1 After we got married, William told me he didn’t like the idea of his woman being in the public eye. So I deleted my podcast account, the one with millions of loyal listeners, and contentedly settled into being his quiet harbor. Then he brought home a girl named Serena. He said her voice sounded exactly like Echo, the late-night radio host who had vanished from the airwaves years ago, and praised her immense talent. He began spending entire nights with her in the recording studio, even personally making sure she took her medicine. When I ran a fever of a hundred and two, he brushed it off. “Serena has a crucial mic test tonight, Vivian. I need to be there to supervise.” When I tried to reason with him, he snapped at me. “She is not like you. She has dreams, real ambition. She isn’t like you, content with just playing the housewife.” Looking into his eyes that day, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. I demanded a divorce. The next time I saw William was at my official comeback press conference. He still had no idea that Echo, the woman he had spent three long years searching for, was me. … The heavy heat of June drifted through the VIP corridor of the Grand Convention Center. I walked steadily down the long hallway, the quiet click of my high heels keeping a steady rhythm on the polished floor. As I turned the corner, I saw him. It had been three years since I walked out of his luxury penthouse overlooking the river. I could barely remember how I survived those dark days. I only remembered how he used the gentlest tones to utter the most cutting words, trapping me in that house and then blaming me for losing my sense of self. He pushed me away, yet resented me for not understanding him. During those sleepless nights, I would stare at the ceiling waiting for dawn, my hair falling out in clumps, feeling as though I might shatter at any moment. Yet, I had to keep up the facade of a dutiful wife, swallowing the bitter pill of his entanglement with Serena without making a sound. Looking back now, those miseries felt wrapped in a thick fog, blurry and distant. William stood in the center of the crowd, looking as brilliant and untouchable as ever. I offered a faint, bitter smile. This scene felt remarkably like our very first meeting. He noticed me, too. His gaze locked onto me from across the long hallway. For a fraction of a second, shock registered in his eyes, quickly replaced by something dark and unreadable. I quietly averted my eyes, acting as if I hadn’t seen him, and kept walking with the staff. “Vivian.” His voice drifted from behind me. I stopped but didn’t turn around. The sound of his footsteps drew near, measured and steady, stopping just half a step behind me. The familiar scent of sandalwood mixed with a faint hint of cigarette smoke enveloped me. “Where have you been, these past few years?” I slowly turned to face him, keeping my eyes low, and gave him a polite, formal nod. “Mr. Kingsley, it has been a long time.” William fell silent for a few seconds. “You…” He spoke again, his voice carrying a tangle of unspoken emotions. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. Are you taking care of yourself?” A sudden tightness gripped my chest as memories of curling up alone on the sofa during those endless nights flashed through my mind. I raised my eyes to look at him directly. Three years was long enough to see this man for who he truly was, and long enough to completely smooth over the remaining resentment in my heart. “I’m doing well. Eating well, sleeping well. There is no need for you to worry.” He blinked, his gaze dropping to the staff pass hanging around my neck. His lips parted, but no words came out. He looked up at the air conditioning vent overhead, a look of concern softening his features. “The AC is blasting in here. Why don’t I buy you a warm drink when this is over?” “Are you looking for a job here? If you need any help, you can always ask me.” William was, after all, the main sponsor of this summit. I smiled and shook my head. “No, thank you.” The winter in my life had already passed. Just as I was about to walk away, Serena’s voice cut through the air. “Well, if it isn’t Vivian! It’s been so long, why didn’t you say hello?” Serena walked over, holding a cup of hot coffee. As she reached my side, her hand tilted with deliberate clumsiness, splashing the hot liquid directly onto my shoes. She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Vivian. William just said he wanted to buy you a hot coffee, so I figured I’d save him the trouble.” The moment the words left her mouth, William grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. “Apologize!” He let his hand drop awkwardly, but even with his quick reflexes, I caught sight of the watch on his wrist. It was the one I had gifted him years ago. I had absolutely no interest in watching this little drama. “The hosts are waiting for me. Excuse me.” His face twisted into a complex mask of emotions, but I didn’t care to analyze it. I turned and let the young assistant guide me forward. As I walked, the base of my right ring finger tingled. I had taken off my wedding ring three years ago, but sometimes it still felt like it was there. The cold draft from the vents reminded me of the day I moved out, a humid summer afternoon just like this one. Except back then, William was too busy supervising Serena’s very first recording session to even see me off. He was a completely different man today. I used to think that when I met William again, I would demand answers, cry, scream, and dump all three years of my accumulated misery onto him. But I was wrong. faced with our reunion, I was remarkably calm. So calm that my heart didn’t even flutter, and I couldn’t even summon the energy to hate him. I followed the staff to the dressing room. When I pushed the door open, Serena was already there, touch-ups underway. Seeing me in the mirror, her makeup puff paused. She slowly turned around, scanning me from head to toe with a sneer playing on her lips. “Well, look who it is. Vivian. What’s the matter? Got tired of being a housewife and decided to apply for a janitor job here?” I ignored her and kept walking. She stood up and blocked my path. “I’m talking to you. Are you deaf?” “This is a VIP dressing room. What right does a discarded housewife have to be in here? Has the venue’s hiring standard dropped this low?” The young assistant tried to intervene, but Serena shoved her aside. “Who do you think you are to show up at an event like this?” She poked my shoulder, shoving me back hard. I lost my footing, my back colliding with the door frame with a dull thud. “I’m warning you, stay out of my sight. William might tolerate you, but I won’t. If I see your face again, I will make sure you never find work in this industry again.” She reached out to shove me again, but I grabbed her wrist. “Are you finished?” She froze, trying to pull away, but my grip was ironclad. “You’ve had your say, Serena. You’ve spent three years mimicking my voice, copying my inflections, and now you have the nerve to tell me to get out? Where do you get your confidence?” Her face flushed a deep red. “What rubbish are you talking about!” “Rubbish? Then tell everyone why your breakout episodes sounded identical to my recordings from three years ago. You didn’t even change the timing of the pauses by a single second.” Her face turned pale. “You! You’re making things up!” Furious, she raised her hand to slap me. The door swung open, and William stood at the threshold. He wore a dark gray shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, holding a stack of papers as if he had just stepped out of a meeting. His gaze swept over us, lingering on my hand clutching my bruised shoulder, and his eyes darkened. Serena’s face transformed instantly. Her eyes welled with tears as she rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around his. “William, thank goodness you’re here. Vivian just burst in and started accusing me of copying her. She even shoved me…” She rested her cheek against his shoulder, her voice dripping with calculated vulnerability. “I was so scared.” William looked down at her. His gaze was cold and empty. He didn’t push her away, nor did he offer comfort. He simply let her cling to him as his eyes drifted back to me. He stared at the red mark on my shoulder, his throat tight. “Did you hit her?” The question was directed at Serena. Serena gasped, shaking her head. “No! She attacked me first! I was just defending myself…” “I asked you if you hit her.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it instantly sucked the air out of the room. Serena shrank back under the pressure, her lips trembling, not daring to utter another word. William didn’t look at her again. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a slow, deliberate drag, letting the smoke curl into the air. He was taking his time, as if waiting for something. When the smoke cleared, he looked at me. “Does it hurt?” His voice was soft, laced with a faint rasp. I didn’t answer. He let out a mirthless chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes, making him look even more distant. Keeping the cigarette between his fingers, he turned to Serena. “Get out.” “William…” “Out.” Biting her lip, her eyes brimming with tears, Serena grabbed her purse and bolted. The door slammed shut behind her. Only the two of us remained in the quiet room. He stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table, turning to face me. His gaze drifted from my face down to the red mark on my shoulder, then away. “She’s still as impatient as ever,” he remarked, a hint of weary indulgence in his tone, as if speaking of a spoiled child. Looking at him, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. “Mr. Kingsley, keep your woman on a tighter leash.” I turned to leave. “Vivian.” I stopped but didn’t look back. A heavy silence filled the space between us. “She is the new Mrs. Kingsley now.” “I apologize on her behalf. Please try to understand.” “I know you need a job right now. Once my schedule clears up today, I’ll find something suitable for you to make up for this.” Hearing those words sent a phantom ache through my chest. Once upon a time, I was the only Mrs. Kingsley in his life. Taking a deep breath, I finally turned to leave. “Excuse me. I have a stage to get to.” I walked toward the wings. Just as I rounded the corner, the frantic clicking of heels echoed behind me. “Stop right there!” I paused as Serena caught up, her immaculate makeup marred by sheer venom. Two assistants flanked her, looking ready for a fight. “What are you trying to pull, Vivian?” she hissed, her chest heaving with barely suppressed rage. “You disappeared for three years. Why show up today of all days? Are you doing this on purpose? You knew what kind of event this was, you knew William would be here, and you came just to ruin my day, didn’t you?” I didn’t say a word. In the dim light of the backstage area, the host’s voice boomed through the speakers. “As we draw to the close of today’s summit, we have a very special surprise for you. The organizers kept this guest’s identity so well-guarded that even I don’t know who it is.” “Rumor has it, she is a mysterious figure who vanished from the spotlight three years ago.” The crowd began to buzz. I peeked through the slit in the curtains. In the center of the VIP front row, William sat relaxed, chatting casually with a business partner. He clearly had no interest in this little surprise. Serena, infuriated by my silence, stepped closer, her teeth clenched. “Do you honestly think your return changes anything? He is my husband now. We’re married. You’re just a discarded ex-wife. Who do you think you are, playing the victim?” Her assistant chimed in, “Exactly. Learn your place.” “Miss Serena is the true Mrs. Kingsley now. Why even waste your breath on her?” “How did security even let her back here? Don’t they know a major guest is about to go on?” “Mr. Kingsley only let Serena come back here because he wanted her to enjoy the guest’s performance. Since when do we let stray dogs wander around?” Serena sneered, looking me up and down with open contempt. “It makes sense, I suppose. It’s hard to accept being cast aside. But let me make one thing clear: he chose me. No matter who you are, or what you used to be to him, I am the one standing by his side now.” I remained silent, keeping my eyes on the host. Just then, the host raised his hands. “Please join me in welcoming our final guest of the evening, a legend who has been gone for three long years!” The lights plunged the venue into sudden darkness, followed by a collective gasp from the audience. A single spotlight pierced the dark, focusing squarely on the center of the stage. I stepped into the light, microphone in hand. I didn’t speak immediately. As the crowd quieted down in anticipation, I slowly raised the microphone and spoke my very first words in that familiar, resonant voice. “Hi everyone. It’s been a long time.” The silence lasted for a heartbeat, then someone stood up. Then another, and another. In the front row, journalists stared in disbelief, their cameras nearly slipping from their hands. “I am Echo.” The room erupted. Screams, applause, and gasps fused into a wave of noise that shook the auditorium. People shouted her name, reporters scrambled to make calls, and flashlights flared like lightning, turning the stage as bright as day. Standing in the center of the brilliance, my heart raced. I looked down at the front row. William had stood up. He looked as if he had been nailed to the floor, his face devoid of color, his mouth slightly open, his eyes locked onto me in pure disbelief. His associate tugged at his sleeve, saying something, but William didn’t hear a word. He tried to move forward, but the crowd of reporters, staff, and guests blocked his path, keeping him trapped. He parted his lips to speak, but his voice was swallowed by the roaring cheers. In the shadows of the wings, Serena stood frozen. Her face was paler than William’s, her lips trembling as she muttered a single phrase over and over: “Impossible… It can’t be… This is impossible…” No one paid her any attention. Every eye in the house was fixed on the stage. I withdrew my gaze, offered a soft smile to the audience, and walked off the stage. The thunderous applause followed me, but I didn’t look back. Entering the quiet backstage corridor, I slowed my pace. My high heels clicked against the concrete floor. Soon, frantic, disorganized footsteps echoed behind me. “Echo!” William’s voice called out. I didn’t stop. Whatever William wanted to say, I no longer had any desire to hear.

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1 On this parenting show, I was cast as the villainous foil to beloved actress Cherry. She was the doting ideal mom while I played the hated stepmother. After slow-cooking porridge all night, my five-year-old stepson Matthew slapped it away, scalding my hand. He accused me of poisoning him, then gleefully took Cherry’s fast food. As viewers praised her, he smiled sweetly and called her Mama Cherry. Online, I was told to leave. I looked at my blistered hand and laughed coldly. I would pay the penalty, divorce, and walk away. But as I turned to quit, a panicked voice screamed in my head. The old witch is mad. Her food is the best. Who will cover my ears in storms or carry me? Do not go. I froze. Matthew still puffed his chest, silently demanding attention. While the chat raged and Cherry smirked, I marched back, pinched his cheek, and said coldly, Want me to stay. Kiss me on the cheek live for the whole country. The entire set fell into a dead silence. Matthew’s eyes widened, and a deep flush crept up his neck, turning his face bright red. He clutched the hem of his shirt with his tiny fists, his lips trembling. Cherry, holding her daughter Lily’s hand, stepped right into the center of the camera’s frame, letting out a soft, maternal sigh. “Barbara, I know being a stepmother is hard, and I understand your frustration,” she said, leaning down to stroke Matthew’s hair. “But you shouldn’t take it out on the child. Forcing him to do things he hates will only scar him. Please, don’t pressure him like this.” Lily shrunk behind Cherry’s skirt, whispering in a trembling voice, “Mommy, Auntie Barbara is scary. I’m afraid.” Cherry immediately pulled Lily into a protective hug, giving me a look of helpless disappointment. The chat went wild. [Can Barbara please get kicked out of show business? This evil stepmother act is sickening!] [My heart breaks for poor baby Matthew. Imagine having such a psycho for a stepmom.] [Cherry is the perfect mother! She’s the only one who deserves to be Nathan’s wife and Matthew’s mom!] [I’m signing a petition for Nathan to divorce her! Kick Barbara out of the family and let Cherry marry in!] I ignored Cherry’s little performance. My fingers remained gently but firmly pinching Matthew’s soft cheek. He craned his neck and yelled, “Who wants to kiss you! You ugly woman! I would never!” Yet, his frantic, embarrassed inner voice rang out right on cue: Ah! Why isn’t the old witch playing by the rules? She used to beg and plead to coax me! This is so humiliating! But she smells so nice, like the vanilla body wash she used to bathe me last night. Fine! A kiss is nothing! I’m not scared of you! Matthew suddenly hoisted himself up on his tiptoes, squeezed his eyes shut, and planted a massive, loud kiss right on my cheek. The smack of the kiss echoed in the quiet courtyard. The smile on Cherry’s face froze. The live chat froze. Her army of fans collectively lost their minds. I let go of his cheek, pulled out a wet wipe, and slowly cleaned the dried porridge off the back of my hand. “Fine. Since you’re being so sincere, I suppose I’ll stay.” Matthew stumbled back two steps, his face burning. He looked away, but his ears were bright red. The director cleared his throat, hurriedly raising his megaphone to keep the show moving. “Welcome, mothers and children, to the first stop of Super Moms, right here in the beautiful village of Willow Creek! Your task today is to search the village for fresh ingredients. Whichever family places last by noon will be stuck eating plain boiled cabbage for lunch!” Cherry took a paper bag from her assistant. Inside was a greasy batch of fast-food fried chicken and fries. “You must be starving, Matthew,” she said sweetly. “I had my assistant drive to town just to get you some fresh fried chicken.” She held out the bag, letting the rich, salty aroma drift through the air. But my eyes were sharp. I saw Cherry reach behind Lily and viciously pinch her back. Lily trembled with pain, her eyes welling with tears, but she bit her lip, too terrified to cry out. Forcing a tight, pleasing smile, she whimpered toward Matthew, “Big brother, have some chicken…” Cherry sighed, looking at me with feigned innocence. “I just have such a soft heart. I can’t bear to see a child go hungry. Barbara, you don’t mind if I give him a little treat, do you? Nathan was complaining to me on set just the other day about how Matthew is such a picky eater. He was so worried about him.” The chat exploded again. [Oh my god, Cherry remembers even the little things Nathan vented to her about on set. This is true love!] [Did you hear that, Barbara? Nathan would rather confide in his co-star than talk to you. You’re a total failure of a wife!] [Cherry is an angel. She’s starving her own daughter just to make sure another kid gets fed first.] I glanced at the greasy paper bag and took a step back. “Your call, Matthew. You can eat that junk, or you can come with me to find some real food.” Cherry smirked, entirely confident that a five-year-old could never resist the allure of fried chicken. Matthew stared at the bag for a split second. Inside his head, his thoughts were dripping with disgust: That chicken is cold! The skin is all soggy! The sweet-and-sour pork ribs the old witch made yesterday are ten thousand times better than this garbage! Who wants greasy fast food? I want the old witch’s cooking! Suddenly, Matthew lunged forward and wrapped his arms around my leg, burying his face in my denim jeans. “I don’t want it! I want to go find food with my mom!” Cherry’s hand froze mid-air. Her face flushed a sickly mix of pale white and angry red. I offered her a cool, indifferent look, completely ignoring her cheap attempts to stir drama. “You heard the boy. He’s not interested. You should probably keep it for yourself, Cherry.” With that, I took Matthew’s small hand in mine and walked out of the courtyard. August in Willow Creek was brutal. The sun beat down mercilessly, heating the dirt roads. I led Matthew to the massive banyan tree at the entrance of the village. A cool breeze swept under its dense canopy, offering a perfect shield from the heat. I spent a couple of dollars on two ice-cold bottles of orange soda and handed one to Matthew. He held the frosty glass bottle in his small hands, taking tiny sips while peering out toward the fields. Not far away, in the muddy cornfields, Cherry was dragging Lily through the dirt to pull weeds. Sweat poured down Cherry’s face, yet she kept a bright, forced smile plastered on for the cameras. “Good girl, Lily. If we work hard, we’ll get a delicious lunch. Mommy’s not tired at all, as long as you get to eat well.” Lily was so exhausted her eyes were sliding shut, her tiny frame swaying precariously on the muddy ridge. Every time she tried to sit down for a break, Cherry would yank her back into the dirt to keep working. The chat went into overdrive. [Cherry is so hardworking! She’s a real, down-to-earth woman!] [And then there’s Barbara, lounging under a tree drinking soda! Did she think she was signing up for a luxury vacation?] [Nathan, open your eyes! Divorce Barbara and marry Cherry! Cherry actually knows how to run a proper household!] Matthew took a long sip of his soda and let out a small burp. Leaning against my knee, he gave a tiny scoff. “You’re so lazy. Everyone else is working, and you’re just sitting here slacking off.” But his inner voice was hilariously honest: Oh, man! This cold soda is heaven! It’s boiling hot out there. That mean woman is actually making Lily pull weeds in the direct sun. The poor girl’s face is practically peeling. The old witch is way better. No hard labor, just shade and cold soda. I guess I won’t complain about her today. Ignoring his little attitude, I looked over at the stone table under the tree. The village chief and an elderly local were locked in a tense game of chess, both staring at the board with deep frowns, completely stuck. I strolled over, glanced at the layout, and murmured a classic winning sequence. “Move your bishop to block, then bring the knight up.” The chief blinked, hesitated, and then moved his piece exactly as I suggested. The old man slapped his thigh in excitement. “Incredible! That broke the entire deadlock!” Within five minutes, the chief secured a swift victory. Laughing heartily, he stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers. “Smart girl! You’re with that TV show, aren’t you? Here, my family just harvested some fresh eggs and vegetables this morning. Take them!” He handed me a woven bamboo basket filled with a dozen farm-fresh eggs, crisp green cabbage, and plump red tomatoes. Just like that, our lunch ingredients were sorted. Matthew hugged the bamboo basket tight, a look of pure pride washed over his face. By eleven-thirty, the families gathered back at the meeting point. Cherry and Lily arrived caked in mud. After a grueling morning of labor, all they had to show for it were two shriveled, dusty potatoes. Lily was sobbing from hunger, clinging to Cherry’s legs. “Mommy, I’m so hungry… I want real food…” With her back to the camera, Cherry’s eyes flashed with pure annoyance. But the instant she spun around to face the lens, her face softened into a picture of tearful, heartbreaking worry. She walked over to me, casting a glance at my basket of fresh ingredients, and bit her lip, looking thoroughly pitiable. “Barbara, Lily worked all morning and her stomach hurts from hunger. Could you spare just two eggs? Think of it as a loan. I’ll pay you back.” The chat immediately took the bait. [Barbara, she’s practically begging you. Just give her the eggs!] [Exactly, you have over a dozen! What’s two eggs to you?] [No wonder her husband ignores her. She doesn’t have a single caring bone in her body!] I looked at Cherry with a cold, unyielding stare. “You chose this martyr role. Don’t complain now that you actually have to play it. If you cared so much about your daughter’s hunger, maybe you shouldn’t have spent the whole morning posing for the cameras.” I leaned back slightly. “And don’t teach kids to expect hand-outs. If you want eggs, go win a game of chess yourself.” Tears welled in Cherry’s eyes. “Barbara, you can target me all you want, but the child is innocent…” Before she could finish her sob story, Matthew suddenly lunged forward, spreading his small arms to block me. “No! These are our eggs! My mom won them! If you’re so amazing, go win your own!” Cherry choked on her words, her jaw tightening as she glared at the boy. “Fine. If you won’t share, you won’t. I don’t blame you, Matthew. It’s just a shame your mother never taught you how to share.” She took Lily’s hand and turned away, the very picture of a wronged victim. But as she walked away, I caught the calculated, venomous glint in her eyes. That afternoon, I fired up the rustic wood stove and whipped up a fragrant plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes and a light, stir-fried cabbage. The second the plates hit the table, Matthew grabbed his spoon and started shoveling food into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out. His inner voice was practically screaming with joy: This is delicious! How are these eggs so good?! This is a hundred times better than what our private chef makes at home! That’s it. I’m going to make the old witch cook for me every single day! I scooped some rice for myself, sat down beside him, and gently wiped a stray grain of rice from his chin with a napkin. His little body stiffened for a brief second, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned slightly closer to me. Meanwhile, things were going downhill fast in Cherry’s courtyard. Lily was crying louder and louder from sheer exhaustion and hunger. Flustered, Cherry glanced toward the camera crew stationed outside. Seeing that she was out of their immediate line of sight, she dragged Lily into a blind spot inside the house. “Stop crying!” she hissed, her voice dripping with rage. “Haven’t you embarrassed me enough today?” She pulled a cheap, greasy packet of spicy gluten strips from her bag and shoved them into the girl’s hands. “Eat this and shut up!” The snack was heavily processed, oily, and intensely spicy. Starving, Lily tore the packaging open and devoured it. Within half an hour, the toll hit her. She fell to the floor, clutching her stomach and rolling in pain. Her face turned pale as cold sweat beaded on her forehead. “Mommy… it hurts… my tummy hurts so bad…” Cherry ran out of the house, screaming at the cameras, “Medic! Lily’s having a severe reaction to the local food! She has acute gastroenteritis!” The show’s medical team rushed over. Suddenly, Cherry ran over to my courtyard, throwing herself onto her knees right at my gate, sobbing hysterically. “Barbara, I beg of you! Lily’s stomach is cramping from the local food, and the doctor says she needs warm broth to settle it. All I have are cold potatoes. Can you spare just one bowl of hot soup? I’ll get down on my knees and beg!” The second she dropped to her knees, the live chat exploded with venom targeted entirely at me. [Barbara, are you even human? Cherry is literally on her knees begging you!] [Barbara is a monster! Nathan must have been blind to marry her!] [Ban Barbara! Get this toxic woman off our screens!] I walked to the gate holding my bowl, looking down at Cherry. “A reaction to the local food?” I walked right past her to check on Lily. As soon as I got close, a pungent smell of artificial flavorings and heavy chili oil hit my nose. I turned back to Cherry. “A five-year-old child got severe stomach spasms from eating cheap, greasy, spicy junk food on an empty stomach, and you’re blaming the local weather?” Cherry’s face went pale, her eyes darting around. “What are you talking about? I would never feed her trash like that!” Just then, the camera panned down. Peeking right out of Cherry’s pocket was a crumpled plastic wrapper stained with bright red chili oil. The chat froze for a long second. [Wait… what’s that in Cherry’s pocket?] [Is that actually a spicy snack wrapper?!] [Feeding a five-year-old spicy junk food on an empty stomach? No wonder the poor kid is having spasms!] The show rules strictly forbade bringing outside snacks into the village. The production crew’s expressions turned grim. The director immediately barked into his walkie-talkie, “Cherry, please empty your pockets. You are in direct violation of the rules.” Cherry clutched her pocket, her face completely drained of color, unable to utter a single word. The director announced on the spot, “Cherry’s team has violated the rules, resulting in a child falling ill. Her food privileges for tonight are officially revoked!” That evening, while the other families enjoyed piping hot meals, Cherry was stuck chewing on cold, dry bread. Night fell over Willow Creek, thick and silent. Cherry stood in her yard, glaring at the warm glow coming from my cabin windows, her face twisted with resentment. She clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms. Barbara, since you want to humiliate me, I’ll use that little brat to utterly ruin you. The next morning, the mountain mist was still heavy in the air. I stepped out of the cabin with a basin of fresh water and immediately sensed that something was off. Matthew, who had finally started warming up to me, was acting incredibly strange. He was huddled in the corner by the door. When I reached out to lead him to the washbasin, he suddenly shivered violently and recoiled, pushing himself against the wall. “Don’t touch me!” he shrieked, his voice cracking with tears. I frowned, slowly retracting my hand. Following his terrified gaze, I spotted Cherry standing under a nearby tree. It turned out that while I was fetching water, she had slipped over to whisper poison into his ear. Your dad is planning to divorce her and marry me. I’m going to be your real mom soon. Barbara is about to get kicked out of the family. Matthew had grown up without a mother, and his deepest, darkest fear was abandonment. Those words shattered his fragile defenses completely. “Get away from me!” he sobbed, screaming at me. “I hate you! Just leave!” Seeing this, Cherry rushed forward, pulling him into her arms and looking at me with a face full of sorrow. “Barbara, a forced relationship never brings happiness. The boy is terrified of you. What on earth did you do to him?” She raised her voice, making absolutely sure the cameras captured every word. “Even if you’re frustrated, you can’t go abusing a child!” The word “abuse” instantly escalated the situation. The assistant director marched over, holding a megaphone. “Barbara, given Matthew’s current state, we must ask you to make a public apology. Otherwise, we cannot continue filming.” His statement put a target on my back. The live chat erupted in absolute fury. [It’s confirmed! Nathan really is divorcing her! Even the kid knows!] [The little heir really told her to scram! Get Barbara out of the industry!] [This is child abuse! Call the police!] I stood my ground, watching the crew and onlookers crowd around, pointing and whispering. But right then, a faint, trembling sob echoed inside my head. I didn’t mean to yell so loud… It’s all my fault! If I hadn’t lost my temper, the director wouldn’t be forcing the old witch to apologize. Everyone is yelling at her. She must be so sad right now… I didn’t want them to yell at her… Sensing an opportunity to crush me once and for all, Cherry decided to push her luck. Under the cover of her sleeve, she gave Lily’s thigh a vicious pinch. Lily let out a sharp cry and broke into loud wails. Cherry seized the moment, pointing a finger directly at my face. “Barbara! Your behavior has terrified even Lily to tears! You don’t deserve to be a mother!” Then, Cherry spun around and squatted in front of Matthew. She stared into the eyes of the trembling five-year-old, delivering her final, devastating blow right in front of the live cameras. “Matthew, you’re a smart boy. Your dad doesn’t want her anymore. She’s getting kicked out of your house very soon.” “Now, you have to make a choice in front of everyone.” “Do you want this bad woman who abuses you, or do you want Mama Cherry?” “If you walk over to me, you’ll be my real son, and your dad will love you forever.” “But if you choose her, your dad will kick you out along with her, and you’ll end up an unwanted street kid!” The chat went wild. [Beautiful play, Cherry! Let the kid decide!] [Is that even a choice? He’s obviously going to pick Cherry. Only an idiot would stay with a toxic woman like Barbara!] Matthew stood frozen, shaking, tears streaming down his face like broken pearls. He bit his trembling, pale lower lip, his tiny hands desperately twisting his shirt. His inner thoughts, a chaotic storm of fear and pain, rushed into my head like a tidal wave. Is Dad really going to throw her out? If I choose the old witch, will I drag her down with me? Will we both get thrown onto the streets? The old witch is so high-maintenance. She doesn’t know how to do chores, and she loves pretty things. If she goes broke, she won’t even be able to afford her designer bags! What if… what if I pretend to choose the mean woman, so the old witch doesn’t get dragged down because of me? But… but she’s standing there all by herself. Even the director is bullying her! If I abandon her too and walk over to this bad woman, she’ll really become the laughingstock of the whole country! Yesterday, just to get me some eggs, she stood under the blazing sun watching those old men play chess… How can I just leave her? Old witch, you’re usually so good at yelling at people! Why aren’t you yelling at me now? Just come over and grab my hand! If you do… if you do, I won’t even eat meat anymore. I’ll go beg on the streets with you, okay?! He sobbed, his face bright red, his small body torn apart by the weight of the decision. On one side was his absolute terror of the future; on the other was his fierce, clumsy instinct to protect me and keep me from facing the world’s malice alone. Hearing his frantic, desperate thoughts, my chest tightened, and a sudden wave of warmth rushed through me. Cherry looked at the hesitating boy, a trace of impatience flickering in her eyes. But she quickly masked it, her lips curving into a smug, victorious smile. “Come on, Matthew. Tell everyone. Who do you choose?”

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1 I am the only lawyer in New York with a flawless winning streak. Online, they call me the Ten-Dollar Grim Reaper. The rules are simple. My radio hotline opens for exactly five minutes every night. If you get through, no matter how rich or untouchable your opponent is, you pay me ten bucks, and I guarantee a victory. For the past three years, domestic abusers, deadbeat billionaires, and corporate tyrants have been stripped down to their last penny by my hands. Tonight, at two in the morning, the lines opened. Over a hundred thousand callers jammed the switchboard instantly. But the very first voice that came through the static was one I would never forget even if I were dead. “Mom… I finally scraped together ten dollars.” “My boss didn’t just steal six months of my wages… he had his goons shatter my legs. They took every last cent I had.” “Will you… will you please help me?” The live chat on the station’s broadcast instantly caught fire. [Holy shit! Did I hear that right? That’s Evelyn’s actual daughter?!] [My god, what kind of monster is that boss? Crippling a girl and robbing her? My heart is breaking!] [Is this even a question? Evelyn goes to war for absolute strangers. For her own flesh and blood, she’s going to make that bastard rot in a cell forever!] I sat in the dimly lit studio, silently listening to my daughter’s ragged sobs echoing through my headset. I reached out and cut the line. “I won’t help you.” … The chat exploded into absolute chaos. [What the hell?! She just hung up! That’s her own kid! How cold-blooded can you be?] [Is this a scripted PR stunt? Are they just farming views?] Ignoring the wall of insults scrolling across my screen, I tapped the edge of my microphone. “Producer. Next caller.” Three seconds later, the line clicked. “Ms. Evelyn…” a timid, trembling girl’s voice whispered. “I took a summer job, and the sketchy temp agency confiscated my ID.” The girl was crying so hard she could barely breathe. “I worked overtime for a whole month straight, and they only paid me eight hundred bucks…” “They threatened me. They said going to the cops is useless because they have people on the inside…” “I’ll take the case.” My voice was crisp, slicing through the heavy studio air. “Have your ten dollars ready. Be at my firm at eight tomorrow morning to sign the retainer.” “Thank you! Oh my god, thank you so much!” The girl sobbed gratefully before the line disconnected. The viewers completely lost their minds. [You’ll take a stranger’s case over your own kid who just got her legs broken?!] [Did she press the wrong button? What kind of sick joke is this?] I didn’t even blink. “Producer. Next.” The third caller was a middle-aged woman, her words rushing out in a breathless panic, dripping with pure hatred. “Evelyn! A bunch of rich trust-fund brats have been tormenting my daughter at school! They filmed her and threatened to ruin her life if she snitched!” The woman’s voice cracked. “The school won’t do a damn thing. The cops claim there’s not enough proof. The main bully’s family is pure old money, and they swore they’d run us out of New York!” “Who is the family?” I asked softly. “The Vanguard Syndicate! The youngest son!” Vanguard. The most notorious corporate mafia in the city, deeply tied to the criminal underworld. “I’ll take it.” I didn’t hesitate for a split second. “Bring your daughter to my office tomorrow morning.” “For ten dollars, I will personally ensure the golden boy of Vanguard spends the best years of his life making license plates.” “Bless you, Evelyn! I’d get on my knees and kiss the ground you walk on!” The woman’s hysterical weeping faded as the call ended. By the time I finished logging the two cases, the chat wasn’t just angry anymore. It was a vicious crusade of moral outrage. [Are you even human? You play the savior for the rest of the world, but leave your own kid to die?] [Is your whole ‘defender of the weak’ persona just a massive scam? Are you even her real mother?!] [Someone call 911! Send the cops to rescue that poor girl!] Right at that second, another call forced its way through the jammed switchboard. “Mom…” My daughter’s voice drifted out, so weak it was barely a whisper. “They’re coming back. This was my only chance. If they catch me on this phone, they’re going to kill me…” “Please, Mom. Save me…” Every single syllable was a rusted blade twisting deep into my chest. The volume of messages crashing the server was so intense the system started to lag. [Evelyn, say something! Are you seriously going to let your daughter die?!] [Cold-blooded psycho! You don’t deserve to be a mother!] I kept my jaw locked tight. I didn’t make a sound. “Evelyn!” My producer’s voice roared through my earpiece, thick with suppressed fury. “I’ve always respected you. You’ve always fought for the little guy! But what the hell is wrong with you tonight?!” His angry shouts echoed from the control room behind the glass. “That is your daughter!” “I broke the rules and overrode the system to patch her back into the main line! The least you could do is say something to her!” “Five minutes is up.” I stared at the digital timer glowing red on the wall. I pulled off my headset and tossed it onto the console. “Are you out of your damn mind?!” The producer slammed his fists against the soundproof glass, his eyes bloodshot. “That is your own flesh and blood! Are you being blackmailed? Do they have a gun to your head? Say something!” The screen was a blur of frantic text. [Why?! You help stray dogs on the street, but you toss your own kid to the wolves?] [There has to be a catch! Blink twice if you’re being held hostage!] [Just give us a reason! Give us one single reason! She came from your own womb!] I slowly lifted my head and stared dead into the studio camera. “You want to know the reason?” “You’ll all find out soon enough.” Early the next morning, my phone started buzzing violently with a summons from the NYPD. The moment I parked my car in front of the central precinct, a tsunami of reporters and cameramen swarmed me, blocking every possible exit. “Evelyn! Your daughter escaped a torture dungeon in the middle of the night and ran barefoot to the cops!” “We heard her legs were snapped in half! Why did you leave her to die on live radio?” “Is this some twisted PR stunt cooked up by the two of you?” Camera flashes blinded me. I shoved past the microphones being thrust into my face and fought my way into the main lobby. Nora was huddled on a plastic bench in the corner. Her clothes were shredded into filthy rags. Her bare feet were covered in burst blood blisters and dried mud. Thick, purple lash marks and blistered cigarette burns crisscrossed over her exposed arms and calves. The second she saw me, she lunged forward, throwing her arms around my legs in a desperate embrace. “Mom! I finally got away!” She wept with a primal, gut-wrenching agony. “The boss locked me in a basement… he whipped me with a belt, and then he had his guys stomp on my shins until the bones cracked…” “I dragged myself for six miles until I saw a cruiser. Mom, please, you have to help me!” The mechanical clicking of a hundred cameras echoed through the lobby. A female officer standing nearby wiped her reddened eyes and tried to gently support Nora’s weight. “Ma’am, your daughter’s injuries are severe. The forensic examiner already classified this as felony aggravated assault.” The cop glared at me. “When are you taking the case? We will fully cooperate with your evidence gathering.” I stared down at Nora from above. Taking a deliberate step back, I pulled my leg free from her grip. “I have no intention of taking this case.” The lobby plunged into an absolute, suffocating silence. The female officer’s eyes widened in horror. “Are you insane? She is your daughter!” “That is her own problem.” I let out a cold chuckle. “She is a legal adult. Since she filed a police report, the police will handle it.” “If that place is really the hellhole she claims it is, she can just provide the evidence and let the DA press charges.” The cop was shaking with rage. “She barely made it out of that basement alive! Look at what they did to her! Even a complete stranger would have a heart!” “How can a mother say something so incredibly vile?” “I am a lawyer.” My voice was a flat, emotionless drone. “Lawyers care about evidence. Not bloodlines.” Nora stared up at me, her eyes filled with absolute despair, shaking her head frantically. “They took my phone! I don’t have audio tapes, I don’t have video!” “But these wounds are proof! There has to be blood left at the scene!” With trembling fingers, she reached into the torn pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a crumpled, blood-stained ten-dollar bill. “Mom. This is my last ten dollars in the world.” “Please. I am begging you. Take my case…” She raised the bloody bill above her head and violently slammed her forehead against the precinct’s tile floor. Thud. A sickening, hollow sound echoed. A web of red instantly bloomed across her forehead. I stared at that bloody ten-dollar bill on the floor. I didn’t even twitch a muscle to bend down. “Not enough.” The words slipped from my lips. “Witness testimony isn’t ironclad. Without a silver bullet to kill the defense, I do not play games I am destined to lose.” I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit. The crowd went feral. “You aren’t even human!” A reporter screamed, shoving a heavy camera lens right into my cheek. “Do you even deserve to be a mother? Do you deserve to practice law?!” Someone in the mob yanked the aggressive reporter back, shouting over the noise. “Hold on! Evelyn has a spotless reputation for charity! She wouldn’t abandon her own kid without a damn good reason!” “Yeah! She helps homeless people for free! She must be under some kind of gag order!” Just then, the heavy thud of running footsteps echoed from outside the lobby. The crowd was violently shoved apart. “A damn good reason? Don’t let this snake fool you!” “She is no saint!” The voice belonged to my husband. Robert. Smack! A thick stack of printed papers was viciously slapped right across my face. “Look at this! All of you, look at it!” Robert pointed wildly at the papers fluttering to the floor, the veins in his neck bulging. “These are the wire transfers for her offshore accounts!” “At midnight yesterday, three million dollars was suddenly deposited into her name!” The journalists swarmed like sharks smelling blood, diving for the scattered papers. The cameras zoomed in tight on the highlighted transaction. “The sender…” A reporter gasped out loud. “Vanguard Corporation?!” A collective intake of breath sucked the oxygen out of the room. Vanguard Corporation. The exact company owned by the monster who broke my daughter’s legs. Robert glared at me with pure venom. “You didn’t reject her because of a lack of evidence!” “You’re just a greedy, soulless parasite!” “For three million bucks, you sold your own kid’s life to the slaughterhouse!” The few people in the crowd who had just been defending me instantly went dead silent. Hundreds of eyes, sharp with disgust and pure hatred, pinned me to the spot. Nora slumped onto the cold tiles, staring at me with hollow, vacant eyes. “Mom…” Her voice was broken, shaking uncontrollably. “Is it true?” “You have a plan, right? Tell me you have a plan.” “That three million… it’s a private settlement they offered me, right?” “You just took the money to string them along so I can pay for my leg surgery… right?!” I looked down to meet her gaze. “You are mistaken.” My tone was absolute ice. “There is no secret plan. There is no settlement.” “That three million is not your medical fund. It is my retainer fee.” The precinct lobby felt like a graveyard. Nora froze, completely paralyzed. I stepped right past her, facing the flashing cameras with a perfectly blank expression. “I have officially accepted Vanguard Corporation as my client.” “As their lead defense counsel, I will be filing a countersuit against you for malicious defamation and character assassination, seeking ten million dollars in damages.” “The law is blind. I will not bend the rules just because you happened to be born from me.” “Evelyn! Are you even a person anymore?!” Robert lunged forward, grabbing the collar of my blazer, his fist raised high in the air. “I want a divorce!” “I refuse to be married to a cold-blooded snake, and my daughter doesn’t need a mother who worships money over her own flesh!” The livestream chats on the reporters’ phones were moving at lightspeed. [I am sick to my stomach. She took dirty money to sue her own crippled kid!] [Last night she acted all mysterious saying we’d find out the reason. The reason was a massive payday!] The female officer wrapped her arms around the hyperventilating Nora, screaming at the crowd. “Somebody help her! You reporters, put out a call on your networks! Are there any lawyers out there willing to take this girl’s case?!” A few legal correspondents in the crowd awkwardly glanced at each other, immediately lowering their heads. Who would dare? Every attorney in New York knew that Evelyn had a hundred percent win rate. Going to war against me was a guaranteed career suicide. Nobody was going to throw away their future for a broken girl they didn’t even know. Nora buried her face in Robert’s chest, the shock morphing into a hollow, inescapable despair. Just as the entire room accepted that Nora had already lost… Bang! The heavy glass doors of the precinct were kicked wide open. “I’ll take the damn case!” A young man in a flawlessly tailored suit strode into the lobby. Arthur. The only dark horse in the New York legal scene who came close to matching my win rate. Everyone called him my natural successor. Five years ago, he was a broke law student backed into a corner. Loan sharks had driven his parents to suicide. The mob was hunting him down, snapping three of his ribs in an alleyway. He begged every law firm in the city, but they were too terrified of the mob to help him. At two in the morning, he called my radio hotline with nothing but ten dollars to his name. I took the job. I dragged him out from under the mob’s butcher knife and sent every single one of those thugs to a maximum-security prison. Ever since that day, he treated me like a god. He spent his entire career trying to walk in my footsteps. “You’ve changed, Evelyn.” Arthur stared me down. “You bowed down to corporate money. You left your own daughter in the dirt. You don’t deserve to wear the title of an attorney.” “Starting today, I am taking full control of Nora’s case.” “And I am going to destroy you in that courtroom myself!” The lobby erupted into deafening cheers and applause. I looked at the righteous fury burning in Arthur’s eyes and let out a faint smirk. “Are you sure about that?” My voice dripped with arrogant pity. “Going against me is a death sentence for your career.” “I’ll bet my entire life on this if it means ripping that mask off your face!” Arthur ground his teeth. “Why are you doing this? Just for three million bucks?” I smoothed out my collar where Robert had crumpled it and walked out the door. “You want to know the reason?” I dropped the words over my shoulder. “You’ll all find out soon enough.” Half a month later. New York Federal Courthouse. Trial day. Arthur stood at the plaintiff’s desk, radiating aggressive energy. “Your Honor, I present the forensic medical evaluation for my client, Nora!” He slammed a thick file onto the oak table. “Severe blunt force trauma to multiple soft tissue areas. Comminuted fracture of the tibia. Classified as felony-level grievous bodily harm!” “This is the architectural blueprint of Vanguard’s basement showing deliberate camera blind spots, paired with the DNA analysis of the blood found at the scene!” Stack after stack of files rained down on the desk. “The evidence is absolute!” Arthur pointed a lethal finger at the defense table. “Vanguard CEO Richard Croft and his son, Tristan Croft, are guilty of unlawful imprisonment and aggravated assault!” The gallery buzzed with aggressive whispers. The trial was being broadcast live, and the chat was a warzone. [Arthur is a beast! This evidence chain is bulletproof. Let’s see the wicked witch spin her way out of this!] [The hundred percent win rate dies today! A mother selling out her kid for dirty money is about to be humiliated on national television!] At the defense table, Richard and Tristan were sweating bullets. Tristan frantically wiped his forehead, his hands visibly shaking. Richard leaned into my space, lowering his voice into a venomous hiss. “Are you actually capable of doing your job, Evelyn?” “I paid you three million for a guaranteed win, and this kid just shoved hard evidence down our throats! Are you just gonna sit there?!” I picked up my steel thermos, took a slow sip of hot water, and completely ignored him. Arthur’s gaze cut through the courtroom to pierce right through me. “Evelyn! Faced with irrefutable proof, are you still going to protect these animals?!” “You’d sell your own daughter’s blood for a paycheck!” He slammed his fist against the wood. “Is this your so-called flawless streak? You are a disgrace to the bar!” The tension in the courtroom was a stretched wire about to snap. Every single person was watching me, practically salivating for the moment the legend finally fell from grace. The judge banged his gavel. “Does the defense have evidence to rebut the plaintiff’s claims?” I set my thermos down and slowly got to my feet. I picked up a remarkably thin manila envelope and handed it to the bailiff. “I do.” Arthur scoffed out loud. “The wounds on her body are real. The blood at the scene is real.” “What are you going to do, Evelyn? Magically invent evidence out of thin air?” The bailiff passed the envelope to the clerk. I tapped my knuckles on the table. “I suggest everyone take a look at the screens first.” The courtroom fell into an eerie hush. Every pair of eyes locked onto the giant monitors mounted on the walls. The feed clicked on. When they saw the evidence displayed on the screen, everyone was absolutely dumbfounded.

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1 Henry claimed it was treatment for my avoidant personality. His rule was simple. Whenever he asked a question, I had three seconds to answer. Silence after two seconds meant rejection. If I could not speak up, he said, my grievances deserved to rot inside me. Once, I lost my keys in a downpour. Anxiety froze me when he picked up. Henry hung up instantly. Three seconds are up, he said. Do not bother calling if you cannot talk. When I was framed for plagiarism, panic left me mute before the accusers. Henry let go of my hand and walked away. Three seconds are up, he said. Your silence proves your guilt. But when Wendy ruined his month-long project, she wept incoherently for ten minutes. Henry never counted down. He knelt beside her, eyes red. It is fine, he whispered. Take your time. I will wait forever. Watching him shield her as they left, my throat tightened. So he did have patience. After seven years of his brutal therapy, I was broken. From now on, I would never need his two seconds again. Wendy said she wanted to cook a meal herself to make it up to Henry. She asked if she could borrow him for just one evening. I watched as he took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped into the kitchen. He showed her the difference between light and dark soy sauce with a level of patience he had never shown me. I didn’t walk away. Because he had always told me: avoidance is a disease, and it must be cured. “The food is too salty tonight,” he said, putting down his chopsticks. His calm voice cut through the quiet room. Wendy’s eyes instantly welled with tears, her fingers twisting nervously. He turned to her, his tone softening into a gentle, coaxing murmur. “I wasn’t blaming you. The heat was just a bit off.” Then he looked back at me, his gaze turning distant and cold. “Mrs. Gu, do you know how to salvage a dish when there’s too much salt?” Another test. He knew that whenever he caught me off guard, my throat would physically lock up. I wanted to speak, desperate to force the words out, but nothing came out but a faint wheeze. One second. Two seconds. “Three seconds are up.” He reached over, picked up my untouched bowl of rice, and dumped it into the trash can. “You don’t even know basic kitchen common sense. You clearly haven’t been paying attention to your daily life exercises.” Wendy tugged gently on his sleeve, her voice soft and timid. “Henry, don’t be so harsh on Isla.” He let out a cold scoff. “Harsh? She’s twenty-eight years old, Wendy. She’s not a little girl whose feelings I need to coddle every second.” His words felt like a dull blade sawing back and forth over an old wound. Not long ago, the rough draft of my latest design had vanished. Three days later, I saw a nearly identical finished piece posted on Wendy’s social media, proudly tagged as her original work. The company launched an investigation. The security footage showed that I was the last person to leave the studio that night. Worse, I couldn’t explain why my computer’s search history was filled with queries referencing her unique style. I was cornered in the conference room, surrounded by colleagues demanding to know why I had stolen my friend’s inspiration. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, but not a single word would come out. I knew it was a setup, but every time I tried to speak, the memory of those counted-down seconds pierced me like thorns. The more panicked I became, the tighter my throat clenched. “Mrs. Gu.” Henry pushed the door open, holding a printed copy of a chat log. It showed a conversation between me and an anonymous account, discussing paying a high price to purchase Wendy’s drafts. It was fake. Every single word of it was a lie. But my world shattered. Wendy sat opposite him, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, handing him a cracked flash drive. “Henry… it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have recorded the evidence of her trying to buy my work. I didn’t want to hurt Isla…” He stared down at the transcripts of the carefully edited audio files, his throat tightening. Then, he did something I never expected. He walked over to me. There was no countdown. Leaning in, he whispered in a voice meant only for us, “You don’t have to explain yourself. But this time, your silence has hurt her.” I watched as he drew Wendy into his arms, gently patting her back. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one is going to bully you.” For seven years, my avoidant nature had been treated as a disease that needed to be violently beaten out of me. The fluorescent lights of the conference room made my eyes sting. “I didn’t plagiarize anything,” I said. The words were quiet, raspy, squeezed out only after being crushed repeatedly. Everyone froze, including him. He turned to look at me, as if seeing me for the very first time. But my gaze swept past him, locking onto Wendy’s eyes, which widened in sudden terror. “The rough draft of that design was saved in my private email. The timestamp shows it was sent a full week before her post went live.” “As for those chat logs,” I let out a soft, painful laugh, “the IP address was forged. During that exact period, my laptop was at the repair shop. I have the service receipt right here.” I looked Henry dead in the eye, delivering every word with absolute clarity. “You taught me that if I don’t speak up in three seconds, I deserve whatever comes my way. Well, I just spent three whole minutes explaining the truth. Does that mean the person who deserves what’s coming is finally her?” The conference room fell into a deathly silence. His brow furrowed tightly, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, his throat bobbed and he remained silent. Wendy’s crying cut off mid-sob, hanging awkwardly in the air. I picked up my bag. As I passed him, I paused. “Don’t worry, I’m not running away. You were right: avoidance is a disease, and it needs to be cured. But once you’re cured, the very first thing you do is see clearly: what kind of man you actually married.” I pushed the door open. I didn’t look back. Because this time, the person holding the countdown was me. Wendy remained dead silent for three days in the face of my evidence. On the fourth day, she posted a photo on her private social media, visible only to close friends. It was a close-up of her pale wrist draped over a hospital bed, captioned: I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t exist. Henry saw the post first. He was sitting across from me at the breakfast table when his fork suddenly froze. “Why did you have to push her so hard?” He slid the phone across the table, his voice tight with suppressed anger. I looked down at the image. The wrist was perfectly clean, without a single mark or scratch on it. “This is photoshopped.” “Isla.” He used my full name, his gaze hitting me like a bucket of ice water. “She’s already on the verge of a breakdown. When you exposed her in front of everyone, did you stop to think about how humiliated she would feel?” My fingers clenched the piece of toast in my hand, turning white at the joints. Humiliation. For seven years, he had been blind to every ounce of humiliation he had forced me to swallow. “She forged evidence to frame me for plagiarism,” I said. “She was just scared,” he interrupted, his brows knitting into a tight knot. “She’s always been like that. When she gets scared, she makes stupid mistakes. You know what she’s like. Why did you have to embarrass her like that in front of everyone?” I looked up at him, suddenly finding the face in front of me terrifyingly unfamiliar. “So, because she was scared, she was allowed to destroy my career. And because I defended myself, I’m the one being heartless.” He fell silent for a long moment, his throat moving slightly. “You used to be different.” He averted his gaze, staring out the window. “You used to just stay quiet. You were never this… sharp.” Sharp. That was the word he chose for me. And yet, it had taken me seven years just to learn how to speak a full sentence in front of him. The doorbell rang. Wendy stood on the porch, wrapped in an oversized knit cardigan, her eyes red and puffy as if she had been crying all night. Her gaze flicked past me, her lower lip trembling before tears spilled over. “Henry… I really didn’t mean to…” Henry got up almost on instinct, crossing the room in three strides. I stepped aside, watching as he pulled Wendy inside. “Don’t cry,” he said gently, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Sit down first.” Wendy grabbed onto his sleeve, sobbing. I stood by the dining table, still holding the half-eaten piece of toast. “Isla…” Wendy finally turned to face me, her voice trembling. “Can you ever forgive me? I was just so scared. You’re so talented, and I was terrified that everyone would only ever look at you…” As she spoke, she slid off the sofa, her knees hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. “I’m begging you on my knees, okay? Please don’t blame Henry. He had no idea…” “Stand up,” Henry said, pulling at her arm. But his eyes remained locked on her tear-stained face. He looked up at me. “She’s begging you on her knees, and you’re just going to stand there?” I finally set the toast down and brushed the crumbs from my hands. “I didn’t ask her to kneel.” “But you didn’t stop her, either.” I watched as he carefully guided Wendy back onto the sofa, pulling out tissues to wipe her tears, whispering softly, “It’s okay, it’s okay now.” He gently patted her back, a steady, rhythmic motion. I knew that rhythm all too well. For seven years, every time panic locked my throat and stole my voice, I had desperately waited for him to comfort me like that. But all I ever got was a cold countdown, followed by an icy, “Time’s up.” So, he did know how to comfort someone. He had always known how. It was just that the person he wanted to comfort was never me. Dr. Finch scheduled my final follow-up appointment. He mentioned that after seven years of exposure therapy, it was time to officially close my case. “Bring Henry along,” the doctor added. “There are some things we need to discuss with family present.” I didn’t tell him that I was no longer sure if Henry counted as family. The clock in the office struck ten, and the door opened. Henry had come straight from his office. “Have you noticed any changes in your wife recently, Henry?” Dr. Finch asked. Henry paused, his gaze sweeping over my profile. “She speaks more,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But sometimes… she’s far too sharp.” Dr. Finch made a few notes, then turned to me. “And you, Isla? What are your thoughts?” I opened my mouth, but before a sound could escape, his phone screen lit up on the desk between them. He looked down, his brow furrowing slightly as his thumb slid across the glass. It was a voice note from Wendy. He played it on speaker, likely assuming it was urgent business. “Henry… I just accidentally spilled hot coffee on my hand… It hurts so bad…” her trembling voice echoed in the room. “Can you come take me to the hospital? I’m so scared by myself…” Dr. Finch looked up, glancing at his watch. “Henry, we still have twenty minutes left of our session…” Henry stood up. “I’ll be right back.” “She can get checked in at the urgent care clinic herself,” I said, my voice completely flat and devoid of emotion. “We booked this appointment three months ago.” He looked at me, a familiar flash of disappointment in his eyes. “You’re supposed to run cold water over a burn immediately. She’s in too much pain to think straight. Don’t you have even a shred of empathy?” “First aid is common sense,” I replied. “But she isn’t listening to common sense.” His expression flickered. He clearly hadn’t expected me to talk back so calmly. But he merely draped his suit jacket over his arm and turned to apologize to the doctor. “I’m sorry, Dr. Finch. My wife is… a bit unstable right now. We’ll have to reschedule.” The door clicked shut quietly behind him, leaving the air in the room heavy and suffocating. Dr. Finch took off his glasses and watched me for a long moment. “You’re shaking.” I looked down and realized my hands clutching my purse straps were trembling. My nails had dug deep into the leather, leaving faint white marks. I began to count in my head, one, two, three, forcing myself to speak. “Dr. Finch.” “Yes?” I fell silent for three seconds. In those three seconds, seven years of memories rolled through my mind like a reel of old film. Dr. Finch turned the file to the final page and pushed it over for my signature. As the tip of the pen touched the paper, I heard myself ask, “Once this therapy ends, will I really be cured?” He looked at me. “The therapy was meant to help you speak. But if the person you’re speaking to never planned on listening…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Isla, being cured isn’t the final destination. Choosing who you speak to is.” I went home and began to pack my things. After seven years of marriage, our only real point of connection was sharing the same bed. I tucked a draft of a divorce agreement into an old book and scheduled a meeting with a lawyer for the next morning. It took me only an afternoon to pack everything. Seven years of marriage, and what I was taking with me couldn’t even fill a single suitcase. I took one last look at the bedroom. On the nightstand sat our only photo together, taken the night he proposed. I had been standing in the rain, my wet hair plastered to my face, smiling with a mix of anxiety and quiet hope. I turned the photo frame face down. He came home in time for dinner, carrying the faint scent of hospital disinfectant. “Isla,” he called out, his voice softer than usual. I waited for the two seconds to pass. Then three. He didn’t start a countdown. “Lately… have I been ignoring you?” It wasn’t really a question. He spoke very slowly. My hand holding the chopsticks paused, but I didn’t say anything. After a brief silence, he spoke again, his voice dropping slightly. “Dr. Finch said you’ve changed a lot. I realized… I don’t think I’ve ever truly listened to you.” He paused, his throat bobbing. “I handled the appointment poorly today. As for Wendy… I’ll keep my distance in the future. Don’t take it to heart.” There was a clumsy, awkward stiffness in his voice when he mentioned “the future.” I looked down and sipped my soup. It was already cold. “The things you never wanted to tell me before,” his gaze drifted down to my eyelashes, “you can try telling me now. I’ll listen.” I looked up at him. Under the warm dining lights, his silhouette looked exactly like the man who had stood in the pouring rain seven years ago, asking me to marry him. But it had taken me seven long years to understand what he meant by “listening.” “I cleared my schedule for this weekend. Let’s get out of the city. Would you prefer the beach or the mountains?” He watched me, waiting for an answer. I opened my mouth. “The mountains,” I heard myself say. He seemed to let out a quiet breath, a faint trace of a smile touching his lips. “Okay. I’ll make the arrangements.” He lowered his head to finish his soup, completely missing the way my hands were clenched beneath the table, my nails digging into my palms. That weekend would never happen. He had forgotten to lock his phone when he got home, and it lay glowing on the nightstand. I had glanced over and seen the message from Wendy: Henry, the medicine is so bitter today. Can you come talk to me? It was marked as read. There was no reply text. But while he was in the shower, I had glanced at his call log. There was a forty-seven-minute call to her number. The call had taken place at the exact moment I was packing my suitcase in the study. Forty-seven minutes. He had told me he was going out to get some medicine from the pharmacy. I gently slid his phone a fraction of an inch further away. At three in the morning, I stood in the foyer with my suitcase. I suddenly realized that during all those years of his “waiting,” he had never once been waiting for the real me. He was only ever waiting for a correct, prompt answer. Meanwhile, Wendy never had to say a single word. The cab had been waiting downstairs for five minutes. I climbed into the back seat, pulling my suitcase close to my knees. The driver asked for my destination. “The airport,” I said. As the car glided past the gates of our neighborhood, I looked down at my phone. I went into my contacts, found the name I had saved seven years ago, and deleted it. I locked the screen and flipped the phone face down. “Actually, driver,” I spoke up, my throat tightening, “could we make a quick stop first? The post office in the old district.” Of course, the post office was closed at this hour. But I knew where the twenty-four-hour drop box was. I wanted to mail something. It was the very first letter I had written to him on the night he proposed, seven years ago, but had never dared to send. The letter contained only one line: If one day I lose my voice, would you be willing to wait for me, too? He had never received that letter. Tonight, it was finally time for it to arrive.

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1 In our seventh year together, a relationship where I was the older partner, Jason suddenly gifted me ten luxury skincare sets. “Why did you buy so much?” I asked, unwrapping the boxes. He reached out, his fingertips pressing against the corner of my eye. “Lacey said you’ve started looking a bit old. I’ve been watching you for days. You have four wrinkles under your left eye, and five under your right.” My hand froze mid-air, a dollop of cream on my fingers. My fingertips slowly turned ice-cold. Jason fell silent for a few seconds. “Don’t overthink it. It’s only normal to have wrinkles at your age. But maybe you should learn a thing or two about style from Lacey. At least you’d look a bit younger.” He unlocked his phone, tapping on his only pinned contact. Lacey’s sweet, giggling voice drifted out of the speaker. “Jason, older women are always sensitive about their age. Be careful how you bring it up to Sylvie.” A suffocating silence filled the room. It took a long time before he spoke again. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, then added, “It might be hard to hear, but it’s the truth.” I looked in the mirror. The woman staring back was well-preserved, only carrying a few more traces of mature grace than she had seven years ago. Seven years ago, he loved my maturity because it gave him a sense of security. Now, he craved a younger girl because she brought him excitement. It was just as well. I had reached an age where I no longer wanted to waste my life on him. I screwed the lid back onto the jar and set it on the vanity. Jason was busy smiling at his phone, catching my movement out of the corner of his eye. “Why aren’t you using them? Lacey recommended these anti-aging products specifically for you.” The word aging pierced my ears. Taking a deep breath, I tried to keep my voice steady. “Jason, how much older than you am I?” His fingers paused over the screen, and he slowly frowned. “You’re older than me anyway. What difference does a few years make?” When we first started dating, he always tried to ignore our age gap to make us feel closer. Now, it was a source of blatant contempt. In the dead silence, his phone chimed. Lacey had sent a video. Without any attempt to hide it, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to his side. “Look at how Lacey dresses.” The girl in the video wore a pastel pink pleated skirt, spinning around gracefully. As the hem flared, Jason smiled, holding down the voice-note button to reply. “A skirt like that suits a twenty-year-old girl like you best. Sylvie is too old for it. She’d look ridiculous.” My hands clenched so hard my fingernails dug white crescents into my palms. Jason didn’t notice, replaying the video over and over. “Jason, are you done watching? Is she that beautiful?” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “She looks great,” he replied casually, eyes still glued to the screen. “The pleated skirt really flatters her, though she’s missing some jewelry. Sylvie, I remember you have a pastel pink necklace you never wear. Why don’t you give it to Lacey?” My breath caught, and a loud ringing filled my ears. That necklace was the very first gift he bought me with his first paycheck after graduation. It had drained his entire bank account, carrying all the raw, fierce love of his youth. I had been too afraid of ruining it, so I kept it safely tucked away in a velvet box. And now, he wanted me to hand it over, along with the love it represented. “Jason,” I choked out, “that was the first gift you ever gave me. It’s important to me.” “Yeah,” he muttered, completely indifferent. “But you’re thirty-one now. You’re too old for that kind of pastel pink.” His words stung like a physical slap. As I sat there frozen, Jason stood up and began rummaging through my drawers. He tossed jewelry boxes aside until a small velvet ring box tumbled out, clattering onto the floor. The soft thud made him freeze. He bent down, picked it up, and popped it open. “You bought these?” The matching wedding bands caught the light, reflecting a sharp, painful glare. Before I could speak, he snapped the box shut. “Sylvie, I’m still young. Let’s talk about marriage later.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Do you want to talk about it later, or do you just want to marry someone younger?” Two weeks ago, while dry-cleaning his suit, I found a receipt for a custom wedding dress. I thought he was finally ready for a future with me, so I had gone out and ordered these custom rings. Now I realized the wedding dress was never meant for me. His future had no room for me at all. I threw the receipt right at his face. The indifferent mask on his face finally cracked. Just as he opened his mouth to explain, his phone lit up again. We both looked at the screen. The girl who had been wearing the pleated skirt was now wearing a mermaid-style wedding gown, posing in front of a mirror. I snatched his phone and tapped the voice note before he could stop me. “Jason, you lied to me! You said the wedding dress was for Sylvie, but these measurements and style clearly fit me perfectly.” An invisible hand squeezed my heart, suffocating me with sheer pain. Jason grabbed my wrist, frantically trying to explain. “It was just to fulfill a young girl’s fantasy. Sylvie, you’ve always been so understanding…” I stared at the man before me and slowly pulled my hand back. “Jason, you are not the clueless eighteen-year-old boy you were seven years ago. And I don’t think I can be understanding anymore.” He tightened his grip, whispering in a pleading voice, “Sylvie, please don’t be like this.” My heart trembled, washed over by a wave of pure absurdity. Jason used to hate calling me “sister” or using any title that highlighted our age gap. Back then, when I teased him about it, he would pull me into his arms, lock his fingers with mine, and whine, “We’re a couple. I want to be the man you rely on, not some little kid trailing behind you.” Now, he was begging me with that very title, all for the sake of another girl. I bit the inside of my cheek, using the sharp sting of pain to keep my head clear. “Jason, you…” Before I could finish, a sharp, upbeat ringtone cut me off. It was unfamiliar, a custom ringtone he had set specifically for Lacey. He glanced at me and declined the call. But the phone rang again instantly. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he looked utterly panicked. Suddenly, I found the whole thing incredibly exhausting. “Just answer it.” He pursed his lips, turned his back to me, and answered. Lacey’s frantic sobbing echoed through the quiet room. “Jason, I’ve never worn high heels before and I just sprained my ankle. What do I do?” Jason’s back went rigid, his tone turning instantly protective. “I’m coming to get you. Don’t move. Ask the store clerk for some ice first.” He gave her instructions with practiced ease. My fingers shook. For seven years, I had poured my heart and soul into managing our lives, handling every major and minor detail. Whenever I fell ill, I dragged myself to the hospital alone. He had always been the boy who refused to grow up around me. Yet, around someone else, he had become a reliable pillar of strength. He grabbed his coat, stepping toward the door in a rush. “Jason,” I called out. He paused, but didn’t turn around. “Sylvie, she’s young. I can’t leave her like that.” My chest heaved. I closed my eyes. “Okay.” Seven years ago, when his mother passed away and his stepfather kicked him out, I had run through a torrential downpour searching every corner of the city. I finally found him shivering under a bridge. The teenage boy’s eyes were bloodshot as he clutched my coat like a lifeline. “Sylvie, why are you here?” I had taken his freezing hands in mine and sighed. “You’re young, Jason. I couldn’t leave you. Come home with me.” From that day on, our lives were intertwined. Today, his path was finally pulling away from mine, tangling with someone else’s. I sat in the dark for a long time until my phone rang. It was my mother. “Sylvie, have you and Jason talked about getting married yet? You’re thirty-one. How many more years are you going to waste on him? If you ask me, you should come back home. I can set you up on a blind date…” “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll do it. Set up the date.” My mother gasped, her tone turning cautious. “Did you two have a fight?” I opened my mouth to reply, but the front door swung open. Jason walked in, looking tense as he carried Lacey in his arms. He walked right past me, carefully placing her on the sofa across from me. Lacey looked at me, a sweet smile plastering her face. “Sylvie. I told Jason to just send me home, but he was so worried he insisted on bringing me here.” My mother’s voice was still crackling through the phone, but I could no longer hear what she was saying. I hung up and stood up. Jason was already rummaging around for the first-aid kit. “Sylvie, where’s the medical kit? Lacey’s ankle needs ice right away.” “We don’t have one,” I said. “Jason, you can take her to the hospital.” He frowned, looking at me with pure annoyance. “She sprained her ankle. How is she supposed to navigate a hospital alone? She’s staying here until she heals. It’s perfect anyway, you’ll have time to look after her.” He demanded it so casually, as if I were nothing but a live-in housekeeper. My knuckles turned white as I clutched my phone. He didn’t notice. He gave me a gentle push. “Come on, Sylvie, find the kit and help Lacey with her ankle.” Then, he scooped Lacey up again and carried her straight into our bedroom. Lying on my bed, Lacey shot me a triumphant smirk. Jason bent over her, gently massaging her ankle. It was a sight that burned my eyes. I couldn’t look at them for another second. Grabbing my phone, I walked out and slammed the door behind me. The sound echoed loudly in the hallway. I stood by the door for a few seconds, waiting. There was no sound of footsteps following me. I looked down, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. I was no longer in his heart, so why would he run after me like he used to? I had walked a long way before my phone finally buzzed. “Sylvie, where did you go?” Before I could type a reply, another notification popped up. It was an audio recording from Lacey. I tapped play. “Jason, did Sylvie leave? It’s really late. Isn’t it dangerous for a woman to be out alone?” Jason’s voice sounded cold, dripping with irritation. “Sure, it’s dangerous for some. But she’s thirty-one. What kind of man would even look at her? She’s a grown woman throwing a tantrum. Does she really think she’s still some runaway kid who’ll have people chasing after her?” My fingers trembled, and my chest seized. A wave of sharp, bitter pain washed over me. The cold rain hit my face, mixing with my tears. I clenched my teeth and played it again. The voice belonged to the man I had loved for seven years, yet he felt like a complete stranger. Lacey’s messages kept coming. “Sylvie, do you feel insecure being with Jason?” “Honestly, when I first saw you two together, I thought you were his stepmom.” “I heard he was only eighteen when you two got together. How shameless do you have to be to seduce an eighteen-year-old kid?” Paragraphs of venomous insults filled the screen. I read every single word, but my mind grew strangely quiet. Seduce him? Seven years ago, I had tried to push him away. Jason, experiencing his first crush, would wait outside my office building every single day after school. Everyone joked that I had a sweet, loyal little brother. He would stay quiet, but once we got home, he would sulk on the couch. Recognizing the shift in his feelings, I had intentionally distanced myself. It was on a rainy night just like this one that he had pushed open my bedroom door, his eyes red. “Sylvie, I don’t want to be your brother.” That night, I laid out all my fears. But he had only one answer: “I don’t want to be your brother.” I couldn’t bear to see him cry. In the end, I relented. But the age gap was always a mountain between us. From the moment I said yes, I had prepared myself for the day we might part. I just never expected it to end like this, right when we were supposed to build a lifetime together. I shut off my phone, hailed a cab, and went to my parents’ house. Seeing the worry in my mother’s eyes, I simply waved her off, saying I was fine, and locked myself in my old room. My phone was dead silent. I didn’t expect Jason to look for me anyway. I took screenshots of all Lacey’s insults and sent them to him. He replied instantly. “She’s just young and foolish. I already talked to her. Sylvie, you’re eleven years older than her. There’s no need to pick a fight with a kid.” I texted back a simple “Okay.” Then, I opened the home security app. On the screen, Lacey was sitting on the sofa I had bought, swinging her legs. Jason sat right beside her, scrolling through TV shows. When a funny scene came on, they laughed together, leaning into each other. I watched them for a long time. But my focus had shifted. How long had it been since Jason sat with me to watch a show? Three years? Four? Whenever I begged him to watch something with me, he would frown and snap, “I don’t like the things you like. Sylvie, there’s a generation gap between us.” I let out a quiet laugh. A generation gap with me, who was six years older, but none with Lacey, who was five years younger? Whether it was a generation gap or a preference for younger skin, I knew the truth all too well. Over the next few days, Jason and I had no contact. The only updates came from Lacey’s social media. The two of them were inseparable. They went dress shopping, took bridal photos, and even toured wedding venues. I would pause at the photos, feel a dull ache, and then calmly swipe past. I thought our silence meant a mutual, unspoken agreement to end things. Until Jason showed up at my parents’ door, with Lacey in tow. “Sylvie, I’ve come to take you home,” he said, his expression as warm and gentle as it had always been. My fingers twitched. I looked at the two of them. “Jason, we’re over.” He frowned, instinctively arguing, “How is that possible? I would never leave you.” Lacey’s face contorted for a fraction of a second, but she quickly forced another sweet smile. “Sylvie, you must have misunderstood. Jason has been with you for so many years. He took all your best years. He’d never just abandon his responsibility to you.” A twenty-year-old girl’s words were always laced with poison, her intentions clear as day. I unlocked my phone and pulled up her social media page. “Aren’t you two getting married? I should be wishing you a happy wedding.” Jason glanced at the screen, completely unfazed. “Lacey was just testing everything out for you. We’ve gone through the whole process, so all you have to do is follow the plan we put together.” Lacey slipped her arm through mine, squeezing hard enough to hurt. The pain flared up my arm, but I didn’t let my expression waver. “So, Jason, you’re saying you two already had the wedding ceremony?” His brow furrowed, and he gave a hesitant nod. “I just thought your taste was a bit dated, so I asked Lacey to help. Sylvie, don’t overthink this.” He stepped closer, reaching for my hand. “You stayed away from home because I said I didn’t want to get married, right? But Lacey took me through the whole experience, and I think marriage might actually be nice. So…” Before he could finish, a sharp slap echoed through the hallway. My hand shook violently, the emotions I had bottled up for days finally exploding. “You make me sick.” “Do you really think I don’t know what you two have been doing?” I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the security camera screenshots one by one. The two of them kissing, touching, and crossing every line in the home we used to share. And now, he had the nerve to stand in front of me with a straight face. It was disgusting. My stomach turned. Clutching my abdomen, I spoke in a voice as cold as ice. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see either of you again.” Jason pressed his tongue against his cheek, the gentle, boyish charm instantly vanishing from his face. “Sylvie, you’re thirty-one. Don’t you know when to just let things go? I’m offering you a marriage. As long as you keep one eye shut after we’re married, we can go back to how things were. What good does it do to blow everything up? Do you honestly think anyone else is going to want you at your age?” The sudden shift in his attitude left me stunned. Looking at him now, he felt entirely like a stranger. He was rotten, decayed to the very core. I stood tall, meeting his gaze. “Jason, I don’t want you anymore.” He stared at me, then let out a scoff. Reaching out, he pulled Lacey close against his chest. “If I leave you, I can easily find a girl like Lacey. But you’ll never find another man like me. Sylvie, I suggest you think about this carefully.” A wave of nausea hit me so hard that I bent over, dry-heaving. Jason’s face darkened instantly. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm roughly. “Sylvie, you…” Before he could yank me, a figure stepped in, tearing his hand away and shielding me. A calm, steady voice cut through the air. “Hello, Jason. I am Sylvie’s blind date. And, I believe, a much better option.”

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I’d been dating Ethan for three years, and we promised we’d go to the same college. So when the recommendation list was posted, everyone shot us knowing looks. “You two are totally using your recommendation spots to get into the same school, right?” “So jealous!” But when I got to the bulletin board, where my name should’ve been, there was someone else’s. Serena Bell, the scholarship student in our class. Ethan stood in the crowd, shielding Serena, and looked at me calmly. “I asked the teacher to give the spot to Serena. She needs it more.” “Babe, your family’s well-off, and your grades are amazing. You don’t need this recommendation.” The crowd went dead silent. I stared at Ethan, but I didn’t break down and demand to know what was going on with him and Serena, like I used to. Ethan had no idea I was leaving the country next week. Jade’s face went dark, and she started to charge at Ethan. I grabbed her arm before she could swing. She turned, her eyes redder than mine. “Serena did this on purpose! You worked your ass off for that spot. Who the hell does he think he is, just giving it away—” “Jade.” I cut her off, voice low. “Let’s go back to class.” The whole class had already shifted their attention from me and Ethan. They were all focused on the girl named Serena. She clutched her books, trailing behind Ethan, timid and small, her fingers gripping the edge of his jacket. Ethan probably didn’t even realize that the person following him hadn’t been me for a long time. All morning, I sat at my desk. Taking in the pitying or curious stares from every direction. Ethan was on the other side of the room, laughing it up with his friends. Serena sat right next to him, leaning in to talk to him every few seconds, so close they were almost hugging. She didn’t used to sit there. She transferred into that class just last week. Ethan started bringing her to group study sessions, calling it “helping each other out.” Eventually, he even started bringing her to our friend hangouts. At lunch, Jade dropped her tray across from me. She slammed her fork down and lowered her voice to a furious hiss. “Serena’s been throwing herself at Ethan for ages. I asked around—she’s got serious moves. And Ethan, he just—” “Jade,” I said, dropping a piece of chicken into her bowl, cutting her off. “Eat first.” She snorted but didn’t say any more. The last bell rang, and everyone started filing out. Ethan strolled over, casual as ever. “Walk out together?” He grabbed my bag like it was nothing, his other hand reaching for my shoulder, a move he’d done a thousand times. I shifted slightly, dodging it. “You go ahead. I’ve got club stuff.” Ethan blinked, then nodded. “I’ll wait for you.” He leaned against the hallway wall, scrolling on his phone, texting somebody. The late afternoon sun slanted through the hallway. My shadow, blurry against the wall. My uniform was neat, but it couldn’t hide the exhaustion in my eyes. I ignored him and walked straight out. “Hey,” he said, suddenly catching up a couple of steps behind me. “Serena’s overall assessment isn’t as strong, so this spot really matters to her.” “Think of it as helping a student with financial struggles.” I didn’t answer, just stared at the people running on the distant track field. He waited a beat, then finally tore his eyes from his phone and looked at me. “You mad?” He leaned in closer. “We agreed, right? Next time, I promise.” His fingers slid through my hair, rubbing the back of my neck, like he was soothing a grumpy kitten. “You’ll ace the college entrance exams. You can get into any school you want. There’s no need to fight her for this.” A bitter ache spread through my chest. It was always like this. I had the better family, the better grades, so I was supposed to step aside. Afterward, he’d toss out a casual apology, and automatically assume the whole thing was over. “Ethan.” I stared at our long shadows on the floor. “Yeah?” “I had a deal with my parents.” My voice was calm. “If I didn’t get the recommendation spot, I had to leave the country with them.” “They’ve already finished the immigration paperwork.” The hallway went quiet for a second. His hand on my neck stopped moving. “Your parents are just messing with you,” he said with a dry laugh. His hand started moving again, but this time it felt dismissive. “What’s so great about going abroad anyway? You’d really leave?” No plea to stay. Just straight to “going abroad is bad.” I suddenly remembered something I’d overheard once, Ethan talking to one of his friends. I’d gone to find him and caught his friend asking, “Aren’t you scared Riley might leave?” Ethan had laughed. “She can’t live without me.” I hadn’t thought much of it then. I’d even made excuses for him in my head—he was just talking off the cuff. Now I realized he’d probably always believed that. From the very beginning, he thought I’d never leave him. The sun dipped lower, and the building’s shadow stretched further. Ethan glanced at his watch. Like he figured the earlier conversation had already smoothed things over, he reached for my hand, casual as could be. I raised my hand, gently blocking his. He froze. “I’m heading home, Ethan.” Chapter

He stared at me, silent for a few seconds. Finally, he just patted my shoulder. “Club stuff must’ve been tiring. Head home early then.” “Serena said she’s cramming for a competition project tonight. I’m gonna go help her out.” “Okay.” My voice was flat. He didn’t move right away. Like he was waiting for me to tell him to be careful, like usual. Or to complain, just a little wounded, “You’re going to her again?” But I just turned around. And walked toward the school gate. The sunset stretched my shadow long behind me. When I got home, I collapsed onto the couch. A long time passed before I got up and went to my room. I dug out everything Ethan had ever given me over the years— Handwritten love letters, each one folded perfectly; movie ticket stubs from our dates, tucked into a notebook; amusement park tickets, photos from our trips… All of it filled a cardboard box. I carried the box to our usual study spot at the library. He was there with Serena, their heads bent close together. A moment later, I don’t know what was said, but Serena suddenly leaned up and kissed him. Ethan didn’t pull away. I thought I’d stopped hurting over him, but right then, my heart gave a sharp, painful stab. I didn’t go in and interrupt. Instead, I sent Ethan a message. A while later, he came out from the study area. He spotted me and jogged over. “What are you doing here?” Then he saw the box at my feet. He paused, confused. “What’s this?” I set the box on the bench in front of him. “Remember this photo?” I pulled a picture from the top of the box— Him giving me a piggyback ride under the cherry blossoms, my arms wrapped around his neck, my hair flying in the wind with the petals. He glanced at it and smiled. “Of course. Tenth grade. I even wrote on the back—‘Piggyback rides forever, I swear.’” “And these.” I pulled out a thick stack of movie ticket stubs. “First movie we saw was *Your Name.* You said watching it together was like a promise. The second one was…” “Riley.” He cut me off, the smile fading from his face. “What’s your point?” “These love letters. You wrote thirty-seven of them. One tucked into my birthday gift. Another when we made up after a fight…” “Feeling nostalgic?” He laughed again, his tone light. “Why are you suddenly digging all this up?” “It’s not nostalgia.” I pushed the box closer to him. “I’m here to break up. I’m returning all this.” The smile on his face froze. “What did you say?” “I’m leaving the country. My parents finished the paperwork. I leave next week.” He was quiet for a long moment, then let out a strained laugh. “Is this because of the recommendation spot yesterday? Stop messing around.” “I’m not messing around. I’m serious.” He looked down at the box, then back up at me, his expression a mix of confusion and a flicker of impatience. “Riley, don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m not being ridiculous. Keep this stuff. I’m leaving.” I turned and walked toward the exit. He called after me. “Riley!” I didn’t look back. By the time I got home, he’d sent me another message. [Home yet? Serena’s project is almost done. I won’t have to help her tomorrow. Lunch together?] I didn’t reply. A while later, another one came through: [Still mad? Don’t be so petty. The spot thing is already decided. It’s out of my hands.] I stared at that line, and all I felt was a hollow calm. His attention had always been a rare commodity. Split between a crushing course load and the “capable” underclassmen— late-night tutoring sessions, birthday surprises, and the extra alone time that just happened to pop up under the guise of competition prep… There was barely anything left for me, the “old-timer.” I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone. Chapter

The next morning, when I got to class, Ethan was already at his desk. He saw me and lifted a breakfast bag. “Got you breakfast.” I took it and said thanks. He paused, probably not expecting me to be so polite. “Riley,” he lowered his voice, “lunch together?” “Can’t. I’m meeting Jade.” I went back to my seat. He opened his mouth, but in the end, said nothing. At lunch, Jade dragged me up to the rooftop. She gnawed on a chicken leg, fuming. “You know what? Serena was badmouthing you again today. Saying crap like, ‘Riley’s grades are so good, she doesn’t even need the spot.’” “She sure knows how to justify herself.” I leaned against the railing, watching people come and go on the sports field. “Jade,” I said quietly, “I’m leaving next Wednesday.” Her chicken leg nearly fell out of her hand. “Leaving? Where?” “Canada. My parents finished the immigration stuff a while ago. I didn’t tell you before.” “Then… does Ethan know?” “I told him I was breaking up with him last night.” Jade was silent for a long time. Then she took a vicious bite of her chicken leg. “Good. He doesn’t deserve you.” The next few days, Ethan went to school like normal. He probably figured my breakup was just a tantrum, so he chose to chill and wait it out. Fine by me. It gave us both some breathing room. I started quietly packing up my things. Bringing textbooks from my locker home, one by one. That night, my phone screen lit up. A message from Ethan: [I’m at the fast food place near school. Come get me?] I stared at the screen for a long time. He hadn’t asked me to come get him in ages. Hell, he hadn’t even invited me to one of his hangouts in forever. After a moment, I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door. This was our last chance to meet. I wanted to have a clear conversation. Outside the fast food place, I was about to push the door open. But I heard familiar laughter from inside. Ethan, a few of his friends, and Serena. My raised hand froze in the air. Through the crack in the door, I saw Serena sitting right next to Ethan, way too close. A familiar girl’s voice piped up, dripping with a coy tone: “Ethan, don’t you think you should treat me to dinner to celebrate me getting the recommendation spot?” Before Ethan could answer, one of his friends cut in with a teasing laugh: “Hey Serena, you want Ethan to take just you out, or do you want us all to tag along?” A round of suggestive chuckles. Serena cooed “Stop it,” but there wasn’t a trace of genuine annoyance in her voice. “Alright, leave her alone,” Ethan’s voice cut in, casual and indulgent. “Of course, we’ll celebrate.” That sentence hit me like a switch. It took me back to when we’d first started dating. We were at a restaurant, and his friends saw us eating together. One of them grinned and asked, “Whoa, are you two a thing?” He’d laughed and said, “Nah, we’re just classmates.” His friends didn’t believe him and pressed, and he denied it again and again. Back then, I understood. High school relationships weren’t ideal. We didn’t want to be too obvious, didn’t want the teachers to know. But now, looking back, his tone had been so natural, so effortless. Like denying our relationship was the most obvious thing in the world. A chill spread through my fingertips. So maybe it was never about the “high school relationship” itself. It was about the person he was seen with being me. Another voice from the table pulled me back to the present: “Speaking of which, Ethan, how’d you handle Riley? …She said she was breaking up with you yesterday. Was that for real?” A brief silence. Then Ethan let out a cold laugh. “Let her be. Usually, I put up with her little tantrums. But this time, she needs to learn that some things can’t be fixed by making a scene.” “Whoa,” someone jeered, “so you’re really just gonna let her go?” Ethan didn’t answer, which was an answer. Then another friend spoke up, hesitant: “Ethan, you sure you want things to go this far? You and Riley have been together for years…” “If you’re not backing down, does that mean you’ve got other plans? Like, say, our girl Serena?” “Don’t joke like that~” Serena’s voice stretched into a playful whine. “You really shouldn’t joke about that. Ethan… he knows what he’s doing.” Those last few words came out soft and loaded with meaning. Ethan didn’t explain. A knowing laugh rippled through the group. Another guy chimed in, all agreement: “Honestly, Ethan’s been more than patient. Years with her? Anyone else would’ve lost it by now.” “What does Riley even have besides her family’s money? Not like Serena, who’s smart and sweet…” Serena cut him off with a coy protest. “Stop talking nonsense!” The streetlight outside flickered. The street was dark. I gently set the umbrella I’d brought down on the front step. Then I turned and walked away. I didn’t push the door open. Didn’t go inside. Didn’t say that final word. Chapter

Ethan checked his phone screen again. His chat with Riley still ended with the last message he’d sent her: [We’ll talk when you’ve come to your senses.] Something was off. He knew Riley. Even when they were in a cold war, her silence always carried a hint of a little game to get his attention. But these past few days, she hadn’t even posted a single social media update. “Ethan,” a mutual friend held his phone out, voice tinged with surprise. “Whoa, Riley’s photos… is she leaving?” Ethan snapped back to reality. It was a post from Jade’s social media. A series of photos. The center photo was a selfie of Jade and Riley. Riley was grinning, so bright. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time. Then he saw the caption. [Sent my best friend off abroad!] Jade’s profile had always been blocked from his view. He couldn’t see it normally. But seeing that caption, his first reaction was anger. “Tch, she’s really putting on a show.” He tugged at the corner of his mouth. “She definitely posted this to make me panic. Let her have her fun. If I don’t go, I’d like to see how she plays this out alone.” The friend laughed awkwardly. “Ethan, is this really necessary…” “Some things you can’t tolerate.” Ethan cut him off. “Especially when someone’s in her ear, stirring the pot. When this whole thing blows over,” He paused, his words pointed. “I’ll make her understand who she needs to keep her distance from.” In his mind, Jade had long been labeled a bad influence on Riley, someone who needed to be cut out. Wednesday. The day after those photos were posted. Ethan felt restless all through class. He looked at my seat, but I wasn’t there. It hit him then—I hadn’t been coming to school for days. Ethan thought of a place we’d once promised to go back to— the rooftop at the back of the school. In eleventh grade, we’d skipped class and snuck up there to feel the breeze. He’d said: “After graduation, I’m going to officially ask you out again right here.” Clutching that last shred of hope, he ran there. Someone was standing on the rooftop. The sunset stretched her shadow long. His heart leaped. He strode forward quickly. “Riley—” The person turned around. It was Serena. “What are you doing here?” He frowned. Serena looked at him, her eyes a little red. “I was waiting for you.” “Waiting for me for what?” “Ethan, I like you. I’ve liked you since ninth grade.” She took a step forward. “I know you were with Riley, but I’ve been waiting. Now that she’s gone, can you… just look at me?” Ethan stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t feel that way about you.” Serena’s face went pale. “Because of Riley? She’s already gone!” “It has nothing to do with her.” Ethan turned around. “I just don’t like you.” His footsteps were a little unsteady as he walked down from the rooftop. He didn’t understand what Serena meant by “she’s already gone.” He couldn’t help but go ask the school counselor. The counselor flipped through the records and told him: “Riley? Her parents completed her withdrawal paperwork. She left last week.” Ethan was stunned. “Withdrawal? She withdrew?” “Yes, transferring to a school abroad. The paperwork was processed very quickly.” He started frantically trying to contact me. Called my phone—off. Sent messages—no reply. He called our mutual friends, and every single one told him: “Haven’t seen Riley in a while.” “She didn’t contact you?” “I thought you knew.” He ran to my house and pounded on the door for a long time. A strange woman opened it. “Can I help you?” “I’m looking for Riley. She lives here.” “You mean the previous owners? My family just bought this house a couple of days ago. The old owners moved out today.”

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After My Miscarriage, My Husband Wanted Me to Donate a Kidney to His Mistress After my unexpected miscarriage, my husband took a long leave from work to take care of me. He looked at me with eyes full of pity. “Children will come again. You must take care of yourself. What would I do if something happened to you?” He bought me all sorts of expensive supplements and tended to my every need. I thought I had finally found someone who truly loved me. Until I discovered the car accident that caused my miscarriage was his deliberate design. He said to my sister, “Sierra, don’t worry. I made sure the guy I hired would only hit her hard enough to cause a miscarriage. It won’t affect her kidneys.” “Once she’s recovered, I’ll make her donate a kidney to you.” Ice flooded my veins. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, I’d like to schedule a death-faking service.” I had just gotten home and set down my bag when I heard a car pull up downstairs, followed by familiar voices. I walked to the window and saw Finn helping Sierra out of the car. Hank and Lena got out of another vehicle. The group hurriedly entered the building. I immediately hid in the storage closet next to the living room, leaving the door slightly ajar. A key turned in the lock. They came into the living room. “Let Sierra sit down, quick.” Lena’s voice was frantic. “Hank, doesn’t she look paler to you?” “Mom, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” Sierra’s voice sounded terribly weak. Finn jumped in right away, his tone full of concern. “You call that fine? Your hands are like ice. We have to decide, and soon. Sierra’s condition can’t wait!” Hank sighed. “I know, but Hazel just had a miscarriage. Her body needs time to recover. Forcing a surgery now is too risky. And we need her to sign the papers ‘voluntarily,’ or the hospital won’t even process it.” Hidden in the storage closet, my heart hammered against my ribs. I quietly switched my phone to recording mode and slipped it through the crack in the door. “Recover? What more recovery does she need?” Lena’s voice suddenly spiked with impatience. “All those supplements we’ve been feeding her—what do you think they were for? This day! Sierra can’t wait any longer! As long as her test results barely meet the minimum and it won’t mess up the surgery, who cares what happens to her afterward?” My hand clamped over my mouth. So all that “care” and all those “supplements” were just to fatten me up for a safe organ harvest. “But Mom,” Finn seemed to hesitate. “Hazel just had a miscarriage. If she has surgery now, what if it seriously damages her long-term health? What if…” “What if what?” Lena snapped. “The most important thing right now is Sierra! Nothing else matters! Why else have we been nursing her back to health if not for the kidney donation? Finn, you’re not going soft, are you?” “How could I?” Finn shot back immediately. “I only married her to wait for the right chance to save Sierra. Once she donates the kidney, she’s of no value to me. It’s always been Sierra I love.” Sierra leaned into Finn’s arms, her voice trembling with tears. “Finn, you’re so good to me… She’ll help me, right? We’re family…” “She wouldn’t dare refuse!” Hank’s voice was final. “We gave her life and raised her. Now it’s her time to repay us! Sierra is her own sister. How could she just stand by and watch her die? As soon as her next test results are out, if her numbers are close enough, we’ll find a way to make her sign!” “Right,” Lena said coldly. “If the gentle approach doesn’t work, we’ll use force. She owes this family. She owes Sierra! This has to be arranged quickly. Sierra can’t afford to wait.” I stood frozen in the darkness, silent tears streaming down my face. So my only value in this life was a single healthy kidney. Outside, Sierra let out a low moan. “What’s wrong with Sierra? Is she feeling worse again?” Finn asked immediately. “Quick, get her to the hospital!” Lena panicked. “Go to the hospital now! We’ll deal with this later!” Hank decided. A flurry of hurried footsteps and the slam of the door later, the house fell completely silent. They had rushed Sierra to the hospital. I slowly walked out of the storage closet, staring at the empty living room. The last shred of my hesitation vanished. I walked to the desk, signed the divorce papers, and locked them in the safe. Then, I took out another phone and sent a single text: Initiate the plan. The death-faking service was all set. I looked around this so-called “home,” my eyes as cold as ice. Late that night, a fire erupted inside the house. The flames spread rapidly. When Finn got the news and rushed back, all he saw was the charred ruins of the house and the firefighters carrying out a body burned beyond recognition. By then, I had already left with a new identity.

I thought I’d never see them again. Not until a seemingly ordinary afternoon, a year later. I was taking out the trash when I pushed open my door and saw several people standing in the hallway of my old apartment building. Finn’s eyes locked onto me. In a flash, he lunged forward, his hand clamping down on my wrist like a vise. “Hazel?!” His voice was shaking. “You… really are alive?!” I tried to pull my hand back, but he only squeezed tighter. “Let go! I don’t know you!” I struggled violently. “Faking your death… You actually dared to fake your death!” Finn’s eyes were bloodshot. “Do you have any idea what this past year has been like for us?!” Lena wailed and threw herself at me. “You ungrateful brat! Do you know we thought you were dead?!” Hank blocked my escape route. “Enough talk! The important thing is we found her! Take her away!” From the moment I was born, Hank and Lena had dumped me in the countryside to live with my grandparents. It wasn’t until they both passed away, and the local government contacted them, that they reluctantly brought me back. I had always wanted to ask them one thing: Why didn’t they love me? I was using almost all my strength. Lena couldn’t pry my fingers loose. A sharp “slap” rang out. Lena’s palm landed hard across my face. “You’d better come with me to the hospital right now! If something happens to Sierra because you delayed things for a whole year, I will never forgive you!” My cheek instantly swelled and reddened. I let out a bitter laugh. “So the mask finally comes off.” Lena didn’t even flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! All I know is Sierra needs a kidney transplant now, and you’re the most compatible donor! You have to come with me this instant!” Seeing that I still refused to let go, Hank stepped in to help. “Hazel, you used to be so sensible. Your sister needs you now. Just do this one favor for your mom and dad and come to the hospital, okay?” Hank was trying to play the pity card. I spat directly at his feet. “Stop pretending! Her life matters, but mine doesn’t? Have you ever, not even once, treated me like a daughter, like a human being?” Seeing I was completely unmoved, Hank slapped me across the face, too. “You monster! That’s your own sister! Donating one kidney won’t kill you! You can still live with just one kidney, right?” Finn dropped all pretense and grabbed me by the throat. “Hazel! Sierra’s condition took a turn for the worse this afternoon. She needs surgery as soon as possible! Your body’s stats have to meet the baseline quickly! You’re coming with us, whether you like it or not!” “Finn! You all conspired to deceive me, to use me, and now you’re trying to kidnap me?!” I screamed. Finn just sneered dismissively. “Cut the crap! I’m the reason you’re even alive! Saving Sierra is your only reason for living! Otherwise, you don’t even deserve to be standing here!” Looking into Finn’s cold, hard eyes, I felt a chill that went down to my bones. “Hank, Lena, stop wasting time on her. Sierra can’t wait! We’ll tie her up and take her to the hospital for some proper ‘recuperation’!” As he spoke, Finn grabbed a rope and, with Hank and Lena’s help, tied my hands behind my back. “Move it! If you delay Sierra’s treatment, I’ll make you pay!” Lena shoved me forward. I hooked my foot around the doorframe, refusing to leave my home. Finn responded by kicking my foot away with brutal force. “Hazel! If Sierra doesn’t make it, I swear I’ll make you pay with your life!” Finn used almost all his strength. My whole body crashed down with a “thud” onto my knees. The pain was so intense I nearly cried. A sharp, dragging ache shot through my lower abdomen, too. “Be careful! Don’t actually damage the important parts!” Lena looked at Finn with some annoyance. Finn nodded repeatedly, and then, with Hank, they hauled me up like a rag doll and started dragging me forward. Just as the elevator doors opened, a tall man with a straight posture stepped out. I knew him. He was Officer Carter, who lived next door. He had even helped me catch a thief once. I saw him like a lifeline. My eyes lit up. “Help…” Just as I opened my mouth to scream, Lena clamped her hand tightly over it. “Feeling like you need to throw up again? Mom will take you to the hospital right now for a good checkup!” Officer Carter looked at our group, puzzled. “What’s going on here?” “My wife hasn’t recovered well since her miscarriage. She’s feeling a bit unwell. I’m taking her to the hospital for a follow-up right now,” Finn said smoothly, not missing a beat. My hands were tied behind my back by Finn and Hank. Finn was squeezing my hands hard to prevent me from moving. I could only look at Officer Carter with desperate, pleading eyes. “I’m a doctor. My daughter is physically weak and needs careful treatment. There’s no time to waste,” Lena said, afraid Officer Carter wouldn’t believe her, and quickly pulled out her hospital ID badge. “Then you should hurry. Health comes first,” Officer Carter said, immediately stepping aside to let us pass. Finn let out a sigh of relief instantly. As I was manhandled into the elevator, I watched Officer Carter turn and walk away. The hope in my heart shattered into despair. “You little bitch! You almost tattled to that cop! Do you realize that would be hurting your own sister? How can you be so evil?” The moment the elevator doors closed, Lena viciously pinched my arm. The searing pain made my tears flow uncontrollably. Just then, Hank’s phone rang. “Dr. Harris, your daughter Sierra’s kidney function indicators have worsened again. Please come back to the hospital immediately!” Hanging up, Hank looked at me with a dark expression. “Sierra can’t wait! The moment we get to the hospital, arrange a full physical examination immediately. We need to get her body in optimal condition as fast as possible!” As soon as the elevator doors opened, Finn and Hank couldn’t wait to drag me out. “Freeze!” Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed. I turned my head to see Officer Carter standing behind us with a stern look on his face. My extinguished hope flared back to life. “You dropped your ID card.” Officer Carter jogged over and handed my ID to Lena. “Thank you, Officer Carter,” Lena said profusely. I struggled desperately to free my bound hands. “Officer…” Just as Officer Carter was about to leave again, I frantically started to speak, but my mouth was only halfway open when Finn clamped his hand over it. “Hold on just a little longer, honey. We’ll be at the hospital soon.” Then Finn dragged me toward the car. The moment I was thrown into the car, Lena viciously pinched my arm again. “If you dare cause me any more trouble, I swear I won’t let you get away with it!” Finn sped all the way to the hospital, running three red lights. Once we arrived, I was immediately dragged into a private ward.

Staring at the locked ward door, terror seized me. I needed to run. But Lena walked straight toward me with a syringe of nutritional supplement. “All we want is for you to rest and recover properly. I don’t understand why you’re reacting so badly. We’re all family. Besides, the person you’re saving is your own sister!” A stream of icy liquid was injected into my vein. To get my physical stats up to the surgical requirements as quickly as possible, they started forcing me onto IV drips to pump me full of nutrients. My consciousness still held a sliver of clarity. “You’re breaking the law, don’t you understand that?” I yelled in despair. Lena just scoffed at me. “I’m your mother, and I’m helping you regulate your health. What’s the problem? I gave you your life!” Hank rolled his eyes at me. “You ungrateful wretch! We raised you, and all we’re asking is for you to donate a kidney to save your own sister, and you’re talking to us about breaking the law?” Finn checked the needle in my hand to make sure I couldn’t break free. “Finn, keep an eye on that. These nutritional drips are a specially designed formula. It has to be administered on time and in the correct dosage,” Lena instructed. Finn nodded, his gaze fixed on the IV bag as if what flowed inside wasn’t medicine, but Sierra’s hope for life. I looked at the people calling themselves my family. My heart was a frozen wasteland. “This is illegal detention! Forced organ donation is against the law!” I struggled, but the drugs left my body completely weak. Finn just glanced at me coldly. “Once your body is well and you voluntarily sign the consent form, it won’t be forced anymore. Hazel, stop fighting. Just focus on getting your body healthy. It’s better for everyone.” His words were a knife in my heart. In his eyes, I was nothing more than an organ container that needed to be fattened up to meet the standard. Because their plan was to make me a “voluntary” donor, on the surface, it just looked like family members caring for a sick relative. The ward echoed with my weak but furious accusations. But no one paid me any attention. “You’ll pay for this,” I gritted out through my teeth. Just as Finn was about to speak, the ward door was pushed open. A nurse came in to change the IV bag. Lena instantly plastered a loving mother’s expression onto her face. “Nurse, how is my daughter’s condition? Will these nutritional supplements help her recover quickly?” The nurse looked at my pale face, then at the three vultures hovering nearby, and hesitated. “The patient needs rest. You shouldn’t agitate her. As for her specific recovery, that depends on the test results.” The moment the nurse left, Lena’s face fell again. “Did you hear that? Rest well, and get your body healthy!” I closed my eyes, refusing to look at their nauseating faces any longer. My hand, hidden under the blanket, was tightly gripping my phone. From the moment they grabbed me in the hallway, I had secretly pressed the record button. I knew a direct confrontation was a losing battle. I had to endure. I had to wait. A few days later, with my cooperation, my complexion looked a little better. Lena couldn’t wait to arrange a full physical examination, especially focusing on kidney function. On the day the results came out, Hank, Lena, and Finn all gathered in the doctor’s office. I was brought in, too. The doctor looked at the report and paused thoughtfully. “From the current test results, Miss Hazel’s physical recovery is slower than expected. Some indicators, especially regarding her kidney function, are not yet at an ideal level. Proceeding with a kidney transplant now would pose a significant risk to the donor…” “How significant is significant?” Hank cut him off impatiently. “As long as she doesn’t die! You don’t have to worry about the donor. We, the family, will handle it. She’s a willing volunteer!” The doctor frowned and looked at me. “Miss Hazel, are you truly willing to donate a kidney at this stage? You need to understand the risks involved…” “She’s willing!” Lena answered before I could, shooting me a deadly glare. Finn also stepped forward, grabbing my hand. His grip was so strong it hurt, but he wore a gentle smile on his face. “Honey, Sierra can’t wait any longer. You’ll help her, right? Once you’re better, we can still have another child.” I looked at the three of them, then at the doctor who clearly disapproved. Slowly, clearly, I spoke. “Doctor, I am… not… willing.” “Bang!” Lena slammed her fist on the table. “What did you say?!” “I said, I am not willing.” I met their nearly fiery glares, enunciating every word. “My body hasn’t recovered. I don’t want to donate a kidney. And, I have evidence that you have been trying to coerce me.” With that, I pulled out my phone and played a clear segment of the recording, the very words they had spoken in the ward while pressuring me, revealing that the whole purpose of nursing me back to health was for the kidney donation. The atmosphere in the office froze solid. Hank was trembling with rage, and Finn’s eyes looked murderous. Lena screamed, “You’ve turned against us! You ungrateful thing! I’ll beat you to death today!” She lunged at me, trying to hit me, but was blocked by the doctor and the nurses who had rushed in at the commotion. “This is a hospital! I need you all to remain calm!” the doctor said sternly. “Miss Hazel has clearly stated she does not wish to donate, and her current physical condition is not suitable for donation. You cannot force her! Otherwise, I will call the police!” “Call the police? I’m her mother!” Lena roared. “Even if you are her mother, you cannot force her to donate an organ! That is the law!” The doctor didn’t back down an inch. In the chaos, I used all my strength to break free of Finn’s grip and rushed out of the office. I knew this brief conflict wouldn’t stop them. I needed to get more damning evidence. I needed to get rid of them completely! I ran to the fire escape stairwell, quickly backed up the audio file to the cloud, and then deleted the original from my phone. The moment I finished, I heard Finn and Hank’s voices echoing from the floor below, searching for me. I quietly slipped down another staircase, wanting to leave the hospital first. Just as I reached the entrance of the inpatient wing, I bumped right into Sierra, who was there for a check-up, and Finn, who was with her. It turned out Finn had already come down another way and met up with Sierra. Seeing me, Finn’s eyes turned cold. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” Sierra looked at me with a pitiful, helpless expression. “Sister, are you really that heartless? Can you just watch me die? I just want a chance to live…” Looking at this couple, I felt nothing but disgust. I violently shook off Finn’s hand. “Let go! Sierra, you want to live, but why should my life be the price?” “Your life?” Finn was so angry he laughed. “Hazel, don’t forget who paid to nurse you back to health after your miscarriage! Those supplements, the home care you received—all of it was to get you better fast so you could save Sierra! Your life stopped being just your own a long time ago!” His words finally tore away the last shred of pretense. I looked at him and suddenly laughed. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. “Finn, so all the kindness after the fire, all the care… it was all just to get my body healthy so you could give Sierra a healthy kidney, wasn’t it?” My laughter unsettled Finn, but he still said coldly, “So what if it was? Being able to save Sierra is your blessing!” “Fine. A blessing, huh.” I stopped laughing, wiped my tears. “Then let me tell you, I don’t want this blessing. And you won’t get what you want.” I spotted a few security guards in the distance and immediately shouted at the top of my lungs, “Security! Help! Someone’s trying to kidnap me! They’re forcing me to donate an organ!” My shouts drew the attention of people nearby, and the security guards started running this way. Finn’s face changed, and he reached out to cover my mouth. Sierra panicked, too. “Finn, what do we do?” Hank and Lena had also chased us down by now. Seeing the scene, Lena immediately started making a scene of her own. “There’s no justice in this world! A daughter wants to let her sick sister die! We’re just parents asking her to donate a kidney to save her sister, and she wants to call the cops on us!” The crowd grew, and people were pointing and murmuring. The security guards arrived and asked about the situation. I seized the opportunity and quickly said to the guards, “They’re illegally holding me against my will and forcing me to donate an organ! I have evidence! Please, call the police!” Finn, seeing the situation turning sour, tried to pull Sierra away. Lena was still making a dramatic scene, while Hank tried to explain it away as a family matter to the guards. The scene was complete chaos. Just then, I saw Officer Carter and his colleague outside the crowd, heading toward the inpatient department, seemingly on some other case. My heart leaped with joy, and I screamed with all my might, “Officer Carter! Help!” Officer Carter looked over at the sound of his name and saw me, disheveled and trapped in the middle of the conflict, with Finn pulling at me and Hank and Lena howling. His brow furrowed, and he immediately walked over with his colleague. “What’s going on here?” Officer Carter asked, his voice commanding.

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My husband Caleb Cole’s first love, Grace, died in a car accident. After that, he set the house on fire and locked us both inside. “The biggest regret of my life is marrying you! If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been with Grace! She wouldn’t have died so young!” In the end, I burned to death. When I woke up, we had both been reborn back to our college days. This time, I decided to let each other go. We stopped contacting each other and became strangers from then on. Seven years later, he became a rising star in the business world and dramatically announced his engagement to Grace at a yacht party. When I rushed in wearing nothing but my pajamas, all I got was his mocking laugh: “Molly, I know I’m pretty charming. You’ve been hung up on me for two lifetimes, but you don’t have to cling to the past like this.” But when he saw me take another man’s hand, his eyes turned red and he demanded: “Didn’t you say you’d love only me forever?” Seven years later, a grand party was being held on the “Starlight” yacht. I was frantically searching the cabins for my five-year-old son — half an hour ago, he said he wanted to see the seagulls on the deck, and then he disappeared the moment I turned around. I’d thrown on only a robe and run out with no makeup, looking completely undone. I searched until I reached the ballroom. In the center of the crowd, Caleb Cole and Grace were holding hands, basking in everyone’s flattery. “Caleb, you’re amazing. In just a few years, you’ve become a rising young entrepreneur everyone’s watching. This yacht is yours too, right? You’re a legend in Coastal City!” “Of course! I heard the ‘Starlight’ cost over a hundred million dollars to build and only serves high-end clients. We’re all here thanks to Caleb today!” “Caleb, I’ve got a project. For old times’ sake, could we talk about a partnership?” Someone teased, “Caleb, looking at you and Grace, is there good news on the horizon?” Grace blushed slightly and looked up at him tenderly. Caleb squeezed her hand, his smile confident. “That’s right. Tonight isn’t just a party — it’s also our engagement celebration.” Everyone raised their glasses to congratulate them. An old acquaintance joked, “Caleb, you and Molly were so crazy in love back then. Do you still keep in touch? I remember you even used a megaphone to confess your love to her during halftime at the college football game!” Hearing my name, Caleb’s smile froze for a moment, and his lips pressed together. But Grace held his arm even tighter, her voice gentle and gracious. “Caleb and I are about to get married. Don’t you think he’s moved on? A young, naive crush can’t compare to a deep, lasting adult love.” Everyone laughed and continued chatting around them. But I couldn’t care less. I anxiously scanned the room, searching for my child. Someone with sharp eyes spotted me. “Molly? What are you doing here… Oh my god, what are you wearing…” “This is a yacht party. Why are you in pajamas? Your hair isn’t even brushed. Did you just roll out of bed?” “Where are you working now? Our Mr. Cole is so successful now. Pour him a drink nicely, and maybe he’ll help an old classmate out.” Several guests murmured under their breath when they saw my casual clothes and bare face. From the moment I appeared, Caleb’s eyes had been on me. I gave him a simple nod, a quick greeting, and kept searching. He froze for a second, his gaze unreadable. “Molly, after all these years, you still don’t know how to dress for the occasion. You can’t even put on a proper outfit.” Grace swept a cold glance over me and deliberately tightened her hold on Caleb’s arm, as if staking her claim. “Caleb, don’t say that. Even though she’s dressed a little plainly, we shouldn’t keep talking about her. After all, we’re all old acquaintances.” Her tone was gentle, and she looked me over again, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her lips. “But speaking of which, why did you come to a party like this dressed like that? Wearing appropriate clothes to a formal event is a basic sign of respect for others. If you need something, I have a spare gown in my cabin. I could lend it to you.” The moment the words left her mouth, a few people snickered.

At that moment, the contrast between Grace and me was stark. She wore a Tiffany diamond necklace, a custom-made gown, and an elegant hairstyle, every gesture graceful. I had just gotten out of bed, wearing a loose robe, my hair a little messy, no makeup on my face — completely different from her. I didn’t have time to care. I kept looking around. My son was missing, and I was beside myself with worry. Caleb suddenly walked over and handed me a check for twenty thousand dollars. “This money is for you, for old times’ sake. You don’t have to pay it back. Go buy some decent clothes, find a respectable job, and take better care of yourself.” “Molly, let the past stay in the past. Don’t keep yourself trapped in it.” “If back then… forget it. There’s no point talking about it now.” “What matters is, don’t let yourself go just because of my choice, okay? It makes things really awkward for me when you’re like this.” What was he talking about? I looked up at him, confused. Suddenly, I really wanted to know what I had done in my last life to make him leave so decisively after our rebirth. In our previous life, we went from college sweethearts to marriage. He had a dream of starting his own business, and I was passionate about jewelry design. We were both busy. Because I loved him, I gave up my chance to study in Europe, started working early to support the household, and backed his dreams. When he hit wall after wall and got depressed, I was the one covering all the family expenses, patiently comforting and encouraging him. After years of marriage, whenever I brought up the topic of having children, he would push me away irritably, his eyes full of disgust. “I’ve told you long ago, I don’t want kids. I never plan to have any. The thought of having a child with someone like you makes me sick!” That sentence completely broke my heart. Then came the day the news arrived that his first love, Grace, had died in a car crash. He completely lost his mind. He dragged me into the house, locked the door, and set the place on fire. As the flames raged, he choked me by the neck, his face twisted with rage: “The biggest regret of my life is marrying you! If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been with Grace! She wouldn’t have died so young!” In the end, I burned to death. Now we’ve both been reborn, and we mutually chose to become strangers. There’s no past affection to cling to. I pushed the check back and said flatly, “That’s not necessary. I don’t need help from a stranger. Thank you.”

Caleb frowned deeply, his expression darkening. “Molly, what do you mean? You’re calling me a stranger?” I nodded slightly. “We have nothing to do with each other anymore.” I was in a hurry to keep looking for my child and didn’t have time to argue with him. Grace walked quickly to his side, saw the check, and seemed to understand something. A flicker of displeasure crossed her eyes, but she still kept her tone gentle. “Molly, if you don’t want direct help, we can recommend a job for you.” “A friend of mine owns a boutique and they’re hiring a retail associate. It’s twenty-five dollars an hour. The starting pay might not be high, but once you learn the ropes, there’s room to grow. It’s definitely more stable than unstable freelance work.” “I can give you the store manager’s number. You can contact them directly. What do you think?” My expression didn’t change. I kept searching for my son. “Thank you, but I’m very happy with my current job. I have no plans to switch industries.” Someone in the crowd spoke up: “Molly, don’t be so stubborn. They’re being nice and trying to help you. Why won’t you accept it?” “Exactly. Look at you, coming to a yacht party in your pajamas to look for a kid. Isn’t that just a way to get an opportunity? Now that an opportunity’s here, you’re acting all high and mighty. Who are you putting on a show for?” Grace kept an elegant smile on her face. “Everyone, don’t say that. Maybe Molly really does love her current job.” She turned to me, her tone soft but with a subtle hint of condescension. “Molly, we’re trying to help you because of our history. Don’t just hold out for the sake of pride. Also, your child is lost. You must be really anxious right now, right?” I was baffled. Why were they still mocking me at a time like this? If I really wanted to compare, the total assets of everyone here combined probably wouldn’t even match the value of my jewelry designs. “I really don’t need it, thank you,” I replied coldly and turned to go to another area. Grace’s smile remained, but her eyes chilled a little. Caleb clenched the check in his hand, his voice dripping with sarcasm: “You’re hopeless. You’re given a chance and you don’t even know how to take it. You deserve to stay mediocre!” His words made more people look over. A heavyset male guest came up to me with a wine glass and tried to make me drink: “Molly, seeing how down-to-earth you are now, tell you what — you drink one glass, and I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” “If you think that’s too little, I can add more.” The man’s eyes unashamedly swept over my body. People around us laughed under their breath. No one stepped in to stop it. I was just about to call a server when Caleb suddenly grabbed the man’s wrist. The air pressure around him dropped instantly, and his face was terrifyingly dark. “What do you think my yacht is? If you want to throw your weight around, go somewhere else. She’s not someone you can harass!”

The man grimaced from Caleb’s grip, but didn’t dare make a sound. Grace grabbed Caleb’s arm. “Caleb, what are you doing!” Caleb’s eyes were icy, his expression fierce. “Can’t you see she’s looking for her child? Sir, if you try that again, I’ll have you removed from this yacht immediately.” He threw the heavyset man’s hand aside. The man didn’t dare cross him and could only glare at me viciously. I was a little surprised and couldn’t help glancing at Caleb. I hadn’t expected him to step in. The gentle smile on Grace’s face barely held up as she abruptly changed the subject. “I heard the CEO of Easton Group is also on the yacht tonight. Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to meet him.” The guests got excited at her words. “The CEO of Easton Group is the richest man in Coastal City, young and successful. He’s only in his early thirties this year. I heard he’s extremely protective of his family. The media has never managed to dig up his wife’s identity.” “Then what does his wife do?” “Rumor is she’s an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Her ‘Starry Night’ collection sold for an astronomical price at the Paris auction last year! But she’s incredibly low-key and rarely appears in public.” “That’s amazing. Maybe we’ll get to see this mysterious designer in person today!” The words had barely been spoken when a little boy about five years old slipped into the ballroom through a side door, looking around curiously, and immediately drew a lot of attention. “Whose child is this? He’s adorable, absolutely gorgeous.” Someone in the crowd suddenly lowered their voice in surprise: “Wait a second… that kid, I feel like I’ve seen his picture in a financial magazine. Isn’t he the youngest son of Brandon Fu from Easton Group?” The moment this was said, several people’s eyes instantly turned eager. Grace reacted the fastest. She plastered a gentle, gracious smile on her face, quickly walked over to the little boy, crouched down, and said softly, “Hey there, little guy. Are you alone? What kind of snack would you like? Let me help you get some?” As she spoke, she reached out to pat the child’s head. Unexpectedly, the little boy frowned, nimbly dodged to the side, and ignored her completely. At the same time, a tall, stern-faced man appeared hurriedly through the other main door of the ballroom. His sharp eyes swept the room, and when he saw the child, he visibly relaxed. He strode over. “Ryan, what are you doing running off by yourself?” The man’s voice was deep, with a hint of reproach, but more worry than anything. Seeing the man, the boy immediately broke into a relieved smile and called out clearly, “Daddy! I came to see the big boat!” Then he turned his head, saw me, and his eyes lit up like stars. Without hesitation, he dodged around the still-crouching Grace and ran toward me with open arms: “Mommy! I finally found you!”

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After inheriting a multi-million dollar fortune, I decided to quit my job at my brother’s company. When the intern Katherine found out, she panicked and blocked my way, begging, “How will you live after you quit?” “I’ve already forgiven you for copying me. Just stay!” In my previous life, I poured my heart into a project proposal for six months, only to be accused of plagiarism at the final presentation by the client. Because Katherine had already secretly contacted the client beforehand and presented a proposal that was identical to my core content. I begged my brother, the company CEO, and my husband Mark to vouch for me. But my brother announced with a heavy tone, “Eve, since you’re my sister, I won’t hold you accountable for the company’s losses this time.” Then, he immediately signed an internal memo confirming my “crime” of stealing a colleague’s idea. And my husband Mark didn’t say a single word in my defense. I became a shameless parasite who used connections and plagiarized. Unable to clear my name, I was blacklisted by the entire industry and couldn’t find another job. I sank into depression and ended my life on a snowy night. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the week before the client presentation.

“Eve, I heated some milk for you. No matter how late you’re preparing the proposal, take care of yourself.” My brother Daniel placed the cup on my desk, his voice gentle. But this scene almost made me fall out of my chair. Just then, my husband Mark pushed the door open. He set a lunch box on the table. “I heard you’ve been pulling all-nighters, so I made soup to nourish you.” I had experienced this scene twice before. In my previous life, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world. My brother, seven years older and already the company CEO, had always been extremely protective of me. And my beloved husband Mark was my most trusted harbor. But after my rebirth, I felt nothing but coldness. In my previous life, when I presented the proposal to the client, my core content turned out identical to Katherine’s. After the client discovered it, they immediately complained to senior management. As the brightest rising star in the department, I was supposed to be promoted through this project. But once the scandal broke, I was instantly swept into a whirlwind of accusations. I turned to my brother, the CEO, and my husband Mark, who was in the same project team, begging them to help me clear my name. But they refused. Daniel even apologized to the client on my behalf, begging the company to only issue an internal reprimand because I was a first-time offender and his sister. And Mark avoided my gaze from start to finish. This incident sparked intense debate among colleagues and the industry. “I knew she only dared to plagiarize on such an important project because the CEO is her own brother and her husband is on the team. Isn’t this a family fraud?” “Exactly! Someone with no professional ethics like her should be banned from the industry!” Under the public pressure, the company launched a harsh investigation. Soon after, the investigation results “confirmed” that I had plagiarized Katherine. I, who had always been hailed as a genius newcomer, was branded a thief. Meanwhile, Katherine, who had previously been mediocre, became famous overnight and gained the promotion and glory that should have been mine. Just like that, she became the company’s new star. And I became a professional pariah everyone despised. Because of the severity of the situation, I was fired immediately and blacklisted by the industry association. Stripped of my professional credentials, I could only take odd jobs. But whenever employers recognized me, they would find excuses to dock my pay or fire me outright. Penniless, I lost all hope. On a snowy night, I jumped into a lake that was about to freeze. But to my surprise, when I opened my eyes, I was back to the week before the final client presentation. Looking at my brother earnestly “helping me refine my proposal” and my husband going out of his way to “nourish my body,” my emotions were suddenly a tangled mess.

“Eve, this is the proposal framework I organized for you. As long as you follow it, you’ll definitely wow the client!” Daniel placed the compiled materials in front of me, full of confidence. My husband Mark chimed in teasingly, “Eve, you have to win this project. If you do, you’ll get promoted. I’m bringing you soup every day — if you fail, how can you face my soup?” It was clearly a joke, but I couldn’t laugh. Daniel is my biological brother; he would never harm me. My husband Mark, though sometimes blunt, had always supported me. Once, when a colleague tried to steal my credit, he almost got into a fight with them. So it couldn’t be them. Then where did the problem lie? I had been a technical prodigy since childhood, and every project I’d handled since joining the company had outstanding results. Even in a top-tier company, I was a priority talent. My department supervisor said I was the strongest competitor for the promotion this time. So when the plagiarism scandal broke, the supervisor and most of my colleagues initially believed me. Besides, my previous project accomplishments were indisputable — there was no need for me to plagiarize. But then, Katherine suddenly released surveillance footage from the preparation period. The footage showed that she had completed the overall proposal earlier than I had. And she had “shared” her thoughts on the project on the internal forum a week before the presentation. The proposal she presented was exactly a deepened version of those thoughts. In an instant, the internal gossip and accusations nearly drowned me. “This clearly proves that Evelyn copied Katherine. The timestamps are crystal clear!” “I heard her previous projects might not be real either — they just weren’t discovered!” “It’s a good thing her brother and husband kept their heads and didn’t commit perjury for her, or the real victim would’ve been wronged to death!” Because of the terrible impact, senior management took it very seriously and immediately verified Katherine’s evidence. After verification, the surveillance timestamps and forum post records were authentic and untampered with. They ruled that I had indeed plagiarized Katherine. I was stunned. That proposal was obviously my original work — how could it be plagiarism? But I had no evidence to prove it. I couldn’t understand how Katherine’s proposal ended up identical to my core content. Could Daniel have shared the “framework” he gave me with Katherine as well? One mystery after another loomed over me. But for now, Daniel and my husband Mark were acting completely normal. I could only start by investigating Katherine’s internal forum account. By my calculations, her “forward-thinking” post should already be up. But Daniel and my husband Mark, using the excuse of discussing the proposal, barely left my side. I had to quickly scribble a few irrelevant draft pages to placate them. Then I pretended to have a headache and needed fresh air in the break room. A flicker of impatience crossed my husband Mark’s eyes. “You’re so high-maintenance. Daniel already gave you the core ideas, and you still want to slack off!” Daniel hurriedly smoothed things over. “It’s not that urgent. Don’t rush her.” “As long as she follows my framework, she’ll definitely win!” But I didn’t have much time left to find the truth. After locking the break room door, I immediately checked Katherine’s internal forum on my phone. She was the daughter of a board member, and with her stunning looks and social skills, she had quite a following. But I had almost no interaction with her. However, Daniel, as the CEO, had more contact with Katherine. Once, I overheard him telling my husband Mark that Katherine clearly had the potential of a future leader, unlike me, who only buried myself in technical details. He also said that in the workplace, you had to build good relationships with people like Katherine who had both background and ability. At the time, I thought it was just a casual remark. Now, I realized it might have been his true feelings. But I truly couldn’t understand why a golden girl like Katherine would target me specifically. Then, I saw her latest post. Under the guise of “throwing out a brick to attract jade,” she shared her “preliminary thoughts” on several key challenges of the project. When I saw those “thoughts,” I froze. Weren’t these the “core logic” that Daniel had helped me organize? What’s more, Katherine even listed several key data projection directions. They were exactly the same as what I had written in my private notes last night. Below the post, colleagues were showering her with praise. “Katherine is so beautiful and talented, even willing to share unpublished project ideas like this. She’s a goddess!” “Exactly. I was completely stuck on these challenges before. Her analysis made everything clear.” Idea collisions could be coincidence. But then why was the complete proposal she was about to present also highly similar to my core content? My private workstation and computer could only be accessed by Daniel and my husband Mark, who knew the passwords. It had to be them! A chill ran down my spine. I couldn’t understand why they would do this. Was blood and marriage really worth less than Katherine’s professional connection to them?

I sat in the break room for an hour, then decided to take a desperate risk. I already knew the core proposal that would be presented. In my previous life, the one I was framed for plagiarizing was actually my most mature and safest design. It was excellent, but not flawless. This time, I decided to use a bolder, more cutting-edge, but also riskier new architecture. Since Katherine’s proposal in my previous life was identical to mine, I would completely replace the core. No matter the final evaluation, at least I could clear myself of plagiarism. Early the next morning, before Daniel arrived at the company, I secretly went to a co-working space on the other side of the city. To be honest, I hesitated. After all, adopting a completely unverified new architecture wasn’t just high risk — it might also render much of my previous work useless. There, I met my grandma, who couldn’t stand retirement and occasionally helped a friend manage the space. Grandma brought me a cup of warm milk. “What’s wrong with my sweet granddaughter? You look so upset.” I smiled bitterly. “Grandma, what if I screw up my most important project? Would you be very disappointed?” Grandma stroked my head and smiled warmly. “Silly girl, how could I?” “Grandma just wants you to be happy doing what you love. Even if this doesn’t work out, you still have me. I’ll take care of you!” Hearing that, I suddenly felt a surge of determination to do certain things. After leaving the co-working space, I got a call from Daniel. “Eve, where did you run off to? Mark brought breakfast and wants to discuss the proposal with you. He’s throwing a fit because he can’t find you!” I replied coldly, “I went out to find some inspiration and get some air. I’m coming back.” I didn’t plan to tell either of them about adopting the new architecture. After all, in my previous life, those two were the prime suspects in the “plagiarism.” I decided to rebuild the proposal in the co-working space. Besides, it was quiet enough there.

Halfway through, I stretched and planned to take a short break. I was curious about what Katherine was up to. Just as my mind wandered, Daniel and my husband Mark showed up. I wondered how they knew I was here. The next second, Daniel placed a steaming food container on my desk. “We were afraid you’d get so wrapped up in work you’d forget to eat, so we brought you something.” My husband Mark also handed me a thermos. “Freshly squeezed orange juice. I know your stomach is sensitive, so I already warmed it up.” The two of them looked so sincere. There was no way they seemed like people who would harm me. Had I been overthinking? But if it wasn’t them, who was it? My mind was a mess. I forced a smile. “You guys came just in time. I was getting hungry.” “Let me wash my hands, and I’ll eat right away.” I grabbed my phone and headed to the washroom area. But instead of going into a stall, I opened Katherine’s internal forum by the sink. Sure enough, she had posted another update. “What bad luck. I kindly shared my preliminary thoughts on the project, and someone actually stole the core ideas directly. Even though the ideas might not be fully mature, doing this is really disgusting. So, I’ve decided to restructure my entire proposal.” The attached photo was a silhouette of a woman working in a co-working space. Anyone familiar with me would recognize that silhouette as mine. But who took this photo? In the comments, someone asked Katherine what new architecture she planned to use. Katherine said she wanted to use a very cutting-edge, almost risky technical route this time. I was instantly alarmed. I hadn’t told anyone about adopting a new architecture. Even if it were a coincidence, Katherine wouldn’t choose a direction she wasn’t good at with such high risk, right? There had to be a spy for her near me! Was it Daniel or my husband Mark? Or were both of them involved? But what on earth did they stand to gain? Just then, someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. “Eve, what are you spacing out about?” I was startled. It was Daniel and my husband Mark, who had come to the break area looking for me. They’d been worried because I hadn’t returned, so they came to check. Still shaken, I replied vaguely, “Daniel, why don’t you guys go back first? I’ll eat later.” The moment I finished, my husband Mark exploded. “Evelyn Sinclair, we came all the way here to bring you food, and this is your attitude?” “Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been guarding against us for days. You don’t appreciate anything!” Daniel quickly explained, “Mark just speaks bluntly. Don’t take it personally.” “I know you’re under a lot of pressure with the project. Mark and I are just worried about you.” I hurriedly said, “Daniel, I know you’re both doing this for my own good.” “How about I go back to my own apartment for the next few days? That way you won’t have to run back and forth.” My husband Mark rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m done waiting on you!” With that, he dragged Daniel out of the co-working space. I finally breathed a sigh of relief. At 10:30 that night, I returned to the company dormitory. The moment I walked in, I heard my roommate discussing Katherine. I leaned over to look. It was a photo. The photo showed three hands clinking drinks together. Caption: “Love from my big brothers~” I recognized them instantly — those were Daniel’s and my husband Mark’s hands. When did they get so close? I had no idea. I pulled out my phone to check Katherine’s social media. And I saw comments from Daniel and my husband Mark. “Katherine will always be the goddess in my heart.” “Don’t worry, Katherine, your big brother has a way to make sure you win the project.” I blinked, wondering if I was seeing things. But when I refreshed, the comments were deleted. It seemed the plagiarism was definitely connected to them. Reaching that conclusion, I didn’t feel much emotion. Once I knew who was behind it, it was easier to handle. I had no intention of going back to my brother’s house before the presentation anyway. They probably wouldn’t be able to help Katherine copy anymore. I could prepare my new proposal in peace.

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After being reborn, I chugged ten bottles of poison straight away and jumped into a shark tank. It was all because, in my previous life, my husband’s sister, Finley, was diagnosed with a “terminal illness.” She ate and drank lavishly in front of the camera every day, while I was rushed to the hospital for gut-wrenching cramps. She dressed to the nines, while my body was covered in unexplained, festering sores. I went to my husband to explain the situation, but he pushed me away impatiently. “There’s a limit to being jealous! Finley is so sick, it’s only natural I take extra care of her. Do you really have to put on this act?” After that, my sister-in-law got even worse, going on a crazy suicide run with her illness, even eating a mango cake she was allergic to. And I ended up in the hospital from a severe allergic reaction, my life hanging by a thread. I went for check-ups, but the doctors couldn’t find a cause. They concluded it was psychological, driven by my jealousy. Later, to build an image as an “inspirational cancer-fighting beauty,” my sister-in-law started a high-intensity workout livestream. After she jumped around for three hours straight, my internal organs ruptured and I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my sister-in-law announced she was seriously ill.

After my sister-in-law Finley was diagnosed with “leukemia,” she used it as an excuse to throw a tantrum about moving in with us, so my husband could take care of her every second. My mother-in-law, Sophia, was naturally overjoyed and immediately agreed, even bringing her chicken soup that had been simmering for hours. But the moment Finley took a small sip, my stomach seized up in a violent, twisting cramp, and I couldn’t help but dry heave. As expected, being reborn didn’t change the situation. I wasn’t sick, but the intense, chemo-like reactions that should have been Finley’s were happening to me. As I stood there in shock, Finley pushed the soup away in disgust, demanding to eat super-spicy fire noodles. “Ethan, this soup is way too bland. A sick person’s mouth tastes bitter, I just want something with a kick! Please~” My husband looked at her whining with a doting gaze and sighed helplessly. “Fine, fine, my little princess. What else do you want besides the fire noodles?” “Yay! I also want mango cake, blue cheese…” Listening to Finley rattle off a list of junk food, I immediately stepped in front of her. If I let her wreck her body like this, a single violent vomiting spell would be enough to torture me half to death. I spoke up quickly, “Honey, Finley is still in treatment. How can you let her eat these irritating things?” Sophia, standing nearby, had initially thought I’d make a scene about her letting Ethan bring his sister to live with us. But when she heard me showing so much concern for Finley’s health, she paused, stunned, and then immediately chimed in with me. “Absolutely right! When you’re sick, you need to eat light, nourishing food. How can you eat that junk?” “Ethan, don’t spoil Finley rotten!” But Finley’s eyes immediately reddened, and she burst into loud sobs after hearing this. “Sister-in-law, why are you making things hard for me? I’m just sick and have no appetite, I just want to eat something I’m craving!” “Are you blaming me for taking Ethan’s attention away, which is why you’re acting like this? Fine! I’ll pull out my IV and stop treatment! Just let me die!” This was exactly how it had been in my last life. Ever since Finley got “sick,” I started having a series of strange, painful symptoms, so I suspected her immediately. But because she was a “seriously ill patient” who could put on a pitiful act, my husband didn’t believe a word I said. “Are you jealous that I’m paying a little more attention to Finley, so you’re deliberately making up these lies to fool me?” “There’s a limit to being jealous! Finley is so sick, it’s perfectly normal for me to be good to her! Do you have to deliberately put on this act?” From then on, my husband Ethan directly took Finley and moved out, staying by her side to care for her 24/7. Whenever he found me coming over, he’d chase me away without any mercy. Several times, when I fainted from violent vomiting outside their door, Ethan would be carefully holding Finley, laughing at my misery. “Tch, if you’re done acting, get lost! Finley is in poor health now, she can’t stand seeing an unlucky jinx like you!” Ethan and Finley lived outside for three months. During that time, I was hospitalized fifty times for bizarre reasons – vomiting, allergies, unexplained bleeding. Until later, Finley started a crazy fitness livestream to build her image as an inspirational sick beauty. After she jumped for three hours, my internal organs ruptured, and I died from massive blood loss. When I opened my eyes again, I had actually been reborn. This time, I had to find the key to breaking this situation! Saying this, I met Finley’s now venomous gaze and took the initiative to lower my head and apologize to her. “Finley, I didn’t mean to upset you. How about this, since you want to eat those things, I’ll go buy them for you myself.” I said this with my mouth, but my eyes were firmly fixed on that bowl of scalding chicken soup. Since Finley could transfer her pain to me, I was determined to test today if this suffering was only directed at me!

Ethan hadn’t expected me to be this reasonable, and the scolding words he was about to say died in his throat. Even Sophia and Finley nearby were frozen in place. Before anyone could react, I turned and ran out of the house, heading to a supermarket a few miles away. When I returned with my arms full of bags, Finley’s face was tightly scrunched up. She checked the snacks in the plastic bags one by one, and spoke with a hint of disgust. “Sister-in-law, I wanted super-spicy fire noodles. Why did you just buy the mildly spicy ones?” “And this, I wanted mango cake, but you bought strawberry? Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?” I completely ignored her complaints. When she was done whining, I pretended to slip and knocked over the bowl of scalding chicken soup beside my hand. Most of the boiling soup splashed onto my hand, which instantly swelled with red, blistering burns. I gritted my teeth against the intense pain, glaring at Finley. But she was just startled. After dodging away, her face showed no sign of pain. The searing pain in my hand hadn’t transferred to her at all. Just as I was feeling disappointed, a wicked smile played on Finley’s lips. “Sister-in-law, it seems you didn’t take my words to heart at all, did you?” She started complaining with feigned grievance. “Oh, it’s all my fault. I only think about what I want to eat after getting this sick. I knew you disliked me so much, I shouldn’t have bothered with treatment!” As she said this, Finley began pounding her own chest frantically. And a sharp, piercing pain immediately shot through my own chest. She was doing this on purpose! I suppressed the pain and could only put on a sincere, apologetic expression. “Finley, I was just thinking of your health. I remember you became allergic to mangoes after falling ill, so I changed the flavor.” “Your health is the most important thing right now. If an allergy caused other complications, that would be terrible. Please, don’t be reckless!” Hearing me say this, Sophia also quickly urged her to stop before going too far. She even complimented me on the side for being so thoughtful and considerate. Finley wanted to whine to Ethan for help, but he was also afraid of her health taking a turn for the worse. So he went along with it and persuaded Finley to stop pushing it. “Riley is just looking out for you. Be good, when you’re feeling a bit better, I’ll take you to eat whatever you want.” Seeing them being all lovey-dovey right in front of me, I endured the burning pain in my hand and ran to the bathroom to rinse it under cold water. A chill ran through my heart. As expected, this damn transfer was one-way! And at this moment, my husband Ethan had already cooked the pack of fire noodles for Finley and was spoon-feeding her the strawberry cake, bite by bite. Luckily, this time I had swapped everything out, and the vomiting reaction wasn’t as severe as in my last life. I also didn’t go into anaphylactic shock from the mango cake. This put my mind at ease, and I shed my exhaustion, returning to the bedroom to rest. But lying in bed, I couldn’t sleep at all. As long as I didn’t figure out what was going on, Finley could control me at any moment. Just as I was thinking about how to break this deadlock, a violent, churning cramp in my stomach made me vomit violently. There were even traces of blood and bile in the vomit. I was hugging the toilet, throwing up until the world spun, carefully trying to recall if I had eaten anything I shouldn’t have. Right then, it hit me. I grabbed my phone and checked Finley’s SnapChat story. I found she’d dared to go out alone to a barbecue stall. She even posted a video showing off. “A sick girl’s got cravings, so I had to sneak out for some good food by myself~”

In the video, Finley was happily eating with an extra-spicy kebab in one hand and an iced cola in the other. I’ve always preferred light flavors, and combined with the violent vomiting, I was already tortured and drenched in cold sweat. Seeing this, I was so angry I called Finley directly. As soon as the call connected, Finley pretended she knew nothing, speaking in that fake, sickeningly sweet tone. “Oh, sister-in-law, why aren’t you asleep this late? I’m still out having barbecue. If there’s nothing important, don’t bother me.” “Also, please keep it a secret from your mother-in-law~ You know how she is, she’s just so overbearing.” Before she could finish, I growled in a low voice, “Finley, what on earth have you done to me? Why, after you got sick, has all the pain been transferred to me?!” But Finley on the other end deliberately ignored me, even ordering a few more skewers of insanely spicy beef kidneys from the owner. I gagged and vomited uncontrollably, my whole body so weak I was trembling. Finley acted like she didn’t understand a thing. “Sister-in-law, do you have a persecution complex or something? What could a sick person like me do to you?” “Could it be that you saw me getting sick and want to fight for Ethan’s attention, so you’re deliberately putting on a pity act?” “In that case, as long as you admit you’re just acting, I’ll stop eating.” Hearing her deliberately order more greasy, spicy junk food, my stomach convulsed. I could only cry and admit it. “Fine! You’re right! I am acting! I’m begging you, please stop this madness!” Who knew, the next second, my husband Ethan’s furious voice boomed from the other end. “Riley! You’ve utterly disappointed me!” With that, Finley laughed loudly and hung up the phone. After another violent bout of vomiting, I mustered my last ounce of strength and called 911. Luckily, the ambulance arrived quickly. After being unconscious for 8 hours, I finally woke up. This time, I had vomited so violently and excessively that I was hospitalized for dehydration and shock. But the doctor looked at my chart, utterly unable to find any cause. “We did a gastroscopy, a colonoscopy, blood tests… We haven’t found anything wrong. Do you have any idea yourself?” I didn’t answer. I immediately asked the doctor to discharge me and rushed straight home to find the real culprit. The moment I saw Finley, I put a knife to her throat. “Sister-in-law, what are you doing?!” I was too tired to keep up this act with her, and I glared at her with deadly intent. “I don’t have time for your nonsense. Talk! Why, after you got sick, is all the pain transferred to me!” Finley looked incredibly wronged. “Sister-in-law, what are you talking about? You don’t really have a persecution complex, do you?” I pressed the knife closer. “Drop the act! Talk!” Finley screamed in fright. “Okay, okay, I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” But the next second, she switched back to an innocent victim act and cried out, “Ethan, help!” Ethan had actually snuck up behind me while I was distracted. He snatched the knife away and kicked me square in the chest. “Riley! You dare touch Finley? Do you want to die?!” Sophia also rushed forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Damn it, you bitch! And to think I thought you were finally being sensible. You were just holding back for this dirty trick!” “You dare lay a hand on Finley?! I’ll beat you to death!” Ethan and Sophia immediately called the police, saying they had to teach me a lesson. Facing the officers in the room, Ethan directly played the recording from that night he spent with Finley at the barbecue. “Officer, my wife insists Finley transferred her illness pain to her, but listen for yourselves! She clearly admitted it was all an act! She’s just jealous of Finley!” “Today she even dared to threaten Finley with a knife. A woman this vicious, you need to take her away now!” The police were initially skeptical of Ethan’s story, but when they clearly heard me in the recording saying: “Fine! You’re right! I am acting!” Their expressions changed immediately. They put me in handcuffs. And one of them warned me sternly, “Making such a scene just because of jealousy! This is absolutely ridiculous!” I struggled desperately, trying to explain, but from the corner of my eye, I saw Finley, smiling as she started eating a chunk of mango. Instantly, a severe allergic reaction hit me like a pair of giant invisible hands, strangling my throat tight. My limbs began to convulse uncontrollably, my vision going black. I could only look to the crowd for help, trembling. But Ethan just sneered coldly, without a care. “See, officers! This bitch is acting again! You can be our witnesses today!”

I clenched my fists tightly, forcing myself to stay conscious with my last breath, and lunged into the arms of a nearby female officer. “I’m not acting… Please… Please, take me to the hospital.” The officer looked at my pale face and finally realized something was wrong. She quickly moved to help me out. But Ethan and Sophia blocked the way, insisting I had to apologize to Finley first before I could leave. “If I ever catch you trying to harm Finley again, I’m divorcing you immediately!” I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up in the hospital again, the doctor was scratching his head frantically. He couldn’t understand why, with all my tests perfectly normal, I had mysteriously gone into anaphylactic shock. Left with no other choice, he suggested I make an appointment with the psychiatric department. I gave a bitter laugh and just asked the doctor to prescribe me some sleeping pills and painkillers. The doctor, at a loss, listened to me, gave me a bunch of pills, and let me go. The police also ruled it as a domestic dispute and didn’t press charges against me harshly. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I packed a light bag and decided to go back to my parents’ house. Thankfully, my parents believed me completely. After taking me for every test imaginable with no results, they patiently comforted me and told me to rest first. I smiled and nodded, agreeing. But suddenly, a heavy, wrenching pain seized my lower abdomen. It felt like a pair of hands were grabbing my internal organs and twisting them wildly, accompanied by a fair amount of bleeding. I instinctively searched for Finley’s account on social media and saw she had already started a fitness livestream under the banner of “inspirational cancer warrior.” In the video, she was in workout clothes, jumping and bouncing in front of the camera. [Life is about movement! Everyone, even when you’re sick, you have to face it positively and fight the disease with energy!] Clutching my painfully cramping stomach, I was shaking with rage, wishing I could tear Finley to pieces. And right then, I received a mysterious phone call. At that moment, I finally understood what was behind all of this. In the following days, Finley became an overnight internet sensation with her gimmick of a sick person doing fitness livestreams. Even though she claimed to be seriously ill, her energetic appearance made many people envious, and she accumulated a huge following. Many fitness influencers jumped on the trend and connected with her for fitness PKs. She was delighted to see this and naturally launched a “three-hour fitness challenge” online. In my last life, it was this challenge that caused my internal organs to rupture and kill me. This time, I was eating ice cream and watermelon, leisurely watching over her livestream. The day of the challenge arrived quickly. Her livestream instantly shot to the number one spot in trending. Finley, in her workout clothes, started bouncing and jumping to the background music. But just five minutes in, her expression suddenly became strange, and she stopped abruptly. The comments started to panic, while Ethan and Sophia asked with concern if she was feeling unwell. But seeing the number of viewers steadily dropping, Finley suppressed her discomfort, shook her head, and prepared to start jumping again. Who would have thought, the next second, after she jumped and landed, she actually lost control of her bladder in front of over a hundred thousand viewers. In an instant, yellow liquid streamed down her thighs, completely unstoppable. And she clutched her own stomach, passing out from the pain. Watching this scene unfold, I laughed so hard I couldn’t straighten my back. Soon, Ethan’s call came through. “What did you do?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “446358”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster