disappear. Why did he still find me? Why did it have to be me? “Why me?” I heard my own voice, dry and hoarse. Ms. Evelyn bent down, explaining softly and kindly, “Chloe, Mr. Hayes wants to take you home. You’ll have a new family, a mom, a dad, and…” She glanced at Adrian. “You’ll even have an older brother.” Ms. Evelyn’s smile was genuinely relieved. In her eyes, this was the best possible outcome for an orphan. But she didn’t know. I’d lived it once. I knew exactly what that outcome tasted like. “Chloe, will you come home with me?” Adrian’s voice was softer than I remembered from his youth in my past life, even carrying a hint of… seduction? This scene was too familiar. Memories of my past life flooded back. The strict etiquette lessons. The endless piano practice, learning to mimic every move, every word of his deceased sister. And then, the orchestrated wedding night. The fifteen years of a marriage filled with mutual disgust, where we tormented each other daily. “No.” I cut him off sharply, looking up at Ms. Evelyn. “Ms. Evelyn, I don’t want to be adopted.” The air instantly froze. Adrian’s reaction was the strongest. He frowned slightly, but there was no anger, only a persistent question. “Why not?” “Because I don’t want to be your sister.” I met his gaze, trying to find a crack in his composure. My blunt refusal seemed to amuse him. He smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. His voice softened further, an inappropriate indulgence in his tone. “Then you don’t have to be my sister. Just come back to the Hayes house, live with us, okay?” Ms. Evelyn tugged at my sleeve discreetly, but I shook my head again. “No.” I thought my firm refusal would make him give up. But when Ms. Evelyn hesitantly asked Mr. and Mrs. Hayes if they wanted to see other children, Adrian spoke with unwavering conviction. “Dad, Mom, I only want her.” He looked at me, his gaze heavy, and added the line that echoed from my past life: “Only she reminds me most of Mia.” In my past life, Adrian chose me because my eyes and brows bore a resemblance to his sister, Mia, who had tragically passed away young. Back then, I’d thought it was a stroke of luck, a blessing from above.

I was brought back to the Hayes’ mansion, my name changed to Chloe Hayes, and placed in a meticulously decorated room that never truly felt like mine. Mrs. Hayes declared, “Orphanage kids tend to pick up habits that aren’t exactly presentable. We need to fix that.” So I worked tirelessly to shed every ‘bad habit,’ becoming poised and graceful, less and less like the Chloe I was, and more and more like the Mia in their memories. Mrs. Hayes was relentlessly strict. I had to practice piano for at least six hours a day. Even when the teacher politely suggested I had limited talent, Mrs. Hayes would sit with me every single day. “It’s alright, Chloe. Hard work pays off. Mia had to practice just as hard.” It wasn’t until later that I understood: playing the piano was Mia’s passion. They were desperately trying to mold me into someone else’s shadow. But I didn’t care. A dying fish wouldn’t complain about murky wate. It just wants to live. Love, to me, was just another means to that end. I worked even harder, striving to become the Chloe Hayes they wanted, to win Mrs. Hayes’s approval, and to secretly catch Adrian’s eye. We truly seemed like a family. Then came the night of Adrian’s engagement party to a socialite from an equally prominent family. He was drugged, completely out of control, and I mistakenly stumbled into his room. Mr. Hayes immediately suffered a heart attack from the shock. Mrs. Hayes slapped me across the face, her eyes icy cold. “If I’d known this would happen, I never would have let you through our door!” Adrian watched me in silence, his expression unreadable. I thought, he probably regretted it too. Regretted picking me, this ‘disaster.’ “It wasn’t me, I didn’t know.” My explanations were useless. No one believed me. In the marriage that followed, Adrian used that incident countless times to wound me. “You were so desperate to marry into this family, you’d even drug your own… me. Chloe, this is your karma.” He hated me, and so, after our wedding, he found endless ways to humiliate me, making me the laughingstock of our social circle. Everyone bet our marriage wouldn’t last a year. “Once she has the baby, Adrian will definitely dump her.” But tragically, he and I were entangled for two decades. Even when I died from a severe illness, my tombstone still bore the inscription, ‘Adrian Hayes’ Wife.’ “Chloe, tell me, why are you so against it?” After Mr. and Mrs. Hayes left, Ms. Evelyn brought me to her office, her voice confused and worried. I was silent for a long time before I finally whispered, “I can’t bear to leave here. I can’t bear to leave you.” Ms. Evelyn sighed, urging me to reconsider. I knew she meant well. But my mind was set on escaping my predetermined fate. However, that very night, an accidental fire broke out in the orphanage kitchen. A single blaze shattered all my plans. “Did you do this?” The hospital’s antiseptic smell stung my nostrils. I stared at Adrian, who had rushed over, and coldly questioned him. He paused, looking weary from travel, then gave a bitter smile. “Chloe, do you really think so little of me?” “The fire inspection said it was old wiring. I just… wanted to help.” He looked towards the intensive care unit. “I’ll cover Ms. Evelyn’s medical expenses. As long as you…” He paused, his voice low. “As long as you agree to come home with me.” I scoffed. “Taking advantage of someone at their lowest? Is that what a ‘good person’ does?” Adrian didn’t argue. He just said, “You don’t have to be my sister. Just stay at the Hayes’ house for now. My mom… she’s been very emotional lately. Seeing you might bring her some comfort.” The reason was exactly the same as in my past life. I looked at the young but intensely serious Adrian before me, and suddenly felt incredibly tired. “Is that all?” His eyes flickered, and he nodded. “That’s all.” Finally, looking at the unconscious Ms. Evelyn, I nodded. I couldn’t just watch her treatment be delayed because of medical costs. On the car ride back to the Hayes’ mansion, Adrian tried to make conversation, but I remained silent. He watched the fleeting streetlights outside the window and said softly, “The Hayes family can give you a better life and future than the orphanage. Chloe, don’t blame me. I’m doing this for your own good.” “I’m doing this for your own good.” Adrian had fed me that line countless times in my past life. He despised me. He made me suffer. Yet, in my final days, he developed this absurd, possessive remorse. When he threw away the cat I had rescued, the one comfort I had left in my sickness, he used those same empty words: “It’s for your own good.” That’s when I knew. His “for your own good” was just for his own conscience. It was always about him.

When we arrived at the Hayes’ residence, Mrs. Hayes was indeed waiting outside. The moment she saw me, she rushed forward, her smile warm but tinged with exhaustion. “Chloe, you’re here? Your room’s all ready for you.” She took my hand and led me upstairs, pushing open a door. It was the familiar room: lace curtains, a four-poster bed draped in silks, plush toys overflowing from every corner, and that gleaming, expensive grand piano. Everything was just as Mia had left it, preserved perfectly. “Do you like it?” Mrs. Hayes looked at me expectantly. I pulled my hand away, lowering my eyes. “Mrs. Hayes, this is your daughter’s room, isn’t it? These things are very precious. It wouldn’t be right for me to stay here. What if I broke something? The guest room downstairs would be fine.” Mrs. Hayes froze for a moment, still wanting to insist. “But…” “Mom.” Adrian cut her off. “Let’s just do what Chloe wants. She prefers quiet.” He looked at me, his eyes seemingly seeing through my evasion. His room was right next door. In my past life, before the engagement incident, Adrian and I had a relatively good relationship. In our teenage years, when Mrs. Hayes playfully asked what kind of boy I liked, I’d looked at Adrian, fresh from his workout, and blurted out, “Someone just like him.” That innocent remark later became irrefutable ‘proof’ that I had ‘coveted’ him and resorted to despicable tactics to marry him. Every time I struggled to explain, “I didn’t do that,” he’d grip my chin, his eyes cold, a sneer on his lips. “You said you liked me at sixteen, liked me enough to use such low-down schemes? Chloe, you disgust me.” Perhaps it was being back in the old place, but that night, I was tormented by nightmares. I dreamt of myself, gravely ill, with the doctor advising, “Let your family and friends visit more often.” I shook my head. “I have no family.” Friends? My best friend back then was Skylar, Adrian’s fiancée. Five years into my marriage with Adrian, Skylar returned from studying abroad. Adrian personally picked her up and threw a lavish welcome-home party for her. Someone ‘kindly’ sent me a video – in a secluded corner booth, they were locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to the world. A short, few-second video, I watched it on repeat all night. The next day, I went to the hospital to abort our accidentally conceived second child, and then placed divorce papers in front of Adrian. He asked, “Why?” I showed him the video. “Skylar’s back. Let’s get a divorce.” I had tried to divorce him many times before, and each time he refused. I thought, this time, he’d agree. But he shredded the agreement, deleted the video, and glared at me. “Don’t even think about it.” “Chloe? Chloe!” I was shaken awake, still trembling with fear, and instinctively slapped him. The sharp crack of the slap echoed loudly in the night. A younger Adrian clutched his cheek, looking at me in shock, his eyes holding both hurt and concern. “I heard you crying…” He finished, then turned towards the door, pausing at the frame. “Breakfast is ready. I’ll drive you to your new school after you eat.” Just like in my past life, I transferred to the elite private school Adrian attended. As I followed him into the classroom, countless eyes immediately fell on us. “Adrian, who’s she?” someone asked curiously. Adrian smiled slightly, introducing me. “This is Chloe. She’s staying with my family for now.” He glossed over the word “for now.” I watched his tall, straight back, and suddenly noticed something felt off. The Adrian before me wasn’t as distant as he’d been as a teenager in my past life, nor as gloomy and cold as he’d become later. My heart gave a sudden leap, and an absurd thought surfaced. “Adrian.” I called out to him. Almost simultaneously, another voice spoke up. “Adrian.” We both turned. Standing at the classroom door was Skylar.

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I was a pushover, but I was born with a cursed tongue. When I came of age, my foster parents tried to sell me to a wealthy, ailing old man. Trembling, I whispered, “Mom, Dad, don’t you fear what goes around comes around for this?” That very night, a torrential downpour triggered a mudslide, instantly swallowing the entire trafficking village. Later, I went to the city, selling flowers and offering good wishes. One rainy night, a rich jerk stumbled out of a bar and roughly grabbed me. I stammered, “Don’t touch me! You might hurt your hand…” The next second, he shrieked, letting go as his wrist instantly dislocated. Then, a man with gentle eyes softly took my sleeve. “Your words are powerful. Come home with me?” That night, he bought all my flowers, and I, in a daze, followed him home. Six months later, we were married. My parents claimed they were coming to visit, but on my wedding day, they locked me in a room. My twin sister, Serena, was wearing my custom wedding gown, replacing me to marry Julian Blackwood. The wedding ceremony outside was lively, and I screamed for ages, but no one heard me. I huddled in the corner, sniffling, softly muttering like the pushover I was: “The real bride is right here. How can this wedding even happen…?” The words had barely left my lips when, CRASH— Just as the ceremony reached its peak, the front door, frame and lock, shattered and collapsed.

The heavy reinforced door crashed down, eliciting gasps from the crowd: “What a disaster on our wedding day! Why did the door just fall down?” “The bride’s been hit! Quick, help her!” The festive atmosphere outside instantly evaporated, replaced by a cacophony of clanging and crashing. Footsteps, screams, and the sounds of heavy objects being dragged mixed together, shattering the wedding mood. At the same time, Serena’s sharp voice pierced through the chaos: “My wedding shoes! These are Italian haute couture heels! Get this door off me!” Inside, I softly mumbled: “Those were custom-made for me by Julian. I haven’t even worn them yet…” “It’s fine, it’s fine if you don’t wear them. Haute couture quality isn’t always great anyway. What if the heel breaks?” The next second, a yelp of pain erupted from outside. Followed by Serena’s tearful curses: “The heel broke?! This damn shoe is trying to make me fall! What terrible quality!” Everyone scrambled to help the “bride” sit down. I huddled by the toilet, blinking my stinging eyes, looking at my wrinkled pajamas, and bitterly whispered: “That bespoke wedding dress was expensive too, Julian had a renowned designer make it for me.” “It’s fine, it’s fine. Hand-stitched. What if some clumsy embroiderer left a needle in it?” The words had barely left my lips when, “AAHHH—!!!” A more piercing scream tore through the air from outside. Serena shrieked in pain: “Something’s pricking me!” She stood up to look, only to find a needle from the gown deeply embedded in her thigh. Crimson blood welled up, staining the jewels on the dress. The wedding planner by her side sounded shaky: “Miss Serena… today, isn’t it a bit… unlucky?” Serena whirled around, glaring at her, gritting her teeth. “So what? No matter how unlucky, I will get married! Today, I will become Mrs. Blackwood!” Julian hadn’t arrived yet, and everyone was dispatched by Serena to clean up the chaotic scene and the front door. And I, inside, Heard footsteps approaching, and the bathroom door lock clicked open. Serena walked in, her gown stained in one spot, her face ashen. But she was wearing my bespoke wedding dress, adorned with all the jewelry Julian had prepared for me, looking down at me haughtily. She walked up to me, bent down, and said smugly: “Scarlett, you’re destined to be my stepping stone in life, you know that?” “Back then, it was me who pushed you, pushing you out of the corner so the traffickers noticed you first. Otherwise, they would’ve taken me too. Thanks for taking the fall for me.” “Now, even the rich husband you were supposed to marry, is about to be mine.” She smiled, a triumphant, twisted grin. “The twins’ luck, it’s all on my side, hahaha.” After she finished, she raised her hand and viciously slapped me across the face. Warning me not to try any tricks later, saying the master bedroom’s en-suite bathroom was soundproof, and screaming my head off wouldn’t help. My face stung, but I just cried weakly: “Don’t hit me, Serena. Your hands are so precious, what if you hurt them?” She sneered, “I’ll hit you anyway!” She raised her hand to strike me again. “Ah!” She yanked her hand back abruptly, the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger sliced open by a sharp diamond on the cuff, blood welling up. She gasped in pain, pointing at me and cursing: “You bitch! How dare you cursed tongue me, you vile thing!” She cursed, reaching out to hit me again, But the wedding planner rushed to the bedroom door, urging: “Is the bride ready? Come out quickly, the groom is here!”

Serena shot me a venomous glare: “Stay put!” Then she slammed the door shut, and the lock clicked again. I heard the sounds of immediate revelry outside. Mr. and Mrs. Reed chuckled flatteringly: “Oh, Mr. Blackwood, you’re here!” “Scarlett is getting ready in the bedroom, she’s just a little shy, you know, first time getting married!” Serena adjusted her dress and opened the door, stepping out. Julian’s eyes lit up. He reached out and gently stroked her hair, his deep voice laced with a smile: “Still shy, are we?” He thought it was his Scarlett. Serena mimicked my usual timid and pushover tone, speaking in a soft, demure voice: “Julian, let’s hurry. It wouldn’t be good to miss the ceremony’s start.” She urged Julian to quickly get through the formalities. Once they returned to the Blackwood estate, I would have virtually no chance of ever seeing Julian again. In the days that followed, she’d slowly dispose of me, then she’d have no worries, able to sit securely as Mrs. Blackwood for life. Inside, I heard Julian arrive. I shuffled over to the door crack, calling for help. But it was too loud outside, Still, no one heard my cries. Instead, I heard Julian’s voice, speaking to Serena. So gentle and soft. I remembered the day he brought me home from the rainy night, how he’d spoken to me so softly, as if afraid to scare me. He dried my hair, Tapped my nose, saying how I looked like a wet little puppy when I looked up at him. He said, “Scarlett, come live with me from now on.” A man so composed, so shrewd, so powerful, To me, a mere pushover, He was always so kind, so incredibly patient. Julian was almost the only person who had ever been good to me in my entire life, But now I was about to lose him. I leaned against the cold tiles, crying softly and weakly. Again and again, I mumbled: “Julian, I’m here. Your bride is still here. How can this wedding even happen?” Outside, Mrs. Reed was feeding the “bride” a traditional wedding dish, a symbol of joyful marriage. But the next second, a sudden commotion erupted. “There’s a bone in the noodles!” “Oh my god, what happened? The bride’s choked on a bone!” No sooner had the fishbone been coughed out, And the chaos barely subsided, another gasp of alarm. “Her shoe! The new heel broke again!” “Careful with the dress!” Serena, eager to get out of bed and leave, lost her balance when the new heel snapped— “Riiiiip—!” The sound of fabric tearing from the bespoke gown was clear and grating. Outside, there was one frantic commotion after another. I listened inside, terrified, softly muttering: “Oh my god, good thing it’s not me getting married today… this is just too unlucky.” But then, a wave of resentment washed over me. Serena’s malicious push when we were kids ruined my life. Now she was trying to replace me, to steal my future stable and happy life. That woman, she was utterly rotten! Thinking of this evil person getting her comeuppance, I felt her misfortunes were nothing compared to what she deserved. When my foster parents beat me, made me sleep in pigpens and cow sheds, and then sold me, She was safe and sound, enjoying life in the big city. At this thought, I softly spoke into the air: “Since it’s already like this, then… could it get even worse?” The instant the words left my lips, BANG—! A loud crash echoed from the bedroom. The large wall clock above the bed inexplicably clattered down. Followed by Serena’s bloodcurdling scream. The clock had smashed into her, Scattering her jewelry everywhere, and her forehead immediately started bleeding. At the same time, CRACKLE! POP! a deafening series of sounds, Hundreds of balloons decorating the room, all burst simultaneously!

The bedroom instantly erupted into pandemonium. “N- no, Scarlett! Scarlett’s forehead is bleeding!” “Get the first aid kit!” “Why did that wall clock just fall down out of nowhere?!” “Why did all the balloons pop?!” Serena’s cries were sharp and aggrieved, piercing through the door and stinging everyone’s eardrums. In the midst of the chaos, Julian’s voice was clear and steady: “It seems everything is going wrong today. If it’s truly this bad, let’s postpone the wedding.” “No!” Serena shrieked, interrupting him almost immediately, her voice distorted by pain and panic. “It can’t be postponed! Julian, this wedding has to happen today! It has to!” She forced herself to maintain composure, her words unnaturally fast: “W-would you mind waiting for me in the living room for a bit? I just need to freshen up, fix my makeup, I’ll be right out.” She then urgently called out to the door: “Dad! Mom! Come in and help me!” Everyone else left. After they locked the bedroom door, Mr. and Mrs. Reed decisively stormed into the master bathroom. The bathroom door was kicked open with a BANG! Serena rushed in first, Without a word, she raised her hand and slapped me hard. “Tell me! Was it you?! Was it your cursed mouth cursed tongueing me?!” She was trembling with rage. Mr. and Mrs. Reed followed behind her, their eyes no longer holding the slightest remorse from last night. They glared at me, as if I were the enemy who had ruined their entire family. I recoiled in terror, weakly calling out, “Mom, Dad,” Mrs. Reed was scrolling through her phone, checking the security footage. They had taken down the living room’s camera overnight and installed it here, just to make sure I didn’t try anything. “It was her! She was hiding in here, muttering and cursing you the whole time!” Mrs. Reed finished watching the footage, pointing at me with a sharp voice. “The broken heel, the needle in the dress—this wretched girl said it all!” Serena finally believed in my “power.” She hadn’t expected my cursed tongue to be so potent. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she frantically rummaged through the drawers of the vanity. “cursed tongue! I’ll make sure you can’t curse anymore! I’ll make sure you can’t speak!” She pulled out a tube of superglue, Turned around, and walked toward me with a chilling, triumphant grin. I screamed and struggled backward, my body pressed against the cold tiles, futilely trying to free my bound hands and feet. “No, Serena, Mom, Dad, please…” But at that moment, Julian knocked on the bedroom door: “Scarlett? Do you need any help?” Serena jumped, quickly smoothed her dress and hair, then rushed out to deal with Julian. Before leaving, she rapidly instructed Mr. and Mrs. Reed: “Hurry! Glue her mouth shut! Don’t let her make another sound!” After Serena left, I looked at my parents, quickly pleading: “Mom, Dad, please let me go! I’m your daughter too, don’t you have any feelings for me?” Mr. Reed forcefully pressed my shoulder, his eyes cold: “We never raised you, so what feelings could we have?!” Mrs. Reed sneered even more harshly: “Serena’s happiness is more important than anything! As long as she’s well, you can die for all I care!” My heart instantly felt like a gaping hole had been torn through it. So, the family affection I had longed for was so vile. No guilt for the daughter they’d lost for twenty years, only a desire to make her a sacrifice for another daughter’s happiness. Outside, Julian stood in the bedroom, looking down at Serena. His tone was slightly grave: “Scarlett, your behavior today is very strange, do you know that?” Serena froze, then immediately adopted a wronged tone: “No, Julian, I’m just nervous about getting married! I just want to marry you so badly!” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading and vulnerable. But in that instant, Julian’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. In the bathroom, Mr. Reed pried open my mouth. Mrs. Reed had already twisted open the superglue cap, and the acrid smell of the adhesive assailed me. I struggled desperately. The superglue was at my lips, about to be squeezed out. I couldn’t think of anything else. I recoiled, slamming my head against the toilet behind me. A muffled THUD. Outside, Julian immediately turned his head toward the bathroom: “What was that sound?”

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Serena, all to make her young lover a VP, faked amnesia after a car crash and tried to fire me from my position. As I walked by, I overheard her boy toy whisper to Serena: “Let me play with the VP position for seven days. Can I have you for seven days too, Serena?” Serena smiled, kissing his lips. “Of course, I’ll make sure you have all the fun you can handle.” My steps faltered. I didn’t expose her lie. The next day, at the conference table, Serena slammed her hand down, declared her boy toy was her real husband, and demanded I get out of the company, handing over all my projects. All the employees stared at me, waiting for me to stop Serena’s outrageous behavior. Serena, all to make her young lover a VP, faked amnesia after a car crash and tried to fire me from my position. As I walked by, I overheard her boy toy whisper to Serena: “Let me play with the VP position for seven days. Can I have you for seven days too, Serena?” Serena smiled, kissing his lips. “Of course, I’ll make sure you have all the fun you can handle. My steps faltered. I didn’t expose her lie. The next day, at the conference table, Serena slammed her hand down, declared her boy toy was her real husband, and demanded I get out of the company, handing over all my projects. All the employees stared at me, waiting for me to stop Serena’s outrageous behavior. But I didn’t resist. I just quietly signed the resignation papers. What she didn’t know was that the deadline for the key project submission was just seven days away, and the client would only work with me, the core team member. “You can leave, but you must delete all contacts for clients and colleagues. These are company resources; you have no right to take them!” Just as I was about to leave, Leo, Serena’s boy toy, blocked my way. Having managed the company for years, I knew there was no such rule. He was clearly trying to mess with me. I turned to look at Serena. “Is this your idea too?” Serena stared at me, lost in thought for a moment, then gave a cold, indifferent nod. If I actually deleted those resources, there would be no going back. She was so sure I couldn’t let go, that’s why her attitude was so aggressive. It wasn’t surprising that she thought that. We’d been married for seven years, with no children. The company was like our baby, our life’s work, and I’d always protected it more than she ever did. I woke up early and stayed late every day, hustling for business, meticulous and never daring to waste a second. Last week, in a meeting, she proposed promoting Leo to Head of Tech. The older employees, eager to stay on her good side, reluctantly praised Leo a few times, and her proposal was rubber-stamped. Only I, seeing Leo’s utterly inadequate business skills, flat-out rejected her proposal, completely disregarding Serena’s pride. She knew I’d never allow her to mess around with the company. So, to get Leo what he wanted this time, she even pulled this cheesy amnesia stunt, all to force my hand. Our colleagues, seeing us argue, rushed to mediate: “Michael, calm down. Serena’s just sick. As her husband, she needs your understanding and patience right now, when she’s so vulnerable.” Serena seemed buoyed by the words. She said sternly: “Michael is everything! Anyone who goes against my husband in this company goes against me!” The colleagues laughed, pulling me aside and joking: “See, Michael? Serena still loves you. She’s just sick right now and confused you with someone else.” Feeling their envious glances, I couldn’t bring myself to smile. The reality was the complete opposite of what they saw and said. Serena and I, we always maintained a polite distance, almost like strangers sharing a home, despite being married. But whenever a problem arose, she always pushed me to compromise and back down. Right or wrong, no matter the situation, she always took the opposite side. I’d argued with her countless times over it. But she always said I was her family, and no matter how bad things got outside, we could always make up at home. Outsiders were different; once you truly upset them, there was no fixing it. Even though I felt uneasy, after hearing it so many times, I started to believe she had a point. But now, seeing her abandon all principles and boundaries for Leo. I finally understood that when you truly love someone, your first instinct when they’re wronged is to defend them, not coldly calculate pros and cons. While I was lost in thought, Leo suddenly kicked over the chair in front of me. “Michael, you disgusting, shameless old man! Serena’s husband is me! If you spout any more nonsense, I’ll rip your mouth open!” He pointed at me, cursing, as if I were the one destroying someone else’s family. Serena watched it all, saying nothing to explain, just standing silently behind Leo, his unwavering support. I forced a smile. “Fine. I’ll delete them.” With that, I pulled out my phone, posted a ‘resigned’ update on Ins, and was about to deactivate my work account. Serena, realizing I was serious, suddenly panicked and quickly stopped me. “Never mind! Given that you’re a long-time employee, you don’t have to delete anything. Just go!” All the colleagues breathed a sigh of relief. But Leo stomped his foot in frustration. “Serena, as a Vice President, don’t I even have that much power?” Serena, who usually indulged Leo, now gave him a warning look, signaling him not to act up. Then, Serena softened her expression and PayPal-ed me fifty thousand dollars, promising: “Don’t worry, the company won’t let its contributors down. Even if you’ve resigned, you’ll get every penny you’re owed. It just needs a little time.” “Regarding your severance package, I’ll give you a definitive answer in seven days. You should go home and rest for now!” She still thought I didn’t know her amnesia was fake, and she naively believed that in seven days, she could use her ‘illness’ as an excuse, apologize, beg me, and everything would go back to normal. But my hands-off wife had no idea that the deadline for the most crucial project was only seven days away. This project involved a huge sum of money. If it wasn’t submitted on time, or if anything went wrong, she’d have to pay massive penalties. In the past, for the sake of the company’s stability and her future, I would have swallowed my pride, endured all the hardship alone. But I was exhausted. I wanted neither the company nor her. Serena instinctively reached out to straighten my tie, but suddenly remembered her act and awkwardly dropped her hand. I glanced at my phone and refunded the transfer. Then, I deleted “My Dearest Serena Baby” from my contacts in one swift motion. After doing all that, I calmly looked at her and said: “Serena, let’s get a divorce.”

Serena froze, blurting out: “You want to divorce me? Why?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake and quickly corrected herself: “Divorce? You’re hilarious. My husband is Leo. How could I possibly have been married to you?” Watching her clumsy performance, I couldn’t be bothered to expose her lies or waste my breath arguing with her. So I played along with her act. “I tricked you into getting the marriage license. Now, let’s go get divorced.” Leo, hearing this, beamed with delight and urged us on: “It’s about time! Let’s go.” Serena hesitated, frowning. She ignored the loopholes in my words, just wanting to gloss over it. “Oh, forget it. This is all a bit strange. I’ll decide later.” I was puzzled. Didn’t she like Leo? I was proactively offering a divorce, making way for them, so why wasn’t she happy? Before, I would have pressed her for an answer, even ridiculously asking if she had ever loved me. Now, I couldn’t care less about her thoughts. I just wanted the divorce done. I raised an eyebrow at her, fanning the flames. “Are you saying you don’t want to divorce me because you’re still hung up on me?” Leo immediately tugged at Serena’s sleeve, looking hurt. “Serena, aren’t I your favorite husband? How could you have married someone else?” Under our combined pressure, Serena had no choice but to agree. When the three of us arrived at City Hall, just before we entered, Serena suddenly shook her head, pretending her memory was triggered by a familiar sight. She proactively took my hand. “This place looks so familiar… I remember now.” “On New Year’s Eve, I stood in a long line with you, to get our marriage license.” She knew that day was the happiest day of my life. So she thought if she brought up our happy memories, I wouldn’t want to divorce. After all, that’s how she’d always won me back whenever she angered me. But that day, not only did I overhear her faking amnesia, I also heard Serena talk about our marriage. “What’s so romantic about it? The only reason I chose to get married on the last day of the year was because I had promised to marry him.” “But I really wasn’t willing to spend the rest of my life with someone I didn’t love, so I kept delaying it until the very last day before making up my mind.” “Anyway, no matter who I married, it would just be getting by. He had good connections, he could help me.” “He’s a good person too, a very suitable husband.” I stood outside, listening to her compliments, my heart sinking to rock bottom. I thought what we had was love, but for her, it was all about utility. No wonder after the company started doing well, she valued money and power so much, never letting me touch a single bit. She was always guarding against me. I was distracted. Serena tugged my hand, asking if I remembered. This kind of suspicious marriage had exhausted me. Cutting my losses now was the best option. I shook my head, brushing her off. “No, you probably hit your head in the car crash and are having delusions.” Serena’s smile instantly froze. Seeing her trying so hard to please me, and my indifference, she then thought of herself as a ‘patient’ and how I wasn’t being understanding. The more she thought, the angrier she got. She immediately linked arms with Leo, their fingers intertwined. “Yes, those are all fake. My only husband is Leo.” “After we’re divorced, I’m going to marry my husband, Leo!” She stomped her foot, then walked in happily with Leo, as if she was specifically there to get married. I couldn’t be bothered to play along with her charade anymore. I stepped inside. As soon as we registered, we were ushered into a mediation room. Serena immediately sat on Leo’s lap, took out some grapes she’d bought on the way, peeled them, and fed them to Leo one by one. She thought her actions would make me jealous. But it was the opposite. It only reminded me of the cold, reserved Serena I used to know. In public, she wouldn’t even hold my hand, saying it was undignified to be so affectionate in front of everyone. Now, she was a completely different person, so openly affectionate it was almost embarrassing to watch. Even the mediation staff looked uncomfortable. With my firm stance, we quickly moved into the divorce proceedings. My expression remained cold throughout, which clearly annoyed Serena. She gave me the silent treatment, huffily speeding through the process. Stepping out with the divorce papers, I let out a long breath. The dark cloud hanging over me had finally lifted. I called an Uber to go home. Leo leaned over from behind, saw my home address on the ride app, and immediately fumed: “Home? You’re divorced. That’s not your home anymore.” “Pack your stuff and get out now!” Serena stood nearby, smiling. “That’s right. Kick the outsider out, and you can move in, husband.” She was kicking me out to make room for Leo. No normal man would accept that, and the old me wouldn’t have either. But now, I just nodded indifferently. “Alright. I’ll move out.” I booked a hotel on my phone. After getting home, I started packing my belongings seriously. Things had spiraled far beyond Serena’s control. She softened her tone for once, pretending to have recovered some memory. She held up our wedding pictures and asked me: “Michael, when did we take these photos?” I didn’t even look up, just stuffing clothes into my suitcase, and replied dismissively: “Fake. I Photoshopped them.” My words completely enraged Serena. She snatched my suitcase, tossing my clothes out the door one by one. “Get out! Get out now!” She slammed the door shut with a bang. I shook my head silently, picking up my clothes from the ground, dusting them off, and putting them back in my bag. Inside the house, Leo anxiously asked: “Serena, this whole mess is my fault. I shouldn’t have insisted on being VP.” “Watching you two divorce, I feel so bad. Maybe I should go clarify things with Michael.” Serena composed herself and comforted him. “It has nothing to do with you. Michael is just too petty, arguing with a sick person.” “We’ll ignore him. I’ll spend these seven days with you, then I’ll deal with him.” “Michael is easy to coax. I just have to snap my fingers, and he’ll come crawling back.” I picked up my bags and walked into the elevator. She was deluding herself. This time, it was truly over. There was no going back.

The days since I left Serena had been pleasant, except for my former colleague constantly messaging me. Today, perhaps in a panic, David called me directly: “Michael, you need to come back now. The project deadline is today!” I was about to refuse when I heard a struggle and shouting over the phone. A moment later, Leo’s angry voice came through: “Michael, you’ve been fired! Stop meddling in company business!” David was furious: “Leo, what are you doing? Do you have any idea how much money the company will lose if this project fails?!” Leo sounded unconcerned: “What’s the panic? I’ll finish the draft soon, we can submit it in a few days.” David’s shocked voice came again: “Are you crazy?! We can’t trust your skills! Besides, the client specifically requested Michael for the design. You’re just lying! Where’s Serena? I need to talk to Serena!” Leo’s threatening voice interjected: “Serena is still sick. If any of you dare to badmouth me, don’t think I won’t fire you all!” Just as I heard that, the call ended. But I could guess the outcome. With my fate as a precedent, they wouldn’t dare to act rashly; they’d just endure it. I shook my head, pushing it out of my mind. I truly let go of the company. Before, I was always busy with work, but now I finally had time to hang out with friends. Every day was filled with drinks and fun, forgetting all my worries. On the seventh day, I was wearing a suit, holding a groom’s boutonnière, heading to Mark’s wedding. I texted him as I entered: “The boutonnière fell in the car. Found it, bringing it to you now.” As soon as I sent it, I suddenly heard a familiar voice. “Thank you all for coming to my and Leo’s wedding!” I turned around and saw Serena, in a wedding dress, arm-in-arm with Leo, greeting guests. Outside the banquet hall, their wedding pictures were displayed. Leo spotted me first. He grabbed Serena’s chin and kissed her lips. The guests around them cheered excitedly, and Serena shyly buried her face in his embrace. She suddenly looked up, and her eyes met mine. She froze. After a moment, she straightened up abruptly, deliberately putting some distance between herself and Leo. Leo frowned, annoyed that Serena seemed to be siding with me. He thought I was there to crash the wedding. Seeing the crowd, he tearfully lunged at me, clutching my arm and pleading: “Michael, I truly love Serena! Please, let us be! Don’t try to steal her away!” Serena raised an eyebrow, about to step forward to defend him, but then she noticed the groom’s boutonnière in my hand. She instantly assumed I was there to get married. Her eyes suddenly reddened. “Michael, how could you get married to someone else behind my back?” I knew she was misunderstanding, but I didn’t feel like explaining. I said coldly: “Ms. Serena, we are divorced. Please mind your own business.” Serena looked at me, utterly lost. She no longer had the energy for her act. She put on an exaggerated show of remembering everything, then grabbed my hand and asked: “Michael, why am I wearing a wedding dress? Are you here to marry me again?” As she spoke, she tried to take the boutonnière from my hand to pin it on me. I held her hand, saying calmly: “Stop pretending. I overheard everything about you and Leo plotting your ‘amnesia.’” Meeting the icy gaze in my eyes, Serena knew she couldn’t hide it anymore. She dropped her act, her face falling. “I only did this because you were prejudiced against Leo and constantly suppressed him! I had no other choice!” “You have no idea how well Leo managed the company while you were gone.” I scoffed. “Managed it well, or hid it well? Do you even know the deadline for the Zenith Corp project was today?” Serena froze, turning to look at Leo. Leo smiled, explaining: “Don’t worry, Serena, I’ve handled everything. No need for you to trouble yourself with such a small matter.” Then he looked at me provocatively. “Michael, you don’t know this, but I submitted the design draft ages ago. The client has already started mass production.” “My apologies, I’m just so competent, I’m sure it’s disappointing for you.” Hearing this, Serena nodded with satisfaction. Just as she was about to say something, her phone rang. She smiled, showing me the phone. “The client is calling to praise Leo! You really need to reflect and apologize to Leo now.” She pressed ‘answer’ triumphantly, putting it on speaker. But then, the client’s voice boomed through the phone: “You idiot! We wanted Michael’s design draft! How dare you submit a worthless draft from an intern, passing it off as the real thing?!” “This is a serious breach of contract, causing us huge losses. Prepare for a hundred million dollars in penalties. We’ll see you in court! If you can’t pay, prepare for prison time!”

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This drug was supposed to dramatically increase appetite. Soon after, my parents collapsed, foaming at the mouth and unconscious from overeating. Instead of rushing to help, my husband actually stopped a staff member from calling 91 “Let them digest a bit longer,” he said calmly. “Then they won’t find any trace of the drug.” Half an hour later, my parents were literally choked to death by food. My husband stood by their bodies, comforting his ex-girlfriend with tender words. “It’s not your fault, honey. They were just too greedy!” He called me. “Skylar, your parents died from overeating at a buffet!” I was about to rush to the scene, but then I heard my parents’ voices from outside the door. “Skylar, the restaurant was too crowded. We bought groceries to make you a nice meal at home!” My parents didn’t go to eat. So, who exactly was it that suffocated in that private room? 01 When I arrived at the scene, the paramedics were already examining the deceased inside the private room. A few regulars huddled in a corner, whispering. “That owner is something else, isn’t he? Such a big incident, and he’s not even checking on it. He’s just focused on comforting that woman. Anyone who didn’t know would think she was his wife!” “Right? A staff member tried to call an ambulance earlier, but the owner stopped them. They clearly could have been saved then!” “Exactly. And the woman next to him just smiled, like she was enjoying the spectacle.” “Speaking of which, it’s so strange. How could someone overeat themselves to death like that? I heard they ate over twenty pounds of food! Their stomachs were huge, like they were pregnant!” “Shh, the owner’s wife is here.” The moment they saw me approaching from afar, they immediately fell silent. The owner they spoke of was my husband, Brandon Davies. Their descriptions filled me with a wave of unease. I personally oversaw the ingredients for this buffet restaurant. For years, we hadn’t had a single food safety incident, let alone someone dying from overeating, or even getting an upset stomach. How could someone actually gorge themselves to death? And with such a serious incident at the restaurant, why wasn’t Brandon, as the owner, handling it first? On the sofa outside the private room, Tiffany Hayes was huddled in my husband’s arms, sobbing. “Brandon, what should we do? Skylar won’t blame me, will she?” My husband gently patted her back. “Don’t worry, Tiffany. Skylar isn’t unreasonable. Her parents gorged themselves to death; how could she possibly blame you?” The moment he finished speaking, Brandon saw me standing behind him. His expression hardened. His hand was still on Tiffany’s back as he snapped at me from across the room. “Look at your parents! Being cheap is one thing, but to die from overeating at a buffet? It’s utterly humiliating!” The explanation I had been ready to offer caught in my throat, stunned into silence by his accusation. I paused, then shot back, “How do you know it’s my parents in there?” “Well,” Brandon gestured toward the order slip on the table, “Their name is on the reservation. Besides, who else would pull a stunt like that besides your parents?” 2 I suppressed the anger bubbling inside me and picked up the order slip. Sure enough, I saw my parents’ names. It seemed Brandon had known from the start that it was my parents, yet he still sat there comforting Tiffany. My anger surged to its peak. I looked at the two embracing, demanding, “If you knew it was my parents, then why are you still sitting here?” At my words, Tiffany shrank into Brandon’s arms like a terrified fawn, and my husband held her protectively. “Skylar Miller, stop being ridiculous! Your parents are dead. What good would it do for me to go in there now?” “Exactly,” Tiffany timidly added, “Skylar, your parents always loved cutting corners and getting freebies. They insisted on eating so much. Whose fault is it they died from it?” A storm of anger brewed within me. Loved cutting corners? Always looking for a handout? Brandon must have told her that, right? My parents had always been frugal. Not only did they refuse the living expenses I offered them, but they’d thoughtfully save money and even send some to us. When Brandon struggled with cash flow, weren’t my parents always there to bail him out with significant support? He never hesitated to accept their money then, but now he was twisting it, calling my parents “cheap” and “greedy for small benefits”? And using that to help an outsider attack me? The paramedics walked by, carrying a stretcher. The white sheets covered the bodies from head to toe, but the abdominal area was visibly distended. “Who is the next of kin?” the paramedic asked. “I am!” Brandon quickly interjected. “The deceased have been confirmed. Preliminary assessment points to extreme overeating. The exact cause will require a full autopsy…” the paramedic explained. “No autopsy needed!” Brandon cut him off. “I’m the son-in-law. She’s the direct relative. We accept this cause of death. There’s no need for further examination.” The paramedic looked at him, then at me, looking a bit stunned. It seemed he’d never seen family members of an unnatural death so calm. “The death certificates?” Brandon pressed. “We can sign them now!” “That’s right!” Tiffany, who had been sitting beside him, also stood up. “Since death is confirmed, let’s just get it over with quickly. No need for such a fuss!” Their anxious attitude instantly made me suspicious. Coupled with what the staff members had said, I suddenly suspected that this death was definitely connected to the two of them. “Wait,” I interrupted their conversation, “I don’t accept this cause of death. Please proceed with the autopsy as per procedure!” If they were calling me a “direct relative,” then I would act as one, and seek justice for the deceased. “Skylar Miller! Don’t be so unreasonable!” Brandon snapped, furious. “This restaurant is mine! Your parents are dead and gone. Are you trying to cause me even more trouble?!” I scoffed. “Brandon Davies, when you run a business, you have to follow the rules. No matter who died, you have an obligation to provide the truth!” Brandon’s composure fractured for a split second. He glared at me angrily. “Skylar Miller, what good will come from digging deeper?!” “Skylar, if word gets out that someone died in your restaurant from overeating, who will want to eat here?” Tiffany interjected, sounding worried. “Skylar really doesn’t understand how hard Brandon works to run this place!” I shot back sarcastically, “If you truly understood how hard he works, you wouldn’t be cowering in his arms when he should be dealing with a crisis.” That made them awkwardly release each other. Brandon covered his guilt with anger. “Skylar Miller, don’t be absurd! Tiffany was scared, shouldn’t I comfort her?” I found it ridiculous. “So you think Tiffany being scared is more important than two human lives?” Brandon’s face darkened. “Skylar Miller, don’t you know how timid Tiffany is?! How can you be such a cold person?” 3 I sneered and didn’t argue further. I had heard about this Tiffany, Brandon’s ex; she was known for playing the damsel in distress. One day she’d complain about this ache, the next about that itch. Everyone found her a bother, but Brandon, apparently, was oblivious. She had gone abroad when Brandon and I met. I never expected her return to show me just how cunning she could be. Brandon, of course, couldn’t overrule me, the “next of kin,” and so the two bodies were taken for autopsy. Brandon was furious. He left me behind, accusing me of being “ridiculous and unreasonable, needing time to reflect,” and stormed off, escorting Tiffany away. The day the autopsy results came out, I was waiting at the hospital early, while Brandon and Tiffany arrived much later, arm-in-arm. “Family, please come sign the documents,” the doctor said, holding the report. “What did the examination show?” I asked anxiously. Whether I could get justice for the deceased depended entirely on this result. The two beside me also looked serious. The doctor shook his head, looking a little defeated. “Although we found it unusual for a normal person to consume this much, the autopsy results show no abnormalities.” I froze. Was my feeling wrong? Could a normal person really eat so much? Inside the morgue, I bowed to the deceased with a feeling of apology. A sarcastic voice suddenly cut in. “Skylar Miller, you wasted all that effort for nothing. How does that feel?” I turned and saw Tiffany. She was wearing a bright red dress, a jarring sight in the stark white morgue. She noticed my gaze and chuckled. “Red is so pretty, isn’t it? Brandon loves it when I wear a red dress. Skylar, are you upset about that?” “How about this?” She walked to the bodies, pulled back a sheet, and spat on the person underneath. “Oops, sorry, Skylar! I have a cold! Better to spit on your parents than on the floor, right? They’re dead anyway, they won’t know!” Even though the deceased had no relation to me, a wave of immense anger washed over me. I raised my hand, intending to slap her hard. “Don’t you have any respect for the dead?” But my hand was caught by a large hand just before it made contact. It was Brandon, the man I was supposed to call my husband. He stood beside Tiffany, looking at me disapprovingly. “Skylar Miller, this was a simple matter, but you had to make a fuss and almost got Tiffany wrongly accused. Just let her blow off some steam!” “Hahaha,” Tiffany laughed with satisfaction, then taunted, “They’re dead anyway. What’s there to respect?” “Besides, why haven’t they told you they died from eating my new drug?” “What?” I could barely believe my ears. Amidst my shock, I suddenly noticed a camera rotating in the corner of the room. I scoffed. “You’re lying. The doctor said they didn’t find anything during the examination.” “You don’t believe me?” Tiffany suddenly pulled out a small bag of white powder, smiling proudly. “I snuck this out of the lab. It metabolizes really fast. By the time the doctor did the autopsy, it was long gone!” “Lab?” I was stunned. “You actually used an unresearched chemical on people?” After extraction, a new drug typically requires decades of research and extensive testing to ensure safety before it can be used on humans. Tiffany was a pharmacology student; she couldn’t possibly be unaware of this. “That’s right,” Tiffany smiled. “Not only that, my professor even said this drug has huge side effects and should never be used on humans, even if successfully developed.” “But I just wanted to experiment, you know? See what happens when a normal person’s stomach bursts.” Tiffany said it nonchalantly. “I never thought I’d be so lucky to find your parents.” Even knowing the drug was unsafe for human use, Tiffany secretly administered it to them. Two innocent lives were lost because of it, and she spoke about it with such a calm tone.

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The afternoon they delivered my grim prognosis, Dr. Julian Thorne popped champagne in his lab. On SnapChat, his and Valerie Shaw’s backs were bathed in the sunset, their lab coats gilded gold. The caption was just one line: “Ten years, finally a success.” Everyone raved about Dr. Thorne’s unwavering devotion, his decade-long research, all to save me. The nurse, her eyes red-rimmed, passed me her phone as I stared at the fluctuating curves on the monitor. They didn’t know the drug had been ready a year ago. And I was the only candidate denied access to it. Deep in the night, Julian finally came to the hospital. He reeked of alcohol, and his lab coat carried the unmistakable scent of women’s perfume. “Serena, how are you feeling?” I looked at him, my voice soft. “Julian, when can I start the medication?” He frowned. “Valerie says your survival rate would only be thirty percent right now. It’s too risky.” “What was Ms. Harrison’s survival rate when she took it last month?” Julian paused. “She was only stage three. You’re terminal. It’s not the same.” “She donated thirty million to the research.” I stared at him. “Is that the ‘not the same’ part?” His face darkened. “Serena, how could you think that of me?” “Wasn’t all my research for you?” I watched his furious expression and suddenly laughed. “Julian, do you remember how I got this illness?” Ten years ago, his lab exploded. I was the one who rushed into the fire to drag him out, inhaling chemical gases. My diagnosis read: Acute chemical lung injury, with irreversible fibrosis. He knelt by my bed, swearing, “Serena, I will cure you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang. It was Valerie. “Julian, the lab light’s broken, and I’m a little scared. Could you come over?” Her voice was sugary sweet, with a hint of a whimper. Julian immediately stood up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right there.” I clutched at his lab coat. “Julian, I wasn’t finished—” “Another time. I can’t leave Valerie alone.” He pulled his coat away and walked out without a backward glance. After Julian left, I asked Nurse Evelyn to check on Ms. Harrison’s condition. Sure enough, she was indeed on Julian’s new medication. Three months, her condition stable, living a normal life. Meanwhile, my critical condition notice had been issued for the third time. The next day, I dragged my barely-functioning body, sneaking off to Julian’s lab. Standing outside the door, I heard Valerie’s voice. “Julian, why don’t we give this new batch of medication to Ms. Albright’s daughter? They’re willing to pump in another fifty million, you know.” Silence hung in the air for a moment before Julian’s gentle voice, a tone I hadn’t heard in ages, replied, “Valerie, I know you mean well for the lab, but…” “But what?” Valerie cut him off, her voice laced with a hint of grievance. “Julian, I know I shouldn’t say this, but… is Serena’s condition really that serious?” “Every time she’s on the verge, it conveniently happens when you’re swamped. Last time, it was your big international conference; this time, our breakthrough celebration? Isn’t that just a little too convenient?” She sighed softly. “Julian, you’ve sacrificed so much for her already. Ms. Albright’s investment is crucial for the entire project’s future. You can’t let her keep dragging you down.” Julian remained silent for a long time. I held my breath, waiting for his answer. “You’re right,” he finally said. “Maybe… I’ve indulged her too much. Alright, as you say, this batch of medicine goes to Ms. Albright.” His voice turned cold. “Anyway, Serena’s condition probably isn’t as urgent as she makes it out to be.” So, all those times I’d fought for my life, in his eyes, they were just “calculated acts.” I burst through the door, shattering their cozy little scene. Valerie flinched, instinctively pressing closer to Julian. He, in turn, subtly shifted, his body a shield between us. Julian’s expression was strained. “Serena? What are you doing here? Your body can’t handle running around like this!”

“If I hadn’t come,” My voice was raw, and I stared at him, “Would I even know how I ended up dead?” Valerie peered out from behind him, her voice laced with concern, yet her eyes held a challenging glint. “Serena, you shouldn’t be out of bed! Didn’t the doctors say you needed rest?” “Rest?” I sneered. “Waiting for you two to give my life-saving medicine to someone else?” Julian’s face completely hardened. “Serena! Watch your tone! Valerie is worried about you!” “Worried about me?” I pointed at Valerie. “Worried enough to tell you to give my medicine away? Worried enough to imply I’m faking it?” “I didn’t…” Valerie’s eyes instantly welled up, and she looked at Julian tearfully. “Julian, I’m just worried you’re too tired…” Seeing her reaction, Julian’s voice became even colder. “Serena, look at yourself! All you do is cause drama! Valerie is always looking out for you, and you’re maliciously speculating about her!” I could barely believe my ears. “I’m causing drama? Julian Thorne, I’m the one lying in that bed, waiting to die! I’m the one who can’t get the medicine!” “Enough!” He sharply cut me off. “Do you think if you collapse now, I’ll drop everything and rush to your side, just like before?” He took a step forward, glaring at me. “Serena, how long are you going to keep up this charade?” I was trembling all over, barely able to stand. “You think my critical condition is an act?” Valerie gently tugged his arm, softly persuading him. “Julian, don’t be like this. Serena is probably just scared…” “She’s not scared, she’s selfish!” Julian seemed to have finally found an outlet. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead already!” “You should be grateful you’re alive. Don’t be so selfish!” “Now that we’ve finally had a breakthrough, and Valerie helped us secure investment, all you care about is yourself!” He wrapped an arm around Valerie’s shoulders, as if both proclaiming and protecting. “If Valerie hadn’t stayed with me, supported me, I would’ve given up long ago! What about you? Besides emotionally manipulating me with your illness, what have you ever given me?” I looked at the two of them, suddenly feeling utterly estranged. Where was the boy who’d held my hand ten years ago and said, “I will save you”? Why had he become this man who only knows how to emotionally manipulate? With my last ounce of strength, I quietly asked, “Julian Thorne, do you wish I was dead?” He frowned, his voice full of impatience. “Not this again! Always the same old routine! Go back and rest. Don’t disrupt Valerie and my work here.” With that, he stopped looking at me, lowering his head to Valerie and asking softly, “What happened to your hand? Did you bump it? Let me see.” That gentle tone was one I hadn’t heard in ten years. I turned and walked away, and the tears finally fell.

The intense emotional upheaval sent me into critical condition again that night. My breathing was rapid, blood oxygen saturation continuously dropped, and they nearly had to put me on a ventilator. Nurse Evelyn, the head nurse who had always taken care of me, gave me medication with red-rimmed eyes, constantly patting my back to soothe me. “Serena, just hold on a little longer, you have to make it! Didn’t Dr. Thorne succeed? I even saw the news yesterday, saying his new drug performed miracles…” Her voice caught as she spoke. “I remember when you first got sick, how much Dr. Thorne cared for you. He stayed by your bedside night after night, holding your hand and saying, ‘Don’t be afraid, Serena, I’ll save you.’ Now he’s finally done it. Your suffering will soon be over.” I listened to her words, a bitter smile twisting my lips. After I finally stabilized, Nurse Evelyn went to get me some water, leaving me alone in the room. Just then, Valerie’s figure appeared at the doorway. She held an exquisite medicine box, her smile blindingly bright. “Serena, guess what I brought you? This is Julian’s new drug!” She deliberately dangled the box in front of my eyes, then pulled it back. “But… this drug is crazy expensive, half a million a shot. Serena, you can’t even pay your hospital bills. I’m afraid you can’t afford it.” I took a deep breath. “My parents left a medical fund…” “Ten million?” Valerie suddenly laughed. “Serena, you still don’t know?” She walked to my bedside, looking at me triumphantly. “That money was used up by Julian long ago.” “You’re lying!” I struggled, trying to sit up. “Lying?” Valerie pulled out her phone, found a photo, and tossed it in front of me. It was a financial statement, clearly detailing the sources and uses of funds. “He used your parents’ money to build his lab, bought a river-view mansion, and a luxury car.” “And…” She smiled, pointing to one column, “the allowance transferred to me. It’s added up to over a million these past few years.” A chill ran through me, and my fingers trembled as I looked at the statement. The column for my medical expenses was laughably small. “Do you know why your condition hasn’t improved in ten years, and instead, has gotten worse?” Valerie leaned in close, speaking syllable by syllable. “Because what Julian gave you wasn’t treatment medicine at all.” “It was just a placebo for his control group.” “Just ordinary vitamin pills.” A roar exploded in my head, and I couldn’t hear anything else. “Serena, did you think you were his fiancée?” Valerie’s voice seemed to come from far away. “You were just his experimental control group, a living specimen.” “To prove his new drug’s effectiveness, he needed a control group like you — no real treatment, letting the disease progress naturally, so he could compare the new drug’s efficacy.” “For ten years, you thought he was saving you?” “He was watching you slowly die, recording data.” “And the money your parents left to save you? He used it all to make himself a success.” My mouth hung open, but no sound came out. The monitor’s data began to fluctuate wildly. Valerie watched my reaction with satisfaction, her smile growing even more triumphant. “Now the new drug is a success, and the academic world is hailing Dr. Thorne as a genius. But they have no idea that this drug could have saved you so much sooner.” “But Julian chose to let you die, because…” She leaned into my ear and whispered, “Because you’re worth more alive than dead, Serena.” “Serena, do you know why Julian has visited you less and less these past six months?” “Because your data has been collected, and you’re almost out of use.” “So now, you can go ahead and die.” My chest heaved violently, and breathing became increasingly difficult. The monitor emitted a shrill alarm. Valerie stood up, adjusted her clothes, and looked at my suffering without a trace of pity in her eyes. “Serena, don’t blame me for being heartless. Blame yourself for being so naive.” She finished speaking, turned, and left, the ward door closing with a heavy thud. When Nurse Evelyn rushed in, my face was ashen, and my lips under the oxygen mask were turning purple. “Serena! Serena, hang in there!” She frantically adjusted my oxygen and pressed the emergency call button. The on-duty doctor arrived quickly, and after a series of emergency procedures, my vital signs slowly stabilized. “Nurse Evelyn, Ms. Chu’s emotional fluctuations are too extreme. We must keep her calm, otherwise…” The doctor shook his head and didn’t finish the sentence. I knew what “otherwise” meant. Otherwise, I would die. I would obediently wait for death, just as Valerie had said. But suddenly, I didn’t want to die anymore.

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For three years, I’d been his perfect “girlfriend.” I was fluent in six languages, serving as the chief translator for his multinational corporation. I meticulously memorized the preferences of all his business partners, smoothing over one social crisis after another for him. I could even mimic his first love’s handwriting, penning letters to his family abroad on her behalf. Everyone said I, Seraphina, must have won the cosmic lottery in a past life to transform from a simple orphan into the most indispensable woman by Julian Vance, the heir to a powerful dynasty. I used to believe it too. He’d cook me soup all night when I lost my voice from simultaneous interpreting. He’d book an entire island just to watch birthday fireworks with me. Then came that International Investment Summit in Geneva. Wearing the simultaneous interpretation headset he’d personally placed on me, I sat by his side, flawlessly translating the impenetrable speeches of German-speaking titans into the crucial business intelligence he needed. During the break, my headset unexpectedly cross-wired, tuning into a private conversation between him and his close friend. “Julian, this time, we really owe Seraphina. Those Germans finally agreed.” Julian’s voice crackled through the earpiece, laced with a casual, almost dismissive chuckle. “She was born for this. This ‘Eleanor Vance’ stand-in? We’ve groomed her for three years. It finally paid off.” His trusted associate lowered his voice. “What about the real Eleanor Vance…?” “Her? She’s skiing in Switzerland, having a blast. Seraphina, that fool, she’s taking all the heat for her. What does Eleanor have to be unhappy about?” My fingertips instantly went ice cold. So, I wasn’t Seraphina. I was “Eleanor Vance.” A perfectly acceptable, replacement.

“Julian, your ‘stand-in plan’ is absolutely brilliant,” The other man’s voice was filled with admiration. “You get to use Seraphina’s capabilities to close your deals, and you’ve kept the real Eleanor so perfectly shielded.” Another voice cut in, Julian’s cousin, Derek Vance. “Yeah, Eleanor has always been spoiled and delicate since she was a kid. She could never handle the cutthroat schemes of the business world. With Seraphina taking the brunt of it, Eleanor just gets to enjoy her life abroad. Bro, this arrangement? It’s real devotion to Eleanor.” His friend sighed. “It’s just tough on Seraphina. She loves you so much. If she ever found out she was just a shadow, from beginning to end…” “She won’t find out.” Julian’s voice was like ice. “And even if she did, so what? An orphan with no family. I gave her three good years, letting her move in the highest circles of power and prestige. She should be grateful. This position, she practically stole it.” Derek scoffed. “You’re right, Bro. Besides, she’s head over heels for you, isn’t she? She’d do anything to stay by your side. Even if she knew the truth, she’d probably cry a couple of times, you’d snap your fingers, and she’d still cling to you. After all, without you, she’s nothing.” “Her desperate ambition to climb the social ladder—wasn’t it all for this? To be Eleanor’s stand-in? It’s her honor.” A few low chuckles followed, their words dripping with scorn and mockery, like countless steel needles piercing my brain through the headset. I sat there, spine ramrod straight, maintaining a perfectly professional smile. But under the table, my nails were digging deep into my palms. What did they mean? Everything I was proud of was just a meticulously planned “stand-in training” program? I’d pushed myself to master six languages, stayed up all night studying international business etiquette. I’d shielded him from countless shots of hard liquor at galas, throwing up until my gut was raw. I thought it was love, mutual devotion. Turns out, it was just the professional conduct of a “replacement.” The conversation in my earpiece continued, but I couldn’t really hear it anymore. Eleanor Vance, the one they mentioned—I knew about her. The true heiress of the Vance family, raised abroad, very mysterious. I’d once asked Julian about her curiously. He just stroked my head, saying gently: “Don’t overthink it. You are you. In my heart, no one compares.” Now I understood. I truly was unique. A uniquely perfect, tool.

The absurdity of it all made me want to stand up right then and there, but three years of muscle memory kept me rigidly glued to my chair. A professional translator must never lose composure, no matter the circumstances. That was the first lesson Julian Vance ever taught me. Huh. How ironic. The channel on my headset switched. A sweet female voice chimed in, tinged with a playful whine. “Julian, the press conference data is out! We won our bet; they got absolutely crushed!” It was Julian’s new secretary, Angie. A girl completely different from me—flirty, vibrant, like a hothouse flower. Julian chuckled softly, a sound filled with a tenderness I’d never heard directed at me. “Got it. Have you thought about what reward you want?” “I don’t want a reward, Julian! It’s all thanks to your amazing strategy!” Angie’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Still, Seraphina did a great job this time. Her intel was incredibly accurate. Julian, how did you train her to be so amazing? She’s like an emotionless AI, too perfect to be real.” That comparison made my heart seize up. I heard Julian laugh lightly. “Because a tool doesn’t need emotions.” His voice, transmitted through the current, cut clearly into my ears, every word like an icicle laced with poison. “She just needs to be precise enough, effective enough. That’s all. As for emotions… those are a luxury reserved for living people.” Derek chimed in, trying to curry favor: “My brother really knows how to train them. Delicate flowers like Angie need to be pampered and cherished. But someone like Seraphina? A born workhorse. Just make sure she’s useful. Look at her, she pulled countless all-nighters for this project, her eyes were bloodshot, and I never heard her complain once.” “Exactly. My brother spoils Angie so much he wouldn’t dream of making her do such hard work. Not like Seraphina—tough and expendable.”

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I woke up, and just like that, I was gone. Invisible. To everyone. Julian completely fell apart, sobbing uncontrollably. A year later, he started bringing different women home to spend the night. Afterwards, he’d always murmur to the empty air: “Hazel, where are you? I miss you so much… They’re just stand-ins, you know? Just trying to fill the void. You wouldn’t blame me, would you?” Watching him, so lost and heartbroken, my own heart was a raw, throbbing ache, making it almost impossible to breathe. I just went to sleep, how did I end up like this, transparent? Until later, when he got absolutely wasted and bragged to his friends: “You know what? Having Hazel watch me with other women? It’s a freaking thrill!” I stared at him, utterly stunned. He could see me all along. Listening to Julian slur those words, my entire world came crashing down. All those late-night thoughts, all that anguish, he’d just been putting on a show for me! I stood frozen, my heart numb with pain. His friends were clearly just as drunk, hiccupping and pushing him, disbelief etched on their faces: “Julian, you’re totally wasted!” “Hazel? Dude, she’s been gone a year! What kind of pathetic melodrama are you putting on for thin air?” Julian stumbled from the push, but instead of getting mad, he burst out laughing. He suddenly stretched out his hand, pointing straight at where I stood, his eyes gleaming with undisguised triumph. “Don’t believe me? Look! She’s right there!” My heart clenched. “Look at that dumb, tear-streaked face,” He curled his lips into a sneer, complaining to his friend: “So ugly. I seriously don’t know what I ever saw in her.” “Any random woman I pull to spend the night with is a hundred times better than her!” I stared at him blankly, tears still clinging to my cheeks. “Julian, you bastard!” I’d thought it was just drunken nonsense. But his precise pointing, pinpointing my exact location, completely crushed that last shred of hope I had. I thought Julian being able to see me all along was enough to break my heart. But I truly underestimated his cruelty. Julian seemed to relish his friend’s shocked expression. He leaned in, lowering his voice: “Guess why she’s like this?” He paused, a chillingly cruel smile spreading across his face. “I did it.” “A year ago, she just went to sleep and disappeared, right? That was my doing. I drugged her.” “Heh, I snuck a few drops of a special invisibility potion into her morning milk when she wasn’t looking.” “I just wanted to see what she’d be like, a transparent person no one could see.” “…And now? The results are fantastic.” Boom!The last string in my mind snapped. It was him. It was him! He watched me drown in agony, completely unmoved. Now, he was even using it as something to boast about. All these years, I was just a plaything for his amusement. The door suddenly swung open, and a coquettish voice purred. “Julian, your place is really hard to find.” Julian and his friend looked over, seeing a woman in a tight black dress, her neckline cut low, revealing ample cleavage. “Even if it’s hard to find, it wouldn’t stop you from wanting to see me, would it?” Julian stared at her, a half-smile playing on his lips. His friend, taking the hint, started to leave, patting Julian’s shoulder and joking: “A night like this, man, it’s priceless. I’ll get out of your hair.” As soon as he was gone, Julian eagerly pulled the woman onto the sofa. Less than five minutes later, they were putting on quite a show in the living room, a scene that would make anyone blush. This was the 99th woman he’d been with in the past year. And I knew this woman. Her name was Chloe. Julian’s ex.

The scene was utterly disgusting, and I let out a choked “Ugh.” Julian was pressing down on Chloe, his movements rough with a hint of impatience. He seemed to hear the sound, his head snapping to the side, his gaze landing precisely on me. His eyes held a look of condescending scrutiny and amusement. Chloe beneath him twisted her hips impatiently, pouting flirtatiously: “Julian, why aren’t you looking at me…?” Julian ignored her, instead increasing his force, his eyes fixed on my spot. For an entire year, I’d thought countless times that he could see me. But each time, he’d managed to dispel my doubts. I thought it was just a painful hallucination. Now I understood, it wasn’t. He could always see me, savoring my suffering. He reveled in the extreme thrill of me witnessing his betrayal firsthand. He was a complete psychopath. A surge of pure rage boiled in my chest. I clenched my hands tight, no longer trying to escape. Because running away would only make him more excited. I walked closer to them, close enough to see the dissatisfied expression on Chloe’s face, flushed with passion. Julian paused, then the curve of his lips deepened. He deliberately slowed his movements, each one a blatant act of defiance. Chloe was completely infuriated by his distracted state. She pushed Julian away with a sudden burst of strength, panting, her voice laced with venom: “Julian! What the hell are you doing?!” “Am I a ghost to you? Where are your eyes looking?!” Out of 99 women, she, as Julian’s ex, was the only one who dared to speak to him in such a tone. Julian finally tore his gaze from me, slowly lowering his head to look at the woman beneath him. The amusement vanished from his face instantly, replaced by sheer disgust. “Looking?” He chuckled softly, “I was looking at something I thought was interesting, but I’ve grown completely bored of it.” Chloe’s face instantly went pale, “You… what do you mean?” “It means…” Julian slowly extricated himself, then casually straightened his clothes. “You can go.” “Julian!” Chloe shrieked, grabbing a throw pillow from the sofa and hurling it at him. “What do you take me for! Some call girl you can summon and dismiss at will?!” Julian sidestepped, avoiding the pillow. He looked down at her dismissively: “A call girl? No, call girls at least have a price tag.” “You? You throw yourself at me for free.” “You were just a tool I used to provoke someone else. Now I don’t need you anymore.” He paused, his gaze falling on me again. “Because, I noticed she doesn’t seem to hurt anymore.” Buzz!My mind went blank. Was he… was he deliberately telling me all this? Chloe stared at him in disbelief, tears welling up. “You… you’re a psycho! A freak!” She shrieked, clumsily pulling on her clothes, not even bothering with her high heels as she hobbled out of the humiliating place. The door slammed shut with a bang. The living room instantly fell silent, leaving only me and Julian. He slowly walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, and lit a cigarette. “A year.” He suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse. “I thought you’d cry, you’d make a scene, you’d hate me.” He turned around, looking in my direction. Those eyes, once so captivating, were now as dark as an abyss. “Why aren’t you screaming at me, Hazel?” He said my name.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “301343”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn