1 On my wedding day, compromising photos were leaked. My fiancée Maya took my stepbrother Brent’s hand and switched grooms. Then her sister Lindsay offered me $10 million to marry her—despite my disgrace. Moved, I agreed. It was all a lie. After a crash left me near-paralyzed, Lindsay arrived with a property transfer, not consent forms. “Sign your company over to Brent, or stay on that table,” she hissed. Trembling, I obeyed. Her love? A calculated act. Years later, she fell to her knees, slapping herself. “You swore to love only me! Why do you have a child with another?!” … When I opened my eyes, Lindsay was gently moistening my dry lips with a cotton swab. I turned my head away. She simply leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Darling,” she murmured, “I wasn’t trying to force you to sign just now.” “Brent is your family’s stepson. Without any real assets to his name, it’s hard for him to find his footing in our world. He just called me, said Maya’s mother was screaming at him again. I was just so worried, I rushed you. With the company, he can finally hold his head high.” Her eyes were filled with that deep, convincing affection. It would have been so easy to drown in it. But this time, a wave of nausea rolled in my stomach. The searing pain tearing through my body was a constant, brutal reminder of what had just happened in that operating room. I’d been hit by a drunk driver. The doctors at the hospital said my spine was severely damaged; without immediate surgery, I’d be paralyzed for life. After more than ten hours of emergency procedures, they needed to use a new, adKinsmand technology—an artificial spinal implantation. My wife, the one who should have been signing the consent form without a moment’s hesitation, showed no panic, no fear. Instead, she forced me to sign away my company. The business my mother had bled for, her life’s work, was now in the hands of my stepbrother, Brent. The memory of teetering on the edge of death was still a fresh terror. The woman who had cherished and protected me had used my future, my health, my very ability to walk as a bargaining chip. Lindsay was still tucking the corners of my blanket in, her touch gentle and caring, as if she wasn’t the same woman who had threatened me for another man just moments before. A bitter, acidic feeling rose in my throat. Sensing my despair, she sighed. “Leo, you just had surgery. Getting angry isn’t good for your recovery.” “The company is no use to you now; it would only drain your energy. But for Brent, it’s a lifeline. You’re his brother. Be the bigger person.” “Besides,” she added, a perfect picture of loving concern, “I earn more than enough for both of us. What more could you want?” Her words, meant to sound so considerate, sent a chill through my heart. I lowered my gaze. “What did the police say?” I asked softly. “Did they catch the driver?” A flicker of guilt. She touched her ear, a nervous habit. “Not yet. But don’t you worry, Leo. I will make the person who did this to you wish they were never born.” Not a shred of remorse in her voice. But I’d heard her. In the hazy moments before I lost consciousness, I’d heard her on the phone with Brent. “Brent, you’re saying your friend was the one who hit him?” A pause. “He’s hurt this badly… I can’t just let this go.” But after a few wheedling pleas from Brent, she had relented with a sigh. “Don’t worry about Leo. He’s so in love with me, he’ll believe anything I say. I’ll just make up some excuse to placate him. Besides, he’s fine now. The surgery was a success, so what’s the big deal?” Just because the man who nearly crippled me was Brent’s friend, she was willing to ignore my suffering and let the perpetrator walk free. A numbing pain spread from my heart through my entire body, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Later, my vision blurred with unshed tears, I wheeled myself to the doctor’s office to discuss my prognosis. On my way back, I saw Lindsay by the window, on the phone. “Maya, don’t worry. No one in the family will dare look down on Brent now.” “Don’t thank me. We both did it for him. He just chose you back then, so all I could do was watch over him from a distance.” “And remember,” her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “the night you got Leo drunk, and I arranged for those photos to be taken… we have to keep that a secret forever.” 2 “As long as I’m here, Leo won’t be able to make any trouble.” I took a deep breath, my eyes closing as I slumped in the cold wheelchair. The chilling words brought me back to my senses with a jolt. The company was the last thing my mother left me before she died. Less than three months after her funeral, my father brought Brent and his mother into our home. For years, my father had tried to wrestle the company from me, but as a man who had married into my mother’s wealth, he had no legal standing. He always failed. Lindsay knew how much the company meant to me. And still, she had ruthlessly torn it from my hands and given it to Brent. I had been a fool. Trapped in a scheme orchestrated by her entire family, a scheme that had almost cost me my life. When the scandal broke, everyone saw me as a disgusting, cheating scumbag. Only Lindsay had accepted me, stayed by my side. During the two years of my deep depression, she never gave up on me. But what I thought was my salvation was just her strategy to control me. From the very beginning, her goal was to seize my company and ensure I would never interfere with Brent’s happiness. The life I thought we were building was nothing but a dream woven from lies. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to a number my mother had given me years ago, one I had never used. [Uncle Marcus, it’s time. Please come get me. I want to come to Emeria.] The doctor who had come to change my bandages found me frozen outside my room. “Mr. Kinsman? You’re still weak. It’s cold in the hallway. You should be in bed.” The door to my room flew open. Lindsay stood there, her expression unreadable, but a flash of anxiety crossed her eyes. “Leo, when did you get back? Why didn’t you call me to come get you?” I forced a smile as she wrapped her arm around me and guided me back to bed. “Darling, the wheelchair does all the work. I’m not tired.” “I just ran into the doctor. He said I have a long road of physical therapy ahead of me.” As the doctor changed the dressing on my back, cold sweat beaded on my forehead. The pain was so intense I couldn’t stop trembling. Lindsay offered her arm to me. “Leo, if it hurts, bite me,” she said, her voice thick with pity. “Don’t just suffer in silence.” She played the part of the doting wife so perfectly. If I hadn’t already seen her true face, I might have been foolishly moved. Now, I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. I just bit down on the corner of the blanket, ignoring her. She looked at me, startled, and was about to say something when her phone rang, interrupting her. “Brent? Don’t worry, I’m on my way now. Yes, I can handle it.” She hung up, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Leo, something urgent came up. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” “You be a good boy and listen to the doctor. I’ll bring you back some seafood bisque.” She rushed out, completely oblivious to the fact that the doctor had just strictly forbidden any rich or spicy foods near my wound. Her superficial concern was nauseating. The tragic joke was that I had mistaken all her past deceptions for love. A woman whose phone password was my birthday had been acting for eight long years. Suddenly, a nurse rushed in. “Mr. Kinsman, great news! The hospital has secured a top-of-the-line artificial spine for you. We just need your signature to confirm.” My heart leaped. The quality of the implant would determine my future mobility, my control over the lower half of my body. This was a miracle. I hurried to the nurse’s station to sign, but the administrator looked up from her records, a confused expression on her face. “Mr. Kinsman, I’m sorry, but your wife has already authorized the transfer of this implant to another patient.” Her words fell, and my heart plunged into an icy abyss. I fumbled for my phone, trying to call Lindsay, but my fingers were shaking so violently I couldn’t even press the dial button. The nurse looked at me with pity and held the phone for me. Lindsay answered quickly. “Darling, missing me already…?” I had no patience for her act. My voice was sharp, desperate. “Where is my artificial spine?” There was a pause. She recovered quickly, her tone soothing. “Oh, that. Darling, one of Brent’s old university classmates has been paralyzed for years. She just wants a chance to stand again.” My voice shattered with rage. “That implant was specifically requested for me! Do you want me to be like this for the rest of my life? Bring it back. Now.” Lindsay sighed, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice. “Leo, you’re usually so kind. What’s wrong with you today?” 3 “You’ve always disliked Brent, I know that. But you can’t be so cruel as to gamble with someone else’s health just to spite him!” She hung up before I could even respond. I called back dozens of times. Finally, she just turned her phone off. The pain in my chest was suffocating. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor. For Brent, for a complete stranger, Lindsay had cast aside my health without a second thought. Her love was truly great. It was just a shame that the one she loved was Brent, and the one left broken was me. The doctor took off his mask, his eyes full of sympathy as he looked at my bloodshot gaze. “Mr. Kinsman, in all my years, you are the strongest patient I have ever seen. Your spine was almost completely destroyed, yet you had such a powerful will to live.” “The top-tier implant is difficult to get, but I promise you, I will do everything in my power.” I let out a shuddering breath. As I reached out to thank him, I realized that blood-tinged tears were streaming down my face. My grief, my rage, my agony—it all poured out. My heartless wife? I was done with her. If she loved Brent so much that she would sacrifice her own marriage for him, then I would grant her wish. Let them have their great love story. I spent another two weeks in the hospital. Lindsay came every day. She brought books to keep me from getting bored and massaged my numb legs for hours. She acted as if she wasn’t the one who had forgiven the man who crippled me, as if she wasn’t the one who had given away my chance at a normal life. The despair I’d felt when she refused my calls still threatened to swallow me whole. But now, looking at her hypocritical face, I was too tired to even scream at her. During that time, my uncle Marcus arranged to have my official records wiped. Before sending his people to get me, he called one last time to confirm. “Leo, are you absolutely sure you want to come to Emeria?” “I’ve thought it over,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m sure.” I hung up the phone and turned to see Lindsay standing behind me. “Darling, where are you going?” she asked, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. I curved my lips into a smile. “Remember we talked about seeing the Northern Lights in Iceland? I was just contacting a guide I know.” She visibly relaxed, a wave of relief washing over her. She kissed my forehead, her voice full of affection. “Anywhere you want to go, darling, I’ll be right there with you.” Her performance was so convincing it almost made me dizzy. But one night, while she was asleep, I secretly opened her phone. She had a special folder of notes, all dedicated to Brent. [Took Brent skydiving in New Zealand today. He was so happy.] [Brent and Maya had a fight. To cheer him up, I bought him a small private island. He loved it.] [Brent came over today and was frightened by the chihuahua Leo raised. Can’t keep an animal that doesn’t know its true master.] Every entry was a fresh stab to the heart. She had meticulously documented Brent’s every mood, every preference. Yet when I had asked her to ride the Ferris wheel with me, she’d refused, claiming she was afraid of heights. When I was burning up with a fever, delirious, she was out of the country shopping with Brent. And my beloved dog, the one I had raised for three years, the one I had cried inconsolably over when it was poisoned—the culprit was her. I scrolled, a self-loathing masochist, reading about how she had memorized Brent’s shoe size, his favorite brands. A bitter smile twisted my lips. It must have been so painful for her, suppressing her love for Brent all those years while pretending to care for me. The day I was discharged from the hospital happened to be my father’s birthday. I didn’t want to go. But Lindsay insisted. “Leo, your mother’s ashes are still in the family shrine at the villa. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?” She had a point. I agreed. She buried her face in my chest, her voice soft. “Leo, I knew you’d be reasonable. This is the perfect opportunity. We can announce the company transfer at the party, introduce Brent to the shareholders. It will make things easier for him going forward.” “Darling, you always worked so hard you forgot everything else. From now on, you just rest. I’ll take care of you.” Her words were sweet, but her mind was entirely focused on paving Brent’s way into the company. The Kinsman family home was no longer my home. My life had become a living hell the day Brent and his mother moved in. Their schemes for favor and torment were endless. My own father, though alive and well, looked at me with nothing but disgust. My mother’s death had taken the man who used to give me piggyback rides with her. I had no expectations left for him. And yet, when he saw me in the wheelchair, his stern expression softened, just for a moment. 4 Brent approached, with Maya on his arm. “Little brother, you finally decided to come home! You have no idea how happy Dad is.” “I know he yelled at you back then, calling you shameless, but he was just worried about you. Afraid you’d catch some disease from your… flings.” “I heard you were in an accident,” he continued, his voice dripping with false concern. “Don’t tell me one of your old flames came back for revenge.” He covered his mouth in a parody of shock that made my stomach turn. “My health is fine,” I said coolly. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you… coming to a birthday party with a hickey on your neck? Didn’t you think to cover that up?” His lips tightened. He awkwardly tried to hide his neck with his hair as Maya shot him a suspicious look. “Don’t listen to my brother,” Brent stammered. “It’s a mosquito bite. He’s always loved slandering me.” Maya, seemingly satisfied, drifted off to mingle. The moment she was gone, Brent leaned in close, his voice a triumphant whisper. “Dear brother, do you know how many times Lindsay cried out my name while I was trying on this suit today? You can barely even stand now. I doubt you’ll ever be able to perform your duties as a husband again. You certainly can’t satisfy her anymore.” I looked down, hiding the bitterness in my eyes. Lindsay’s excuse about buying me new clothes—she had been with Brent. So much for her silent devotion. In the end, she couldn’t resist temptation. I ignored his taunts and turned my wheelchair toward the restroom. When I came out, I saw him. Brent was holding a small urn. My mother’s ashes. He was tossing it up and down in his hands like a toy. My vision went red. I wheeled myself forward, charging at him. “Are you insane?! Put my mother’s urn down!” “Brent, I know you’re ruthless, but I never thought you’d stoop to disrespecting the dead!” I shoved him. He stumbled, spilling his drink on his pants. He leaned in again, his voice a vicious hiss in my ear. “Leo, your bitch of a mother gave birth to a bastard like you. Even in death, she’s nothing but a plaything.” “Oh, are you angry now? That’s not all. I even pissed in the urn.” Hearing him insult my mother, I finally snapped. I raised my hand and swung, slapping him hard across his smirking face. The next second, I was shoved violently to the ground. I lay there, helpless, my legs pinned beneath the heavy wheelchair, pain shooting through me. “Leo, how dare you raise a hand to your own brother!” Lindsay’s voice was sharp, all pretense of the doting wife gone. Her beautiful face was tight with rage, veins pulsing at her temples. Clearly, my slapping Brent had enraged her. Brent, his eyes red, buried his face in her arms. “Sera, my brother didn’t mean it. Don’t blame him. He’s just jealous that my legs are fine. I provoked him.” “You’re lying!” I spat, gritting my teeth. “He was going to smash our mother’s urn! Brent, I’ve put up with your schemes and your bullying, but I will not let you insult my mother!” My father strode over, his brow furrowed. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was going to defend me. Instead, he kicked me squarely in the chest. “You’re just like your mother! A troublemaker, the both of you! Did you deliberately cause a scene at my birthday party? What are you trying to do, you little bastard?” “Leo, let me tell you something! If Lindsay hadn’t begged me to let you in the door, I wouldn’t have ever wanted to see a degenerate piece of trash like you again!” My own father, using the vilest words to humiliate me. The surrounding guests stared, their eyes filled with scorn. Brent’s face was a mask of smug triumph. It was Lindsay who finally pulled me up and put me back in my wheelchair, diffusing the situation. “It’s just a family matter. Please, everyone, continue enjoying the party.” She pushed me into a quiet corner, her grip on the chair handles tight. “Leo, you were in the wrong today. In a little while, when I announce the company transfer, you will apologize to Brent. You’re brothers, after all. Don’t make things too ugly.” “You’re always so obedient, aren’t you, darling?” she whispered, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. There was no affection in her eyes. She led Brent to the stage, ready to make her grand announcement. I looked at her one last time, my heart a barren wasteland of grief. Then, without looking back, I let the foreign bodyguards who had come for me wheel me out of the ballroom. Lindsay, enjoy my final gift to you.

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The day of the verdict, Teri begged me to take the plea deal. “I know you’re innocent,” she whispered, tears in her eyes, “but Aiden’s too fragile. I can’t let him go to prison.” She squeezed my hand. “This is for your own good.” I signed the confession. Last time, I resisted—and paid dearly. Now, reborn, I gave her what she wanted. The next day, headlines exploded: ZANE FORD ADMITS TO CORPORATE ESPIONAGE. Aiden, the star witness, claimed he’d seen me sneak into Moses Industries. But in court, Isabelle Moses stood and dropped the charges. Silence fell as she walked to me, pulled out a ring, and knelt. “Zane,” she said, unwavering, “this time, will you marry me?” 1 The moment I’d signed the confession, a flicker of triumph had flashed in Teri’s eyes. She’d hidden it in a heartbeat, replacing it with a look of profound distress the instant she saw me looking. “Zane, don’t you worry,” she’d said, her voice laced with manufactured concern. “I’ll get you the very best lawyer.” “And when you’re inside,” she continued, her performance flawless, “I’ll make sure to smooth things over, pull some strings. We’ll get you out on parole as soon as possible.” I had to physically bite back a sneer. “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice flat. Her face immediately contorted into a mask of frantic worry. “Zane! I know you’re devastated right now, but you can’t just give up like that. If you just let this happen, what about your parents…?” She kept on, a relentless performance of her supposed “care” for me. If it weren’t for the scars of my past life, I might have actually believed her. Last time, when I refused to confess, she’d shown her true colors. She’d not only forged evidence to imprison me but had also stolen my future, my right to ever have a family. The rage simmered inside me. It was her greed that drove this, her desire to steal the secrets of Moses Industries. She had used Aiden to do the dirty work, so why the hell was I, the only innocent one, the one fated to suffer the most brutal consequences? “Zane?” Teri’s voice snapped me back to the present. “You look so pale. Are you alright?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, the sharp pain a welcome anchor. “I’m fine.” I forced a weak smile. “Just… the thought of prison. It’s a little scary.” She reached for my hand, but I pulled away before her fingers could touch mine. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but it was quickly swallowed by the sheer joy of her victory. She carefully slid the signed confession into her briefcase as if it were a holy relic. “I’ll present this to the judge at the hearing in three days,” she promised, her eyes shining with false sincerity. “Until then, I’ll keep this under wraps. No one will know.” I gave a cold, dismissive nod. After signing the papers, I was released on bail. As we left the courthouse, Teri held the car door for me, her hand hovering protectively over my head, a familiar gesture from the past three years of our life together. But I knew, with chilling certainty, that nothing was the same. She was still playing the part of the devoted fiancée, her gaze soft and loving. “Zane, let me take you home.” Home? A bitter laugh echoed in my mind. The villa that once held all our memories was likely no longer a place for me. My suspicions were confirmed the moment we walked through the door. The air was thick with the scent of an unfamiliar, expensive men’s cologne. The minimalist decor I’d chosen had been replaced with an avalanche of gaudy, ostentatious furniture. And our wedding portrait, the one we’d taken in the rose garden, was now treated like trash, shoved in a storage closet, coated in a thick layer of dust. Teri saw me staring at it, and a flash of guilt crossed her face before she rearranged it back into that look of deep affection. “Zane, this was all Aiden’s idea…” she began, her voice a soft apology. “You know how he is, with his illness… his emotions have been all over the place…” 2 I said nothing, my face a blank mask as I turned and walked toward the master bedroom. I pushed the door open. The cloying scent of that same cologne hit me like a physical blow. The bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and lacy lingerie that was decidedly not mine. On the nightstand, a framed photo of Teri and Aiden, laughing intimately, had taken the place of our own. “You’re sleeping in my bed?” I turned, my voice dangerously low. Teri rushed to explain, her words tumbling out in a panic. “It’s just temporary! As soon as Aiden is feeling a little stronger, I’ll have him move to the guest—” “Don’t bother,” I cut her off. “I’m just here to get my things.” I strode to the closet, only to find it stuffed to the brim with Aiden’s designer clothes. My own wardrobe had been unceremoniously crammed into a single suitcase and tossed in a corner. “Zane, please don’t be like this…” Teri tried to grab my arm. “I know you’re hurting, but…” I shook her off. As I reached for the suitcase, ready to leave this nightmare behind, my phone buzzed. A news alert lit up the screen. BREAKING: FORD HEIR SIGNS CONFESSION, ADMITS TO STEALING MOSES INDUSTRIES SECRETS! Beneath the headline, a flood of comments. “Oh my god, I can’t believe a Ford would stoop to corporate theft!” “I thought he was innocent! I really believed he was taking the fall for Aiden.” “Throw him in jail and lose the key!” My world tilted. I looked up at Teri, a cold, stark disbelief washing over me. I had done exactly what she asked, signed away my life, and she couldn’t even keep a simple promise for three days. She saw the headline on my phone, and her expression soured with guilt. “Zane… about that… let me explain…” “I… I was going to keep it a secret, I swear. But you know Aiden… he’s sick, and he was a suspect, too. This was the only way to make sure no one would bother him, so…” Disappointment, when it reaches its absolute peak, becomes a strange, cold calm. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion as I put my phone away. “The hearing is in three days anyway.” Teri let out a visible sigh of relief. She took my hand, her touch feeling repulsive and phony. “I’m so glad you understand, Zane. And don’t you worry. Once you’re… away… I’ll take good care of your parents.” I fought the urge to be sick, pulling my hand from her grasp and moving to a spare room for the night. Later, in the dead silence of the house, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in a lifetime. When the call connected, I took a deep, steadying breath. “Ms. Moses? This is Zane Ford. There’s something I think we need to discuss. In person.” 3 The next morning, I was up and dressed before the sun. I was heading for the door when I ran into Teri in the foyer. She frowned, taking in my suit and tie. “Where are you going so early?” “Out. I have some things to take care of,” I said, keeping my head down as I put on my shoes. She suddenly slammed her hand against the door, blocking my exit. Her voice dropped, taking on a hard edge. “This is a sensitive time, Zane. You shouldn’t be wandering around.” “You’re out on bail. What if someone recognizes you…?” I was done playing games. “Move,” I said, my voice cold and sharp. Teri’s face darkened, the mask of concern melting away to reveal the ugly truth beneath. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like steel, her nails digging into my skin. “Zane Ford, you need to recognize the situation you’re in!” I struggled, but she was strong, dragging me back toward the stairs. “It seems I’ve been too kind to you…” She suddenly released me and clapped her hands. Two burly men in dark suits appeared as if from nowhere. “Tie him up,” she commanded, her voice dripping with ice. “Lock him in the basement. He’s not to leave this house until the hearing.” They were on me in an instant. I fought, but it was useless. They bound my hands tightly behind my back. “Teri, are you insane?!” I yelled, struggling against them. “This is kidnapping!” Her eyes were dark, bottomless pits of cold ambition. “Don’t blame me, Zane. You brought this on yourself.” The basement was damp and cold, the only light coming from a single, weak bulb hanging from the ceiling. Teri stood at the doorway, a dark silhouette against the light from upstairs. “You’ll stay here until the hearing,” she said, her tone final. With that, her men shoved me inside. I stumbled, crashing hard against the concrete wall. A sharp, searing pain shot through my shoulder. “Nngh—” I let out a choked groan, glaring at her with all the hatred I could muster. For a moment, her expression flickered. She gestured for her men to untie me. Then, she pulled a box from her pocket, revealing a watch glittering with diamonds. “Zane…” Her voice was soft again, tinged with a hint of remorse. “This watch… I had it custom-made for you. Think of it as… compensation.” She held it out to me, the diamonds glinting mockingly in the dim light. I just stared at her, my hands remaining at my sides. “What, you think I’ll try to escape?” I scoffed. “So you’re trying to pacify me with a toy?” Teri’s jaw tightened. She sighed. “I just want you to know that I do still have feelings for you.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Your ‘feelings’ involve letting me take the fall for your lover and then locking me in a cellar?” Before she could answer, Aiden’s voice drifted down the stairs. He bounded down, saw the box, and snatched it from her hand. “Wow, what a beautiful watch!” he exclaimed. “Is this for me, Teri?” Teri was taken aback. “Aiden, this is for—” “I don’t care, I want it!” Aiden snapped, already fastening the watch around his wrist. He shot me a contemptuous look. “He’s going to prison anyway. A watch this nice would be a waste on him.” Teri’s eyes darted between me and Aiden. In the end, as always, she gave in to him with a doting smile. “Alright. If you like it, it’s yours.” But Aiden wasn’t finished. A cruel little smile played on his lips. “But if I get his present, what does he get? How about…” He paused, then ripped the cheap, old watch from his own wrist and shoved it in my face. “Here. You can have this one as your gift.” Teri pretended not to notice his malicious little game. “You see, Zane?” she said to me. “Aiden is so thoughtful. I just know you two will get along wonderfully in the future.” I stared at the dull, scratched face of the cheap watch, a dark, humorless smile touching my lips. “Oh, and Zane,” Teri continued, her voice turning clinical. “Considering Aiden’s poor health, and… well, the doctor did say it would be difficult for you to have children… I’ve decided to cancel our engagement. Aiden and I are getting married.” Even though I’d been expecting it, the words still felt like a knife twisting in my gut. “But don’t worry,” she added, as if offering a great charity. “I’m not heartless. When you get out, I’ll arrange a place for you to live, a job. After all, we were once…” “Teri,” I cut her off, my voice dripping with ice. “Do you really think I believe a single word of your bullshit?” Aiden wrapped his arm around Teri’s waist, looking down his nose at me. “Don’t be an ungrateful bastard,” he sneered. “Teri’s taking pity on you. Who else would want a man who can’t even have kids?” My hands balled into fists so tight they trembled. The pain was the only thing keeping me grounded, reminding me not to strike. Not yet. The time for revenge had not yet come. 4 Late that night, the basement door creaked open. I looked up, my brow furrowing as Aiden swaggered in. He stood over me, a smug, triumphant grin plastered on his face. “Tsk, tsk. I almost envy you sterile guys. You can live anywhere. Not like me. I simply must have my high-thread-count Egyptian cotton.” “Get out,” I said, my voice a low growl. His smile widened, a venomous glint in his eyes. “You know, Zane, the real reason Teri never got pregnant wasn’t because of you.” My heart stopped. “What are you talking about?” “She’s been grinding birth control pills into your food for years,” he whispered, leaning in close, his breath hot against my ear. “A high enough dose to make sure you’d be sterile for life. It was all part of the plan. Once you were broken, she could dump you, take your money, and marry me without any complications.” So that was it. That was why. A volcano of pure rage erupted inside me. I shot to my feet and slapped him across the face, the crack of the impact echoing in the small room. “You sick, twisted bastards!” Aiden stumbled back, but then a strange, crazed smile spread across his face. He took a few steps back, then threw himself dramatically to the floor and let out a blood-curdling scream. “Aah! What are you doing?!” The basement door was kicked open. Teri rushed in with her two goons. “Aiden!” she shrieked. She scrambled to his side, and seeing the red mark on his cheek, her face contorted with fury. She rounded on me. “Zane Ford! What did you do to him?!” Aiden buried his face in Teri’s shoulder, sobbing pathetically. “Teri, he… he tried to kill me!” “That’s a lie!” I roared. “He threw himself on the ground!” Teri wasn’t listening. Her eyes, fixed on me, were murderous. “Seize him! Tie him up!” Her men grabbed me, slamming me roughly against the wall and binding my hands. “Teri! You animal!” I thrashed against the ropes. “You’ve been poisoning me, haven’t you?! You’re the reason I can’t have kids!” Her face paled for a second, but then hardened into a mask of pure cruelty. “So what if I did? A man like you doesn’t deserve to have my children!” She turned and pulled a leather whip from a hook on the wall. “You dared to hurt my Aiden. Now, you’ll pay the price.” She raised the whip, a sadistic smile on her lips, and brought it down with a vicious crack. “AARGH!” The pain was blinding. The first lash tore open the skin on my back, leaving a weeping line of red. “That one,” she hissed, “is for Aiden!” CRACK! The second lash followed immediately. The blows rained down on me, a relentless storm of agony. I soon blacked out from the pain, only to be jolted back to consciousness by a bucket of icy water so the torture could continue. After the ninety-ninth lash, I was a broken, bleeding mess, collapsed on the filthy floor, barely breathing. Teri tossed the blood-soaked whip aside. “Drag him to the courthouse. I want his confession finalized today.” I was hauled out of the basement and shoved into a car. Every movement was agony as the raw wounds on my back scraped against the coarse fabric of the seat. By the time we arrived at the courthouse, dawn was breaking. Thanks to Teri’s “generosity” with the court officials, the hearing had been moved up. The moment I was dragged into the courtroom, Teri’s lawyer was on his feet. “Your Honor, my client voluntarily confesses. We request an immediate sentencing.” The judge picked up his gavel, ready to bring it down and seal my fate. But just as he did, the grand doors of the courtroom burst open. Every head turned. There stood Isabelle Moses, flanked by her legal team and a group of paramedics. She was dressed in a pristine power suit, every inch the commanding CEO, but her eyes, when they found me, were filled with a gut-wrenching pain. “As the plaintiff in this case,” she announced, her voice ringing with authority, “I am withdrawing all charges.” “Furthermore,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over my broken form, “I request immediate medical assistance for my fiancé, Mr. Ford.”

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After I got pregnant, my boyfriend’s grandmother smashed her head against a wall and died in front of me, leaving behind a secret. Everyone who learned that secret is now dead. First, my boyfriend’s father. Then, his mother. Finally, my boyfriend swallowed a bottle of pills and died right before my eyes. The media dug into the story like a pack of rabid dogs. The police hauled me in for questioning again and again. An army of online trolls descended upon me. Everyone wanted to know the secret. They said I had cursed his entire family, that I had killed them all just to keep the secret for myself. I never defended myself. I remained silent. Until the seventh day after my boyfriend’s death. At his funeral, I saw someone in the crowd. In that moment, I stroked my swelling belly, my heart as still as a frozen lake. It was time for my baby and me to die, too. … 1 After I found out I was pregnant, my boyfriend, Jason, took me home to meet his family. The moment his grandmother saw my baby bump, she let out a piercing wail and smashed her head against the living room wall. Blood splattered across the plaster. She didn’t die instantly. But what was truly terrifying was the look in her eyes. They were wide with a horror so profound that tears of blood began to seep from the corners. Her once-kind face was a mask of pure terror, as if she were staring at something unspeakable. It was a grotesque sight. Jason’s mother fainted several times. His father cradled the dying woman in his arms, his body wracked with sobs. A neighbor, drawn by the commotion, gently pointed out that his grandmother seemed to be trying to say something. We all fell silent, straining to hear her last words. In the end, only his father heard them. She whispered a secret to him, and then her last breath escaped. His father’s face twisted in horror, his hands trembling as he held her body. He let out a shattered cry, “This is a death sentence!” His reaction sent a chill through all of us. His wife rushed to his side, her voice a hushed whisper. “Honey, what did she say?” He gave us all a long, hollow look, then shoved her away. Before anyone could react, he threw himself at the same wall. Blood pooled on the floor as he collapsed over his mother’s body. And his final expression was the same as hers: pure, unadulterated terror. As he lay dying, his wife begged him to hold on, screaming that the ambulance was on its way. But when she heard his final, whispered words, her face went ashen. She hung up the emergency call. After that, she refused to speak of it. No matter who asked, no matter how hard the police pressed, she never uttered a word about their final secret. After the funeral for his grandmother and father, Jason seemed to age a decade overnight. He looked at his mother, his voice drained of all life. “What was the secret Grandma told you? Why did Dad kill himself right after hearing it?” His mother stroked an old family photo, silent tears tracing paths down her cheeks. “Don’t ask. There is no secret.” “Your grandmother and father… their deaths were just a tragic accident. Don’t overthink it.” Jason’s voice was raw, cracking with grief. “That was my dad! That was the grandmother who raised me! I watched them kill themselves! How can I do nothing?” “At least tell me why!” My heart ached for him. I tried to help, speaking gently to his mother. “Ma’am, they died right in front of us. How can we just move on? They died right after learning that secret. And you heard it too. We’re worried about you…” I knew my words were clumsy, but my fear for her was real. Before I could finish, she cut me off, her voice like stone. She hurled the family photo to the floor, shattering the glass. Her eyes were bloodshot, her gaze fixed on me, filled with a sudden, searing hatred. “I told you, there is no secret! You two couldn’t control yourselves, getting pregnant before you were married! You shamed them to death! Are you happy now?” The mention of their deaths brought fresh tears, and it was clear her grief was deeper than anyone’s. But just as quickly, she composed herself, taking a deep breath and apologizing. “I’m sorry. I’m just… overwrought. I didn’t mean that.” “His grandmother and father both had underlying health conditions. The economy has been tough these last few years. Maybe they just didn’t want to be a burden on you two.” “That’s enough,” she said, her tone final. “Suicide is a shameful thing. We will not speak of this again.” Her attitude was a wall of ice. No matter how much we pleaded, she refused to say another word. But a deep unease settled in my heart. I rested a trembling hand on my belly. I had to know why his grandmother, who had always been so fond of me, would choose to end her life the moment she learned I was carrying her great-grandchild. I had to know her secret. 2 Jason was even more desperate to know the secret than I was. On the seventh day after his father’s death, his mother drank herself into a stupor. As she slurred and stumbled around the house, Jason saw his chance. He coaxed the secret from her lips. Her voice was so low he had to lean in close to hear. But the moment he understood, his face contorted into the same look of pure terror I had seen on his father and grandmother. Watching him, a cold dread washed over me. I rushed to his side. “What is it? What’s the secret? Why do you and your mom look so horrified?” He didn’t answer. He just stood there, shell-shocked, holding his mother up. Frantic, I tried to get closer to his mother, to hear for myself. But Jason’s reaction was even more shocking. Tears streamed down his face, his expression one of pure, helpless panic. And then, he shoved me, forcing me away from his mother. I was furious. “I’m pregnant! What are you doing, pushing me?” “What did she say? Why are you hiding it from me?” No matter how I demanded, he refused to answer. He just looked at me, his eyes filled with a profound sorrow. “Clara,” he whispered, “I wish you could never know this secret.” I stood frozen, unable to comprehend what kind of secret could drive an entire family to such despair. Why did it fill them all with such terror? Why did his father choose to die the instant he learned it? Just then, his mother seemed to sober up. Her eyes, empty and hollow, drifted toward us. A bitter, broken smile touched her lips. Slowly, it grew into a wild, maniacal laugh. She grabbed Jason’s hand, laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face. “Son, you were the one who had to know. Now you get to live in the same torment as me.” I felt like I was breaking apart. How had everything gone so wrong? I had come here with gifts, excited to meet the family of the man I loved, believing our future would be one of happiness. Jason was a good man—stable, gentle. We had been together for three years and never had a single fight. His family was just like him: warm, loving, kind. They never raised their voices. He had told me so much about me, said they were all eager to meet me. His grandmother had been especially fond of me, often sending him money to buy me gifts and reminding him to cherish me. She would even mail me local delicacies and check in on me. But all of that shattered the moment I said, “I’m pregnant.” His grandmother killed herself. His father followed. His mother became a hollow shell of herself, and even Jason grew distant, lost in some dark, private hell. It felt like the entire world had turned against us. In my darkest moments, I would wonder over and over: what was the secret she left behind? Many people had the same question, especially after the neighbors posted the story online. The next day, bowing to public pressure, the police showed up at our door again.

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1 Cassandra’s childhood obsession, Scott, was throwing another one of his tantrums, which meant she was getting ready to divorce me again. My heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. I looked at her, my voice flat. “This will be divorce number eight.” Her face was a mask of guilt, her eyes pleading. “Daniel, I don’t have a choice. You know how Scott gets. He’s threatening to… hurt himself. I can’t just let him, can I?” “But don’t worry, Daniel,” she added quickly, a line I knew by heart. “As soon as I calm him down, we’ll get married again. I promise.” I said nothing. She’d said those exact words to me countless times. We’d been married eight times and divorced eight times. The clerks at City Hall knew me by name. I heard them whispering behind my back once, calling me part of the “Revolving-Door Couple.” I held the freshly printed divorce certificate in my hand. Behind the counter, a clerk asked with a smirk, “So, when are you coming back for wedding number nine?” I just shook my head, my voice hollow. “There won’t be a next time.” Walking out of City Hall, I saw Cassandra already doting on Scott, cooing at him. The same Scott who, less than an hour ago, had been threatening to end his own life, was now beaming, completely pacified by a few of her sweet words. Every time I saw it, a sense of surreal disbelief washed over me. Was this smiling boy really the same person who had smashed a glass bottle, held a jagged shard to his own throat, and screamed until his voice was raw? Today was supposed to be my third wedding anniversary with Cassandra. The irony was laughable. It had been three years since our first wedding, but that time was fractured by an endless cycle of divorces and remarriages. Our most recent “I do” was only a month ago. And now, we were divorced again. Three years. Eight marriages. Eight divorces. I used to see memes online about couples like this and laugh. I never imagined it would become my reality. As I walked out of the building in a daze, Scott shot me a triumphant glare, twisting the knife in my already bleeding heart. “Cassie, are you tricking me?” he whined, his voice cloying. “How did you get the divorce done so fast? Did Daniel try to stop you again? He just wants me dead so he can have you all to himself.” Cassandra looked exhausted. This time, she didn’t defend me. She didn’t say a word in my defense. She just soothed him, handing the divorce certificate over as proof. “See? It’s right here. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Scott’s face lit up as he examined the document. He fell silent, but when Cassandra wasn’t looking, he shot me a look of pure contempt, his chin held high in victory. Even though I knew he was just trying to provoke me, a storm of emotion still churned inside me. It was almost too ridiculous to believe. The reason for this latest drama? A month ago, Cassandra had given me an early anniversary present. Scott saw it and flew into a jealous rage. We had just remarried, and almost immediately, Scott’s tantrum had us back at City Hall, filing for divorce once more. I remembered the clerk who handled our paperwork that day, shaking her head. “You two are here more often than my mailman.” I was so ashamed I could have crawled into a hole. In three short years, we’d been to City Hall nearly thirty times. Every employee recognized us. But Cassandra had exploded, pulling me behind her like a protective lioness. “Just do your job! Why do you care? My husband and I enjoy getting married and divorced. It’s our hobby! What’s it to you?” The clerk, stunned by her ferocity, had silently processed the paperwork. Ever since that day, Scott had been counting down the thirty-day waiting period. And this morning, he couldn’t wait another second, forcing Cassandra to drag me here to finalize it. 2 He’d smashed a glass, holding a shard to his throat to threaten her. “If you two don’t get divorced today, I might as well just die!” Cassandra, who had been planning to just placate him, panicked. She grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin, leaving deep red crescents. “We have to do it today, Daniel,” she hissed. “Or Scott will do something terrible!” In that instant, something inside me finally clicked into place. It didn’t matter if I married Cassandra a hundred times, or a thousand. I would never be more important than her precious Scott. “Alright, alright, it’s all done. Let’s go home,” Cassandra said, pulling Scott toward her car. Out of habit, I reached for the passenger door, but Scott blocked my way. He pouted, his face a mask of displeasure. “Daniel, you and Cassie aren’t married anymore. It wouldn’t look right for you to ride in her car, would it?” I instinctively looked at Cassandra. She frowned and tugged at Scott’s arm, but he shook her off. “I’m just speaking the truth, Cassie! You’re divorced. What will people think if they see you two together in the same car?” he continued, turning his lecture on me. “Besides, Daniel, you’ll have to marry someone else eventually. You should learn to keep a little distance from your ex-wife.” Every word was calculated, every point seemingly logical. Cassandra could only look at me, her expression pained. “Daniel… maybe it’s for the best if…” She didn’t have to finish. I understood. The soft flesh inside my cheek was raw where I’d been biting it. My voice tasted faintly of blood when I spoke. “It’s fine. I’ll walk.” The moment the words left my mouth, Scott’s face broke into a satisfied grin and he hopped into the passenger seat. Before they drove off, Cassandra gave me a look filled with apology and guilt, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t mind him, Daniel. He’s just not in a good mood today, so he’s acting out.” “Wait for me. Once he’s settled down, we’ll go get married again. And this time, it’ll be for good. I swear.” I didn’t say anything. At Scott’s urging, she sped away. I had believed that same promise seven times before. Every single time, I was a fool. The first divorce was because Cassandra forgot Scott’s birthday. The second was because Scott’s beloved cat ran away. The third was because Scott had a nightmare that Cassandra would abandon him once she was married. And this time? It was because she bought me a gift and not him. The reasons grew more absurd with each iteration, yet each one was enough for Cassandra to choose him, to abandon me. Over the years, I’d argued. I’d fought. I’d raged against the unfairness of it all. But the result was always the same. She would soothe me with empty promises, then go right back to catering to Scott’s every whim. Now, after the eighth divorce, I was done. I was letting go. No matter how fiercely a fire burns, enough cold water will eventually extinguish it. My love was finally out. I walked back to Cassandra’s house in a stupor. Before I even opened the door, I could hear them laughing and playing inside. I walked in to see Cassandra’s face dusted with flour, her expensive clothes speckled with white. I remembered a time when a single drop of soup had splattered on her shirt, and she had berated me for my clumsiness. She had a touch of OCD, a obsession with cleanliness. Yet here she was, covered in flour for Scott, without a hint of anger. Seeing me, Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief. She untied the apron from her own waist and tried to put it on me, giving me no time to even catch my breath. “Daniel, you’re finally back! Get cooking, will you? Scott and I are starving.” Scott, sprawled on the sofa like a king, issued his command. “I want pot roast today. And make sure the meat is extra tender, falling right off the bone.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I looked straight at him. “You want to eat? Why don’t you make it yourself? With all the time you two spent playing with flour, you could have cooked a five-course meal.” 3 The words had barely left my mouth when Cassandra shoved me, her face contorted with rage. My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of the dining table, and a jolt of white-hot pain made me break out in a cold sweat. “Daniel, what the hell do you think you’re saying?” she hissed. “I ask you to make one meal, and you give me this attitude?” I clenched my jaw against the pain, saying nothing. In her eyes, my silence was defiance. Scott chimed in from the couch, his voice dripping with venom. “See, Cassie? I told you. Daniel can’t stand me. Every time you ask him to do something for me, he throws a fit. If he were really my brother-in-law, you’d probably have to kick me out of the house.” At that, something in Cassandra snapped. Her eyes blazed. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen, throwing me against the counter. Her face was a cold, merciless mask. “If you don’t cook what Scott wants to eat tonight, you can spend the night in here.” Slam. The kitchen door shut. My wrist was already bruising, and where my elbow had hit the corner of the stove, the skin had broken. I could see blood welling up. A moment later, I heard Scott’s delighted laughter from the other room. Cassandra came back in. Seeing me standing motionless, her brow furrowed. “Daniel, are you deliberately trying to defy me? You’re his brother-in-law! What’s the big deal about making him a meal?” I straightened up slowly, lifting my head to meet her gaze, a sneer playing on my lips. “Did you forget? We’re divorced. That title doesn’t apply to me anymore.” A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. She cleared her throat, then softened, wrapping her arms around me in a gentle hug. Her voice was a low, soothing murmur. “I lost my temper just now. But I told you, this is just temporary. As soon as Scott’s feeling better, we can get remarried anytime. Don’t be angry over such a small thing.” She pressed a piece of paper into my hand—a list of dishes. Her expression turned serious, a subtle warning in her eyes. “I’m giving you a chance here. If you can make Scott happy, we can get remarried that much faster. Just be good, Daniel. Please.” She left, closing the kitchen door behind her. A wave of desolation washed over me. When had our marriage, our life, become such a “small thing” in her eyes? And she wanted me to please Scott? I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it. I’d rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor. I sank to the ground, leaning my back against the cabinets, and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, an icy shock jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to see Scott standing over me, a wicked grin on his face, an empty basin in his hand. A puddle of freezing water was spreading across my clothes and the floor. “Scott, are you insane?” He tossed the plastic basin at me. The rim caught me squarely on the forehead. “I asked you to cook, not to take a nap, Daniel! You think a pathetic loser like you deserves to marry Cassandra? Dream on!” Rage, pure and hot, surged through me. I grabbed the basin he’d thrown and hurled it back at him with all my strength. Scott shrieked. He dodged the basin itself, but the remaining water splashed all over him. Hearing the commotion, Cassandra burst in. She took one look at the soaked and sputtering Scott and, without a second thought, grabbed me by the collar. “Daniel, have you lost your mind? Who gave you the nerve to hurt Scott?” She was pulling so hard, her face a mask of fury, that I thought she would rip the fabric. I had to rise onto my toes just to breathe, craning my neck to get the words out. “He threw water on me first! He hit me with the—” My words were cut off as her eyes widened, flashing with a cold, brutal light. “You deserved it!” she snarled. “I asked you to do one simple thing—make dinner—and you defy me? You’re lucky Scott was merciful enough to only throw cold water on you. If it were me, I’d have thrown you out on the street!”

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1 I drove five hours with my daughter in the backseat, all to surprise him. But the moment he saw me, there was no joy in his eyes. Only sheer, unadulterated panic. I’d been cheated on. Later, I would ask him: “In that moment, were you heartbroken that I’d driven five exhausting hours? Or were you just terrified that your new girl would see me and our daughter?” It was official. Martin had cheated. The instant he saw me and our daughter, Paige, standing there, his face was a mask of pure shock, not delight. In that single, heart-stopping moment, I knew. I’d been replaced. His colleagues, milling about, froze. Their faces flashed with an awkward pity. They wanted to say hello, but a palpable fear of giving something away held them back. They just offered strained, guilty smiles before scurrying away. Martin finally snapped out of his trance. He rushed forward, taking Paige from my arms and wrapping an arm around my shoulder, forcing a look of surprised joy. “What are you doing here? This is amazing!” I didn’t answer. I just moved in a numb haze, letting him guide me toward his car. Paige was thrilled to see her dad, her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck. She chattered away, her face pressed against his, telling him all about her latest adventures in kindergarten. Looking at their two faces, practically carbon copies of each other, a sharp, twisting pain shot through my chest. To keep Paige from noticing anything was wrong, I turned my head, pretending to be fascinated by the passing scenery. Father and daughter chatted happily the whole way, a cheerful bubble I couldn’t bring myself to enter. I remained silent. When Martin asked where I wanted to eat, I didn’t respond. 2 Somehow, I held it together until we reached Martin’s apartment. I set Paige up in front of the TV with her favorite cartoon and then followed Martin into the bedroom. “Give me your phone.” “What’s wrong?” He smiled, reaching out to hug me. I pushed him away. I just stared into his eyes until he finally relented, handing the phone over. The password hadn’t changed. It was still our wedding anniversary. How ironic. I unlocked it, opened his messages, and let my intuition guide me. My eyes landed on a name almost immediately: Hailey. She was a colleague. Their last exchange was just forty minutes ago. Hailey: “Gotta work late tonight. Can you pick me up and grab some takeout? I’m dying for those amazing sliders from that 24/7 diner downtown. Pleeeease?” Martin: “My little foodie~” I scrolled up. They messaged each other every single day. All those times Martin had told me he was “swamped,” too busy to even grab a bite to eat? He was sharing every little detail of his day with Hailey. And they were… colleagues. They worked in the same damn office. 3 Martin and I had been together for almost a decade—three and a half years of dating, six years of marriage. We had a beautiful, sweet five-year-old daughter. Two years ago, for the sake of his career, Martin had transferred to this city. He promised that once he was settled, he’d move us over to be with him. I waited, believing him completely. I handled everything on my own—raising a child, managing the house—without a single complaint, no matter how exhausted I was. But the chat logs told a different story. The night Paige and I were both burning up with a fever, Martin had claimed he was “slammed with a deadline.” In reality, he was celebrating Hailey’s birthday. The time I broke my leg in a car accident and couldn’t make it to Paige’s parent-teacher conference, he said he “couldn’t get away from work.” He was actually on a weekend getaway with Hailey. And on Valentine’s Day, he sent me a $50 Venmo. He bought her a diamond bracelet. A lifetime with Hailey? Was that his plan? Then what was I? Before seeing those messages, the thought of Martin cheating had never once crossed my mind. I believed every sacrifice he made, every long hour he worked, was for our family. I believed he was eternally devoted to our marriage. But it’s true what they say. No woman ever makes it out of her husband’s phone with her heart intact. Every word he’d exchanged with Hailey became a knife, twisting deeper and deeper into my chest. A tidal wave of pain washed over me, threatening to pull me under. The breath was stolen from my lungs. My face went cold, and black spots danced in my vision. Martin grabbed my arm to steady me as I swayed. His voice was hoarse with guilt. “Chloe… I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing physical ever happened between us. We never crossed that line.” “And that ‘line’… you mean sleeping together?” “We didn’t.” “So, in your mind, you’ve done nothing wrong?” 4 His answer didn’t matter anymore. I handed his phone back, walked out of the bedroom, and said to my daughter, “Paige, honey, we’re going home.” Paige blinked, her expression clouding with confusion. “Mommy, why are we leaving so soon? You said we were staying with Daddy all weekend.” “Mommy has something urgent to take care of back home. We’ll come visit Daddy another time.” As I carried her toward the door, she was still bewildered. But seeing the look on my face, she didn’t dare ask any more questions. Martin rushed after us, grabbing my arm to stop me. “You just got here. At least stay for the weekend.” “No.” They had a camping trip planned for the weekend. I had no intention of getting in their way. “Take a day off on Monday,” I said, my voice flat. “Come back and get the paperwork done.” I didn’t say the word “divorce” in front of Paige, but Martin understood perfectly. He tightened his grip. “You just drove for five hours. You can’t drive another five right now. You’re too tired, Chloe. It’s not safe.” Did he really care if I was tired? In that first moment he saw us, was he worried about my exhaustion, or was he terrified Hailey would see us? As we stood there, locked in a silent standoff, the sound of the front door clicking open echoed through the apartment. It was Hailey. She’d used her own fingerprint to unlock the door. “Martin, I—” Her words died in her throat the second she saw me.

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At eighteen, my family’s fortune changed overnight. Father’s business boomed—we moved into a mansion with staff. My brother went to a top U.S. university, marrying into wealth. But I missed finals due to flu. Parents married me off to a rural bachelor. Locked in a cellar, abused daily. When I escaped home, they sneered: “Why didn’t you die in the mountains?” My brother “cheered me up” by shoving me into traffic. ICU-bound with fractures, I heard his whisper: “We didn’t get rich from business. It was your winning lottery ticket.” I died bitter. Then woke up—back to the day I bought that ticket. 1 “Here’s your ticket. Hold on to it tight. You never know, you might just win the grand prize.” Staring at the lottery ticket in my hand, my mind reeled. I was back. I had been reborn, sent back to the very day I bought that ticket. In my past life, I had bought this exact same ticket, only for my brother to burst into my room and snatch it away. I’d never had much luck, so I never really believed I could win and eventually forgot all about it. Soon after, my father’s business suddenly boomed. We moved into a mansion, and my family became one of the city’s newly minted elite. My brother was sent off to study in the States. I had asked to study abroad too, but my mother shot me down. “You’re a girl. You’ll get married one day. What’s the point of studying abroad? It’s just a waste of money.” But I was the top student in my entire grade. After buying that ticket, however, my luck seemed to run out. On the day of my final exams, I came down with a severe case of food poisoning, collapsing in the exam hall. I failed. My parents married me off to a pair of bachelor brothers in a remote village, where I was locked in a cellar and abused daily. When I finally escaped and made it home, covered in scars, my parents only had reproaches for me. “Look at you, dressed like a beggar! You’re a disgrace to this family! Why didn’t you just die in that village?” My sister-in-law, draped in jewels, pinched her nose in disgust. “Is this really your sister?” she whispered to my brother. “She’s worse than a beggar.” Only my brother held me close. “Sis, you’ve suffered so much.” He took me out to “clear my head.” In a spot with no security cameras, he shoved me into the path of a speeding truck. I was rushed to the ICU with broken bones all over my body. As I lay dying, my brother, dressed in a magnificent suit, leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Let me tell you the truth, so you can die in peace. Our family never struck it rich in business. It was all from the lottery ticket you bought that day. It won a hundred million dollars. That’s how we started the company. That’s how I got to go to America. So, really, I should thank you.” He paused, a cold smile playing on his lips. “But as long as you’re alive, there’s a risk you might find out. What if you decided to cause trouble? That’s why Mom and Dad sent you to that village. They even told the locals to be rough with you. We never thought you’d actually escape… But this time, you’re finished. You can die peacefully now. Our whole family will be grateful.” I died, my heart filled with rage. Remembering my past life, I clenched the lottery ticket in my hand and made a silent vow. This time, I would not let them steal my hundred million dollars. “Sis, I knew I’d find you here!” I spun around. My brother, Joel, was standing right in front of me. His eyes lit up when he saw my clenched fist, and he lunged for it. 2 “What’s that in your hand, sis? Is that a lottery ticket? Let me see.” Joel grabbed my wrist, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. When he couldn’t pry my fingers open, he kicked me hard in the shin. A sharp pain shot up my leg, and I instinctively loosened my grip. “Heh, I knew you were hiding a ticket!” he gloated. He looked down at my hand, and his expression faltered. My palm was empty. “Where’s the ticket? Where did you hide it?” Joel demanded, his eyes scanning me frantically. I rubbed my bruised leg, my voice trembling. “What ticket? I was just walking past the store. I didn’t buy anything.” He clearly didn’t believe me. He patted me down from head to toe, and when he found nothing, a look of panic crossed his face. He ignored me and stormed into the lottery shop, grabbing the owner by the collar. “Who just bought a ticket?” The owner, used to dealing with all sorts of strange customers, shoved Joel’s hand away. “I have hundreds of customers a day. How am I supposed to remember all of them?” Joel wanted to buy the winning ticket himself, but his memory was hazy after all this time. He could only remember the first few numbers. He took a deep breath, his eyes darting around. Then he dragged me back in front of him, his gaze menacing. “You buy it.” “And you’d better choose carefully,” he hissed, “or you’ll be sorry.” A chill ran down my spine. I finally understood. He’s been reborn, too. To ensure he got the winning ticket this time, he had followed me here and was now forcing me to buy it for him. I selected a ticket using the first few numbers he gave me. Even with the ticket in his hand, Joel was still suspicious, his eyes constantly darting toward me, certain I had another one hidden somewhere. At dinner that night, Joel tapped his chopsticks restlessly against his bowl. My mother immediately fussed over him. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Did someone at school upset you? Mom will take care of them for you.” My father put down his chopsticks, his expression serious. “That’s right, son. Did one of your classmates look down on you again?” Joel waited for the right moment, then looked up, a sneer on his face as he pointed at me. “She bought a lottery ticket and wouldn’t let me see it.” 3 My parents exchanged a look. My father was the first to speak, his voice sharp. “What’s wrong with you? I’ve told you, as the older sister, you need to let your brother have his way! What did you do to upset him this time? Apologize to him, now!” My mother sighed, her rough hand gently stroking mine. “Ava, sweetie, it’s not that Mom is scolding you, but your brother is the only boy in this family. As his sister, you need to learn to take care of him.” The feel of her hand on mine sent a shiver through me. The horrors of my past life flashed before my eyes. “My sister bought a lottery ticket, but she hid it from me and lied about it,” Joel said, a triumphant look in his eyes. “Mom, what do you think we should do?” My father slammed his chopsticks down. “Hand over the ticket! It’s not like you’re going to win anyway. What’s the harm in letting your brother have it?” Joel chuckled. “I’m just afraid my dear sister will look down on us once she wins the grand prize.” My mother stood up, pushed me into my room, and searched me from top to bottom, even checking the lining of my underwear. “Ava, where did you hide it? Hand it over now!” she screamed, pointing a finger at me. My eyes welled up with tears. “I told you, I didn’t buy another ticket! Why won’t you believe me?” I sobbed. “That was the only one I bought, the one Joel has.” Joel frowned, his eyes full of suspicion. After all, he had arrived in a hurry and hadn’t actually seen me go into the shop. Once the door was closed, I carefully pulled the real lottery ticket out from where I had hidden it in my hair. Thank God I’d had the foresight to do that. But I knew my room was no longer safe. The next time I went to the bathroom, I sealed the ticket in a waterproof bag and hid it in the toilet tank. Joel took a few days off from school, still not giving up. He constantly snooped around my room. I watched him tear the place apart, completely unfazed. My mother also took me out shopping, and while I was in the fitting room, she went through my bag. Of course, they found nothing. The ticket was hidden in a place they would never imagine. Soon, it was the day of the lottery drawing. Just like in my past life, my ticket won the grand prize: one hundred million dollars! Soon, I would be able to claim my prize and finally right the wrongs of my past. When I came home from school, the atmosphere in the house was tense. The moment I walked through the door, my mother slapped me across the face, leaving a stinging red mark. “If the toilet hadn’t clogged, I never would have found this!” she sneered, dangling the winning ticket in front of my face. 4 “See, Mom? I told you she hid another ticket!” my brother gloated. I rushed to the bathroom. The toilet tank was empty. My father kicked me to the ground, his fists clenched. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Hiding it from us! You really think you’re some kind of lucky charm?” He held up the ticket with a sneer. “Today, your little fantasy comes to an end!” He gripped the ticket with both hands, ready to tear it in two. “Dad, no!” Joel screamed, lunging forward and grabbing our father’s leg. “Don’t tear it! That ticket is worth a hundred million!” “A hundred million? Are you joking? Even if someone did win, it wouldn’t be your sister!” “The winning numbers have been announced!” Joel yelled, his voice shaking. “It’s this ticket! We can buy a mansion! I’m sick of living in this dump! And I’ll marry a rich, beautiful woman and give you grandchildren!” My parents stared in disbelief. They glanced at the numbers on the TV screen and their faces lit up with ecstatic joy. “We’re rich! We’re rich!” I scrambled up from the floor, tears streaming down my face, my body trembling with rage. “That’s my ticket! You can’t just take it!” “The money you used to buy it came from me, didn’t it?” my mother shrieked. “What are you crying about? Let me tell you, you’re not getting a single cent of that hundred million!” But she didn’t give me an allowance. I had earned that money by tutoring. Ignoring my cries and struggles, the three of them got ready to go claim their prize, locking me in my bedroom before they left. “Sis, you really are the chosen one. A hundred-million-dollar ticket, just like that,” Joel’s voice mocked me from the other side of the door. “But this time, you get to watch us collect the money! Regret it! Suffer!” I watched them leave, the look of anguish on my face slowly transforming into a smile. The real show was about to begin. I used the opportunity to pack my bags and my documents, then rented a small apartment so I could focus on studying for my exams. On their way to the lottery center, Joel video-called me. His arrogant face filled the screen. “So, sis, you were reborn too, huh? How’s it feel? Too bad you’re still no match for me, even in this life. You still have to watch me get the hundred million.” He lowered his voice. “And don’t even think about calling the police. It won’t do you any good. We’re family. Your money is our money. The police can’t do anything.” “Feeling hopeless? If you’re that desperate, just jump out the window. Maybe you’ll get to the lottery ticket before we do.” They swaggered into the lottery center. My father marched up to the counter and announced, “We’re here to claim our prize! The hundred-million-dollar prize!” “What? A hundred million?” It was a weekend, and the place was crowded. People stopped what they were doing and stared, their whispers turning into a roar. “A hundred million! Is that the grand prize from today’s drawing?” “Someone actually won!” “Oh my God, why couldn’t it have been me?” A crowd quickly formed around my family. “That’s right! We won the hundred million!” Joel declared, holding the ticket high for everyone to see. “You can call the reporters now. You’ll be on the front page of every newspaper tomorrow, and you’ll have us to thank!” “Oh, and one more thing,” my father added, turning to the reporters who had started to arrive. “I want everyone to be a witness!” Surrounded by a sea of flashing cameras, my father announced, “This hundred-million-dollar prize belongs to the three of us, and my daughter, Ava, gets nothing! And from this day forward, we are disowning her. After she graduates, she’s on her own!” Ignoring the murmurs from the crowd, he smiled confidently at the owner. “Let’s claim our prize!” The owner was sweating, his face flushed with excitement. He took the ticket with trembling hands and examined it carefully. Then, he froze. The crowd held its breath, waiting for the miracle to be confirmed. After a long moment, the owner slowly looked up. “What? Is something wrong?” a few people murmured. “Did they not win?” “They won,” the owner said. “They won ten dollars.”

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While I was negotiating with a client at a private club, my wife stormed in with her male assistant to take our private room. My wife was clearly drunk, leaning heavily on her assistant, their bodies intimately entwined. Before I could say a word, she accused me of stalking her. Then she insisted that she and her assistant were just colleagues, and my “small-mindedness” was causing me to misunderstand. My client tried to defend me and was promptly cursed out by my wife and her assistant. The deal, which had been going so well, was nearly ruined. I didn’t argue. I chose to file for divorce. But that’s when my wife’s entire family started to panic. 1 “Mr. Harpster, with your network and reputation in this industry, it’s a crime that you’re still just a sales manager. Frankly, I feel insulted on your behalf.” The client raised his glass to me again, his offer hanging in the air, sincere and tempting. “If you’re willing, the position of President for our group’s North American division is yours.” We were in a private suite at The Gilded Pavilion, one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. “I’ll certainly consider it,” I said with a smile, clinking my glass against his. “But for now, Mr. McKinnon, let’s get this contract signed.” Closing this export deal would finally earn me a vacation. And I had a few other things to take care of during that break. Just then, the door to our suite was thrown open. “Don’t you know who this is? This is Amelia Thorne, the president of Apex Trading! And you can’t even find a room for her?” The man who spoke was tall and handsome, but in a slick, almost greasy way. In his arms was a woman—my wife, Amelia. She was obviously drunk, her movements loose and unsteady. I could see her hand wrapped tightly around the man’s waist. He was her executive assistant, a guy named Leo. “Nathan, what are you doing here?” Leo asked, his tone dripping with accusation as if I were the one out of place. “Business,” I replied with a calm smile, showing no emotion. For a successful businessman, emotional control is a fundamental skill. Even when you’ve just realized you’re probably being cheated on. The rumors had been swirling around the office for a while. Amelia had, under some flimsy pretext, awarded Leo a Maserati in the company’s name. I had confronted her about it, told her that if she’d fallen for someone else, she should just be honest so we could have a dignified divorce. But she swore she and Leo were innocent. To prove it, she’d even threatened to kill herself. I had believed her. And now, I was seeing this with my own eyes. Hearing my voice, Amelia quickly pushed Leo away, a flicker of panic in her eyes. But instead of explaining, she lashed out in anger. “Nathan Harpster, are you stalking me?” “Let’s be logical,” I said, gesturing to the half-eaten meal on our table. “I’ve been here with a client for almost an hour. Do you really think a stalker arrives before the person they’re stalking?” Mr. McKinnon chimed in, looking awkward. “It’s true, Ms. Thorne. Mr. Harpster and I have been here for quite some time.” Anyone could see what was happening. But I could also see a spark of excitement in his eyes. He was probably hoping I’d get divorced so I’d be free to join his company. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Leo snarled, pointing a finger at Mr. McKinnon. “You have no right to interrupt when Ms. Thorne is speaking!” He then turned to Amelia. “Amy, he must have known you were coming here. He knew this was your favorite room and booked it on purpose just to humiliate you.” “Nathan, you are so manipulative and disgusting!” Amelia immediately bought his story, her finger now pointing at me. “I can’t believe how petty you are! I’ve told you a million times, Leo and I are just colleagues! Why don’t you trust me?” Mr. McKinnon’s face had gone cold, his eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. He was in the import-export business, a man who’d made his fortune in volatile, war-torn countries. He was not someone to be trifled with. I placed a calming hand on his arm and gave him a slight nod. Then I stood up and walked over to Amelia and Leo. Leo puffed out his chest. “What, you’re going to get physical now that I’ve exposed you?” Amelia glared at me. “Nathan, do you not trust me?” After all this, she could still ask that question? “Trust is a minor issue right now,” I said, loosening my tie. My gaze, however, was fixed on Leo, my voice turning to ice. “The major issue that needs to be resolved is that you are going to apologize to Mr. McKinnon.” 2 “Me?” Leo scoffed. “Apologize to him? I’m Amy’s special assistant. He’s just a client of a low-level sales manager. He’s not worthy of my apology.” “I’ll make you apologize,” I said calmly. Then I moved. I grabbed a handful of his slick hair and threw him across the room. Before he could regain his balance, I kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel before Mr. McKinnon. I smashed a wine bottle on the table and held the jagged edge to his face. “One last time. Apologize. Or I’ll scar you for life.” “I-I-I’m sorry, Mr. McKinnon!” Leo blubbered, tears streaming down his face. He’d wet himself. Mr. McKinnon stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and gave me an appreciative look. “Mr. Harpster, my offer stands. Call me anytime. Please, take care of your family matters.” He then excused himself. “Ah!” Amelia shrieked. She ran to Leo’s side, kneeling beside him and screaming at me. “Nathan, have you lost your mind? How dare you hit Leo? There’s a limit to your jealousy!” “Jealousy?” I sat back down, slowly wiping my hands with a silk napkin. “Amelia, you misunderstand. I’m not jealous at all. I hit him because he insulted my client. Every one of my clients is a valuable part of my network. I have to protect them. That’s all.” Even then, I felt nothing. Did I not love her? Of course I did. Why else would I have worked so hard to build a successful company, only to make her president just to give her a sense of prestige? But I am also a ruthlessly pragmatic man. When infidelity enters a marriage, I cut my losses immediately. “Why aren’t you jealous?” she asked, her voice filled with confusion. I gave her a chilling look. “Amelia, when I loved you, you were the moon in my sky. But now that you’re tainted, you’re just filth in a gutter. No one gets jealous over filth.” “You’re calling me filth?” Her eyes widened in horror. “You mean… you don’t love me anymore?” I lit a cigarette and crossed my legs. “Amelia, we’ve been together for seven years. You should know me by now. I won’t even wear a shirt if my own brother has worn it first. Do you really think I would touch a woman who’s been touched by another man? Don’t you think I’d find you dirty?” I stood up, ready to leave. “I haven’t been touched by anyone!” she cried, running to me and hugging me from behind. “Honey, you’ve really misunderstood! There’s nothing going on between me and Leo! I was just drunk, and he was helping me!” I wrinkled my nose in disgust and let the cigarette drop from my fingers. It landed on the back of her hand, and she yelped in pain, letting go. “You were in his arms. What’s there to explain?” I sneered. “I’ve been drunk at business dinners plenty of times. Have you ever seen me being held up by another woman?” “I’ll have my lawyer draft the divorce papers. We’re done.” “No! I don’t want a divorce!” she sobbed, but she didn’t have the courage to follow me. Leo scrambled to her side. “Don’t worry, Amy. You’re the president of the company. If he causes trouble, just fire him. He’s just a useless freeloader. What are you afraid of?” 3 Before I returned to the office, I made a few calls to the other board members. When I walked back into the company, I noticed the strange looks the employees were giving me. I ignored them and went to my office. My vice president of sales, Ethan, rushed in, holding out his phone. It was the company-wide group chat. Leo had tagged everyone with a message: Sales Manager Nathan Harpster has been fired. So that explained the looks. “Dude, whose company is this, anyway?” Ethan complained. “Your wife is turning this place into a circus. The whole office is whispering that you’ve been cheated on. That Leo guy acts like he owns the place. If this keeps up, my family is pulling our investment.” “I can handle it. Go back to work,” I said, waving him off. “If you’re feeling down, I can take you out for a drink,” he offered, looking worried. “I’m not the one who did something wrong. Why should I punish myself with alcohol?” I smiled. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ve got this. Besides, I already spoke with your father on the way back.” Ethan nodded and headed for the door, but paused. “You know, my sister, Ivy, is back in the country. I still think you’d be a better brother-in-law for me.” I didn’t respond, just focused on my work. When I was done, I had my driver take me home. The moment I stepped inside, the smell of cooking filled the air. “Honey? Is that you?” Amelia’s voice called from the kitchen. “I made your favorite dish! Come wash your hands.” I smirked. I’d seen another man’s shoes by the door. It had to be Leo. Is she an idiot? How dare she bring him into our home? I walked into the kitchen and saw Leo feeding a piece of meat to Amelia. She was beaming, the picture of a woman in love. “H-honey…” she stammered when she saw me, her face paling. “Don’t misunderstand! I was just tasting it for seasoning, and my hands were full, so I asked Leo to help.” “No need to explain,” I said calmly. “And by the way, you can stop calling me ‘honey’.” I took the divorce papers from my briefcase. “Sign this. We’ll finalize it tomorrow.” Amelia stared at me in disbelief. “Honey, are you really going to divorce me?” “Nathan Harpster, you have no shame!” Leo shouted, stepping in front of her. “Amy is already humbling herself, cooking for you! What more do you want?” He pointed a finger at me. “I even came here to apologize in person! Don’t push your luck!” I laughed. I took off my suit jacket, unclasped my watch, and loosened my tie. “Leo,” I said slowly, “you seem to have a very high opinion of yourself. What exactly does it mean that you ‘came to apologize in person’? Is your apology worth something?” “Are you any better than me?” he shot back. “I’m the special assistant to the president! Second only to her! You’re just a sales manager! If you weren’t Amy’s husband, you wouldn’t even have the right to speak to me!” He charged at me. I kicked him away effortlessly, but he came at me again, this time grabbing my arm and hissing, “Go on, hit me! The more you hit me, the worse you’ll look in Amy’s eyes! When you two get divorced, I’ll be the one to take your place!” I laughed again, no longer bothering to fight him. I just patted his shoulder. “Kid, what kind of trashy TV shows have you been watching? You think the world of high finance is a playground?” “What do you mean?” He was completely lost. I shook my head and smiled. “Since you don’t get it, let’s just get everyone together and have a little chat.”

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The day I was supposed to marry Jimmy, he ran off with Sienna, the one he always said was his soulmate. As if to taunt me, he’d send a postcard from every new city they visited—a picture of the two of them, smiling and carefree. I was getting a manicure and enjoying macarons flown in from Paris when their ninety-ninth postcard arrived. I tossed it in the trash without a second glance. Just then, after three years of silence, Jimmy stormed back into my life. He pointed a trembling finger at my wedding photo—the one with my actual husband—and roared, “How dare you cheat on me with some bastard while I was gone!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you talking about? My husband and I have been married for three years.” I raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Jimmy, you didn’t actually think I’d be waiting for you, did you?” 01 Jimmy’s eyes bulged. “You think I’ll believe that pathetic excuse?” he snarled, grabbing my arm. “Tell me! Who’s the lowlife you’ve been shacking up with? I’ll make you both pay!” He yanked so hard I heard a sickening pop in my shoulder, and a sharp pain shot through me. My mother-in-law, hearing the commotion, came out. Seeing a strange man gripping my arm, she rushed forward. “Who are you? Let go of her immediately!” Jimmy glanced at the simply dressed older woman and instantly dismissed her as our housekeeper. He shoved her hard, sending her stumbling to the ground. “Get lost, old hag. This is between me and her.” “Mom!” I cried out, watching her fall. “Are you okay?” Hearing me call her ‘Mom’ stopped Jimmy cold for a second, then the fury in his eyes intensified. His grip on my arm became a vise. “Mom? That’s your mother? And here I thought you’d landed someone important.” He sneered, his gaze sweeping over her plain clothes. “Judging by how ragged she looks, your new man must be a real loser.” Tears of pain streamed down my face. A dark, ugly bruise was already forming on my arm. “Are you insane? You vanished for three years! You abandoned me without a word, and now you have the gall to come back and act like this?” “And don’t you forget,” I choked out, “we never even had the ceremony. We were never legally married!” My words seemed to stun him for a moment. Then, he started dragging me out of the house. “Everyone knows our families were arranging a merger! You think you can just say we weren’t married?” he spat. “This mansion is mine! You moved your boy toy in here and you dare to talk back to me? You’ve got some nerve!” He dragged me all the way from our private estate to the main intersection, stopping in the middle of the street where the most people were gathered. “Chloe Winters!” he bellowed, making a public spectacle. “You couldn’t even wait for me to be out of the country before you started sleeping around! You have no shame!” “This mansion is mine! I want you out, and you’re going to pay me five million dollars in rent for the past three years!” he screamed. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure you and the entire Winters family become the laughingstock of this city!” Through the crowd, I spotted a familiar figure. Sienna. She was smirking at me, her eyes filled with triumph and contempt. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had humiliated me when he left, and now he was back to do it all over again. The whole point of our arranged marriage was to save my family’s business. I thought marrying him would secure the investment we desperately needed. But he left, the money never came, and my family’s company went bankrupt. The people living in this neighborhood were all from high society. Hearing Jimmy’s tirade, they were already whispering, their minds made up. “No wonder she’s such a recluse. She’s been hiding her lover in there!” “I thought she was somebody special. Turns out she’s just a gold-digging tramp living off her man’s money.” 02 Just then, my mother-in-law limped out, clutching her back, her face a mask of fury. “You let her go this instant!” she yelled at Jimmy. “Just wait until my son gets home. You’ll regret this!” “Chloe, don’t be afraid. Mom will protect you.” Her words only enraged Jimmy further. He sneered and gave my arm another vicious tug, dragging me a few feet across the rough pavement. “You’re threatening me, you old crow? I don’t care who your son is! You’re squatting in my house! Pack your things and get the hell out!” The sharp gravel scraped my legs raw, leaving bloody trails on the asphalt. “Jimmy, this house is mine!” I cried out. “Go home and ask your parents what really happened after you left!” I tried to warn him. “Let me go, right now, or I swear you’ll be sorry! She’s not my housekeeper! You have no idea who you’re messing with!” Before he could respond, Sienna pushed her way through the crowd. She shot me a venomous look and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You little slut, stop your pathetic crying!” she shrieked. “Are you trying to seduce the rich men around here? Cheating on Jimmy with one man isn’t enough for you? You have to flaunt yourself in public?” A wave of pain radiated from my chest, and it felt like a ball of cotton was lodged in my throat. Seeing Sienna attack me, my mother-in-law threw herself over my body to shield me. “Chloe, are you okay? Just hold on, Mom will find a way to help you!” Sienna, furious that someone dared to interfere, grabbed my mother-in-law by the hair and slapped her hard across the face, again and again. “You old bitch! You really think this is your house now, don’t you?” she spat. “Forget this slut, even if that pretty-boy son of yours showed up, I’d beat him down too!” My mother-in-law stumbled back from the blows and fell to the ground, motionless. Covered in dust, her face already swelling, she looked so fragile. “Mom!” I screamed, a primal, gut-wrenching sound. I turned my head, my voice raw with fury. “Come after me! Leave my mother alone! She’s over sixty years old! Are you even human?” My words only seemed to provoke Jimmy. He grabbed me by the hair, ripped the belt from his pants, and began whipping me with it. I collapsed to the ground, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of pain and moving shadows. I was going to die here. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the darkness. Suddenly, a man’s voice cut through the chaos. “Hey! Stop that!” A burly-looking man from the crowd had stepped forward. Jimmy glanced at him, a scornful laugh escaping his lips. “What, are you one of her clients too? You seem awfully concerned. She must be great in bed, huh? You’re all lining up for her!” He turned to the watching socialites. “You ladies better watch out! This woman will sleep with anyone. She’ll steal your husbands right out from under you!” His words hit their mark. The few sympathetic glances I’d received turned icy cold, replaced with looks of disgust. The man stood between me and Jimmy. “Sir, you need to watch your mouth. No matter what, you can’t just beat a woman in the street!” Jimmy’s eyes darted between me and the man. Then, with a roar, he punched the man in the face, knocking him down and climbing on top of him, raining down blow after blow. “You think you can scare me? I’m going to kill both of you today, you cheating whore and your pathetic lover!” 03 I blinked, my vision swimming. The kind stranger’s face was already a mess of blood and bruises. “Stop… don’t hurt innocent people,” I rasped. “Do what you want… to me.” Jimmy sneered and stalked toward me. He planted his foot on my face, grinding his heel into my cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him off the hook. Or this old hag,” he said, gesturing to my mother-in-law. “You’re all trash. I’m going to enjoy taking my time with you for squatting in my house!” Then, he and Sienna were on top of us, slapping us relentlessly. I felt a tooth loosen. My mother-in-law, barely conscious, was no match for Sienna. Her face was quickly covered in blood, her head lolling limply to the side. Seeing her like that, I panicked. The shock and lack of air triggered my asthma. “Please…” I wheezed, clawing at my throat. “My… my inhaler…” I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. All I knew was the terrifying sensation of being unable to breathe. Jimmy ripped my hand away, rummaged through my pocket, and found my emergency inhaler. He threw it as far as he could. “You want your medicine?” he sneered. “Stop the act. I never knew you had asthma.” Sienna leaned against him, laughing. “Jimmy, honey, she cheated on you. Why should we care if she lives or dies? If she dies, it’s just God punishing her for being a slut.” As if on cue, they grabbed me and started tearing at my clothes. “You like being a slut, don’t you? Well, today we’ll let you be a slut for everyone to see!” They ripped my blouse open, exposing my chest. I could see people in the crowd raising their phones, recording. I could barely breathe, but I kept begging. “Give me… my medicine… I’ll die…” I pleaded with Jimmy. “Please… give it to me… and I’ll forget everything that happened…” He laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke and threw me back on the ground like a rag doll. “You want me to forget? I’m the one who should be settling scores with you! What a joke!” “Get out of my mansion today, and pay me my five million! Or I’ll make sure you regret it!” His eyes lingered on my exposed chest, and he licked his lips. “Damn, if I’d known you had a body like this, I would’ve taken you for a test drive before I left.” He smirked. “But it’s not too late now. You make me happy, and I’ll give you your inhaler.” He dangled the inhaler in front of my face, then scooped me up and started carrying me toward the mansion. “No! Don’t touch me! Please, let me go!” I clutched the torn fabric of my shirt, sobbing. His eyes raked over my body. “Begging me now? Too late! You just be a good girl and take care of me, and maybe I’ll forget about the three years of rent you owe.” He pressed his full weight on me, his unfamiliar scent turning my stomach. I closed my eyes in despair. Just then, a deafening car horn sliced through the air.

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My husband Harry was caught in a terrorist attack overseas. Suddenly, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. My mother-in-law called frantically—she and my father-in-law were at the embassy, waiting for me to negotiate. My estranged father claimed he could pull strings to get Harry home. Friends, colleagues, neighbors—all desperate for updates. And me? I was recovering postpartum, calmly hanging up on every call. Because the moment Harry saw the news—his ex, a war correspondent, trapped in the terror zone—he was ready to abandon his family, his newborn daughter, everything. I remember clutching my belly, amniotic fluid soaking my pants, asking: “If you go, I won’t deal with the consequences.” He didn’t answer. The frantic packing, the slammed door—they said enough. He wanted to play the hero. Why should I save him? 1 Harry always loved watching the international news. I never understood why, until two days ago when a special report broke. A female journalist from our country had been taken by terrorists during an interview. The video clip was just a flash, but I recognized her instantly. It was Ava Jiang, the most famous face on the international news circuit. I was nine months pregnant, lounging on the sofa and eating a slice of honeydew melon, feeling a distant pang of sympathy for the woman on the screen. Then, chaos erupted. Harry shot up from the sofa, sending the fruit bowl crashing to the floor. His knee slammed so hard into the corner of the coffee table that I felt a sympathetic clench in my own swollen belly. But Harry, he didn’t even seem to feel the pain. He stumbled into the kitchen, his movements stiff and robotic, and tried to pour a glass of water. He hit the boiling water button by mistake, scalding his mouth and dropping the cup, which shattered on the tile. He splashed some cold water on his face, then rushed into our bedroom, slamming the door behind him. An hour later, he emerged. “I… I have to go on a last-minute business trip.” My fingers tightened around the piece of melon, but my voice was steady as I pushed myself to my feet. “Harry, my due date is any day now. This is a terrible time for a business trip. What if I go into labor?” I tried to keep my tone reasonable, appealing to the man I thought I knew. “You know my mother… she died giving birth to my brother. I’m terrified of being alone.” I took a shaky breath. “And our daughter… you’ve been so excited to meet her. Don’t you want to be the first person she sees when she opens her eyes?” His face was a ghastly white, but after a moment, he forged on. “This trip is critical. I have to go. But I promise you, Julie, I’ll be back before the baby comes.” I laughed. A dry, hollow sound. Even as a sharp, cramping pain shot through my abdomen, and a warm gush of liquid began to flow down my legs, I kept my voice level. “I’ll agree to it,” I said. “But Harry, let me be perfectly clear. Whatever happens because of this trip, you will face the consequences alone. I will not carry any part of that burden for you.” Maybe it was the gravity in my voice, but a tremor ran through him. He looked me in the eye, trying to sound sincere. “Don’t worry. I swear, I’ll come back safe.” With that, he turned, grabbed a bag, threw a few clothes into it, and scrambled to put on his shoes, desperate to leave. Just as his hand was on the doorknob, a final, foolish wave of softness washed over me. “Harry, wait.” He turned, impatience flashing in his eyes. “What now? You already said I could go.” I clenched my fists, the pain in my belly intensifying with every second. But my voice remained a calm, flat line. “You forgot your passport.” Dragging my feet, leaving a wet trail of amniotic fluid on the floor, I went to our room. I returned with his passport and a debit card. It was the card for the account where he’d deposited his salary for the seven years of our marriage. His hand trembled as he took them from me, his eyes rimmed with a guilty red. For a split second, I thought he might stay. But he just shoved the passport and the card into his bag and repeated his empty vow. “I promise, I’ll be back before the baby is born.” Then he was gone, the slam of the door echoing through the now-empty apartment. Listening to that hollow sound, I calmly pulled out my phone, dialed 911, and called my contact at the postpartum care center. A man who couldn’t even see that his wife was in active labor dared to make me a promise. How utterly pathetic. 2 Harry and I met in a hiking club. Back then, my job in tech was a high-pressure nightmare. I worked myself to the bone, living for the weekends when I could escape to the mountains and recharge. Harry joined the club my second year. At first, we were just two faces in the crowd. But we were always the first two to reach the summit, and slowly, a familiarity grew between us. He was in finance. I was in tech. He loved the burn in his lungs and the dirt under his nails. So did I. On the peak of our one-hundredth mountain together, he asked me out. There was no grand romantic gesture, no flowery speech. Just a simple, direct, “Julie, we should date.” And I said yes. My father, after all, was the king of grand gestures. He once set off half a city’s worth of fireworks to impress my mother and ended up in a jail cell for it. But all that romance didn’t stop him from pressuring her to have a son, forcing her to drink bitter herbal remedies for years until she finally died on the delivery table, taking my unborn brother with her. So, for me, romance was meaningless. Spectacle was a lie. Stability was everything. And Harry was the very picture of stability. He was never late for a date. His gifts were never creative, but they were never forgotten. He wouldn’t proactively come pick me up in the rain, but if I called, he’d be there without complaint. So, three years into our steady, predictable relationship, we got married. Married life was no different. I cooked, he did the dishes. I bought the groceries, he’d get home early to start the rice. It was a life of quiet rhythm, a peaceful existence that made me believe I had found the perfect partner. Then, three years ago, we went to a college buddy’s wedding. At the bachelor party, one of Harry’s friends got wasted and grabbed his hand, tears streaming down his face. “Harry, man, it kills me to see you like this,” he slurred. “So lifeless. I’m about to start my happy new life, but looking at you… it just hurts, you know?” He sniffled. “If only Ava hadn’t gone overseas to be a war correspondent. You wouldn’t have had to just… shut down your heart like this.” In that instant, Harry’s eyes darted to me. “Don’t listen to him,” he said quickly. “He’s drunk.” I just smiled and said nothing. But on the drive home, my words were deliberate. “Harry, I have a lot of flaws. But my one and only virtue is that I can cut ties, quickly and cleanly.” He was standing in the shadows of the garage, and I couldn’t see his face. But after that night, the name Ava Jiang vanished completely from our world. Until now. 3 My phone remained silent. I had just finished breastfeeding my daughter, Mia, at the recovery center when the door flew open. It was Harry’s mother, her face etched with panic. “Julie, why aren’t you answering my calls? Your father-in-law is going crazy at the embassy!” she cried. “Get dressed. We need to go right now. Take Harry’s documents to the embassy.” Ignoring her frantic tone, I calmly recited six numbers. “6-6-6-3-1-3.” She stared at me, confused. I carefully tucked the blanket around Mia before explaining. “I’m recovering from a C-section. I can’t go anywhere. That’s the code to our house. You can go get whatever documents you need.” Her hand trembled. “Julie, how can you be so cold? Harry’s out there in a warzone! We don’t even know if he’s alive or dead!” Her voice cracked. “Didn’t you see the group text he sent out? The distress message? He said he’s been shot in the leg, hiding in a stranger’s house!” Her whole body was shaking as she pleaded with me. “I know you just had a baby, but this is an emergency! Can’t you just come with me to the embassy for a little while, just to see what’s going on?” But I just looked at her, my voice devoid of emotion. “I know about his situation. Before he sent that group text, he sent me several pleas for help. I ignored them.” She staggered back as if I’d struck her. Seeing the look on her face, a flicker of pity stirred in me. For seven years, she had been a wonderful mother-in-law, filling a void my own mother had left. But Harry had destroyed all of that. I calmly took out my phone and handed it to her, the video of my last conversation with Harry already cued up. “Mom, don’t blame me for being heartless,” I said. “This was his choice.” Her fingers trembled as she took the phone. As she watched, the color drained from her face, and her body went limp, slumping to the floor. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she could find her voice. “Listen to me, Julie… Harry and Ava, there’s really nothing going on between them.” I couldn’t just leave her there. Despite the searing pain from my C-section incision, I got out of bed and helped her to her feet. It was the same foolish compassion that made me give Harry his passport and bank card as he abandoned me in labor. “I know there’s nothing physical between them,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “But a man who is willing to abandon his wife and newborn child to chase after another woman in a warzone has made it clear where his priorities are. He doesn’t value me, or our family.” I looked her straight in the eye. “He was willing to let our daughter grow up without a father and for me to become a widow, all for Ava. He has to be prepared to live with the consequences of that choice.” My cold logic left her pale and speechless. She couldn’t find a single argument to defend him. She knew I was right. Finally, she gave up. “You just focus on your recovery,” she mumbled, pulling her body upright. “I’ll… I’ll go.” She looked ten years older as she shuffled toward the door. As much as it pained me, I had to say one more thing. “Mom,” I called out, stopping her. “Sometime this week, could you and Dad find a time to move your things out of my house?” She whipped her head around, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Can’t you at least wait?” I shook my head. “Did Harry wait to take me to the hospital before he flew across the world? My water had already broken.” My voice was flat. “I’m just trying to settle our assets before he gets back.” 4 My mother-in-law must have finally accepted defeat, because she left the recovery center looking like a ghost. I let out a long breath and sank back onto the bed. My C-section wound had started to bleed from the effort of helping her up. The pain was sharp, but I just calmly called for a nurse to change the dressing. That evening, my father stormed in. “What the hell is this?” he roared, waving his phone in my face. “Why did you send a group text saying you and Harry are getting a divorce?” Ah, right. I’d forgotten about that. After his mother left, I was trying to relax and watch a show on my phone, but the notifications wouldn’t stop. Harry’s colleagues, his cousins, his friends—a relentless barrage of messages asking for updates. I was fed up. So, I took a page out of Harry’s book. Just like he’d sent a broadcast message begging for help, I sent one of my own. “To everyone concerned: I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Harry Vance and I will be divorcing upon his return to the country. I have no information regarding his current situation, including any injuries he may have sustained. If you wish to know more about Mr. Vance’s condition, please contact his parents.” As expected, my phone went blissfully silent. My father, seeing my lack of response, kicked the side of my bed in a fit of rage. “How can you be so selfish? Your husband is trapped in a warzone, maybe even dying, and you’re already rushing to file for divorce?” His voice dripped with sanctimony. “Is this how I raised you? To be so heartless? Do you have any idea how much grief I’m getting from the family over this?” A bitter smirk touched my lips. “So, let me get this straight. You think it would be ‘loyal’ for me to drag my postpartum body all over town, calling in favors to rescue a husband who knowingly flew into a warzone to chase his ex-girlfriend?” I met his furious gaze. “Dad, men know men best. Do you honestly think Harry would be grateful for any of it?” My words struck a nerve, and he began to tremble with rage. I knew exactly why. My own mother’s health was fragile; she couldn’t safely have a second child. But my father, desperate for a son, fed her a string of lies and false promises. The result? She died in childbirth, taking my baby brother with her. He regretted it later, of course, but what good did that do? It didn’t stop him from finding me a stepmother and having a son the very next year. So yes, men know men best. Harry’s story had two possible endings. Either he’d die in that warzone, or, like some trashy romance novel, he and his war-correspondent ex would find their tragic, beautiful love in the midst of chaos. And even if nothing physical happened between them, could I ever trust him again? Could I live with a man who would throw his life away for another woman? Since divorce was the inevitable outcome, why shouldn’t I minimize the damage to myself? My father and I had always had a distant relationship. He was only here now because his son-in-law was in a major crisis, and it would look bad if he didn’t show up. After another round of angry accusations, he stormed out. Not once did he ask if my wound hurt. Not once did he ask about the health of his newborn granddaughter. But it didn’t wound me. It just made me angry. Because his shouting had woken up my daughter, and now she was screaming, her little face red and blotchy, inconsolable over the mess her father had created. 5 After that, my life finally found a semblance of peace. I listed the house Harry and I had shared, selling it at a discount for a quick sale. I hired a service to clear out everything inside. Harry’s personal belongings, I packed up and had delivered to his parents’ house. Everything else—the crib he’d bought for our daughter, the stroller, the tiny clothes—I threw it all away. A father who didn’t love my daughter didn’t deserve to have his things near her. Before selling the house, I did offer it to my mother-in-law, asking if she and her husband wanted to buy out my half. She hesitated, but I gave her some cold, practical advice. “Mom, you and Dad should probably rent for a while. Keep the money from the sale and your savings liquid. What if Harry comes back with a permanent disability? You’ll need every penny you can get.” My words made her face turn a sickly shade of purple. My father-in-law, furious, raised his hand to slap me. I didn’t flinch. “Dad,” I said calmly, “didn’t you just spend a hundred thousand dollars pulling strings to get Harry repatriated? You’ve finally made some headway. It would be a shame to get arrested for assault and end up in jail now. Harry and Mom need you.” With that, I had the postpartum center staff escort them out. Everything was proceeding according to plan. The only thing that felt like a needle under my skin, impossible to remove, was the bank statement from my lawyer. It was a record of Harry’s finances. For the past seven years, starting from the very beginning of our marriage, he had been making frequent, substantial donations. Small ones were around $3,000, but the larger ones were $50,000, even $100,000. All told, it added up to over a million dollars. Every single transfer was to something called the “Q International Children’s Project”—a charity foundation run by Ava Jiang. All these years, Harry and I had essentially split our finances. Even during my pregnancy, we went Dutch. He paid for his things, and I paid for mine and the baby’s. I’d always assumed he was saving his salary. Instead, he’d been funding international aid projects. If he had donated it to kids in our own country, I might not have been this furious. There are millions of people here struggling to get by, but no, he was more concerned about children overseas. My daughter didn’t even have a college fund started, but he had emptied his savings to support his ex-girlfriend’s “noble cause.” Whatever sliver of affection I had left for him vanished in that instant. Just as I was about to finish my postpartum recovery period, Harry was finally repatriated. It was a relief, in a way. At least his father’s hundred grand hadn’t been a scam. But that relief was quickly followed by a sharp, familiar pain in my chest. I pushed it down. I put on makeup, chose a sharp outfit, and drove to the airport. It was time for the final act. All the assets were divided. It was time to hand Harry his divorce papers. When I arrived, the arrivals hall was already crowded. It was a sea of familiar faces—Harry’s family, his friends, his parents. As soon as they saw me, their gazes turned sharp and judgmental. I ignored them. After a short wait, he appeared, being pushed in a wheelchair by airport staff. Walking beside him, her arm resting familiarly on the wheelchair’s handle, was a woman with a deep tan. Ava. The two of them were close, intimate. As they came down the ramp, Ava stumbled slightly on a step. Harry immediately tried to sit up, his voice thick with concern. “Hey, be careful! Your leg just got shot.” Watching them, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. In seven years of marriage, he had never once shown me that kind of tenderness. If I stumbled or bumped into a table, he would offer a mild frown at best before returning to whatever he was doing. So this was it. This was the “vibrant,” “alive” Harry his friends missed so much. The thorn in my heart twisted again. By the time I’d composed myself, the wheelchair had reached the center of the crowd. He first embraced his parents, his voice choked with emotion. “Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I made you worry.” The past weeks had clearly taken their toll on the older couple. They clung to their son, sobbing openly. It was a moving scene, and more than a few people in the crowd started tearing up. After his reunion with his parents, Harry’s eyes finally found me. The moment he saw me, his own eyes reddened again. I walked calmly toward him. He didn’t notice my flat stomach, nor the cold, hard set of my face. But the people around us did, their whispers growing louder. Harry grabbed my hand, his voice breaking as he looked up at me. “Julie,” he cried, “I finally did it. I kept my promise to you. I came home safe.”

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1. The second day I owned the new car, the brakes failed. I was thrown from the wreckage, bleeding out on the side of the road. When my wife, Lorna, arrived, her first move wasn’t to help me. It was to retrieve the dashcam, ignoring my desperate cries for help. I was rushed to the hospital and fought for my life for days, with doctors repeatedly telling my family I might not make it. But she never showed up. The day I was diagnosed with permanent nerve damage, condemned to a lifetime of medication and a wheelchair, Lorna’s old flame, Julian, was accepting an award. His award-winning paper was on an improved braking technology. And I was his test subject. The hospital called Lorna to inform her of my condition. Her only reply was, “Tell him to stop with the drama. Julian’s experiment was designed to be safe. The worst he could have is a few scratches!” … After years of marriage, my wife, Lorna, gave me my first truly expensive gift—a state-of-the-art concept car. The very next day, the brakes gave out on a sharp mountain curve. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop it from hurtling forward. To avoid hitting anyone else, I had no choice but to wrench the wheel and aim for the mountainside. In the final second before impact, Lorna’s call came through. As I answered, I managed to choke out a final, tragic goodbye. “Where are you?” she demanded, her voice urgent. At that moment, a wave of relief washed over me. I thought she was worried about me. I would later learn how wrong I was. I told her my location. The moment the last word left my lips, the car slammed into the mountain. I was thrown clear. Luckily, I landed in a thicket of bushes that cushioned the impact, saving me from a direct collision with the rock face. But I heard the sickening crunch of my own body breaking apart. Blood poured from a gash on my head, blurring my vision. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I sensed a car pull up on the deserted road. I cried for help, my voice a weak whisper. Then, through the haze of blood and pain, I saw a familiar figure. It was my wife, Lorna. But she got out of her car and walked straight toward my smoking wreck. I thought she was coming to save me. I worried for her safety, frantically trying to throw small stones to warn her away, afraid the car would explode. Instead, she pried the door open with a tool and climbed inside. At that moment, tears and blood streamed down my face. Seeing her risk her life, I thought it was all for me. But after she pulled out the dashcam, she walked over and glanced down at me. Her eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. “Lorna! Help me… please, help me…” Her voice was as cold as her gaze. “Julian is waiting for the data from this brake test. I don’t have time for this. You’re not going to die. Just hang on.” Then she got in her car and drove away. On that remote mountain road, it was a full thirty minutes before someone else found me. By the time I reached the hospital, I had suffered from severe blood loss to my brain. My body was a roadmap of fractures and shattered bones. The doctors were shouting, asking for my next of kin. “Family! We need to notify his family immediately! His condition is critical. He might not… he might not make it.” A young nurse frantically searched my pockets for a way to contact someone. She used my fingerprint to unlock my phone and found the number pinned to the top of my contacts. She dialed. That familiar voice answered. Less than thirty seconds later, she cut the nurse off. “Are you kidding me? I told you I’m busy. Go home from the hospital when you’re done. Stop bothering me.” The line went dead. Everyone looked at each other in disbelief. The nurse tried calling again, but this time, the call was immediately rejected. I don’t know how they handled it in the end. All I know is that as they wheeled me into the operating room, I still hadn’t seen my wife, Lorna. 2. “This patient is such a tragedy. He’s been here for days, nearly died a few times, and not a single person from his family has shown up.” “The hospital is even covering his medical bills for now.” “So sad. They say he might be paralyzed. The nerve damage is severe.” The nurses chattered softly as they changed my dressings. My body was a cage of steel pins holding my shattered bones in place. I couldn’t move. I could smell the faint, unpleasant odor my own body was beginning to emit. The young nurse kindly changed my disposable brief. I tried to nod, to thank her, but no words would come out. “Don’t talk,” she said quickly. “You’ll pull at your stitches. And don’t be embarrassed. We take care of everyone in the ICU. All I want is to see you walk out of here healthy one day.” She gave me a warm smile and left. It was visiting hours in the ICU. Families filed in quietly. Nearly every patient had someone by their side. Except for me. I heard the head nurse talking to one of the others in the distance. “His parents are gone, right? Just a wife. It’s been days, and we can’t even get ahold of her. When we finally did, she just hung up.” I was past the point of tears. My entire body was a symphony of pain. Just then, my test results came back. The doctor approached, her face grim. “Mr. Hayes, I have some bad news for you.” My eyes were fixed on her. I think I already knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. When she confirmed it—that due to the extensive nerve damage, there was an eighty percent chance I would never walk again, that I would need a lifetime of medication and a wheelchair—I broke. “We need to call your wife,” the doctor insisted. “This is serious.” She used her own phone to dial Lorna’s number. When the call connected, it wasn’t Lorna’s voice that answered. “Is that you, brother-in-law?” It was Julian. “I won my award today! Lorna’s throwing a party for me. She drank a little too much, so she’s staying at my place tonight. Don’t bother calling again. She said you’re really annoying.” He chuckled. “Good night, brother-in-law. Try not to die of anger, okay?” The moment he hung up, the head nurse started cursing under her breath. I tried to move my fingers, to show them there was someone else they could call. When I finally managed to knock a pill bottle off my bedside table, they noticed. They handed me my phone. With tremendous effort, I swiped through my contacts and found the number. As the head nurse dialed, my body trembled uncontrollably. I didn’t know if she would answer, or if she even remembered me. “Hello?” A voice. The head nurse quickly explained the situation. The person on the other end was instantly alarmed. “Thank you for letting me know. I’m booking the next flight. I’ll try to be there by dawn.” When the call ended, a small measure of peace settled in my heart. The head nurse and the younger nurse waited with me through the night. Hours passed. No one came. Just as I began to think I’d been abandoned again, a figure rushed into the ward, wind-blown and weary. “Hello! I’m Beth Hayes, Blake’s sister. How is he?” The head nurse looked at her face, which was so strikingly similar to mine, and said quickly, “Not good. He’s right in here. We’ll take you.” The moment my sister saw me, her eyes turned red. It had been twenty years. After our parents divorced, I hadn’t seen her once. We had even held separate funerals when they passed. The first time she had called me was on my wedding day. She had sent a lavish wedding gift but hadn’t come to the ceremony. I thought she didn’t want me as a brother. I never imagined that when I was broken and dying, she would drop everything and fly across the country to be by my side. 3. “Where is his wife?” When Beth asked, the room fell silent. Finally, the head nurse spoke, her voice laced with anger. “We contacted her. She refused to come. Said the patient was lying…” My sister said nothing, but the way her hands clenched into fists and her body trembled told me everything I needed to know about her rage. That night, she signed a stack of consent forms and liability waivers. She watched through a glass window as I was resuscitated time and time again, helpless. The last time I was wheeled out of the operating room, she just stared at me for a long, long time. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I have money. I’ll get you the best care, Blake. I promise.” My sister worked tirelessly, contacting the best doctors, arranging for specialists, even preparing to sell her own house to pay for my treatment. That night, I suffered from multiple organ failure. The entire department scrambled for an emergency surgery that lasted twelve hours. As I was being wheeled out, I saw my wife for the first time. Lorna was arm-in-arm with Julian. They walked right past me. Julian even glanced over. “He looks like he’s about to die. Are they still trying to save him?” Lorna pulled him away, covering his eyes. “Don’t look at such unpleasant things. It’s bad luck. The important thing now is to get the injury data from Blake to perfect your report.” “You’re the best, Lorna! If you hadn’t volunteered your husband to be my test subject, I never would have finished my doctorate.” Data test? As I was being moved to the ICU, Lorna was at the nurses’ station, asking for my room. “I’m looking for a patient from a car accident. Name’s Blake Hayes. His injuries shouldn’t be serious. Which room is he in?” The nurse gave her a long look. “And you are?” “I’m his wife.” As the words left her mouth, the nurse pointed at me, fresh out of a twelve-hour surgery. “That’s him… the one who just came out of the OR. That’s your husband.” “What!” She stared in disbelief. The truth was right in front of her, but Julian just wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Wow, brother-in-law is really committed to the act, huh?” Lorna, though visibly shaken, grabbed Julian and hurried away, once again leaving without seeing me. Thanks to my sister’s persistence, my condition slowly improved. The day I was moved out of the ICU, I could already sit up in bed. The specialists she’d hired were truly miracle workers. I smiled, trying to praise them. My phone, however, wouldn’t stop buzzing. When I opened it, my feed was flooded with news of Julian winning his award for the “bottom-line brake test.” He was being lauded by the media as a hero who had advanced automotive safety. In one interview, a reporter asked, “This kind of large-scale test requires a human test subject. In the past, it was usually the researcher themselves, or a family member, or a close friend who would make a great sacrifice. The relationship between the researcher and the test subject is often very close. Mr. Singer, could you tell us about your test subject…?” Julian looked out into the audience, his eyes landing on Lorna. “My test subject,” he said with a charming smile, “loves me very much.” The crowd erupted in applause. Today was Julian’s award ceremony. A grand affair, held at the city’s central performance hall. I looked at the time. I opened the cloud backup of my dashcam footage on my phone. And I dialed 911. “Hello,” I said, my voice steady. “I’d like to report a suspected case of attempted murder, involving a Mr. Julian Singer and a Ms. Lorna Hayes.”

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