I went to the school to conduct an investigation and stopped by the cafeteria for lunch. I saw a male student who had only gotten free soup, so I casually got him a lunch. Someone nearby whispered, “Isn’t that our school’s top student? How dare that girl talk to him?” Before I could think much of it, a female teacher had already rushed over and slapped me across the face. “What class are you in? You little slut! How dare you seduce my son!” The male student panicked, grabbing her arm and shouting, “Mom! It’s not what you think!” The female teacher shook him off and grabbed my wrist. “Come on! We’re going to see the principal!” I had no choice but to explain. “You’ve misunderstood. I’m a staff member from the State Department of Education.” She scoffed. “State Department of Education? At your age, you dare to lie? Let’s go!” But I just have a baby face! When I was dragged into principal Zachary Thorne’s office, she was still yelling. “Mr. Thorne! My son is our top student! How dare she seduce him! a student like this must be expelled!” He turned to me, his tone stern. “What class are you in? Give me your parent’s phone number. You’re expelled!” I smiled. “I dare to give it to you, but I’m afraid you won’t dare to call!”

Zachary Thorne was caught off guard by my response and froze for a moment. That teacher named Rebecca Foster jumped up beside him. “Mr. Thorne, look at her attitude! This shameless thing should be severely punished!” I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my reddened wrist where she’d grabbed me. “Stop talking and make the call.” Zachary Thorne rose to the challenge and picked up the desk phone. “What’s the number?” I rattled off a string of digits. He dialed, pressed the speakerphone, and said arrogantly. “Hello, I’m Mr. Zachary Thorne from Ivy Ridge High School. Are you this student’s parent? Your child has been seducing male students at school. Please come immediately!” There was a two-second silence on the other end. Then a voice came through, clearly confused. “What? What are you saying? Who?” Zachary Thorne repeated. “Your daughter has been seducing male students at school! Please come to the school immediately to handle this!” Silence again on the other end. I almost couldn’t hold back my laughter. If Mr. Thorne knew who was on the other end, he’d probably wet his pants already. Too bad he didn’t know. He was still standing there arrogantly, waiting for my “parent” to come and apologize to him. “Mr. Thorne,” the voice on the other end became strange, “are you certain you’re talking about my daughter?” “Of course I’m certain!” Zachary Thorne was getting impatient. “Are you coming or not?” The other side said, “I’ll be right there. Mr. Thorne, until I arrive, no one is to lay a finger on her.” The phone hung up. Mr. Thorne held the receiver and snorted. “Pretty arrogant.” Rebecca Foster came over. “What happened? What was their attitude?” “Said they’ll be right here,” Zachary Thorne put down the receiver. “Told me not to touch her.”

Rebecca Foster’s eyes rolled, and she suddenly became excited. “Mr. Thorne, I have an idea! Let’s call a school-wide assembly and make this little vixen apologize in front of everyone! Make an example of her so all those girls with improper thoughts can see!” Zachary Thorne hesitated. “Is that really necessary?” “Why wouldn’t it be?” Rebecca Foster’s voice was shrill. “My son ranked first in the entire city exam. He’s our school’s star student! If we don’t deal with this kind of vixen, anyone will be able to seduce him in the future!” Zachary Thorne nodded and was about to speak when Rebecca Foster reached out to grab my hair. I seized her wrist in one motion and twisted hard. She cried out in pain, her face going pale. “I can walk on my own.” I released her hand and looked at her calmly. Rebecca Foster clutched her wrist. I stared her down until she retreated half a step, swallowing back the curses that had been on her lips. She hadn’t expected me to fight back, much less expected my strength. In the hallway, she walked ahead of me, constantly turning back to glare, her mouth far from clean. “Shameless thing, little vixen, born cheap!” I stopped walking. She stopped too, watching me warily. “Watch your mouth.” My voice wasn’t loud, but she was scared enough to retreat half a step, her lips trembling twice, ultimately not daring to curse again. Zachary Thorne urged from behind. “Hurry up, hurry up, everyone’s waiting at the field.” On the field, over two thousand students were already lined up by class. A sea of people, all whispering among themselves. Rebecca Foster pushed me onto the stage, using vicious force, trying to make me stumble, but I stood firmly without even swaying. Disappointment flashed across her face. Zachary Thorne walked to the microphone and cleared his throat. “Today, we’re holding an emergency school-wide assembly!” The field fell quiet. “This girl!” He pointed at my nose. “Seduced our school’s top student, Ethan Carter, in the cafeteria!” The crowd below instantly erupted, students whispering to each other. Rebecca Foster snatched the microphone. “Ethan Carter is my son, ranked first in the entire city! He’s our school’s pride! He’s Ivy League material!” She turned to me, her finger nearly poking my face. “There have been several little vixens like this before. They just want to ruin my son! Ruin the school’s hope! What are they? Do they even deserve to talk to my son?” Zachary Thorne took the microphone, his tone softening, putting on a magnanimous appearance. “If you apologize publicly and write a guarantee letter, and if your attitude is good, I can consider not expelling you.” Looking at his hypocritical face, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You haven’t even figured out who I am, and you dare demand an apology?” Rebecca Foster exploded. “Who are you? Who could you be? You’re just a shameless little slut!” She got angrier and rushed forward to slap me. I dodged sideways. Her slap missed, her center of gravity unstable, she staggered two steps and nearly tumbled headfirst off the stage. Laughter erupted from below. Rebecca Foster’s face turned crimson.

“What are you laughing at!” She yelled at the crowd below, then suddenly turned to me, her eyes full of madness. She pulled out a red marker from her pocket and unscrewed the cap. “You think you’re so tough? You think you can dodge?” She advanced toward me with the marker raised. “I’m going to write ‘vixen’ on your face! I’ll make it so you can never wash it off! Let the whole school see what kind of person you are!” The laughter below stopped abruptly. People gasped, some shouted that this was too much. Just as Rebecca Foster’s marker was about to touch my cheek, I kicked her to the ground. Rebecca Foster screamed in pain, her face going pale. With my other hand, I pulled out my work ID from my pocket and held it in front of her eyes. “See it clearly now?” She squinted and leaned closer to look, her eyes suddenly widening. The work ID clearly read: State Department of Education Deputy Director Lydia Monroe. Her lips trembled, her face instantly turning deathly pale. I let go. Her legs gave out and she collapsed on the ground. I turned to face the over two thousand students below, holding my work ID high, my voice clear. “I am the Deputy Director of the State Department of Education, Lydia Monroe.” Complete silence fell over the field. Zachary Thorne was stunned for three seconds, then he laughed out loud. “You think we’re three-year-olds?” Rebecca Foster instantly got her energy back. “Right! Right! That work ID must be fake!” Zachary Thorne sneered, looking me up and down. “State Department of Education Deputy Director? How old are you? You look like a teenager. What kind of leader are you pretending to be?” Rebecca Foster leaned close to my work ID, shaking her head. “The counterfeiting technology these days is really amazing. It looks quite authentic! If I hadn’t seen the real thing, I might have been fooled by you!” Zachary Thorne shouted to the crowd below. “Check which class this Lydia Monroe is in!” The dean of students pulled out a roster and flipped through it, then looked up. “Mr. Thorne, I’ve checked. There’s no such person.” Rebecca Foster pointed at my nose, her voice shrill. “I know now! You’re a little slut who snuck in from outside the school!” She got more and more worked up, her voice getting louder. “You must be from that poor high school nearby! You snuck into our school to seduce boys! I’ve seen plenty of social scum like you!” The students below began to stir. Some whispered to each other, some craned their necks to look at me, and some frowned. But Rebecca Foster didn’t care about any of that. She got more and more excited. “Look at her, dressed all proper, but she’s actually just a delinquent! Forging work credentials, sneaking into a top high school, specifically targeting good students!” She turned and shouted at the crowd. “Security! Where did all the security go? Restrain this little slut!” The security chief ran onto the stage with two guards. The three stood beside me but didn’t make a move. Probably because they’d seen me kick Rebecca Foster earlier and weren’t confident. Rebecca Foster leaned close to Zachary Thorne’s ear, deliberately raising her voice several levels. “Mr. Thorne, this kind of social scum, forging credentials, sneaking into school, seducing our top student! Call the police! We must call the police! Send her to juvie!” Zachary Thorne nodded, pointing at me with an air of righteousness. “Who are you really? If you don’t tell the truth, I’m calling the police right now!”

I looked at him calmly, enunciating each word. “I told you, I’m the Deputy Director of the State Department of Education.” Rebecca Foster scoffed. “Still lying? You’re a teenage girl—how could you possibly be a deputy director? Look at yourself. Do you look like an adult?” Zachary Thorne joined in with a cold laugh, looking me up and down. “Right! Which deputy director comes to a school alone? Without even a driver? Without any staff? Who are you trying to fool?” Rebecca Foster continued. “Call the police! We must call the police! This kind of little slut is a cancer on society. She should go to juvie for proper education!” Zachary Thorne pulled out his phone and dialed 911 in front of over two thousand people. “Hello, 911? I’m Mr. Zachary Thorne from Ivy Ridge High School. We’ve caught someone forging State Department of Education credentials, sneaking into school to seduce boys, seriously disrupting the educational order. Yes, please dispatch officers immediately!” He hung up, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked at me triumphantly. Rebecca Foster put her hands on her hips, arrogant. “Just wait. When the police arrive, you’ll be crying! Forging state official credentials—that’s enough to keep you busy!” She turned to the crowd below, shouting at the over two thousand students. “Everyone look! This is what happens when you seduce top students! If anyone else has such improper thoughts in the future, this is your example!” I stood on stage, a smile playing at my lips, saying nothing. Rebecca Foster saw me smiling and got even angrier, rushing up to me. “You’re still smiling? Let’s see if you can still smile when you’re at the police station!” Zachary Thorne also came over, his voice threatening. “Forging state official credentials—that’s at least two or three years in prison. Little girl, your life is over.” I looked at him sarcastically. “Oh, I’m so scared!” But Rebecca Foster thought I was actually scared, her voice even shriller. “What? Scared now? Too late! You were so arrogant earlier, weren’t you? Now you know to be afraid?” I nodded. “Fine, then let’s wait.” Sirens sounded in the distance. Rebecca Foster jumped with excitement, pointing at the school gate and shouting at me. “Hear that! The police are here! You’re done!” Zachary Thorne straightened his tie, stood up straight, ready to greet the police. A black sedan and three police patrol cars drove through the school gate. Rebecca Foster pointed at the gate, shouting at me. “See that! They’re all here to arrest you!” I crossed my arms over my chest, the smile never leaving my face. The person who stepped out of the black sedan was State Department of Education Director Nathan Brooks. His face was dark as iron, radiating a low pressure, followed by city police station officers and a team of police. Rebecca Foster pointed at me, shouting at the officers. “Officers! It’s her! It’s this little slut from outside the school! She forged State Department of Education credentials and snuck into our school to seduce my son! Arrest her quickly!” Director Brooks didn’t look at her. He walked straight onto the stage. He walked up to me and looked me over to confirm I was unharmed before speaking. “Ms. Monroe is our State Department of Education’s Deputy Director! Who’s been giving her trouble?!” Complete silence fell over the field. Rebecca Foster’s finger, pointing at me, froze in mid-air. “You said she’s what?!”

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I’ve been married twice. Before marrying Ethan Grant, I explained to him: “The first marriage was to help my childhood friend Xavier Cole fight for his inheritance.” “The second marriage was to help my good friend Mason Steele avoid an arranged marriage.” “If you mind—” He grabbed my hand, his eyes red-rimmed as he interrupted: “I don‘t mind. But from now on, you can only have eyes for me!” After we married, he was tender and considerate toward me. I thought I’d finally married the right person. But the day I returned from a business trip, I heard him talking familiarly with my two ex-husbands in the living room: “She‘s an old pro at divorcing—she’s done it twice already.” “Just give her the divorce papers on April Fool’s Day!” “Then come back later and tell her it was just an April Fool’s joke—problem solved.” “Vivian‘s wedding is next week. We made a promise back in senior year—for her bachelorette party, all of us have to be single!” I stood outside the door, my hands trembling. When Ethan brought me the divorce agreement, I signed it without hesitation. Later, when Ethan wanted to remarry me, I was already six months pregnant: “You thought the divorce was just an April Fool’s joke? I was serious!”

I sat in the coffee shop across from our apartment complex for an hour. I waited until they‘d dispersed before finally heading home. When Ethan saw me return, he set down his phone and came over to take my luggage: “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? I could have picked you up.” He took the suitcase with one hand and wrapped his other arm around my waist. Tender and considerate, exactly like always. “Have you eaten?” “Yes.” He nodded, then seemed to remember something: “Oh right, there‘s something I need to discuss with you.” I set down what I was carrying and turned to look at him. He sighed and pushed a document toward me: “The company’s run into some trouble lately. We need to separate our assets. The lawyer suggested we file for divorce first—just as a formality.” I looked down—divorce papers. In such a short time, he‘d already prepared everything. “Once things blow over, we’ll remarry.” He gripped my hand, his tone sincere. “It‘ll only be a few months.” I fell silent for a moment. “I know this is sudden,” he squeezed my palm, then suddenly lowered his voice with a hint of indignation, “but Xavier and Mason called today and kept needling me. They said when you helped them, you didn’t hesitate, but with me it‘s somehow a problem.” “They even said that after divorcing twice, a woman wouldn’t dare divorce a third time. They said you definitely wouldn‘t be able to handle it.” “I’ve already thought it through—tomorrow happens to be April Fool‘s Day. We’ll choose that day to file, then wave the certificate in their faces and scare the hell out of them. Let‘s see if they ever dare look down on you again.” “After all, it’s April Fool‘s Day—anything can be passed off as a joke. Once the company situation settles down, we can legitimately get our certificate back. No one will say anything.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with both grievance and anticipation: “You won’t let them look down on me, will you?” I looked into his eyes for a long time. These flawless, devoted eyes had just been toasting with those two men, saying “she won‘t make a fuss.” “I won’t.” I gave him what he wanted. He visibly relaxed, though he quickly disguised it as surprised delight: “Then you should rest first. Tomorrow‘s the first of the month. After we sign the papers, we’ll go—” I took the pen, flipped to the last page, and signed my name cleanly. “Call them,” I said with a smile as I set down the pen. “Tell them to stop nagging.” Ethan froze, apparently not expecting me to agree so readily. He smiled, put away the papers, then leaned in to kiss me. “You‘re the best wife.” I let him kiss me, my heart as calm as stagnant water. He took the agreement to his study to make a call. His voice wasn’t loud, but through the door, I could still hear. “She signed.” Xavier‘s voice came faintly through the phone: “See? I told you—Sophia’s the easiest to handle.” “Alright, you guys keep Vivian steady on your end. I‘ll head over once I’m done here.” I sat in the room for a long time. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Mason: Haven‘t seen you in a while. Want to get together? I stared at that message for a long time. Before, I would have replied “sure.” I would have carefully considered what to wear, how to do my makeup. I would have thought about how to preserve Ethan’s dignity in front of them, to let them know I‘d married well. To make sure they wouldn’t hold grudges against Ethan. After all, one side was my childhood companions, the other was my beloved husband—both were people I valued deeply… I didn‘t want them to remain adversaries for life. But now, I couldn’t even be bothered to reply. I simply turned my phone face-down on the coffee table and stood up to collect the laundry from the balcony. As I passed the study, Ethan was still on the phone. His voice was very low, but carried a kind of relaxed ease I‘d never heard before. That ease sounded like he no longer needed to pretend or perform. I suddenly realized that in all our time together, he’d never spoken to me like that. The wind on the balcony was strong. I took the clothes off the hangers one by one, folded them, and placed them in the basket. As I finished with the last piece, my phone lit up again. This time it was Xavier: Heard you‘re getting divorced again? Ethan’s such a jerk. He doesn‘t deserve you. Don’t be sad. Your grandfather‘s eightieth birthday banquet is in a few days. Mason and I will attend together. Let’s have a proper reunion! I laughed dryly. How nice of him to say. As if he weren‘t the one strategizing in the living room earlier. I pressed the power button and shoved my phone in my pocket. I suddenly wanted to know what kind of person Vivian Lane was. To be worth the three of them scheming so elaborately to keep a promise. To be worth them treating me so casually as a tool to achieve their goal. But then I thought—there was no point. It didn’t matter anymore. I picked up the laundry basket and turned to go back inside. My steps didn‘t pause as I passed the study. Warm yellow light spilled through the crack in the door. This lamp, this home, this man— Starting tomorrow, they’d have nothing to do with me.

I‘d just set down the laundry basket when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, but Ethan got there first. The person standing outside had flushed cheeks, clearly having drunk quite a bit. She smiled when she saw Ethan: “I knew you’d still be awake.” Ethan instinctively glanced back at me, then lowered his voice: “Why are you here?” She didn‘t answer, swaying unsteadily as she walked inside. Not until she saw me standing in the living room did she pause. “Oh, you’re here too.” Xavier caught her from behind and explained to me: “Sophia, she‘s had too much to drink. We were taking her home, but she insisted on coming here.” Mason stood in the doorway, his expression somewhat uncomfortable as he glanced at me. Then his gaze swept to Ethan, his tone turning sharp: “Ethan, your wife is home. Don’t you know how to avoid suspicion?” Ethan froze for a moment, then frowned and shot back: “You got her this drunk and brought her to my place, and you want me to avoid suspicion?” “I got her drunk? It‘s because you posted that ’newly single‘ status!” Mason let out a cold laugh and stepped aside. “Fine, you’re so noble, so proper. I‘ve delivered the person who got drunk over you. Do what you want.” The two men stood on either side of the door. The air seemed frozen. Xavier, caught in the middle, coughed awkwardly: “Alright, alright, stop fighting. Vivian just came by since it was on the way—” I stood in the center of the living room, watching this performance from start to finish. They were too coordinated. If I hadn‘t personally heard them toasting together, I might have believed their mutual hostility was real. All along, I’d thought the bond between Xavier, Mason, and me was unbreakable. At my most loyal, I‘d even married both of them. My parents died early, and my grandfather was always busy. Those two filled my entire childhood and adolescence. Xavier was there whenever I had troubles in school. Mason even took a knife for me from a kidnapper. To me, they were closer than family. But when did our ironclad triangle become like this? Probably starting in high school, the year Vivian Lane appeared. A new circle formed outside our group. I gradually became the neglected remnant. Only when they needed my help would they remember me… I withdrew my gaze, no longer looking at them. Some cracks weren’t formed today. I just chose to see them today. “Your timing is perfect. There‘s something I’d like you to witness in person.” I walked to the coffee table and picked up the divorce agreement: “Two copies, I‘ve already signed both. Since everyone’s here, might as well look them over clearly.” Ethan‘s expression shifted slightly, but he quickly caught on. By bringing up the divorce in front of Xavier and Mason on my own initiative, I was proving to them what I was willing to do for him. His eyes showed a hint of pride. “Sophia,” he walked over, his tone soothing, “we can discuss this privately. There’s no need—” “Since she‘s already brought it out,” Vivian suddenly spoke up, “can I ask—when are you moving out?” The living room fell silent for a moment. Ethan frowned. Vivian didn’t look at him, only at me, her expression innocent: “After all, this house is in my name. You can‘t keep living here forever, right?” I froze. The house was in her name? I instinctively looked at Ethan. He avoided my gaze, his throat bobbing, but he didn’t contradict her. In that instant, countless images surged through my mind. The day we moved in, he held my hand and said “this is our home.” When buying the house, he said “I‘ll handle the paperwork, you don’t need to worry.” I happily took charge of choosing curtains, sofas, and the dining table… Every piece of furniture here—I‘d made trip after trip to the home goods store to pick them out. Everything was arranged according to his preferences… I’d never cared whose name was on the deed. But I never imagined that our marital home would be in another woman‘s name! I looked down at the agreement in my hands and laughed. “I’ll leave now.”

“Sophia…” Ethan took a step forward. “Tomorrow at nine, City Hall.” I didn‘t turn around, pulling my suitcase to the door—changing shoes, opening the door, all in one smooth motion. The hallway lights brightened then dimmed. While waiting for the elevator, I could still hear voices from inside: “Not bad! She was even more cooperative than when I asked her to get married!” Laughter mixed with voices exploded dully behind the door. I stood by the elevator, listening to this unfamiliar story. The reflection in the mirror looked calmer than I’d imagined. Not until I got in the taxi did my phone vibrate. A message from Ethan: About the house, I‘ll explain… Be good. Find a place to stay for now. I’ll pick you up in a few days. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then flipped my phone face-down on my lap. Outside the car window, streetlights retreated one by one. Pick me up in a few days? As if I‘d just gone out to buy groceries and would be back soon. I leaned against the seat and closed my eyes. No need, Ethan. You don’t need to pick me up. The next morning at nine, outside City Hall. When I arrived, Ethan was already waiting. He was leaning against his car door. When he saw me get out, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked over. “Where did you stay last night?” he asked. “My grandfather‘s place.” He nodded. His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, then he suddenly reached out as if to touch my hair. I tilted my head away. His hand hung in midair for a second before he pulled it back. “Sophia,” he lowered his voice, his tone carrying a certain confident gentleness, “you saved face for me in front of Xavier and Mason. I appreciate that.” “As for the house…” he paused, “Vivian needed property in the city to get residency. I figured it was just putting her name on it. You married down anyway, so I thought you wouldn’t care about these things. That‘s why I didn’t tell you.” I looked into his eyes without speaking. Wouldn‘t care? He gave my marital home to another woman. And brushed it off with “you’re wealthy, you won‘t care”? He didn’t think I wouldn‘t care. He simply didn’t care whether I cared or not. “Anyway, you do have the right to live there!” “After the divorce, stay somewhere else for a while,” he continued arranging, “Once I‘ve handled things on my end, I’ll bring you back.” I almost laughed out loud. Even now, he still thought all of this was me playing along with his act. “Let‘s go,” I didn’t respond to his words, turning toward City Hall. “Let‘s handle the paperwork.” His footsteps quickly followed. The process went faster than expected. Signing, fingerprints, submitting photos. The clerk finally pressed down the steel stamp with a soft click. The divorce certificate in my hand was thin, a small booklet similar to the marriage certificate, just a different color. Ethan glanced at his phone, his brow furrowing. “I need to take a call,” he told me. “Wait here for me. I’ll give you a ride back in a bit.” He walked a few steps away and answered the phone. His voice was very low, but two words still drifted over: “Vivian…” I stood there, quietly watching his back. After hanging up, he quickly returned, looking somewhat urgent: “Something came up. Head back on your own. I‘ll contact you later.” After he walked out the main entrance, I slowly turned and headed toward the marriage registration window at the other end.

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A New York tycoon named Holden Lancaster sponsored two poor students. One was the pure and innocent Charlotte Shaw. The other was me—beautiful on the outside, but supposedly brainless. The difference was that the former was someone he begged on his knees to sponsor. The latter was me, who shamelessly begged him for help. Years later, I became Holden Lancaster’s secret lover. And Charlotte returned from studying abroad. At nine PM, while Holden and I were having sex and he was about to change positions. I caught a faint whiff of gardenia perfume on the back of his neck. At that moment, my scalp tingled. I realized almost instantly— Charlotte was back. She had once stepped on my finger bones with her dance shoes in the studio. Cheerfully cut up my practice clothes with scissors in the changing room. And cursed me out as a shameless seductress in front of everyone. The scent drifting from her body was this same disgusting fragrance. Holden bit my ear, his eyes full of desire. I instantly lost all interest. I pushed him away. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” Holden indulged me, lighting a post-sex cigarette and laughing. “Tsk, which one of us is supposed to be the sugar daddy here?” That scent still lingered on him. I opened my mouth, about to ask about it. His phone rang. A weak female voice came through the receiver. “Holden, I drank too much and my stomach hurts. Can you come pick me up?” “If it’s not convenient, never mind…” Holden’s expression changed instantly. He hung up the phone and brushed me off without leaving a trace. “Something urgent came up at the company. Go to sleep early.” Watching his panicked, retreating figure, I lay in the darkness with my eyes open. Suddenly I remembered a few things. When I first received his sponsorship, rumors that I was being kept spread throughout the entire school. I anxiously explained to everyone, but Holden took a phone call and told me: Forget it. The year I graduated, I received a spot to study abroad. Charlotte wanted to go too. Holden looked at me affectionately and said: Eve, stay by my side. In my third year with Holden, I got pregnant. An overseas call came in. Holden said with difficulty: Get rid of it. Now isn’t the right time. And now, I’d slept in the same bed with him for over a thousand nights. But I still couldn’t compete with one phone call from Charlotte. Half an hour later, Holden’s close friend posted on social media. A photo with a location tag. Caption: [True love conquers all! Congratulations to Holden for finally winning over his one true love!] In the picture, Charlotte nestled in Holden’s arms as he kissed her forehead. The usually wild and reckless man’s eyes held no trace of frivolity, only tenderness. Just a kiss. I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into my flesh. Telling myself not to care. In all of New York, seven whole years of support—what was one kiss? Just as I was about to put down my phone. A notification popped up on Instagram: Charlotte followed you.

She wanted me to search for clues on her Instagram. So I obliged. I discovered— On Christmas Eve, my birthday, he didn’t come home not because he couldn’t, but because he was abroad making apple pie with Charlotte. When I had a fever of 104 degrees and a concerned neighbor called an ambulance, he boarded a red-eye flight because Charlotte had a nightmare. Six months ago, when I passed out on set from period cramps, he was making chocolate in Charlotte’s apartment. I scrolled down bit by bit. My finger swiped rapidly across the screen. Calm, as if I were an outsider to whom this had nothing to do. Until I saw one particular photo. My heart suddenly plummeted with pain. Japan, in a snowstorm. They were in snowy Hokkaido, soaking in hot springs and sipping fine wine. Holden reached under Charlotte’s arms, lifted her up, and carefully tossed her into the thick snow. He was laughing so happily. I had never seen such an unrestrained smile on Holden’s face. Charlotte’s caption: [Even this rigid iceberg melts for me.] The date in the bottom right corner of the picture was glaring. That day, I lay alone in a cold operating room, having my child removed. After the abortion, I felt completely hollow inside. I asked him when he’d be back from his business trip. He only replied with one word: Busy. A rumble of thunder. Raindrops violently struck the window, pulling me from my memories. The rain was pouring down. He wouldn’t be coming back tonight. I turned off my phone to go to sleep. Charlotte’s message popped up at just the right moment: “Eve, Holden’s drunk. Can you come pick him up?” In the end, I still went. When I arrived at the private room, they were playing Truth or Dare. Holden’s buddies chimed in one after another. “Holden, you waited for Charlotte for so long, and finally got what you wanted.” “What about Eve… how do you plan to handle that?” Holden’s expression darkened. “What? You got your eye on her?” “I wouldn’t dare!” The man sneered. “Holden’s woman—who would dare touch her?” “Seven years ago you got with her to practice your bedroom skills. Our Charlotte is really blessed now.” “But after sleeping with her for so many years, you must have learned some techniques, right?” I looked at them coldly, my heart colder than being thrown into an ice cellar. Holden’s words were like a dull knife, viciously cutting into my heart. “Want to know? You could try her yourself.” Amid the laughter, Charlotte’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh my… don’t you people have any shame? Eve isn’t that kind of person!” “If she hadn’t given me her study abroad spot, maybe right now she’d be returning home with both academic and career success.” “How is she not?” Someone picked up the thread. “Holden, what do you say?” The private room fell silent. Holden smirked. “She came to my door herself. I did have a pretty good time.”

Holden wasn’t wrong. Between us, I really did deliver myself to his door. During my sophomore year, the entire Arts Academy was buzzing that New York’s Mr. Lancaster was pursuing Charlotte. Tens of thousands of fireworks, declarations of love at lavish parties, luxury handbags arriving until her hands went soft. His methods of courtship were always spectacular. No woman could refuse. Except for Charlotte, the proud poor student. She threw the card on the ground and stomped on it hard, her face full of shame and anger. “I may be poor, but I have my pride.” “I’d rather you kill me than accept your dirty money!” After she left, Holden wasn’t annoyed. He just raised an eyebrow slightly, the expression on his face obvious. Woman, you’ve successfully caught my attention. That day, I received news of my parents’ death in a car accident. After returning to my hometown for the funeral, working three part-time jobs in rotation, starving and famished— I picked up that card that had been crushed under dance shoes. “Mr. Lancaster, isn’t sponsoring anyone the same?” “Why don’t you sponsor me instead?” Holden’s eyes swept over my face, my chest, my slender waist. He quickly had someone draft a sponsorship agreement. He would support my continued education, and I needed to obey all his commands. From that day on, Charlotte always looked at me with subtle contempt. She coldly watched me get into Holden’s luxury car, watched as Holden transferred to me all the treatment he’d given her. The next day, rumors that I was being kept spread throughout the school. She made a big show of telling the entire Arts Academy that I was a shameless slut with no parents to teach me manners. I kept my head down and said nothing. Counting down the days until I could leave. Even Holden had probably forgotten. The seven-year agreement—today was only seven days from the deadline. When the party broke up, it had just passed 2 AM. Holden opened the private room door, saw me, and a smile spread across his lips. His tall body drunkenly lunged at me, pulling me into his embrace. “So obedient today? You knew to come pick me up.” Those lips that had kissed Charlotte moved close to my ear, about to kiss me. I subtly dodged. “The rain was too heavy. I was afraid you couldn’t find your way home.” In the car, he watched Charlotte’s retreating figure and said casually. “Charlotte’s back in the country. She doesn’t want to see anyone else around me.” “Eve, you should find yourself a boyfriend when you have time.” I nodded. “Okay.” His smile froze slightly. He turned sharply to look at me. “With me as your standard, don’t find some worthless man and embarrass me.” “How about I introduce you to someone?” Holden’s face showed several shades of anger. “My buddy, the second young master of the Brown family—a ladies’ man who loves women with flexible waists in bed.” “Or the third young master Smith—a bit mediocre, and he has a fiancée in name only, but for a man, that’s normal.” “If you’re with them, at least I can rest easy…” I calmly interrupted him. “Holden, my parents named me Eve.” “They hoped I would always be happy and joyful, not that I should use my body to please men.” I looked out the window, my voice not loud but very clear. “So—” “From now on, I only want to please myself.”

That night, Holden was startled by the look in my eyes. He could only pretend not to care and change the subject. He lay beside me and quickly fell asleep, breathing evenly. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I found that card from the inner compartment of my wallet. In all my years as a dance performer, I had never slacked off for a single day. Dancing during my period, doing wire work, rock climbing—whatever was dirty or exhausting, I took it. Because I understood. Only money was my greatest source of confidence. Seven years, seventy million dollars. I wanted to return it to him with interest. Currently only one final payment remained. The next day when I arrived on set, I saw Charlotte. She wore high heels, a screenwriter’s work badge around her neck, and intimately grabbed my wrist. Feigning surprise. “Eve? I never expected to see you here.” I pulled my hand back, smiling without warmth. “What bad luck—we just saw each other last night.” “Thanks to you, my old friend, keeping him entertained. Holden slept very well last night.” At those words, Charlotte’s smile froze on her face, jealousy rapidly spreading from her eyes. Sure enough, Charlotte added a kissing scene before filming started. The director looked troubled. “Miss Shaw, Mr. Lancaster specifically instructed that Eve has three no’s.” “No kissing scenes, no bed scenes, no intimate scenes.” “This… we can’t really go against his wishes.” Charlotte smiled slightly. She seemingly casually made a phone call, and after chatting for just a few sentences, the director received instructions. “Let’s start filming. Everything follows Miss Shaw’s wishes.” Meeting my gaze, her smile carried provocation. “This is what makes a good actress professional, Eve. Don’t you agree?” I spoke: “I have no objections.” My co-star was still young, his face flushing red with embarrassment. Before filming, I said expressionlessly to comfort him: “Excuse me.” The next second, under the photography lights, I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around the young man’s neck. And kissed him, light as a dragonfly touching water. The scene was beautiful. Holden witnessed this with his own eyes. “Bang!” The photography equipment was kicked over. He forgot he’d come to pick Charlotte up from work, forgot what he’d said last night, and strode forward amid everyone’s terrified gazes. He forcefully dragged me to the car. The sound of the car locks clicking was accompanied by the sound of my sundress being torn open. “What? Already found your next meal ticket?” “You kissed him? What’s your next step together?” “Did he touch you? Does he know where you’re most sensitive? Has he been… here?” “Slap—” Unable to bear it any longer, I slapped him across the face. Holden was stunned by the blow. I pulled up my zipper and looked calmly into his eyes. “The kissing scene was Charlotte’s idea. The director got your approval too.” “And yesterday, you told me to find someone else.” “You knew, you acquiesced, you allowed it, and now you’re having a fit with me?” His lips moved, wanting to explain something. But I laughed. “Holden, I have no obligation to remain chaste for you.”

The cold war began. For an entire week, I didn’t appear before Holden. Instead, his romantic affairs with Charlotte made entertainment headlines multiple times. [First Love Returns, Mr. Lancaster Furious for His Beauty!] He allowed her to use the Lancaster Group’s reputation to establish herself in the screenwriting industry. He indulged her bidding wars at auctions, sent her roses throughout the city, cooked for her with his own hands. Holden showed his affection openly, afraid no one would know. I watched coldly, packing up all my belongings in the apartment. Then I called a courier service and had the card, along with the sponsorship agreement I’d signed seven years ago, delivered by a delivery driver. Dragging my suitcase, I found myself somewhat laughable. After all these busy, rushing years in New York, I had nothing left behind. Seventy million dollars, my seven years of youth. I returned it all to him. Before leaving, I walked into a shopping mall in a daze and stopped at a jewelry shop. A pink diamond sparkled with a hazy glow under the display lights, like a rose wrapped in moonlight. The string of zeros on the price tag killed my impulse. Just as I was about to leave, I ran into Holden and Charlotte. Charlotte also had her eye on it at first glance. The sales clerk immediately fawned over them. “Mr. Lancaster has such good taste! This pink diamond is the only one in all of New York, extremely rare!” Holden’s hand wrapped around Charlotte’s waist, his lips curving upward. But his eyes looked straight at me. “What worthless trinket? My fiancée likes it—that’s its honor.” Fiancée? My heart trembled. I stopped in my tracks. In the past, when things got intense, I’d curl up in Holden’s arms crying like a walnut over Korean dramas. Back then I felt a bit giddy. “If someone proposed to me with a unique ring in the world, I’d definitely say yes.” The man had kissed my fingertips carelessly and laughed. “That’s all it takes?” In the end, that pink diamond was placed on Charlotte’s slender finger. She held Holden’s arm, smiling graciously. “Eve, I’ve always considered you a friend all these years.” “Now that Holden and I have found happiness, you need to work hard too!” I smiled woodenly. “Congratulations on your wedding. I wish you and Mr. Lancaster a happy marriage.” Just a few steps out of the shop, someone grabbed my wrist and pressed me against the mall’s fire escape. He leaned in abruptly, his burning kiss falling on my collarbone. “What did you mean by that just now?” I tried to pull my hand away but couldn’t. The anger I’d suppressed for so long ignited in my heart. I kicked hard at his groin. “Exactly what I said.” “Can’t Mr. Lancaster understand plain English?” His expression instantly turned cold, his teeth clenched. “Eve, think carefully.” “Take this step, and we’re completely done.” I made a sound of acknowledgment, walked steadily, and never looked back. The moment I boarded the plane. I blocked all of Holden’s contact information. Then I snapped my SIM card in half and threw it in the trash. At the same time, at a wild party in some high-end venue, Holden sat alone in a corner. He poured drink after drink into his stomach, his eyes quickly turning bloodshot. Charlotte stood up amid everyone’s encouragement, her face flushed. “Holden, I have something I want to say to you.” Just then, a security guard knocked on the door and respectfully presented a package. “Mr. Lancaster, this is something Miss Eve sent you.”

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Our third anniversary. I waited all night. But my husband was with his lover, protecting her baby. He forced me, pregnant, to apologize to his mistress and called me cruel. They forced me to down seven glasses of liquor. Before I passed out from vomiting blood, I told him. “The child in my belly was killed by your own hands. Are you satisfied now?” He knelt and begged for forgiveness like a madman. But he didn’t know that I had already taken the check his mother gave me and flown to a world without him. This time, I would make sure he regretted it for the rest of his life. Natalie’s POV The clock hand slowly slid past midnight. I sat at the empty dining table, staring at the completely melted ice cream cake in front of me. Today was our third wedding anniversary. It was also the day Ethan promised that no matter how busy he was, he would rush home to be with me. But he broke his promise. Outside the window, thunder and lightning raged. Lightning split the pitch-black sky, illuminating the villa’s pale walls in a blinding flash. I took out my phone. The screen was completely empty. Not a single message. Not one missed call. I took a deep breath and dialed the number I knew by heart. The phone rang for a long time before someone answered. “Hello.” The man’s voice carried a trace of fatigue and impatience. “Ethan, when are you coming home? I’m still waiting for you.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but my fingers nervously twisted the corner of my clothes. There was two seconds of silence on the other end. Then, a delicate female voice suddenly came through, tinged with a suppressed sob. “Ethan… I’m scared…” My heart sank suddenly, as if plunging into a bottomless ice cellar. Vivian. It was Vivian again. “Natalie,” Ethan’s tone instantly turned cold, carrying an unquestionable commanding tone. “Something happened with Vivian. She’s been afraid of thunder since childhood, and today she’s very emotionally unstable. I’m not coming home tonight. Go to bed early.” “But today is our-” “Natalie!” He raised his voice and cut me off. “Vivian can’t be left alone right now. Can’t you be understanding? It’s just an anniversary. We’ll have plenty of time to make it up later. Stop being so unreasonable!” Unreasonable? I forced a bitter smile, my eyes burning. In three years of marriage, whenever Vivian made one phone call, even if it was the middle of the night, even if Ethan had a high fever, he would push me away without hesitation and rush to that woman. “Ethan, I’m only going to ask you one thing.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting blood. “If you don’t go out today, will you actually die?” “What are you going crazy about?” Ethan was clearly angry. “Vivian has severe depression. If she does something foolish, can you take responsibility? Natalie, when did you become so vicious!” The call was mercilessly disconnected. I stared blankly at the darkened screen, and tears finally broke through like a dam. Vicious? I just wanted my own husband to stay home on our third anniversary and eat a piece of cake with me. And that made me vicious? I stood up and walked to the dining room trash can. I took the cake I’d spent all afternoon making by hand, the one that had burned my hand when I unmolded it, and threw it in, plate and all. Cream splattered everywhere, just like my three year marriage, falling apart into something unrecognizable. At two in the morning, the rain fell even harder. My head felt like it was splitting, and my stomach churned with waves of pain. I already had a stomach condition. Today, waiting for Ethan, I hadn’t had a drop of water since noon. I fumbled to get my stomach medicine from the drawer, only to find the bottle had long been empty. Pain. Piercing pain. I curled up on the sofa, cold sweat soaking through my thin nightgown. I wanted to call Ethan, but thinking of his earlier word “vicious,” my fingertips froze. With trembling hands, I called my assistant Jake. Half an hour later, Jake arrived with an umbrella and took me, nearly unconscious from pain, to the hospital. By the time I was hooked up to an IV, dawn had already broken. The emergency room corridor was cold and deserted, with only the pungent smell of disinfectant making me want to vomit. I leaned against the hospital bed, watching the IV drip down drop by drop, my eyes vacant. “Miss Davis, you really can’t keep putting off this stomach condition. You need to eat on time. Where’s your family? Why are you here alone?” When the nurse came to change my medication, she couldn’t help but ask. “He’s… busy.” I lowered my eyes. Just then, urgent footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. I instinctively looked up, but the moment I saw who it was, my blood instantly froze. Ethan. He wore the same trench coat he’d had on when he left last night. In his arms, he carefully cradled a woman. The woman buried her face deep in his chest, wearing his suit jacket draped over her. “Doctor! Where’s the doctor? She slit her wrists!” Ethan’s voice carried unprecedented panic and loss of control. This was an Ethan I had never seen. Even when we got married and he read his vows, he had only looked indifferent. But now, for Vivian, even his voice was trembling. The two rushed past my hospital room. Ethan’s gaze was locked on the person in his arms. He didn’t even glance sideways. I stared at that retreating figure, feeling the stabbing pain in my stomach spread to my heart. It hurt so much that even breathing became a luxury.

Natalie’s POV Vivian was successfully resuscitated. Actually, the wound wasn’t deep. The doctor said it only broke the surface skin and didn’t even need stitches, just bandaging. But Ethan acted as if it were a matter of life and death. He insisted on arranging the highest-level VIP room for her and stayed by her side every moment. I pulled out the IV needle and, supporting my weak body, shuffled step by step to the VIP room entrance. The door was ajar. The voices inside clearly hammered into my ears. “Ethan, I’m sorry… I’ve caused you trouble again.” Vivian leaned against the headboard, her eyes red and rimmed with tears that fell like broken pearls. “I was just so scared. The sound of thunder made me feel like the whole world had abandoned me. I know yesterday was your anniversary with Natalie. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You should go back. Natalie must be angry with me…” The more she spoke, the more aggrieved she became, clutching the blanket, her thin shoulders shaking. Ethan sat by the bed and gently reached up to wipe away her tears, his movements so tender they could drip water. “Don’t overthink it.” He softened his voice, his tone full of indulgence and heartache. “Whether she’s angry or not doesn’t matter. Your health is what’s most important. Don’t ever do something this foolish again, understand?” “But Natalie…” “Don’t worry about her.” Ethan frowned, a flash of disgust in his eyes. “If she doesn’t even have this much tolerance, she doesn’t deserve to sit in the position of Mrs. Shaw.” I stood outside the door, feeling as if all the blood had been drained from my body in an instant. Doesn’t deserve. So in my husband’s heart, I didn’t even have the right to be angry. If I didn’t accommodate Vivian, I lacked tolerance and didn’t deserve my position. I took a deep breath and suddenly pushed open the ajar door. “Bang!” The two people in the room simultaneously turned their heads. Vivian shrank into Ethan’s arms like a startled deer, her voice trembling as she called out. “Natalie…” Ethan’s face instantly darkened. He immediately used his body to shield Vivian, as if protecting a rare treasure, and looked at me coldly. “What are you doing here?” His gaze landed on my face but didn’t linger for half a second, only filled with questioning. “Who told you to find this place?” “This is a hospital. Why can’t I be here?” I pulled at my dry, cracked lips and smiled. “Ethan, I’m your wife. Can’t I come visit your ‘little sister’?” I deliberately emphasized the words “little sister.” Ethan’s brow furrowed even tighter. He stood up, strode over to me, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me toward the door. “Natalie, stop being disgusting! Vivian just suffered a shock and can’t handle your attitude. Get out of here right now!” His grip was extremely strong. Already weak, I stumbled when he yanked me, and my knee slammed hard into the door frame. Piercing pain. But I didn’t cry out. I just stared at the man in front of me. “Ethan, I had acute gastric bleeding last night. I was alone in the emergency room on an IV all night.” My voice was very soft. “When you were holding her and shouting for help, did you ever think that your wife was also dying from pain?” Ethan froze for a moment. His gaze unconsciously fell on the back of my hand. There was indeed a bruise there, left from when I’d pulled out the IV needle. A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by irritation. “You’re standing right here, aren’t you?” His face was cold, his voice stiff. “A stomachache. Just take some medicine. Did you have to come here at this moment to play the victim in front of Vivian? Natalie, you weren’t this petty before.” Petty? Playing the victim? I suddenly felt the absurdity of it all. I burst out laughing, laughing until tears came out. “Yes, I’m petty. I’m playing the victim. Vivian barely scratches her skin and it’s life or death, but my gastric bleeding is my own fault, right?” I forcefully shook off Ethan’s hand and took a step back. “Ethan, you disgust me.” With that, I turned and walked away, my spine straight. But only I knew that my heart had shattered into powder at this moment. Ethan instinctively took a step forward, as if wanting to grab me. “Ethan…” Vivian on the bed suddenly clutched her chest and let out a pained moan. “My chest hurts so much…” Ethan immediately stopped and rushed back to the bed. “Doctor! Get a doctor here immediately!” In the corridor, I listened to the anxious shouts behind me, and tears silently fell from the corners of my eyes. This round, I lost again. And I lost completely.

Natalie’s POV Three days later, the Shaw family estate held a banquet. I didn’t want to go, but Ethan’s grandfather, Samuel Shaw, personally called me. I was only able to marry into the Shaw family because he insisted, despite everyone’s opposition. In this family, Samuel was the only person who genuinely cared about me. I put on slightly heavier makeup to cover the haggardness from days of insomnia and stomach pain. As soon as I walked into the living room, the originally lively atmosphere instantly turned cold. Everyone’s gaze fell behind me. I turned around. Ethan had his arm around Vivian’s shoulder and was slowly walking in. Vivian wore a pure white haute couture gown, like a fragile porcelain doll, frail and boneless as she leaned against the man. That dress was a globally limited edition from a certain luxury brand. I’d seen it once in a magazine and casually mentioned it looked nice. At the time, Ethan promised it would be my third anniversary gift. Now, that dress was on Vivian. How ironic. “Natalie, don’t misunderstand.” Seeing me, Vivian immediately pulled away from Ethan as if electrocuted, nervously clutching her dress. “Mr. Shaw said the banquet would be lively. Ethan was afraid I’d be bored alone in the hospital, so he brought me to get some fresh air.” How thoughtful. I watched her clumsy performance coldly and said word by word: “Since when are outsiders allowed at Shaw family banquets?” As soon as I spoke, the surroundings fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. Ethan’s expression instantly sank to rock bottom. He pulled Vivian back to his side, his gaze cutting at me like a knife. “Natalie, watch your words. Vivian is my lifesaver. In this family, she is not an outsider.” Lifesaver. That damned lifesaver again. Years ago, when Ethan was kidnapped, Vivian took a knife for him. Because of that one knife, Ethan worshipped Vivian like a deity, giving her the stars if not the moon. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to speak, Samuel came down from upstairs with his cane. “What’s all this noise!” Samuel’s authoritative voice echoed through the hall. He walked downstairs, glared fiercely at Ethan, then waved at me. “Natalie, come help me to the dining room.” Suppressing my bitterness, I walked over and supported Samuel. During the meal, the atmosphere was bizarrely tense. Vivian sat next to Ethan like a person who couldn’t take care of herself. She wanted soup, Ethan personally ladled it for her. She looked at the shrimp in the distance, Ethan put on gloves to peel them for her. All his gentleness, all his patience, went entirely to her. And I, the legitimate Mrs. Shaw, was ignored by everyone. “Ethan, I want to eat that salmon.” Vivian pointed at the poached salmon in front of me. Samuel had specifically ordered the kitchen to make it for me. Without even glancing at me, Ethan stood up and placed it in front of Vivian. “Eat more. You’re too thin.” My grip on my chopsticks tightened sharply. “Enough!” Samuel finally couldn’t take it anymore and slammed his chopsticks on the table. “Ethan, do you even see your wife anymore?!” Ethan paused, his tone flat but rebellious. “Vivian’s body is weak. She needs nutrition. Natalie is healthy. She can eat anything.” Can eat anything. My stomach began to ache faintly again. After the banquet ended, Samuel called Ethan to the study. I walked alone to the back garden for air. The night breeze was cool, blowing against my face and clearing my head somewhat. “Natalie.” A ghostly voice sounded behind me. I turned around to see Vivian holding a glass of red wine, slowly walking toward me. Where was the frail, helpless appearance from the dining table? Now her eyes were full of provocation and triumph. “Can I help you?” I looked at her coldly. “Nothing much. Just wanted to thank you.” Vivian walked up to me and looked down at her white dress. “This dress is so beautiful. Ethan said only I deserve to wear it. What do you think, Natalie?” I smiled instead of getting angry. “Someone else’s hand-me-down trash that you treat like treasure. I have nothing to say.” Vivian’s face instantly twisted. “Natalie, what are you so smug about?” She lowered her voice. “You think occupying the position of Mrs. Shaw means anything? Ethan doesn’t love you at all! He won’t even touch you!” “Whether he touches me or not is none of your business. As long as I don’t divorce, you’ll forever be a mistress who can’t show her face in public.” I didn’t back down. “Is that so?” Vivian suddenly smiled strangely. The next second, she violently splashed the red wine in her hand onto her own dress, then grabbed my hand and shoved it hard against herself. Vivian screamed and rolled down the steps. I stood frozen, not yet understanding what had happened, when a dark figure charged over like an enraged leopard. “Vivian!” Ethan shoved me aside, the force so great it threw me directly into the nearby rose bushes. Sharp thorns pierced my palm, and blood immediately gushed out. But Ethan couldn’t see it at all. He picked up Vivian, who lay on the ground crying, then looked up at me with eyes that wanted to kill me. “Natalie, if anything happens to the child in Vivian’s belly, I’ll make you pay with your life!” Like a thunderbolt from clear skies. I sat collapsed in the thorny rose bushes, letting blood drip down, yet feeling no pain at all. Child. Vivian was pregnant. So this was what he meant when he said he wouldn’t even touch me.

Natalie’s POV I don’t know how I made it back to the villa. The wound in my palm from the rose thorns was deep enough to see flesh, dried blood crusted on my pale skin, a shocking sight. But I sat on the sofa, paying no attention. In my mind, I kept replaying Ethan’s furious and cruel eyes when he picked up Vivian, and those words: “If anything happens to the child in Vivian’s belly, I’ll make you pay with your life.” He wanted me to pay with my life. For Vivian’s child. These three years, to cure his stomach condition, I enrolled in cooking classes. To have common topics with him, I stayed up late reading boring business reports. To please his family, I endured countless grievances. I thought even a stone could be warmed. But it turned out the stone was only cold to me. Suddenly, a sharp wave of nausea surged up from my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom and violently vomited over the toilet. I hadn’t eaten anything in the evening. What came up was all acid, and by the end, there were even faint traces of blood. I leaned weakly against the cold tiles, my hand trembling as it touched my lower abdomen. A few days ago, feeling unwell, I had taken a pregnancy test. Two lines. I had planned to tell Ethan this good news on our third anniversary. I thought that with a child, the ice between us might finally melt. But now it seemed everything was a complete joke. Ding. My phone suddenly received a message. I opened the screen. It was a photo from Vivian. In the photo, Ethan was asleep lying against the hospital bed, his hand tightly holding Vivian’s, their fingers interlocked. Beside it was an ultrasound report. Though I couldn’t see the specific data, those two words were particularly glaring: Early pregnancy. Then a voice message came through. I opened it with trembling hands. “Natalie, the doctor says the baby is very healthy. Ethan said once he settles things with you, he’ll give me and the baby a proper home. You’ve occupied him for three years. It’s time to be sensible and give up your position. After all, the person who isn’t loved is the real third party.” The person who isn’t loved is the real third party. These words were like a rusty dull knife, repeatedly pulling and cutting at my heart, so painful I could barely breathe. I opened my contacts, looked at the name “Ethan,” and called. After three rings, it was answered. “Are you ever going to stop?” The man’s voice on the other end suppressed anger, even deliberately lowered to avoid waking the person beside him. “Vivian just fell asleep. What game are you playing now?” I took a deep breath. “Ethan, is it true she’s pregnant?” There was an eerie silence for a few seconds on the other end. “Yes.” Ethan’s voice no longer hid anything, carrying a kind of reckless indifference. “Since you already know, there’s no need for me to hide it. This child was an accident, but since it exists, I have to be responsible.” “Responsible?” I laughed. “You’re being responsible to her. What about me? I’m your wife. You cheated during our marriage and got someone else pregnant. Don’t you feel even a bit sorry for me?” “Natalie, don’t use that victim tone with me!” Ethan completely lost his patience. “If my grandfather hadn’t threatened to die, do you think I would have married you? These three years, you’ve held the title of Mrs. Shaw and enjoyed wealth and privilege most people never experience. What more do you want? I haven’t even settled with you for pushing Vivian tonight. You’d better behave!” “What if I said I didn’t push her at all?” My voice trembled. “Enough! I saw it with my own eyes. Can that be fake? You’re hopeless!” The call was once again mercilessly disconnected. I closed my eyes. Tears silently slid from the corners, shattering into a puddle on the cold tiles. I thought I would be hysterical, thought I would break down crying. But when this moment truly arrived, I found my heart was completely hollow. All my expectations, all my love, crumbled at his words “hopeless.” Early the next morning, I went to the hospital. But not to the VIP ward. I went to the obstetrics department. On the way out this morning, my mind was in a daze. I fell down the stairs and miscarried on the spot. I cried my heart out. I’m sorry, baby. Mommy can’t bring you into this world to suffer. Your father has already given all his love to someone else. Rather than have you born unwanted, it’s better you never appeared at all. From now on, Ethan and I are finished.

Natalie’s POV After the miscarriage, I left the hospital and went straight back to the villa. This house I’d lived in for three years was filled everywhere with traces of my careful arrangement. The plants I’d personally grown on the balcony, the throw pillows I’d chosen for the sofa, even the matching couple’s mugs on the coffee table. I thought this was home. It was actually just a gilded cage. I walked into the bedroom and pulled out the suitcase from the bottom of the closet. I didn’t take any of the designer bags or expensive jewelry Ethan bought me. Only the few old clothes I’d brought when I came, and some necessities. When I reached the nightstand, I saw that velvet box. Inside was the wedding ring. A diamond the size of a quail’s egg, dazzling and brilliant. When we got married, Ethan had his assistant randomly pick out the ring. He said he was too busy and didn’t have time to try it on. I removed the ring and placed it in the box, gently closing it. Everything was over. I sat at the desk and took out a document I’d drafted long ago from the drawer. Divorce Agreement. Without a moment’s hesitation, I signed “Natalie Davis” in the wife’s signature column. I had not a shred of reluctance. I asked for nothing and left with nothing. As long as I could escape this man, I found even a single penny dirty. After neatly placing the divorce agreement and wedding ring in the most visible spot on the dining table, I dragged my suitcase to the entryway. Just then, the door suddenly beeped open. Ethan walked in, travel-worn. He still carried the smell of hospital disinfectant, exhaustion written all over his face. Seeing me standing in the entryway holding a suitcase, his brow instantly knotted into a tight frown. “What are you making a fuss about now?” Ethan looked at me coldly, his tone full of impatience. “Vivian’s been in the hospital these past few days preserving her pregnancy. I don’t have time to come back and perform this running-away-from-home act with you.” He stopped in front of me, his gaze sweeping over the cheap old suitcase in my hand, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes. “What? Upset I didn’t spend time with you, so you’re using this trick to force me to give in?” He loosened his tie and casually tossed his suit jacket on the sofa. “Natalie, can’t you be more mature? Vivian is pregnant and her body is very weak. I was there taking care of her, not playing around. Can’t you be understanding and stop causing trouble at times like this?” Understanding. Causing trouble. Looking at this man I’d loved for seven years and been married to for three, I only felt he was terrifyingly unfamiliar. I suddenly felt like laughing, and I actually did laugh. “What are you laughing at?” Ethan was extremely irritated. “Nothing.” I shook my head, looking at him like a complete stranger. “Ethan, I’m not making a fuss, and I’m not performing. I’m really leaving.” “Leaving?” Ethan seemed to hear the world’s biggest joke. He stepped closer, looking down at me from above. “Natalie, without me, you don’t even have the capital to survive in this city! The moment you walk out that door, tomorrow you’ll come crawling back like a dog begging me to let you return!” I looked at him without arguing, just quietly looking. “Say whatever you want.” I gripped the suitcase handle tightly. “I’ve left everything behind. The divorce agreement is on the dining table. I’ve already signed it. Whenever you have time, we’ll go process it. If you’re not available, you can have your lawyer contact me.” Ethan froze. He instinctively turned to look at the dining table. There was indeed a document there, with that familiar velvet box on top. “Fine. Very good.” Ethan laughed in anger, pointing at the door. “Natalie, you brought this on yourself. Step out that door, and don’t ever expect me to look at you again.” “That suits me perfectly.” Without any hesitation, without even looking at him again, I walked past him, pushed open the door, and left without looking back. Bang! The security door slammed shut behind me with a heavy thud. Inside the villa, silence fell like death. I stood outside the door and took a deep breath. I didn’t look back. Because I truly didn’t love him anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “379126”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I saved amnesiac Holt Thornton and worked myself to the bone for three years to support him. But after he recovered his memories, he called me a gold-digger who seduced him for money. He let his lover force liquor down my throat, personally signed the papers, and bulldozed the home where we’d survived together. After that fiasco, I had a gastric hemorrhage and lost two-thirds of my stomach. I left with nothing and fled far away. Later, when he learned the truth, he knelt before me with red-rimmed eyes, telling me over and over that he loved me, begging me to come back. I only calmly threw him a medical diagnosis. It said I was dying. Sage’s POV San Diego nights were always dazzlingly glamorous, enough to make your head spin. I stood in the most inconspicuous corner of the ballroom, like an out-of-place intruder. I wore a black evening gown that Holt Thornton had casually told his assistant to buy an hour ago. The size was one size too big, the neckline somewhat loose. But I could only hunch my shoulders slightly, trying hard to minimize my presence. Under the crystal chandelier not far away, Holt was surrounded by a group of business executives. His impeccably tailored cold gray custom suit made his already superior physique look even more striking. He stood with one hand in his pocket, fingers holding a wine glass, occasionally lowering his head to listen to the woman beside him speak, his lips curling into an extremely faint arc. The woman standing next to him was the only daughter of the Davis Corporation, Melanie Davis. She wore the latest custom starlight dress of the season, and the diamond necklace around her neck refracted light that stung my eyes. A perfect match of talent and beauty, made for each other. This was the phrase I’d heard most tonight. “Holt, you’ve had a bit too much to drink tonight.” Melanie’s voice was soft and delicate as she naturally reached out to straighten Holt’s tie. Holt didn’t dodge. He even lowered his head, allowing Melanie’s movements. In that instant, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, even breathing pulled at raw flesh with pain. I unconsciously took a step forward. My high heels clicked on the polished marble floor, making a light sound. The people around stopped their conversations, their gazes falling on me. Melanie turned her head, and when she saw me, a flash of unconcealed contempt crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile. “And this is…” Melanie looked at Holt with feigned confusion. The smile on Holt’s face instantly faded. He looked up at me, his eyes cold as ice, as if looking at a thoughtless subordinate. “An assistant.” His thin lips parted, uttering those words. “An assistant.” The word shattered three years of our bond into pieces. I froze in place, my blood turning cold inch by inch. I was his assistant. Yes, ever since he recovered his memory and became the high and mighty head of the Thornton family again, I’d become his invisible household assistant. “Oh, just an assistant.” Melanie smiled meaningfully, picking up a glass of red wine and walking toward me. “You worked hard taking care of Holt tonight. This drink is for you.” She held out the wine glass. I bit my lower lip, about to reach for it. “Oh my!” Melanie suddenly cried out, her wrist tilting, spilling the entire glass of red wine on my ill-fitting black dress. The liquid ran down my chest, utterly humiliating. A few drops also splattered on Melanie’s dress. “Why are you so careless?” Melanie frowned, her tone full of grievance. “This is the dress Holt specially had flown in from Paris for me.” I jerked my head up. “I didn’t touch you at all!” “Enough.” An icy voice crashed down from above, carrying undeniable authority. Holt strode over, pulling Melanie behind him, his brow furrowed as he stared at me. “Holt, I think her nail scratched the back of my hand. It hurts a little.” Melanie nestled behind him, murmuring softly. Holt looked down, seeing an extremely faint red mark on Melanie’s pale hand, and the temperature around him instantly dropped to freezing. He raised his head, looking at me like I was a vicious criminal. “Apologize.” He commanded. “I didn’t push her, and I didn’t scratch her. She spilled the wine on me herself!” I clenched my dress tightly. “Sage, I told you to apologize.” Holt’s voice lowered a few degrees, dripping with impatience. “Don’t embarrass me in a place like this. Where are your manners?” Embarrassing. Manners. These words carved into my heart like knives. I looked at this cold, handsome man before me. He’d forgotten. Three years ago, when he’d injured his brain, penniless and starving, collapsed at my rental apartment door, it was this “ill-mannered” woman who fed him the last spoonful of hot soup. Now, he stood high above, and I’d become the embarrassing stain. I gave a bitter laugh, closed my eyes, and forced back the tears. “I’m sorry, Miss Davis.” With that, I turned and walked out of the ballroom step by step under everyone’s mocking gazes. Without looking back.

Sage’s POV In late autumn San Diego, a torrential rain poured down. I had no umbrella and no car. Holt’s drivers were all outside the ballroom waiting to pick him up with Melanie. I could only brave the rain, walking mechanically forward. The rain hammered my body, bone-chillingly cold, yet it couldn’t match the coldness in my heart. My heel twisted in a puddle, and a sharp pain shot through my ankle. I stumbled and fell heavily onto the muddy sidewalk. My palms scraped raw, mixing with rainwater, the pain drilling to the bone. I lay on the ground, suddenly lacking the strength to get up. It was also a rainy day. Three years ago, on that thunderstorm night, the roof of our little attic leaked, water flooding the floor. It was the second month after I’d brought Holt home. He couldn’t remember anything, only knew his name was Evan. That night, I also twisted my ankle while going downstairs to buy instant noodles, falling into the mud and crying. This man who didn’t even own a decent set of clothes, not even holding an umbrella, rushed downstairs like crazy, pulled me from the muddy water, and held me tightly in his arms. “Don’t be afraid, Sage. Evan’s here. Evan will carry you home.” He carried me on his broad back, rainwater dripping from his strong jawline. He walked very steadily. That day he said. “Sage, whenever it rains from now on, I’ll never let you walk a single step. I’ll be your legs.” Later, to buy me a box of imported medicine for my foot injury, he washed dishes at a restaurant for three days until his hands were raw and swollen. I cried from heartache, but he just smiled and kissed my eyes. “As long as Sage doesn’t hurt, I can endure anything.” The warmth of that memory was scorching, making reality that much colder. I don’t know how long I sat in the rain, until a black sedan sped past me. The wheels ran through a puddle, splashing me with dirty water. By the dim streetlight, I made out the license plate. It was Holt’s car. Through the half-lowered window, Melanie leaned on his shoulder as he turned his head to listen to her speak, his profile showing a gentleness he’d never given me. He didn’t even glance toward the roadside. Naturally, he didn’t see me lying there. I suddenly laughed, tears mixing with rainwater streaming down. Dead. My Evan had died the day he recovered his memory, in that shabby attic. The one alive now was the high and mighty CEO of Thornton Corporation, Holt Thornton. When I limped back to the villa, it was already two in the morning. This mansion covering several thousand square feet on the hillside felt as empty as a gorgeous tomb. I didn’t even turn on the lights, fumbling my way to the bathroom in the dark, rinsing my numb, frozen body with hot water. Water flowed over my collarbone. Below it was a very deep scar. It was left when Evan saved me, taking a thug’s knife meant for me. Back then he held me, blood flowing endlessly, yet still comforted me. “Sage, I’ll keep this scar, so even if you try to run away, you’ll remember me when you see it.” Now, the scar remained, but the person had changed. After showering, I curled up on the large bed, forcing myself to close my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed before the bedroom door was violently pushed open. A man reeking of alcohol and faintly of perfume walked in. Holt yanked off his tie and pressed down on me directly. He didn’t turn on the light, his movements rough without a trace of tenderness. “It hurts…” I frowned, reaching up to push him away. But Holt grabbed my wrists, pinning them firmly above my head. His warm breath sprayed against my neck as he spoke with icy cruelty. “Why did you make a scene at the banquet tonight? Isn’t the money I usually give you enough?” My heart stopped beating. In the darkness, I opened my eyes wide. “Holt, you think I did it for money?” Holt gave a cold laugh, lowering his head to bite my collarbone, right where that scar was. “What else? When you kept an amnesiac me all those years ago, wasn’t it because you saw that million-dollar watch on me, calculating that my identity must be wealthy or noble?” A roaring sound filled my head. I felt something in my brain completely explode.

Sage’s POV I never imagined that in Holt’s heart, my saving him three years ago was a calculated investment. “That watch… you had a high fever and got sick. I sold it to pay your hospital bill.” My voice trembled. “The buyer said it was a fake watch and only gave me two hundred dollars. That day, I donated four hundred milliliters of blood to scrape together your medical expenses.” In the darkness, Holt’s movements suddenly stopped. But his voice quickly grew even colder. “Enough. Stop bringing up those old things to emphasize your contributions. These three years, the material compensation I’ve given you could buy you a hundred of those dumps.” Old things. Those three years of struggling through life and death together, in his eyes, had become dismissible old things. He had no foreplay, possessing me almost like a punishment. I bit down hard on the pillow, not letting out a single whimper. I stared at the ceiling with open eyes. In this sexual encounter, there was only release, no love. After it was over, Holt got up and went to the bathroom. The sound of running water started. I lay on the bed, my whole body aching. On the nightstand, Holt’s phone suddenly lit up. It was a message. The screen wasn’t locked, and the message popped up directly. Melanie: “Holt, I’ve already had people release tonight’s media statement. Your mother loves the buzz about our engagement. Get some rest early.” Immediately following was a design sketch. It was a draft of custom wedding rings from a top-tier brand. I stared at the glaring word “engagement,” my stomach churning, and suddenly leaned over the edge of the bed retching. Holt walked out from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, frowning at me. “What now?” His tone carried undisguised impatience. “If you’re not feeling well, go find the housekeeper to get you medicine. Don’t play pitiful in front of me.” I raised my head. I pointed at the lit phone screen. “You’re getting engaged?” Holt followed my finger, his expression darkening imperceptibly. But he quickly regained his cold demeanor. He walked over to pick up his phone, saying flatly. “Just a business marriage. It’s just a publicity stunt for the two families’ cooperation, to reassure shareholders. You don’t understand these things, so don’t ask.” “I don’t understand?” I laughed. “Holt Thornton, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why, if you’re marrying her, you still keep me locked in this cage. Why did you watch her humiliate me tonight?” “Sage!” Holt’s eyes turned completely cold. “Don’t forget your position. I let you live in this villa, gave you a life of luxury. You should know your place. Don’t compare yourself to Melanie. You can’t compare.” You can’t compare. Yes, what could I compare with? She was a wealthy heiress; I was just a poor woman struggling in the mud at the bottom. “Fine.” I suddenly calmed down, looking into Holt’s eyes. “I understand.” I stopped arguing, stopped making a fuss. He didn’t say anything more, turning to go to the adjacent guest bedroom. The next morning, Holt left early for the office. I’d just started toward the kitchen to pour some water when I heard the butler respectfully open the door. “Madam, you’re here.” Holt’s mother Mrs Thornton walked in wearing haute couture, escorted by two bodyguards. Seeing me in my thin nightgown, her eyes filled with extreme disgust. She walked straight to the sofa and sat down, coldly surveying me. “Sit. I’m here today to inform you.” Mrs Thornton threw a document on the coffee table. I didn’t sit, only stared at the document. “Tomorrow, Holt will officially announce his engagement to the Davis family’s daughter. I don’t want a stain like you existing in the Thornton family’s territory.” Her tone was condescending, like dismissing a beggar. If it were before, I would have firmly told her: I’m with him not for money, and unless he personally tells me to leave, I won’t go. But now, I just stood there quietly. Mrs Thornton sneered. “Don’t expect Holt to protect you either. You really think he still cares about you? He just doesn’t want to dirty his hands getting rid of you. Take a look at this agreement.”

Sage’s POV I stepped forward and opened the agreement. Every word on it crushed what little dignity I had left. “The old city district in the south has already been acquired by Thornton Corporation. Demolition starts tomorrow.” Mrs Thornton toyed with the ring on her finger, her tone casual yet cutting with every word. “That dump you lived in for three years is on the first batch demolition list.” I jerked my head up. “That house… is our last memory.” That thirty-square-meter old house. It had the shelf Evan had nailed up for me with his own hands, the secondhand sofa we’d saved up to buy, and on the wall was the height chart Evan had drawn bit by bit with a pencil for both of us. That was my only home left in this world. “Memory?” She looked like she’d heard the biggest joke. “You used that filthy pigsty to hold my Thornton heir hostage for three years of his youth. You think that’s a memory? I think it’s the Thornton family’s greatest shame!” Mrs Thornton’s eyes suddenly turned vicious. “Sign this voluntary departure statement, take this fifty million, and disappear from Holt’s world forever. That ruin I can decide to leave standing.” “If you still won’t leave…” She stood up, looking down at me from above. “Not only that house, but you won’t survive in this city at all.” I stared hard at the document on the coffee table. My fingers trembled violently. My last shred of resistance was crumbling. I didn’t want to take this money, but even more, I couldn’t let the last traces of “Evan’s” existence be crushed by bulldozers. “Fine.” After a long while, I heard my hoarse voice speak. “I’ll sign. But I don’t want the money. Please don’t demolish the house.” Mrs Thornton was clearly stunned for a moment, then pushed the agreement in front of me, her face full of mockery. “At least you know what’s good for you.” After shakily signing “Sage” on the document, she left with her people in a grand procession. The villa returned to deathly silence. I looked at the calendar. Today was Wednesday. Tomorrow, Holt would announce his engagement. I took a deep breath, changed into clean clothes, grabbed my bag, and left. I wanted to see Holt one last time. Not to beg him to stay, just to say a complete goodbye. I took a cab to Thornton Corporation. The towering skyscraper reached into the clouds. This was Holt’s kingdom now. I walked to the front desk and said softly. “I’d like to see Mr. Thornton.” The receptionist looked me up and down. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked coldly. “No… could you please make a call for me? Just say it’s Sage…” “I’m sorry, too many women come every day pretending to look for Mr. Thornton.” The receptionist cut me off without mercy. “No appointment, no entry. Security, please escort this woman out.” I was forcefully pushed out by security. Just as I was being pushed through the revolving door, a group of bodyguards in suits cleared the way, and Holt walked out of the private elevator. Beside him were not only executives but also Melanie. “Holt, shall we go try on wedding dresses this Friday?” Melanie held his arm, her face radiant with smiles. Holt nodded slightly. Though his expression was indifferent, he didn’t refuse. He looked up and inadvertently caught sight of me being shoved outside the glass doors by security. Our eyes met. I hoped he would stop. But Holt’s brow instantly furrowed. He said something in a low voice to his special assistant Jeff, then escorted Melanie through the VIP passage on the other side and directly got in the car. Not even a second’s pause. Jeff hurried out and stopped me as I tried to move forward. “Miss Sage.” The assistant’s tone was businesslike and cold. “Mr. Thornton says don’t run around everywhere embarrassing yourself. He has an important business dinner tonight and asks you to go home first.” Embarrassing. This was Holt’s only evaluation of me now. I watched that sedan drive away, and finally cried. I didn’t go home. I went to the old city district in the south.

Sage’s POV The old district was cordoned off with warning tape. I bypassed the tape and climbed up that familiar, dilapidated building. I reached the familiar door number and had just taken out my key to unlock it. The enormous roar of excavators sounded outside the building. I ran to the window in terror and looked down. Several large excavators were leveling this area. “Wait! There’s someone inside!” I shouted down at them. But the machinery was too loud. No one could hear me. Half of this building’s load-bearing walls had already been knocked down, and the entire structure was shaking violently. Glass shattered, dust filled the air. These people weren’t starting tomorrow at all. They’d come early today to clear the site! Mrs Thornton had lied to me. Even though I’d signed, she’d never planned to preserve this “Thornton family disgrace.” “Don’t demolish it! Don’t demolish it!” I ran downstairs like mad, rushing in front of the excavator and spreading my arms to block it. The lead worker was startled, quickly stopped the machine, got out, and cursed. “Crazy woman, you want to die? Thornton Corporation bought this land ages ago. It has to be leveled today!” “This is my home!” I screamed. “What home? You don’t even have a property deed. Get lost!” The workers came up to drag me away. I clung desperately to a pillar and took out my phone. At a time like this, the only person I could call for help was the owner of this land. I dialed Holt’s number. Once, he hung up. Twice, he hung up. On the third try, the call finally connected. Only it wasn’t Holt’s voice on the other end. “Hello?” Melanie’s coquettish voice came through the receiver, with a hint of lazy displeasure at being disturbed. “Holt’s in the shower. Miss Sage, be tactful and don’t call at a time like this to spoil the mood.” My brain buzzed, going completely blank. He was at the office this afternoon, and at seven in the evening they were showering. What kind of shower, it was obvious. Overwhelming despair flooded over me like a tide. I clutched my phone tightly. “Melanie, give the phone to Holt, please… help me give him the phone! Thornton Corporation is demolishing the south district houses, and my things are inside!” “Oh, the south district house.” Melanie laughed lightly on the other end. “That was his mother’s idea. But Holt also signed the approval just now. After all, trash from that kind of slum really doesn’t deserve to exist.” Trash. The shelf Evan made with his own hands, the height chart Evan drew. The time we spent keeping each other warm was trash. “He knew…” I murmured, tears quietly streaming down. “He actually knew everything…” The call was mercilessly disconnected. The workers lost patience, yanked me aside, and roughly pushed me to the ground. “Stop wasting time. Start work!” With a tremendous crash, the small attic that held all my love and hope from three years collapsed under the excavator’s swing. In the dust cloud, I lay on the ground. For a moment, I felt my heart had also shattered with this building into fragments, buried in the rubble. I had nothing left. When I left that ruins, the sky had turned completely dark. I walked home in a daze, dragging my feet. My phone vibrated. It was a text from the assistant: “Miss Sage, Mr. Thornton is at Nightshade Club in VIP room 888. He wants you to change clothes and come immediately.” I looked at the words on the screen without saying anything. I didn’t change clothes. I just wore those clothes covered in dirt and dust, put on flat shoes, and took a cab to “Nightshade.”

Sage’s POV The moment I pushed open the private room door. The noise inside came to an abrupt halt. Everyone’s eyes fell on me. Holt sat on the black leather sofa in the center. The lighting in the room was dim and ambiguous. His shirt collar was slightly open, sleeves rolled to his forearms, fingertips holding a half-burned cigarette. Melanie nestled obediently at his side, holding a glass of fruit wine. Seeing me, Holt’s brow visibly furrowed. “What the hell happened to you?” His tone was full of disgust, without a trace of concern. I stood in the doorway looking at him. After a long while, I asked in a hoarse voice. “You signed to have the house in the south district demolished. Is that right?” The people in the room exchanged glances, the atmosphere instantly freezing. Holt stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, looking at me coldly. “That dump should have been torn down ages ago. Didn’t Mom give you compensation? Don’t be so greedy.” “Dump…” I laughed. It looked worse than crying. “That was your favorite place to be! In winter when the wind came through, you’d hold me in your arms all night; in summer with no air conditioning, you’d fan me all night long!” My voice grew louder and louder, my emotions teetering on the edge of collapse. “Holt Thornton, that was our home! How could you… how could you destroy it like garbage!” “Shut up!” Holt’s face turned iron-gray as he stood up abruptly. The men around didn’t dare breathe. “Holt, don’t be angry.” Melanie stood up at just the right moment, grabbing Holt’s arm, then turned to look at me, her eyes full of malicious provocation. “Miss Sage, the past is the past. Holt is going to be the Thornton family head now. How can he keep such an unseemly past?” She poured a full glass of liquor. It was high-proof vodka mixed with red wine. “Since you’re here, have a drink.” Melanie held the glass in front of me. “I heard Miss Sage has a bad stomach, but everyone here is someone of status. Miss Sage should at least give us this much face, right?” Everyone was watching me. I had severe gastric ulcers. Three years ago, to treat Holt, I worked three jobs a day, often eating only one piece of bread all day, and ruined my stomach. During one gastric hemorrhage episode, Evan knelt outside the emergency room crying and slapping himself, swearing he’d never let me touch alcohol again. I turned to look at Holt. “Do you want me to drink too?” If he just said one word, don’t drink. I would forgive him for destroying the house today. But Holt only coldly averted his gaze, sat back down on the sofa, and picked up a glass of wine to swirl it. “Melanie poured you a drink. That’s doing you a favor. Drink it and get lost. Don’t kill everyone’s mood here.” The last steel wire hanging over the cliff snapped. I looked at this familiar yet strange face. Fine. Just fine. I reached out and took that glass of liquor. A flash of triumph crossed Melanie’s eyes. I tilted my head back and downed that glass of harsh liquid without even furrowing my brow. The alcohol cut through my esophagus like a blade, landing in my already fragile stomach. Instantly igniting a raging fire. Bang. I slammed the empty glass heavily on the coffee table. A sharp, twisting pain tore through my stomach, as if something inside was ripping me apart. Large beads of cold sweat broke out on my forehead. But I clenched my teeth and didn’t cry out. I looked deeply at Holt one last time. Without waiting for anyone to speak, I clutched my stomach, bent over, turned, and walked out of the private room. The moment I turned around, Holt’s fingers holding the cigarette trembled uncontrollably. But I didn’t care anymore.

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My mother was a witch who once saved the life of the Alpha of SilverFang Pack. After my mother passed away, Alpha Anderson found me and my sister. He told us we could each marry one of his sons. In my past life, Violet chose the Alpha’s heir, Caleb Anderson. But in the end, she was driven out of the Pack. Reborn to the day Violet and I chose our husbands, I discovered I could hear people’s thoughts. I heard Violet think: “This time, I must steal the good husband first.” Then she hurriedly dragged away the gentle husband I married in my previous life. And Caleb, who beat her every day in the past life, was left to me. I smiled. Did she really think the man I married before had good character? I was reborn to the day Violet and I were brought back to SilverFang Pack. In the Pack’s banquet hall, all important members gathered for a welcome ceremony held for us sisters. Alpha Anderson stood on the elevated platform, his two sons standing on either side. One was Caleb Anderson, Alpha Anderson’s eldest son, cold by nature. He had already been chosen as the Alpha’s heir. The other was Lucas Anderson, Alpha Anderson’s second son, gentle by nature. A perfectly measured smile hung on his face. [This time, I must steal the good husband first.] A female voice transmitted into my ears. It was Violet’s voice. I gripped my skirt tightly. Not only had I been reborn, but I could also hear people’s thoughts. And judging from these two sentences from Violet, she had also been reborn. Otherwise she couldn’t possibly say such things. Alpha Anderson’s voice echoed in the hall: “…Violet, Lily, you may freely choose one of my sons to become your mate.” Violet immediately stepped forward. “Lucas looks gentle and kind. May I… may I choose him?” After speaking, she secretly cast me a smug glance. [This life, you can take the beatings for me.] Her thoughts were crystal clear. Alpha Anderson nodded and looked at me. “Lily, since Violet has already chosen Lucas, then you will marry Caleb.” I stepped forward with a smile. “Yes, Alpha. I quite admire Caleb as well.” I turned and stood beside him. Caleb glanced down at me with no emotion whatsoever. Then he looked away, as if I were merely air. [What a beautiful little treasure.] Lucas’s voice came through. I whipped my head around and saw Lucas gently supporting Violet. A chill ran through my body, and I instinctively grabbed Caleb’s hand hanging at his side. His hand was large with prominent knuckles, and warmth transmitted through his skin, unexpectedly hot. He glanced sideways at me but didn’t pull his hand back. Although this man looked quite intimidating, I felt that staying with him was better than staying with that hypocritical psycho Lucas. In my past life, Violet had married Caleb. As the Alpha’s heir, Caleb was very capable and busy with Pack affairs all day long. I heard he was very cold toward his Mate… Violet sought him out repeatedly, but each time she was driven out of his room with injuries. As for Lucas, although his status in the Pack was inferior to Caleb’s, it was still enough to let me live comfortably in the Pack. He accompanied me every day, taking care of me attentively, spoiling me to the bone. Everyone in the Pack knew we had a good relationship. And later, Caleb suddenly died from poisoning. Alpha Anderson suspected Violet did it and drove her out of the Pack. Lucas then inherited the Alpha position. My status in the Pack instantly skyrocketed. Violet was jealous of me. When I went out, she drove into me, and we died together. But she didn’t know that Lucas wasn’t what he appeared to be… Lucas had always lived in his brother’s shadow. On the surface he pretended to be obedient and polite to everyone, but in reality he was a control freak and domestic abuser. He was just very clever—he never hit my face, so outsiders couldn’t tell at all. Every time he beat me savagely, he would then kneel down to apply medicine and beg my forgiveness. I closed my eyes. The pain from my previous life was still so real and clear. I shook my head, telling myself it was all in the past. This life, I must change my originally tragic fate. I want to control my own destiny, to be independent and not rely on anyone.

Violet and I held our wedding ceremonies together. In my past life, we also held them at this same time. Back then, Caleb didn’t come to the ceremony, but Lucas arrived early in the morning. Everyone said he was the more considerate husband. But in this life, Caleb didn’t miss the ceremony. Although he just stood to the side with a cold expression, I breathed a sigh of relief. After all, in the past life when Caleb didn’t attend the ceremony, Violet suffered much gossip and strange looks. But Violet looked somewhat frantic with rage. During the ceremony she kept glaring at me with resentful eyes, thinking: [Laugh all you want. I’ll see if you can still laugh after getting beaten later.] It wasn’t until the end of the ceremony that Violet impatiently said to Lucas: “I love you, Lucas.” Then she kissed his lips. After the kiss, she stared at me with a showing-off look. I knew she wanted to see me embarrassed. But I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t act like she did in the past life and leave the scene in anger. That made all the Pack members and Alpha Anderson present unhappy. I remember everyone said Violet wasn’t steady enough and didn’t deserve to be the Pack’s future Luna. So much so that after marriage, Caleb never gave her a kind look, making her suffer terribly in the Pack. I smiled graciously and didn’t rush to show affection in front of Caleb. Instead, I said to the members attending the ceremony: “Thank you all for your hard work throughout this day. I extend my regards to everyone and hope you enjoy the ball that follows.” As soon as I spoke, the murmuring below ceased. Alpha Anderson, seated in the place of honor, looked at me with newfound respect. SilverFang Pack was the most powerful Pack on the continent, deeply concerned with face and reputation. So as the mate of the Alpha’s heir, one must show proper bearing—not just compete for a man’s favor, but also care for the feelings of Pack members. Violet also saw Alpha Anderson’s gaze, and a flash of annoyance crossed her eyes. [How disgusting. I’ll definitely make you embarrass yourself later!] I felt that being able to hear thoughts was really a good thing. Having such a convenient ability made everything so much easier. When it was time for the opening dance, I calmly lifted my skirt and walked toward the center of the dance floor. Violet stared at me intently, counting in her mind [One, two, three.] The next second, I directly sidestepped and reached out to grasp Caleb’s hand. And Violet, who had been rushing toward me with wine, fell hard to the ground, the wine soaking her entire body. “Are you okay?” Lucas hurried to help her up. But in his mind he was criticizing: [What an idiot!] Everyone was looking this way. Alpha Anderson’s face was full of anger. “As the mate of the Alpha’s son, how can you be so careless?” “I’m… I’m sorry, Alpha Anderson. I didn’t mean to.” Violet quickly apologized, but her eyes showed unwillingness. If I were her, in this life I wouldn’t make trouble again—I’d just live peacefully. But she didn’t want me to have it easy, so naturally I wouldn’t suffer in silence either.

Because Violet made a fool of herself, the ceremony ended hastily. Alpha Anderson didn’t give her a kind look from beginning to end. But when looking at me, his eyes were full of approval. Alpha Anderson even instructed Caleb: “You must treat her well.” Because of the Alpha’s instruction, Caleb’s attitude toward me indeed became much warmer. That evening, Caleb actually returned to our bedroom. He opened the door, his face showing fatigue from handling affairs. In my past life, I heard from others in the Pack that Caleb didn’t return on the wedding night. Violet spent her wedding night alone in an empty room and was never marked by Caleb, becoming a laughingstock for everyone. She went to complain to Alpha Anderson but got scolded instead, told she was incompetent and couldn’t gain her own Mate’s attention. I hurried over. “Caleb, you must be tired today.” He only nodded and didn’t speak to me. I wasn’t angry. While Caleb was showering, I made the bed for him and prepared calming tea. Then I tidied up the sofa myself, preparing to sleep there alone. When Caleb came out and saw this scene, a trace of surprise flashed in his eyes. I quickly said: “You sleep on the bed, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” “Lily, are you playing hard to get?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at me. Having just bathed, his chest was slightly exposed with water droplets clinging to it. I had to admit, his physique was truly striking. Worthy of being the Alpha’s chosen heir. I quickly looked away. “No, we didn’t have feelings for each other before. Sleeping together would be awkward for both of us.” “If possible, I’d like to cooperate with you.” “What do you mean?” “I know you don’t have feelings for me. I just want to live peacefully in the Pack—I don’t expect love. So we can maintain our independent lives privately and only maintain appearances publicly. If you find your destined Mate, I can step aside for her.” Hearing my words, he suddenly smiled. “You’re very smart.” “I was thinking the same thing. I can agree to this.” I only learned some herbal knowledge from my mother. I didn’t have the ability or confidence to control the heart of a future Alpha. After all, in the Pack, the members’ attitude toward me largely depended on the Alpha’s attitude toward me. I didn’t want to end up like Violet in the past life, ostracized by everyone. That wouldn’t benefit me at all. And clearly in the past life, there was intense conflict between him and Violet. I didn’t want to provoke him and repeat that mistake. So I chose to coexist peacefully with him. This life, I only wanted to control my own destiny and stand on my own two feet!

To maintain our public image of a harmonious relationship, I posted a photo of us together on social media. When it was time to sleep, he really did sleep in the big bed, leaving me alone on the sofa. He really didn’t know how to be considerate. Well, I should be content. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of Caleb’s morning workout. Early in the morning he was listening to music while doing high-intensity training. Sweat had already soaked his black tank top, outlining his clearly defined abs and bulging arm muscles. His movements were fluid and full of explosive power, each punch and kick accompanied by the sound of cutting through air. He had so much more strength than Lucas’s thin frame. “Stop staring. I’m not interested in you.” He suddenly spoke, ending his training. “Get dressed. Come with me for breakfast.” His subtext was clear: appear together, put on a show for everyone. Actually, I felt he was quite reasonable. Why did he have such conflict with Violet in the past life? After getting ready, I went out with Caleb. As soon as we left, I saw Violet and Lucas walking toward us hand in hand. Violet wore an overly revealing dress, with marks all over her collarbone and shoulders. She deliberately leaned close to show me. Her face was full of pride as she looked me up and down. Seeing that I wore a long-sleeved dress that completely covered my arms and legs, she thought to herself, then smiled smugly. [Wrapped up so tightly, she must have been beaten and is deliberately hiding the wounds.] “Lily, how was last night? You didn’t…” she deliberately inquired. I noticed that Luna Anderson was approaching from the other end of the corridor at that moment. This stern and serious noblewoman most detested improper dress and discussing private matters in public. But I had no intention of warning her. I just smiled. “Violet, according to Pack hierarchy, you should give the Alpha heir’s wife proper respect, not casually inquire about my private affairs.” Her face immediately darkened, and she bit her teeth in defiance. “Caleb never made such demands. What right do you have to demand this of me?” Then she looked at Caleb. “Caleb, say something.” I could feel the powerful, cold pressure from Caleb beside me spreading bit by bit. Lucas cursed in his mind: [Damn idiot, see if I don’t deal with you tonight!] Then he tugged Violet’s hand, signaling her to stop talking. But she remained completely unaware of how serious the situation was. Until Caleb spoke.

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My husband Elias is the heir to the Shadowclaw pack Alpha. In the eighth year of our marriage, a group of Rogues ambushed the pack. Elias and I both died in their attack. When I woke again, we had returned to when we had just started dating. In my previous life, we were married for eight years. Our life should have been blissful, but he adamantly refused to have children. Later, I accidentally learned that he still couldn’t forget his first love, Serena. I was his fated mate. When he first met me, he broke up with Serena and swore on our wedding day that he would only love me for the rest of his life. But I never expected that after marriage, he still loved Serena. After being reborn, I decided to set us both free. We severed our mate bond and never saw each other again, becoming strangers. Eight years later, he had already become the Shadowclaw pack Alpha and announced at an inter-pack banquet that he and Serena would soon marry. Seeing me still attending the banquet alone, he mocked me. “Aisling, I know I’m charming, and you’ve loved me so deeply in both lifetimes that you can’t help yourself, but you don’t have to cling to me forever.” I pretended not to hear and took my son’s hand beside me. Elias’s face instantly turned bloodless, his eyes bloodshot as he demanded: “Didn’t you say you’d only love me for life? How could you have a child with someone else?!”

Eight years later at the joint pack banquet, Elias and I met again. After treating several patients in succession, I was dizzy with exhaustion. Without freshening up, I went straight to the banquet venue. In the crowd, Elias and Serena stood at the center with their fingers intertwined, receiving adoration from various werewolves. “Alpha Elias, you’re truly remarkable! Under your leadership these past years, Shadowclaw pack went from nearly being absorbed to firmly holding the northern territory. You’re a legend among us werewolves!” “Of course! I heard the Alphas from several surrounding packs are lining up to form alliances with him but can’t even get appointments. The meeting gifts alone are in the hundreds of thousands, worth years of our tributes.” “Alpha Elias, I have some resources. For old times’ sake, help me out?” Someone asked with a laugh: “Alpha Elias, seeing how sweet you and Serena are, are you getting married soon?” Serena’s cheeks flushed as she looked up at Elias tenderly. Elias squeezed her hand, his smile confident: “That’s right, February 25th.” Everyone offered congratulations. A werewolf suddenly asked: “Alpha Elias, you and Aisling were so passionate back in the day. Are you still in contact? I remember when you played guitar and sang love songs for Aisling in front of everyone!” Hearing my name, Elias’s smile froze for a moment, his lips pressed tight. But Serena gripped his hand tighter, her voice gentle and gracious: “Elias and I are about to get married. What do you think—has he moved on or not?” Everyone laughed and continued flattering them. But I remembered that the “love songs” the old acquaintance mentioned were what Elias had stayed up countless nights training to prepare when he confessed to me. In my previous life, at my 19th birthday party, I discovered Elias was my mate. And then I completely fell for him. He once cupped my face, his eyes blazing: “Aisling, I’ll marry you, mark you, make you the Luna of Shadowclaw pack!” I believed him and devoted myself wholeheartedly to him. Unfortunately, in my previous life, he deceived me. I walked into the banquet hall with a composed expression. Sharp-eyed old acquaintances immediately noticed me. “Aisling! You’re finally here—you’re late!” “Hey, for such a formal occasion, why didn’t you change into a proper dress? You just came in a casual shirt? Can’t afford one?” “Have you been living so poorly all these years? Do you need me to introduce you to a job?” Several people who saw my simple clothing couldn’t help but mock me. From the moment I appeared, Elias’s gaze locked onto me. I nodded slightly at him as a greeting. He froze, and those wolf eyes that once mesmerized me showed indiscernible emotions. “Aisling, after all these years, you’re still the same as before—no ambition.” Serena gently took Elias’s arm, looked me over, and said softly: “Elias, she hasn’t had it easy, but we shouldn’t keep rubbing salt in her wounds. After all, we’re old friends.” She changed her tone, “But wearing this to a banquet… is a bit casual. A woman over thirty should know to dress decently. I have a spare dress in my car. I’ll give it to you to wear so you’ll at least look presentable.” Her words drew a few low laughs.

Indeed, at that moment I contrasted sharply with them. Serena wore a haute couture gown, exquisite makeup, and a gentle smile. Elias was in a sharp suit, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, hair perfectly groomed, every gesture radiating elite sophistication. And I had just finished an all-nighter treating injured werewolves after a Rogue attack. My face was exhausted, wearing a wrinkled cotton shirt and pants, travel-worn. “Thank you, but no need.” I politely declined and went straight to the buffet area. Treating patients earlier had consumed too much energy. I was now hungry enough to eat an entire cow. Just as I was focused on eating, Elias suddenly walked over and placed a check beside my hand. Two hundred thousand. “This money—for old times’ sake, to help you out. You don’t need to pay it back. Go buy some nice clothes, find a decent job, treat yourself well.” “Aisling, let the past be the past. Don’t keep dwelling on memories.” “If back then… forget it, there’s no point talking about it now.” “What matters is, don’t give up on yourself just because I left, okay? You being like this makes things very difficult for me.” I set down my knife and fork and looked up at him in confusion. I suddenly found it laughable. What sin had I committed in my previous life to make him so decisive yet “merciful” in abandoning me after rebirth? In my previous life, we went from young and passionate to experiencing Shadowclaw pack’s rise and fall together. Shadowclaw pack was still a weak pack at the time. Elias was still the Alpha heir, constantly working to become Alpha, while I wanted to become a doctor and was always studying medicine. At that time, a highly skilled old doctor from another pack appreciated me and wanted to take me as a student. But because I loved him, I gave up the opportunity to advance my medical career and took on the pack’s logistics and medical affairs early on, using my meager strength to support our territory and his reputation within the pack. Time and again when he was injured in Rogue attacks and became dispirited, I shouldered all the treatment and recovery, coaxing and encouraging him with gentle words. I thought he understood my love. But when he was seriously injured once and urgently needed a rare herb for healing, and I showed difficulty because I couldn’t gather enough resources for equivalent exchange, he smashed all the medical equipment on the spot. He yelled at me with red eyes: “Aisling! It’s all your fault! If I hadn’t broken up with Serena, her family’s resources would definitely have brought me great help. I would have already become Alpha! How could I not even obtain one herb!” “Being with you was my biggest regret!” Later, he became dispirited for a long time. His father almost gave up on him and chose another son as the Alpha heir. And I was stabbed to pieces by his words of “regret,” unable to sleep night after night. But I didn’t give up. I wanted to salvage things. I hugged him and begged in a low voice: “Elias, let’s have a child, okay?” But he pushed me away hard, his eyes full of disgust: “I hate you! Having a child with you would make me sick! I will never have a child with you in this lifetime!” Those words were like ice picks piercing through me. The day those Rogues attacked the pack, when their poisoned blade pierced my chest, I actually felt a sense of relief. Now that we’ve both been reborn and tacitly chose to sever our mate bond and become strangers—that’s fine. I pushed the check back, my tone flat: “No need. I don’t need charity from strangers, thank you.”

Elias frowned, looking displeased. “Aisling, what do you mean? I’m a stranger?” I nodded: “What I wear is my freedom, and I can buy it myself. My job is also very respectable, not shameful. And I haven’t failed to move on. Donate this money to werewolves who need it.” His fingers holding the check turned slightly white, but he stood there without moving. Serena quickly walked over. Seeing the check, a flash of understanding crossed her eyes. Her face still wore a proper smile, but her tone had hardened: “Aisling, if you don’t want money, surely you’d accept a real job? I know a medical clinic at a fringe pack that’s short-handed. Five thousand a month. Not much, but you’d learn a skill and could eventually open your own clinic. I’ll give you the contact information for the person in charge. How about it?” I didn’t even raise my eyelids and continued eating. “Thank you, but I’m very satisfied with my current job and don’t plan to change.” Werewolves watching the excitement chimed in: “Aisling, stop being stubborn. They’re being kind to help you—don’t be ungrateful.” “Exactly. Living like this, can’t even afford nice clothes, coming to a banquet—isn’t it to make connections? The olive branch is right in front of you, and you’re still acting proud?” Serena’s face was plastered with a fake smile: “Everyone, don’t say that. Maybe Aisling really does like her current job.” She turned to me, “Aisling, we’re doing this for old times’ sake. Don’t be stubborn for the sake of pride.” I really couldn’t understand where this sense of superiority in forcing money and jobs on people came from. If we were being serious, all these people combined probably weren’t as wealthy as me. “Really no need, thank you.” Serena’s smile remained unchanged, but the contempt in her eyes was undisguised. Elias’s knuckles turned white gripping the check, and he began sneering: “You’re really pathetic! Given an opportunity and you don’t know how to take it—no wonder you’re poor!” This was like a signal. Several ill-intentioned werewolves gathered around. A portly werewolf walked up to me swaying with a wine glass. His eyes looked me up and down lecherously: “Aisling, seeing you so pitiful makes me feel bad. How about this—you let me touch your chest, and I’ll give you a thousand. Too little? I’ll add more.” Other werewolves laughed, and no one stopped him. I frowned. This banquet was truly foul. If I weren’t still waiting for someone, I would have left long ago. I was about to call a server when Elias suddenly grabbed the man’s wrist. His presence dropped dramatically, displaying his Alpha authority, his face terrifyingly dark. “What do you think this banquet is? If you want to throw your weight around, go somewhere else! She’s not someone you can touch!”

The man winced in pain but didn’t dare make a sound. Serena grabbed Elias: “Elias! What are you doing!” Elias’s eyes were ice cold: “I’m helping out, can’t you see? If you’re going to act crazy, I suggest getting your head checked!” He then threw the man’s hand aside. The man didn’t dare provoke Elias and could only glare at me viciously. I was somewhat surprised and glanced at Elias. He would actually help me? Serena could barely maintain her gentle expression and stiffly changed the subject: “I heard the Alpha King and his family are also upstairs. We’re lucky today—we might get to see them.” The werewolves got excited. “The Alpha King? That Caius who became Alpha King before thirty? I heard he married quite early, and the Luna Queen is so well protected she’s never appeared publicly!” “More than that! The Luna Queen seems to be a medical expert with quite exceptional medical skills!” “We might see them in person today? What a treat!” As the words fell, a group of Beta guards escorting a little boy about five or six years old walked into the hall. The crowd instantly erupted. “With this escort, it must be the Alpha King’s son! He’s so handsome!” The lecherous werewolf from earlier sidled up to me again, lowering his voice with foul breath: “Aisling, if it weren’t for Serena and Alpha Elias, how would someone like you ever be qualified to see such important people? If it were me, I’d have thanked them long ago. Just accept the arrangement obediently. Not only can you get that five-thousand-dollar job, but maybe…” His gaze swept over me lecherously, “You could also receive my affection.” I glanced at him coldly, preparing to call the guards. At that moment, the little boy being surrounded scanned the entire venue, and his gaze suddenly fixed on me. His previously expressionless little face instantly bloomed with a huge smile. He broke free from the guards and ran toward me. Under everyone’s astonished gaze, he plunged into my arms. “Mommy! I finally found you—”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “379123”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I always knew Liam was just using me as a shield. He used my “poverty” to confess his love, and I played along. He used my “poverty” for his dates, and I stood watch. Then, high school ended. His poor, struggling first love went abroad to pursue her dreams. And I officially became Liam’s “placeholder” girlfriend. He told me outright: when she comes back, I step down. So I waited. And waited. I went from his girlfriend to his fiancée, and almost from his fiancée to his wife. Finally. Right before the wedding. Liam flew halfway across the world and brought her back. I slipped off the engagement ring and let out a long sigh of relief. Before I left, I even thoughtfully closed the door for them. 01 When I heard Liam had chartered a private jet overnight to bring her back, I wasn’t surprised. After all, it was Sarah Jenkins. When my best friend heard the news, she was furious: “You guys were about to get married! Has he lost his mind?!” No, he hadn’t. Sarah Jenkins was currently one of the hottest rising fashion designers in the industry. And it was an open secret that she was Liam Vance, CEO of the Vance Group’s, first love. Reporters had even asked her about it directly. Sarah had replied: “Regardless of who someone’s first love is, I got to where I am today through my own hard work.” “Please focus less on tabloid gossip and more on my designs.” But just last week, Sarah was hit with a massive plagiarism scandal. A stunning, star-studded dress she claimed as her own design. Turned out to be stolen from an unknown indie designer. The scandal blew up. Sarah posted a dramatic update on her social media: [Are you all trying to drive me to my death?] That morning, Liam had been glued to his phone through breakfast. He was supposed to attend a crucial contract signing with a new supplier that day. He had casually agreed to give the contract to my dad’s company. But because Liam didn’t show up, the VP seized the opportunity and gave the contract to his own relative instead. My dad was so furious he called me ten times to scream at me. I tried calling Liam, but he didn’t answer. By the third attempt, his phone was turned off. When I finally saw Liam again, it was 11:00 PM. He told me to come to one of his vacant luxury properties. I had never been to this specific house before. As soon as I walked through the front doors, I saw the courtyard was filled with pink roses. The exact flowers Liam used to give Sarah. The sports car stuffed with pink roses—that was the extravagant scene from the day Liam had originally confessed his love to her. The interior decor wasn’t Liam’s usual pretentious, ultra-modern, minimalist style either. Thinking about it, it was exactly Sarah’s taste. Approaching the master bedroom, I heard a woman crying softly. The scene inside was pretty much exactly what I had imagined. A pale-faced woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, crying beautifully, a bandage wrapped around her wrist. A tall man stood beside the bed, looking utterly lost and helpless. His usually immaculate, custom-tailored suit was wrinkled. The only thing keeping him looking somewhat put-together was a face that rivaled a runway model’s. I didn’t understand why Liam had called me here. Courier services exist for a reason. He turned and looked at me, his eyes seemingly lighting up. I knew that look all too well. It was the exact same look he gave me back in high school when he and Sarah were secretly dating in the woods behind the school and almost got caught by the principal. “Sarah gets embarrassed easily. You take the blame for her.” Whenever he didn’t know what gift to buy Sarah, or when he somehow made her angry and didn’t know how to fix it, he would give me that exact look, expecting me to come up with a solution. I usually couldn’t come up with any good ideas. In the end, Sarah would usually just kick both of us out. She would yell at Liam, saying he only had his stupid money, and she’d call me his pathetic little lapdog. I would just roll my eyes and say, “Sidekick, sidekick. Lapdog sounds so ugly.” Liam would laugh at that. But in the end, Sarah always accepted Liam’s money anyway. Sarah dreamed of being a fashion designer. Back in high school, for a birthday gift Liam gave her, she had to work three months of part-time jobs just to buy him something of similar value in return. Unlike me, who took his gifts faster than a cheetah and constantly hoped some extra cash would slip through his fingers. Later, Sarah bombed her SATs. She ran up to the school roof, threatening to jump. Liam cried and begged her to come down, promising he would make her dreams come true. He sent her abroad. The Vance family was incredibly wealthy. While not the absolute top 1%, they were still far beyond ordinary rich. Behind his family’s back, Liam tapped into the trust fund he gained access to when he turned eighteen. He spent millions to get Sarah into a prestigious design school in Paris. Honestly, I had always suspected Sarah only got close to Liam for his money. But then again. So did I. Lapdogs do it for free. Sidekicks charge an appearance fee. 02 That year, when the truth came out about what Liam did with his trust fund. His grandfather beat him until he was black and blue, and then forced him into an arranged marriage. Old Mr. Vance declared: “The girl you marry will be from a family of equal standing!” But Liam refused to marry anyone other than Sarah. So, he came up with a terrible idea. He brought me back to his strict grandfather’s traditional estate and orchestrated a scene where the maids “caught” us exploring the mysteries of youth. He had dragged me toward the bed in a frantic rush. It scared the hell out of me. At the time, I had just turned eighteen. I was dizzy with the moment, actually foolishly believing he liked me. A few minutes later, the bedroom door was slammed open. Seeing a massive crowd of people standing outside the door, my face drained of color in terror. I frantically pulled the blanket up to cover myself. The humiliation and shame of that moment nearly drowned me. But it was nothing compared to what Liam said next. He announced proudly: “Chloe is my girlfriend! She’s the daughter of the Harper family!” “She initiated it! She took my shirt off for me!” I have always been smart. If I wasn’t smart, I wouldn’t have been the only illegitimate child my father ever brought into the Harper household. I instantly understood Liam’s little trick. He was using me as a human shield. Not only that, but he was using my “scandalous” behavior to highlight how pure and virtuous Sarah was by comparison. He was basically telling his family: Look, this is the kind of girl from an ‘equal standing’ family you want me to marry. Barely eighteen, and she’s already doing things like this in the elder’s house. Sure enough. The moment we were alone. He stated matter-of-factly: “Chloe, you know who I really love.” “When Sarah comes back, you leave. Don’t worry, I won’t treat you badly financially.” A young girl’s dignity isn’t worth much. But his love for Sarah was worth a fortune. So, I traded my dignity for a very large sum of money. I nodded. Liam was very satisfied, sighing: “I knew you were obedient. Easy to deal with.” So now, it was time for him to “deal” with me. 03 No wonder. No wonder Liam had randomly transferred half a million dollars to me this morning. I actually thought he was giving it to me for our “dating” anniversary. The day after tomorrow marked five years since we “started dating.” I felt incredibly guilty after receiving the half a million. Because I hadn’t prepared a single thing for him, and I certainly wasn’t going to transfer money back to him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend money on him. It was mainly because he didn’t need it. And, obviously, I was cheap. So, I had carefully selected a high-end French restaurant. I booked the entire place. I even planned to play a slideshow. I had several major projects on my plate at the time, so I had stayed up all night to put the slideshow together. I had just finished it and sent it to the restaurant right before Liam called me over here. The slideshow documented all the little moments of our last five years. Going to college together. I answered roll call for him while he slept on the desk next to me. When the professor questioned me, I shamelessly said: “I’m his future wife. We are one entity, so me answering for him is the same thing.” The whole lecture hall had erupted in cheers. Traveling together. He loved extreme sports: skydiving, black-diamond snowboarding. His rich trust-fund friends valued their lives too much to join him, so I was the only one willing to risk my neck to keep him company. Afterward, my legs would be shaking so badly I almost collapsed. When the world was spinning, he pulled me into his arms. Moving in together. We watched TV together, went grocery shopping together, cooked together… Well, I cooked, and he ate. Liam hated having maids around, and he didn’t like hiring cleaning services either. I don’t know when it started, but he eventually started volunteering to wash the dishes. The memories ended there. I was just wondering if I could still get a refund from that French restaurant for tomorrow night. Liam frowned at me: “What took you so long?” Having not slept for two days straight, I was feeling a bit dizzy and seeing spots. Sarah looked up at me. “Are you… Chloe?” I smiled and greeted her. She wiped her tears and said: “I’m sorry you had to see me looking like such a mess.” “I’m sorry to trouble you, but Liam said you’re really good at taking care of people…” I looked at Liam. Liam said naturally: “You take care of her.” “She hasn’t eaten in two days. Make her something to eat. And her clothes are too thin, go buy her a change of clothes…” As Liam rattled off his demands, I just kept nodding, nodding, nodding. I said: “Yes, sir. No problem. Received. I’m on it right now.” My obedient, compliant response suddenly left Liam speechless. I was taking notes on my phone. When I heard silence, I looked up at him, confused. “Is that all? Li… Mr. Vance.” I almost slipped up and called him by his first name. Calling him “Liam” was something he had specifically told me to do back when we were putting on the act for his grandfather. There were too many occasions where we had to pretend. He specifically allowed me to use that name, and I eventually just got used to it. But now that Sarah was back, if I kept calling him that and she got jealous, Liam would absolutely destroy me. Liam’s gaze was heavy. Seeing that he seemed to be finished, I turned to walk out. Liam suddenly shouted: “Chloe, stop right there!” He startled me. I turned back to him, putting on my best sycophantic smile: “Mr. Vance, do you have any other orders?” Liam’s expression looked awful. He seemed to grind out every single word through his teeth: “Do you not have anything you want to ask me?” Ask what? Liam glared at me. He was so angry his cheeks were slightly puffed out, his jawline clenched tight. He looked like a very handsome toad. I thought about it for a second, then asked: “What is Ms. Jenkins’s clothing size?” Actually, I could tell by looking at her. She was probably a size Small. She was even thinner than she was in high school. I don’t know if she was trying to fit the aesthetic of the European fashion scene, or if she just hadn’t been living well these past few years. Or maybe both. Unlike me. I ate well, slept well, and was a solid two sizes bigger than I was back then. I’m 5’3″ and weigh about 130 pounds. When my friends told me to lose weight, I told them this is what prosperity looks like. I grew up poor; I like looking like I have money now. If I lost weight and hired male models, it would just be a waste of good money on them. Liam laughed. But it was a dark, menacing laugh. He said: “Chloe, you are unbelievable.” “Hey! Thank you, Mr. Vance!” 04 I bought several sets of luxury designer clothes. From underwear to outerwear, head to toe, I got everything. I also called the French restaurant. When they told me the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit was non-refundable, I almost had a heart attack. I tried to negotiate with them: “Can I just get half back?” “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no.” I said: “Then how about this: I’m not coming tomorrow night, but you can just cook the food and deliver it to me right now.” “Make whatever, but make sure it’s good.” “The address is in the Eastside Estates…” After handling the food and clothes, I double-checked to see if I missed anything. And I did find a glaring omission. A full belly leads to other desires. I went online and ordered some 0.01mm ultra-thin protection. I guessed the size. Smallest available. Hopefully, it fits. If it didn’t, he couldn’t blame me. It’s not like Liam ever showed me. When I got back to the villa, Sarah seemed to have cried herself to sleep. Her eyes were closed, her hand gripping Liam’s sleeve tightly. Liam was in the exact same position he had been in when I left. He had just stayed by her side, barely moving an inch. When I pushed the door open, Liam was leaning down, about to steal a kiss from Sarah. Wait. Couldn’t he wait until she woke up? Was he really that desperate? It scared me so much I almost walked in backward. I quickly shut my mouth tight. After thinking about it, I quietly placed the “essentials” on the floor inside the bedroom. Then, I gently pulled the door shut. Before leaving, I sent Liam a text: [Mr. Vance, I left the clothes and food in the living room.] [You can come out and get them when you guys are finished.] While typing that message, I couldn’t help but see our previous texts. It was a message Liam had sent me while he was at work. He was complaining to me about the old executives on the board of his company. Then he whined and asked me to go bungee jumping with him, said he was going to take me to Nice to see the ocean the day after tomorrow, and that we were going to Switzerland to ski at the end of the year to de-stress from work. Perhaps because the future is so uncertain. People always love to make plans for it. I had replied with one word: [Received]. He had gotten annoyed and sent a sticker of an angry kitten. I searched for a long time before finding a sticker of someone petting a kitten’s head to send back. Afraid he was actually mad, I added: [What do you want for dinner?] But calculating the time, he probably saw the news about Sarah right around then, and he never replied. An abruptly ended conversation seemed to be the perfect announcement for an impending breakup. It started my freshman year of high school and ended the second year after I graduated college. I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. Liam was overbearing, childish, selfish, and stupid. But there was no denying he wasn’t a bad guy, and he was very generous. At his engagement banquet. He had a bit to drink and proudly declared: “Chloe, I’ll allow you to stay by my side forever.” For a while, I genuinely thought we were actually going to get married. Looking at it now, I had definitely misunderstood. The cold, hard numbers in my bank account were the only things that truly warmed my heart. I took off the engagement ring I had been wearing and gently placed it on the living room table. Funny how things work out. I told the French restaurant they didn’t need to follow my custom menu, just to make whatever. But they kept the cake I had ordered. Written on it was— [Liam, Happy 5th Anniversary!] My engagement ring was left right next to the cake. 05 Liam’s lips stopped inches away from Sarah’s face. For some reason, he suddenly didn’t want to kiss her anymore. Even though the person he had thought about for years was right in front of his eyes. Liam thought it was because he respected Sarah. Sarah was no longer the poor student she used to be. For the past four years, Liam had flown to her for every single one of her birthdays. To celebrate with her, to introduce her to resources. But nothing had ever happened between them. Back then, Sarah explicitly told him she wasn’t coming back to the US, and she didn’t want to hold him back. Liam stubbornly replied: “Who’s waiting for you? I’m already with Chloe!” Sarah had smiled and said: “With her by your side, I can rest easy.” “She’s your lapdog. She’ll definitely take good care of you.” “Liam, even though we can’t be together, I want you to be happy more than anyone else in the world.” Liam’s anger instantly evaporated. This was the most tragic, yet beautiful, form of love, wasn’t it? Even though they couldn’t be together, they still held the number one spot in each other’s hearts. Sarah was meant to soar. He had to let her fly free. Sarah was like a rose Liam had cultivated with his own hands. She had fought so hard to grow out of the mud, and she deserved to bloom brilliantly for the whole world to see. He couldn’t trap her by his side. He should only be the rain that waters her when she needs him. That was the philosophy he had gradually come to accept. He only needed a greedy, materialistic woman like Chloe by his side. He couldn’t give her his heart, but he could give her marriage, money, and status. That’s how high-society marriages worked anyway. Just like the anniversary transfer he sent her a few days ago. His friend had suggested he transfer $520,000 (a romantic number in Chinese internet slang), but he thought that was too cheesy and unnecessary. Chloe, who normally wouldn’t even be fit to tie Sarah’s shoes, should be satisfied with what she got. Thinking of Chloe, Liam felt an inexplicable surge of annoyance. Even though his relationship with Sarah was completely platonic, was Chloe really not jealous at all? No. Chloe must be angry. That’s why she deliberately called him “Mr. Vance.” His friends always teased him about how submissive Chloe was. “Liam really knows how to train a wife. Unlike my tiger wife at home. If I so much as glance at another woman, she blows up.” “When Sarah finally comes back, I bet Chloe wouldn’t even mind being the side piece, right?” “Side piece? I’d say she’s more like a loyal maid. If Liam hooks up with someone, she’d probably be the one handing him the condom!” Liam never argued with them. Because that’s exactly how it was. Just then. Liam saw the notification on his phone. It was Chloe letting him know she had come and gone. He casually glanced toward the bedroom door. Liam shot up, staring in disbelief, and walked over to pick up the small box on the floor. He squeezed the box until it deformed. Chloe had even prepared this for him. This was exactly the scenario his friends had joked about. But when it actually happened, Liam suddenly felt incredibly angry. A suffocating, irritable emotion filled his chest. Sarah woke up and saw the box in Liam’s hand. While she blushed, a flash of triumph crossed her eyes. “Liam, please don’t do this.” “I texted you to take me away, it didn’t mean anything else. I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…” But before she could finish, she watched Liam throw the small box into the trash can. Sarah’s expression stiffened. Liam said: “Do I look like that kind of animal to you?” Sarah quietly let out a sigh of relief. So, Liam hadn’t lost feelings for her. He just cherished her too much. Liam continued: “Besides, you still have to go back to Europe to build your career. How could I possibly get in the way of that?” Sarah’s face turned ugly for a fraction of a second. She tested the waters: “What if… I wasn’t planning on going back…” Before she could finish, Liam interrupted her: “Don’t lie to me. Don’t I know you? You’re someone who chases their dreams. You’re not like those women who only care about getting married and having babies.” Sarah swallowed the words she was about to say. Liam brought out the clothes Chloe had bought. Sarah looked at the clothes with a troubled expression. Liam took one look at the brand and instantly understood. He sent Chloe a text: [Sarah doesn’t like the design philosophy of this brand. She won’t wear their clothes. Go buy another set.] Liam then took Sarah out to the dining area. Looking at the table full of lavish French cuisine, Sarah frowned again. Liam sent another text to Chloe: [Sarah doesn’t eat heavy food that makes you gain weight. She just got back from abroad and doesn’t want Western food either. Go to that authentic local spot I like, get some takeout, and bring it over.] Sarah said, sounding incredibly understanding: “It’s fine. I can eat this.” Liam looked at Sarah’s pale face, his eyes full of pity. He thought for a moment, then sent another text to Chloe: [Sarah’s not feeling well. I’m taking her out to clear her head. Just to the mountains nearby. We’ll be back before our anniversary.] The person who usually replied instantly sent nothing back. Annoyed, Liam called Chloe. The phone was turned off. Had she… blocked him? Suddenly. He saw the cake on the dining table. The words on the cake made him freeze. Why did she just leave the anniversary cake here like this? A diamond caught the light and sparkled. And then, Liam saw the ring sitting next to the cake. 06 The weather was beautiful today. Perfect for traveling. Perfect for moving. Having collected my five-million-dollar severance package, I moved out with lightning speed. I guaranteed Sarah wouldn’t see my face when she woke up. I booked an executive suite at a five-star hotel and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. Before sleeping, I even posted a melodramatic update on social media, announcing my breakup with Liam. When I woke up. I realized my phone had died and shut off. When I turned it back on, the notification chimes didn’t stop for a solid minute. Liam had sent me a ton of messages and left several missed calls. I skimmed through them. [Chloe, what is this supposed to mean? Throwing a tantrum now?] [Are you mad because I made you take care of Sarah?] [When I got there, Sarah was lying in the bathtub with a slashed wrist! Do you have any empathy at all?] He also sent a picture. The engagement ring I left behind had been thrown into the trash can. Along with the 5th-anniversary cake. … My eyes landed on the very last message— [If you’re so tough, then don’t ever come back!] Oh. Okay. So he was telling me not to come back. I felt completely justified in not returning Liam’s calls. But soon enough, I saw a new update from Liam on social media. The scandal surrounding Sarah’s plagiarism had blown up internationally and reached the US. The indie designer she had plagiarized, despite going by the pseudonym Sirius, was actually American. And he had just returned to the States. A blurry paparazzi photo from the airport circulated online. Black hair, green eyes, 6’2″, devastatingly handsome. The photo was quickly scrubbed from the internet, suggesting his background was quite powerful. Right in the middle of this storm. Liam posted an update: [Ants always love to see the swan suffer.] The comments were almost entirely mocking, with a few hardcore shippers mixed in. But mostly, it was just normal internet users. Sirius also posted an update: [The blind man plucked the moon from the sky, but didn’t know how to cherish it.] [So, I’m back to chase the moon again.] It was cryptic. No one really understood it. Some speculated it had nothing to do with the plagiarism scandal. After all, he wasn’t even the one who made the original post providing irrefutable proof of Sarah’s plagiarism. This post sounded more like an ambitious declaration of intent to steal someone’s girl. [Did the poster return to the US to pursue someone he likes?] The creator liked that comment. Immediately after, someone discovered that this account had posted a location tag a long time ago. It was the exact same high school Sarah attended. Someone suspected: [The poster is so forgiving… could the person he’s pursuing be Sarah?] The shippers had a field day for the first time: [The Poster: I did all of this just so you would finally notice me!] [We’ve been hating on this plagiarist for so long, and it turns out it was just a twisted lovers’ quarrel?] The comment section was a chaotic mess. But Sirius never reappeared to clarify anything. Sarah, who had been hiding like a turtle in its shell for days, suddenly popped her head out. She posted: [You cannot force love. Trying to scoop the moon’s reflection from the water will only push the real moon further away.] Suddenly, a bunch of accounts sprang up, all pushing the same narrative: The “moon” Sirius was talking about was Sarah. That dress was designed specifically for Sarah. Sirius was using the wrong method to pursue Sarah, using the false plagiarism accusation to get her attention. And so on. Meanwhile. In the hotel lobby. Someone suddenly called out to me—

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My husband had to work late, so out of boredom, I picked up his tablet to play a game. Suddenly, a WeChat notification popped up. It was from an account I had never seen before. The group chat was named “Veteran Mechanics Maintenance Station,” and new messages were pouring in: “Test drove a ’75 vintage model today. 1.6L naturally aspirated. The intake was incredible. Handled all kinds of high-difficulty maneuvers with ease. Only downside is the engine knocks a bit, and it leaks a lot of fluid.” “Be grateful it still has fluid at that age!” “Respect, man. Was it your personal car, or a rental?” “I haven’t driven a classic that old yet. Mind if I take it for a spin? I’ll pay for the maintenance!” I was about to close the app when I saw my husband’s reply. “Classic cars can’t beat the new models. I just drove an ’01 off the lot. Slammed the gas pedal to the floor, the engine roared twice, and the whole system stalled.” My fingers trembled. The only car our family owned was a nearly ten-year-old SUV. 1. As my finger scrolled to the very last page of the tablet’s Notes app, it suddenly stopped. “WeChat Alt Account: rong0525, Password: 20180520.” That was the day we got our marriage license. I vividly remembered Mark holding up our marriage certificate, smiling brightly. “From now on, all my passwords will be this date, so you can unlock everything in my life whenever you want.” But right now, this password unlocked a world I had never seen before. The moment the login was successful, the WeChat homepage exploded with “99+” unread message notifications. The group chat was called “Veteran Mechanics Maintenance Station,” and every member’s profile picture was a car logo. New messages kept popping up. “Test drove a ’75 vintage model today. 1.6L naturally aspirated. Handled all kinds of high-difficulty driving maneuvers with ease. Only downside is the engine knocks a bit, and it leaks a lot of fluid.” Someone quickly replied: “Be grateful a car from that year still has fluid!” “Was it your personal car, or a rental?” “Mind if I take it for a spin? I’ll pay for the maintenance!” … At the very bottom of the chat was Mark’s reply. “Classic cars can’t beat the new models. I just drove an ’01 off the lot. Slammed the gas pedal to the floor, the engine roared twice, and the whole system stalled. Headlights were blindingly white. An unforgettable ride…” In a daze, I bumped the desk next to me. A framed photo rattled. It was taken on our anniversary last year. I was leaning against Mark’s shoulder, and parked behind us was our seven-year-old black SUV. He had said that day, “My wife is number one, and my car is number two. One is my safe harbor, and the other is the roar of my soul.” But the “cars” he was discussing in this group chat were models I didn’t recognize. The safe harbor was still here, but his soul was roaring somewhere else. I heard keys jingling at the front door. I quickly logged out of the tablet, shoving it under a sofa cushion just as Mark pushed the door open. He walked straight toward me with a wide smile, opening his arms for a hug like he always did. I stiffly hugged him back. As I did, a single, light-brown strand of long hair slipped from his collar—a stark, almost comical contrast to the pin-straight, jet-black hair I had kept for five years. Mark always said black hair was the most beautiful and grounded. “Had to drink with Mr. Davis today. His old Audi A8 keeps stalling, so we spent half the night talking about car repairs.” Mark rubbed his temples, offering a helpless smile. “I wanted to come home early to be with you, but he just wouldn’t stop talking. You know how these business dinners are. You can’t leave until the very last second.” He sighed and reached out to playfully ruffle my hair. “Company retreat next week. We’re staying overnight out of town this time. I’ll talk to the guys tomorrow and see if I can pay out of pocket to bring you along. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy missing you for a whole night.” With his movement, the long, light-brown hair slipped from his collar and fluttered silently onto the rug. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was the strong scent of gardenia perfume he smelled like when he came home from a “work dinner” last week. It was the exact same scent filling my nose right now. I jokingly asked if he had been out stealing kisses. He casually shook his head. “I took the car in for maintenance, and the shop owner recommended this new air freshener. I’m not used to the smell. It probably rubbed off on me.” Thinking back on it now, he told that lie so effortlessly. 2. When I walked out of the bedroom clutching the edges of the tablet, Mark shifted in his sleep. Moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, falling perfectly across his arm resting outside the blanket. A fresh, jarring scratch mark—clearly made by fingernails—was starkly visible. I held my breath and tiptoed toward the home office. Right before bed, he had been constantly texting on his phone. When he saw me looking, he openly waved the screen at me. “Just talking about cars with the guys from work. It’s the only hobby we men have left.” The moment I clicked on the desk lamp, the group chat messages flooded in. The “Veteran Mechanics Maintenance Station” chat jumped to the top of the screen. Someone posted: “Just put custom lace seat covers in the new car. Feels silky smooth to the touch, but they snag easily.” A reply quickly followed: “They snag because you’re too rough. If it were me, I wouldn’t ruin anything except the oil filler cap.” Scrolling down further, I quickly spotted Mark’s reply, glaringly obvious among the sea of text. “Lace seat covers are nothing. Why dress up the outside when you can upgrade the chassis? Decals, little bells… I’m telling you, that’s what makes a ride truly thrilling!” A flurry of responses flooded the screen below. “Mark the legend! You always have the wildest tricks!” “They don’t call you ‘Iron Mark’ for nothing. Hard as steel from head to toe.” “Flowing water crashing against ringing bells. Sounds like poetry, man!” Mark was practically glowing with pride in his texts. “Exactly! You gotta be bold and try new things. Once you’ve driven a new car off the lot, you realize old cars are just pure nostalgia. Men are wired to love the new and get bored of the old. It’s just human nature.” I stared at the words “little bells,” my fingertip pressing hard into the screen. Last month, while checking our joint credit card statement, I noticed Mark had spent $800. The merchant was listed as “Midnight Allure.” There were several similar charges. I had confronted him about it immediately. We had never been the type of couple to use toys or lingerie. More accurately, Mark refused to. Whenever my friends got together, they would talk about their sex lives with absolute enthusiasm. I never joined in. They thought I was just too shy to discuss it, but when I finally admitted we never spiced things up, they all scoffed. “Even a monk would lose his mind over fishnets! Emma, is your Mark made of stone or something? Try it out. I guarantee you’ll see a whole different side of him!” On the way home, I couldn’t resist stopping by an adult boutique and picking out the most conservative lingerie they had. But after I showered and finally worked up the courage to walk out wearing it, Mark just gave a helpless smile and draped a robe over my shoulders. “We’ve been married for years. What’s all this for? Don’t catch a cold.” “Don’t all men like this kind of thing?” I asked stubbornly, pulling the robe off. I did Pilates three times a week. My figure was famously fit at my gym. “I don’t care what other men like. I only know I don’t want to objectify my wife.” “It’s not objectifying. It’s just having fun…” He gently kissed the corner of my mouth, cutting me off. “We don’t need ‘fun’ between us. I can rise to the occasion for you anytime.” He pressed his hips forward against me. “We’ll skip the outfits. Remember, a knight’s duty is simply to serve his queen.” He really gave it his all that night. I could see a repressed lust in his eyes that felt different from usual, but the next day, I could never find that lingerie again. After that, our sex life settled into a routine of twice a month—once at the beginning, once at the end—as punctual as clocking in for a shift. I didn’t have an overly high sex drive either. Just like Mark said: Our souls are already perfectly intertwined. Why does it matter how much we immerse ourselves in the physical? But when I saw those charges from “Midnight Allure,” I was so furious I could barely breathe. Sensing something was wrong, Mark quickly grabbed my phone, scanned the screen, and laughed out loud. “Honey, is this what you’re mad about?” He quickly dialed a number. “Hey, Sam. Explain this to your sister-in-law. Why the hell is a reputable auto shop called ‘Midnight Allure’?!” The guy on the other end laughed loudly. “Don’t be mad, Emma! I opened an auto detailing shop on the East Side. Business was slow, so I thought changing the name might bring in more foot traffic!” “Mark’s been a lifesaver. He sent a bunch of customers my way. I told him I’d detail your car and do a full vinyl wrap for free, but he absolutely refused. He scanned my QR code and sent the money when I wasn’t looking! Mark, this is your fault! Now Emma thinks you’re up to no good!” I had met Sam before. He did indeed run an auto shop on the East Side, and Mark had taken me there once. Calling it an auto shop was a stretch. It looked like a massive, empty box from the outside. Inside, there was barely enough room for a single row of cars, but the entire back wall was lined with shelves. It felt claustrophobic, and it definitely didn’t look like a booming business. Before hanging up, Sam repeatedly insisted on taking us out to dinner—first to say thank you, and second to apologize for the misunderstanding. The issue was brushed under the rug. But I never imagined that a month later, when I opened Mark’s credit card statement again, there would be exactly seventeen identical charges. Did our single family SUV need maintenance every other day? 3. It felt like a wad of cotton was shoved down my throat. I gripped the tablet and stood up, planning to back up the chat history to the cloud. But my lower back bumped into the bookshelf, and a heavy Clinical Anatomy textbook hit the floor with a loud thud. Footsteps immediately echoed down the hallway. My heart stopped. In a panic, I shoved the tablet into the storage bin on the highest shelf. Just as I turned around, the office door was pushed open. Mark stood in the doorway. He didn’t turn on the light. The hallway illumination cut his face into sharp halves of light and shadow. He stared at me intently. “Honey? What are you doing in the office in the middle of the night?” I stretched my back. “I have an aortic dissection surgery tomorrow. Just reviewing some anatomy charts.” I bent down to pick up the book, my fingertips trembling so badly I almost dropped it again. “The top surgeon at City General still gets nervous?” Mark walked in, resting his hand on the edge of the desk, his thumb brushing over the surgical diagrams in the open book. “I heard a crash. I thought someone broke in.” I slid the book back onto the shelf, deliberately letting the spine hit the wood with a soft clatter. “I was rushing to find some reference material and knocked it over.” When I looked up, my eyes met his. There was a cloudy look in his eyes—I couldn’t tell if it was confusion or suspicion. I took the initiative and asked, “Why are you awake? Did I make too much noise?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he took two steps closer to the bookshelf. Sweat instantly soaked the back of my pajamas, making the fabric cling to my skin. The tablet was right above his head. The silver edge was glaringly obvious nestled among the row of books. But he suddenly stopped and reached out to tug at my hair. “Your hair is a mess.” His fingertips brushed behind my ear, carrying the scent of his usual aftershave. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that underneath it was the faint smell of massage candle wax, exactly like the kind the guys in the group chat were just discussing. “Let’s go back to sleep. Getting enough rest is the most important thing.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and guided me toward the door, his hand sliding up and down my waistline, almost as if he was checking to see if I was hiding anything. As we reached the doorway, he suddenly looked back at the bookshelf. His gaze swept over it like a searchlight. I wasn’t sure if he had spotted the tablet. If he had, he would have caught me red-handed looking at his chat history. What would I even say? Confront him directly? “Let’s sleep. I’m exhausted.” I let out a fake yawn, flicked off the office light, and naturally took his hand, leading him back to the bedroom. He didn’t notice the tablet and followed me back to bed. When we lay back down, he turned his back to me, but his breathing never leveled out. I stared at the ceiling, my mind flooded with memories of him dropping to his knees, begging me to be with him. 4. When I woke up the next morning, Mark had already made breakfast. He wore a deliberately relaxed smile on his face, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed his tension. “Honey, have you seen my tablet?” “I have a quarterly report for work. I need to use it to send some files.” He poured me a glass of soy milk, asking the question far too casually. I shook my head. “Haven’t seen it. Didn’t you leave it in the living room yesterday?” “Weird.” He scratched his head, turning toward the living room, his footsteps noticeably faster than usual. “I distinctly remember leaving it on the sofa…” I followed behind him, watching as he tore the sofa cushions apart. I crouched down to help him pick up a throw pillow, keeping my voice as natural as possible. “Wait, didn’t you use it for a video call in the bedroom the day before yesterday?” He let out an “Ah!” like he just remembered, and immediately turned and headed for the bedroom. Taking advantage of the noise he was making rummaging through the bedroom drawers, I sprinted to the home office, grabbed the tablet, took several rapid screenshots, cleared the recent app usage history, and then bolted back to the living room to shove it deep between the sofa cushions. The sound of cabinet doors and drawers slamming open and shut echoed from the bedroom. Mark was starting to panic. “Where the hell is it?!” I slowly sipped my soy milk, watching him pace through every room in the house like he was conducting a grid search. Soon enough, I heard Mark shout from the living room: “Found it! That’s so weird, I swore I just looked here!” When I walked over, he was holding the tablet and smiling, but his fingers were swiping frantically across the screen. When he saw the screen was completely clean, his tense shoulders finally dropped. He looked up at me and laughed. “My memory is getting worse every day.” When I wasn’t looking, he quickly found WeChat, switched accounts, and logged out. But I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from curling up into a smirk. He thought he was safe now, completely unaware that I had already set a trap. I knew he would eventually realize he needed to log out of WeChat. So, on my way home from work yesterday, I stopped by a convenience store and bought a prepaid burner phone and SIM card. I registered a new WeChat account with the burner number. The profile picture was a vintage motorcycle, and the display name was “Classic Ride.” The most crucial step was what I did while he was asleep last night. I opened the group chat, tapped the “Invite Friend” button, scanned the QR code with my new WeChat account, and immediately deleted the invitation record from his tablet. So, even though he had logged out of WeChat, he had absolutely no idea that a new pair of eyes was permanently watching his group chat. Mark put the tablet away, stood up, and patted my shoulder. “I’m heading to work. I might have to work late tonight.” The moment the door clicked shut, I immediately pulled out my phone and opened my new WeChat account. The little red notification dot for the group chat was bouncing wildly. Mark had just sent a voice message. “Went a little too hard the day before yesterday and scratched up the paint. That ’01 model needs some serious maintenance. The ‘Classic Ride’ at home is throwing a tantrum and won’t let me drive for the next couple days. Boys, if you’re taking the cars out, remember to bring me along.” He continued messaging the group, complaining that his “old car” at home needed to be “repaired.” I couldn’t resist tagging him. “How are you going to repair it? Aren’t you worried the ‘old car’ might find a new owner?” “A new owner?” “I could give her all the courage in the world, and she still wouldn’t have the nerve to leave me!” I honestly didn’t understand. Just a second ago, this man was acting like he couldn’t bear to part with me for a single night, and the moment he walked out the door, he was dragging my name through the mud. He quickly revealed the answer himself. Mark typed, radiating arrogance. “You guys don’t know the full story. When I bought this ‘old car,’ not only did I not pay a dime, but it actually came with a free house and a career attached!” I bit down hard on my lip. The metallic taste of blood instantly exploded in my mouth. The guys in the group were immediately interested. “Damn, deals like that actually exist? Where did you buy it? Can you hook me up with one?” It was a painful memory I thought I would never have to revisit. But Mark’s reply dragged me straight down into an inescapable abyss. I recognized every single word he typed. But pieced together, they felt like countless daggers plunging directly into my eyes. “You gotta be smart about it, boys. You scratch up the paint in the dark yourself, then you show up like a savior. A little pity, a little heartbreak… not only do you take over the lease with zero down and zero monthly payments, but the idiot actually thanks you for it.” “You played the villain and the hero?!” “Absolute genius, man!” … Mark soaked up the group’s praise, then quickly deleted his previous message. “Men are the sky, and women are the earth. The earth must obey the sky, and women must obey men. We men are born to conquer the world on horseback. Everyone talks about passing down traditional virtues, but somehow they conveniently forgot about the tradition of having multiple wives and mistresses! “The ‘old car’ should be grateful I don’t throw her out for being worn down! Haha!” My grip on the phone was so tight the screen nearly cracked. Originally, I just wanted to gather enough evidence to divorce him with my dignity intact. But now, I wanted him to drown like a maggot in the filthy sewage he had poured all over me, never to see the light of day again. I wanted to see it. I wanted to see how a man like this “conquered the world.” He pushed me into the abyss, then stood on the edge and threw down a frayed rope, expecting me to grovel in gratitude as I climbed up? Pathetic. Men might think they conquer the world on horseback, but women give birth to life. We bring new life into this world, and we absolutely will not allow the animals born beneath our skirts to stab us in the back! 5. I had been busy the last few days. I dug up the background of every single person in that group chat. The guy calling himself “Muscle Man Drives BMWs” was Mark’s college buddy, Jason. “Pedal to the Metal” was his coworker, David. “Premium Insurance Guy” was a former auto insurance salesman named Kevin. “Motor Oil Walk-In Closet” was Sam, the guy who ran the auto shop. There were many others. Some were invited by friends, while others joined through word of mouth, just like I did. Some were just there to talk big and live out their fantasies in the chat. Simply put, the group was a collection of society’s most disgusting, discarded scraps from every industry. My phone screen was still flashing with group chat notifications. Jason sent a message: “Just drove a Mini Cooper. Handled beautifully, incredibly thrilling. The acceleration pins you right back in your seat.” Someone immediately replied: “I drove a Mercedes C-Class last week. Burns through gas like crazy, but damn, she was gorgeous to look at.” The guys who just liked to talk immediately chimed in. “Hoping to meet a generous ‘green-hat’ brother who’s willing to share. Let me admire your ride, absolute secrecy guaranteed. I love other people’s cars, especially the ones aged 28 to 45. They have the most charm, gives you a real sense of conquest. But if I can’t find one, that’s fine too. [Facepalm] PM me if you fit the bill, serious inquiries only. No catfish. [Eye Roll][Eye Roll][Eye Roll]” “I’m not much of a player. Just have a little fun manually washing my car for fifteen seconds, spraying some wiper fluid, putting it in gear for an hour, and then spraying some more. It’s useless, but at least I’m only driving my own car and keeping it clean. [Dazed]” After being in the group this long, even an idiot would understand that these codes were the disgusting tags they slapped on women. Kevin, the guy with the car insurance profile picture, suddenly popped up: “Just got a new batch of ‘Electric Vehicle’ profiles. Passenger seat is usually empty. Whether you can actually drive it depends on your skills, but the success rate is pretty high. PM me if you want in.” Someone immediately asked for pictures and an estimated price. A photo of a woman from behind was sent to the chat. Slender legs, round hips. It left plenty to the imagination. “You can tell just by looking that the acceleration is going to push you back in your seat. The Camry has a low stance, and the headlights swing up and down. Incredible!” Jason critiqued. “You sly dog, acting like a saint at home and a total degenerate outside. You’re really living the dream, huh?” Mark replied quickly. “By the way, you didn’t forget we’re swapping ‘cars’ tomorrow, right? I told my wife I have a company retreat. Make sure you don’t slip up at home.” I had just seen Jason’s Facebook post, checking in at a high-end luxury mall. “Bought a little something for myself. Love you, wifey.” The attached photo showed his wife smiling happily, holding a brand-new Patek Philippe watch. The Buddha says it’s better to tear down a temple than to destroy a marriage. But nowadays, the monks in the temple had built themselves an express lane out of their vows, turning enlightenment into a checklist for infidelity and greed. So, the Buddha can’t be trusted. If these men were forming a club to “drive cars,” then us women… Well, we’d just have to unite and chop off their gearsticks! 6. I stared at the messages about swapping “cars,” re-reading them over and over. My fingers typed out a line on the screen: “Take me with you, boys! Seeing you guys swap looks like so much fun. I want to test the handling too.” The message sat in the chat for three hours before an avatar popped up: “New recruit?” I immediately sent three large red envelopes (digital cash gifts) to the chat, keeping my tone incredibly subservient: “The old car at home is dead weight. I’ve never actually experienced this kind of fun, and I feel pathetic. I’m not asking for much, bro, I just want to join the party.” When I specifically tagged Mark, my words oozed with “admiration”: “Mark, man, I respect the hell out of you. You’re the freest guy in this group. You’re a real man. I’m a rookie, I’ve never driven a luxury car before. Just let me watch from a distance. I swear I won’t cause any trouble.” Two minutes later, Mark’s message popped up, practically radiating smugness: “This is nothing. I’ve had my hands on at least eighty to a hundred steering wheels in my life. Since you’re so sincere, I’ll bring you along.” Then he sent two photos. Side profiles of two young women looking at the camera. It was Lily and Chloe. “These two are the ones we’re swapping tonight. Giving you a lot of face here, rookie.” I quickly replied: “You’re too generous, boss! I can’t just show up empty-handed. Which hotel should I book? Secret romance theme or the erotic waterbed suite?” He got even more arrogant, sending a location pin and an invite to a smaller, private group chat: “We’ve had our fun. I’ll let you touch the steering wheel tonight.” The private group chat contained the meticulous details of his and Jason’s plan. They had even calculated the exact milligram dosage of the drugs they were going to slip into the girls’ drinks, ensuring they would be “passed out drunk with no side effects.” In the main group, Mark’s coworker David suddenly sent out an SOS: “Played too hard! I threw up inside!” Someone replied instantly: “What happened? Weren’t you driving your boss’s car?” David sent an irritated emoji: “Don’t fucking mention it. She was crying, saying she felt sick. She’s been nauseous lately. You don’t think she’s…” The group chat exploded: “Dude, is she actually pregnant?” “Legend! You’re making your boss raise your woman and your kid?” I stared at the screen and sneered. Following the breadcrumbs in David’s chat history, I had figured it out ages ago—six months ago, he hooked up with the CEO’s secretary, manipulated her into leaking insider bidding information and client lists, and used it to force out his supervisor and get a massive raise. Evil people deserve to be tortured by other evil people. I took screenshots of his chat logs admitting to leaking corporate secrets and sent them anonymously to the CEO, Mr. King. After finishing that, I locked my phone. Looking at the hotel name in the location pin, my fingers scrolled through my contacts to find the phone numbers for Lily and Chloe, which I had paid a private investigator a small fortune to track down. It was time to let the hunters know that the prey knew how to build traps, too.

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I was the professional “lapdog” to Julian Sterling, the heir to the Sterling empire. When he pretended to be poor to test my affection, I played along. When he went on dates while pretending to be broke, I was his lookout. Then, high school ended. His “poor” first love went abroad to pursue her dreams. I became Julian’s official placeholder girlfriend. He told me plainly: when his true love comes back, I step aside. So I waited. And waited. I went from his girlfriend to his fiancée, and almost from his fiancée to his wife. Finally. Right before our wedding. Julian flew across the world and brought his first love back. I slipped off my engagement ring and let out a long sigh of relief. As I left, I even thoughtfully closed the door behind them. 01 When I heard that Julian had chartered a private jet overnight to bring her back, I wasn’t surprised. After all, it was Chloe Vance. When my best friend heard the news, she was furious: “You guys were about to get married! Has he lost his mind?!” No, he hadn’t. Chloe Vance was currently one of the hottest rising fashion designers in the industry. And it was an open secret that she was Julian Sterling’s first love. Reporters had even asked her about it directly. Chloe had replied: “Regardless of who someone’s first love is, I got to where I am today through my own hard work.” “Please focus less on tabloid gossip and more on my designs.” But just last week. Chloe was suddenly hit with a massive plagiarism scandal. A stunning, star-studded dress that she claimed as her own. Turned out to be stolen from an unknown indie designer. The scandal blew up. Chloe posted a dramatic update on her social media: [Are you all trying to drive me to my death?] That morning, Julian had been glued to his phone through breakfast. He was supposed to attend a crucial contract signing with a new supplier that day. He had casually agreed to give the contract to my dad’s company. But because Julian didn’t show up, the VP seized the opportunity and gave the contract to his own relative instead. My dad was so furious he called me ten times to scream at me. I tried calling Julian, but he didn’t answer. By the third attempt, his phone was turned off. When I finally saw Julian again. It was 11:00 PM. He told me to come to one of his vacant luxury properties. I had never been to this specific house before. As soon as I walked through the front doors, I saw the courtyard was filled with pink roses. The exact flowers Julian used to give Chloe. The sports car stuffed with pink roses—that was the extravagant scene from the day Julian had originally confessed his love to her. The interior decor wasn’t Julian’s usual pretentious, ultra-modern, minimalist style either. Thinking about it, it was exactly Chloe’s taste. Approaching the master bedroom, I heard a woman crying softly. The scene inside was pretty much exactly what I had imagined. A pale-faced woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, crying beautifully, a bandage wrapped around her wrist. A tall man stood beside the bed, looking utterly lost and helpless. His usually immaculate, custom-tailored suit was wrinkled. The only thing keeping him looking somewhat put-together was a face that rivaled a runway model’s. I didn’t understand why Julian had called me here. Courier services exist for a reason. He turned and looked at me, his eyes seemingly lighting up. I knew that look all too well. It was the exact same look he gave me back in high school when he and Chloe were secretly dating in the woods behind the school and almost got caught by the principal. “Chloe gets embarrassed easily. You take the blame for her.” Whenever he didn’t know what gift to buy Chloe, or when he somehow made her angry and didn’t know how to fix it, he would give me that exact look, expecting me to come up with a solution. I usually couldn’t come up with any good ideas. In the end, Chloe would usually just kick both of us out. She would yell at Julian, saying he only had his stupid money, and she’d call me his pathetic little lapdog. I would just roll my eyes and say, “Sidekick, sidekick. Lapdog sounds so ugly.” Julian would laugh at that. But in the end, Chloe always accepted Julian’s money anyway. Chloe dreamed of being a fashion designer. Back in high school. For a birthday gift Julian gave her, she had to work three months of part-time jobs just to buy him something of similar value in return. Unlike me, who took his gifts faster than a cheetah and constantly hoped some extra cash would slip through his fingers. Later, Chloe bombed her SATs. She ran up to the school roof, threatening to jump. Julian cried and begged her to come down, promising he would make her dreams come true. He sent her abroad. The Sterling family was incredibly wealthy. While not the absolute top 1%, they were still far beyond ordinary rich. Behind his family’s back, Julian tapped into the trust fund he gained access to when he turned eighteen. He spent millions to get Chloe into a prestigious design school in Paris. Honestly, I had always suspected Chloe only got close to Julian for his money. But then again. So did I. Lapdogs do it for free. Sidekicks charge an appearance fee. 02 That year, when the truth came out about what Julian did with his trust fund. He was beaten until he was black and blue, and then forced into an arranged marriage. Old Mr. Sterling declared: “The girl you marry will be from a family of equal standing!” But Julian refused to marry anyone other than Chloe. So, he came up with a terrible idea. He brought me back to his strict grandfather’s traditional estate and orchestrated a scene where the maids “caught” us exploring the mysteries of youth. He had dragged me toward the bed in a frantic rush. It scared the hell out of me. At the time, I had just turned eighteen. I was dizzy with the moment, actually foolishly believing he liked me. A few minutes later, the bedroom door was slammed open. Seeing a massive crowd of people standing outside the door, my face drained of color in terror. I frantically pulled the blanket up to cover myself. The humiliation and shame of that moment nearly drowned me. But it was nothing compared to what Julian said next. He announced proudly: “Hazel is my girlfriend! She’s the daughter of the Hayes family!” “She initiated it! She took my shirt off for me!” I have always been smart. If I wasn’t smart, I wouldn’t have been the only illegitimate child my father ever brought into the Hayes household. I instantly understood Julian’s little trick. He was using me as a human shield. Not only that, but he was using my “scandalous” behavior to highlight how pure and virtuous Chloe was by comparison. He was basically telling his family: Look, this is the kind of girl from an ‘equal standing’ family you want me to marry. Barely eighteen, and she’s already doing things like this in the elder’s house. Sure enough. The moment we were alone. He stated matter-of-factly: “Hazel, you know who I really love.” “When Chloe comes back, you leave. Don’t worry, I won’t treat you badly financially.” A young girl’s dignity isn’t worth much. But his love for Chloe was worth a fortune. So, I traded my dignity for a very large sum of money. I nodded. Julian was very satisfied, sighing: “I knew you were obedient. Easy to deal with.” So now, it was time for him to “deal” with me. 03 No wonder. No wonder Julian had randomly transferred half a million dollars to me this morning. I actually thought he was giving it to me for our “dating” anniversary. The day after tomorrow marked five years since we “started dating.” I felt incredibly guilty after receiving the half a million. Because I hadn’t prepared a single thing for him, and I certainly wasn’t going to transfer money back to him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend money on him. It was mainly because he didn’t need it. And, obviously, I was cheap. So, I had carefully selected a high-end French restaurant. I booked the entire place. I even planned to play a slideshow. I had several major projects on my plate at the time, so I had stayed up all night to put the slideshow together. I had just finished it and sent it to the restaurant right before Julian called me over here. The slideshow documented all the little moments of our last five years. Going to college together. I answered roll call for him while he slept on the desk next to me. When the professor questioned me, I shamelessly said: “I’m his future wife. We are one entity, so me answering for him is the same thing.” The whole lecture hall had erupted in cheers. Traveling together. He loved extreme sports: skydiving, black-diamond snowboarding. His rich trust-fund friends valued their lives too much to join him, so I was the only one willing to risk my neck to keep him company. Afterward, my legs would be shaking so badly I almost collapsed. When the world was spinning, he pulled me into his arms. Moving in together. We watched TV together, went grocery shopping together, cooked together… Well, I cooked, and he ate. Julian hated having maids around, and he didn’t like hiring cleaning services either. I don’t know when it started, but he eventually started volunteering to wash the dishes. The memories ended there. I was just wondering if I could still get a refund from that French restaurant for tomorrow night. Julian frowned at me: “What took you so long?” Having not slept for two days straight, I was feeling a bit dizzy and seeing spots. Chloe looked up at me. “Are you… Hazel?” I smiled and greeted her. She wiped her tears and said: “I’m sorry you had to see me looking like such a mess.” “I’m sorry to trouble you, but Julian said you’re really good at taking care of people…” I looked at Julian. Julian said naturally: “You take care of her.” “She hasn’t eaten in two days. Make her something to eat. And her clothes are too thin, go buy her a change of clothes…” As Julian rattled off his demands, I just kept nodding, nodding, nodding. I said: “Yes, sir. No problem. Received. I’m on it right now.” My obedient, compliant response suddenly left Julian speechless. I was taking notes on my phone. When I heard silence, I looked up at him, confused. “Is that all? Ju… Mr. Sterling.” I almost slipped up and called him by his first name. Calling him “Julian” was something he had specifically told me to do back when we were putting on the act for his grandfather. There were too many occasions where we had to pretend. He specifically allowed me to use that name, and I eventually just got used to it. But now that Chloe was back, if I kept calling him that and she got jealous, Julian would absolutely destroy me. Julian’s gaze was heavy. Seeing that he seemed to be finished, I turned to walk out. Julian suddenly shouted: “Hazel, stop right there!” He startled me. I turned back to him, putting on my best sycophantic smile: “Mr. Sterling, do you have any other orders?” Julian’s expression looked awful. He seemed to grind out every single word through his teeth: “Do you not have anything you want to ask me?” Ask what? Julian glared at me. He was so angry his cheeks were slightly puffed out, his jawline clenched tight. He looked like a very handsome toad. I thought about it for a second, then asked: “What is Ms. Vance’s clothing size?” Actually, I could tell by looking at her. She was probably a size Small. She was even thinner than she was in high school. I don’t know if she was trying to fit the aesthetic of the European fashion scene, or if she just hadn’t been living well these past few years. Or maybe both. Unlike me. I ate well, slept well, and was a solid two sizes bigger than I was back then. I’m 5’3″ and weigh about 130 pounds. When my friends told me to lose weight, I told them this is what prosperity looks like. I grew up poor; I like looking like I have money now. If I lost weight and hired male models, it would just be a waste of good money on them. Julian laughed. But it was a dark, menacing laugh. He said: “Hazel, you are unbelievable.” “Hey! Thank you, Mr. Sterling!” 04 I bought several sets of luxury designer clothes. From underwear to outerwear, head to toe, I got everything. I also called the French restaurant. When they told me the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit was non-refundable, I almost had a heart attack. I tried to negotiate with them: “Can I just get half back?” “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no.” I said: “Then how about this: I’m not coming tomorrow night, but you can just cook the food and deliver it to me right now.” “Make whatever, but make sure it’s good.” “The address is in the Eastside Estates…” After handling the food and clothes, I double-checked to see if I missed anything. And I did find a glaring omission. A full belly leads to other desires. I went online and ordered some 0.01mm ultra-thin protection. I guessed the size. Smallest available. Hopefully, it fits. If it didn’t, he couldn’t blame me. It’s not like Julian ever showed me. When I got back to the villa, Chloe seemed to have cried herself to sleep. Her eyes were closed, her hand gripping Julian’s sleeve tightly. Julian was in the exact same position he had been in when I left. He had just stayed by her side, barely moving an inch. When I pushed the door open, Julian was leaning down, about to steal a kiss from Chloe. Wait. Couldn’t he wait until she woke up? Was he really that desperate? It scared me so much I almost walked in backward. I quickly shut my mouth tight. After thinking about it, I quietly placed the “essentials” on the floor inside the bedroom. Then, I gently pulled the door shut. Before leaving, I sent Julian a text: [Mr. Sterling, I left the clothes and food in the living room.] [You can come out and get them when you guys are finished.] While typing that message, I couldn’t help but see our previous texts. It was a message Julian had sent me while he was at work. He was complaining to me about the old executives on the board of his company. Then he whined and asked me to go bungee jumping with him, said he was going to take me to Miami to see the ocean the day after tomorrow, and that we were going to Aspen to ski at the end of the year to de-stress from work. Perhaps because the future is so uncertain. People always love to make plans for it. I had replied with one word: [Received]. He had gotten annoyed and sent a sticker of an angry kitten. I searched for a long time before finding a sticker of someone petting a kitten’s head to send back. Afraid he was actually mad, I added: [What do you want for dinner?] But calculating the time, he probably saw the news about Chloe right around then, and he never replied. An abruptly ended conversation seemed to be the perfect announcement for an impending breakup. It started my freshman year of high school and ended the second year after I graduated college. I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. Julian was overbearing, childish, selfish, and stupid. But there was no denying he wasn’t a bad guy, and he was very generous. At his engagement banquet. He had a bit to drink and proudly declared: “Hazel, I’ll allow you to stay by my side forever.” For a while, I genuinely thought we were actually going to get married. Looking at it now, I had definitely misunderstood. The cold, hard numbers in my bank account were the only things that truly warmed my heart. I took off the engagement ring I had been wearing and gently placed it on the living room table. Funny how things work out. I told the French restaurant they didn’t need to follow my custom menu, just to make whatever. But they kept the cake I had ordered. Written on it was— [Julian, Happy 5th Anniversary!] My engagement ring was left right next to the cake. 05 Julian’s lips stopped inches away from Chloe’s face. For some reason, he suddenly didn’t want to kiss her anymore. Even though the person he had thought about for years was right in front of his eyes. Julian thought it was because he respected Chloe. Chloe was no longer the poor student she used to be. For the past four years, Julian had flown to her for every single one of her birthdays. To celebrate with her, to introduce her to resources. But nothing had ever happened between them. Back then, Chloe explicitly told him she wasn’t coming back to the US, and she didn’t want to hold him back. Julian stubbornly replied: “Who’s waiting for you? I’m already with Hazel!” Chloe had smiled and said: “With her by your side, I can rest easy.” “She’s your lapdog. She’ll definitely take good care of you.” “Julian, even though we can’t be together, I want you to be happy more than anyone else in the world.” Julian’s anger instantly evaporated. This was the most tragic, yet beautiful, form of love, wasn’t it? Even though they couldn’t be together, they still held the number one spot in each other’s hearts. Chloe was meant to soar. He had to let her fly free. Chloe was like a rose Julian had cultivated with his own hands. She had fought so hard to grow out of the mud, and she deserved to bloom brilliantly for the whole world to see. He couldn’t trap her by his side. He should only be the rain that waters her when she needs him. That was the philosophy he had gradually come to accept. He only needed a greedy, materialistic woman like Hazel by his side. He couldn’t give her his heart, but he could give her marriage, money, and status. That’s how high-society marriages worked anyway. Just like the anniversary transfer he sent her a few days ago. His friend had suggested he transfer $520,000 (a romantic number in Chinese internet slang), but he thought that was too cheesy and unnecessary. Hazel, who normally wouldn’t even be fit to tie Chloe’s shoes, should be satisfied with what she got. Thinking of Hazel, Julian felt an inexplicable surge of annoyance. Even though his relationship with Chloe was completely platonic, was Hazel really not jealous at all? No. Hazel must be angry. That’s why she deliberately called him “Mr. Sterling.” His friends always teased him about how submissive Hazel was. “Julian really knows how to train a wife. Unlike my tiger wife at home. If I so much as glance at another woman, she blows up.” “When Chloe finally comes back, I bet Hazel wouldn’t even mind being the side piece, right?” “Side piece? I’d say she’s more like a loyal maid. If Julian hooks up with someone, she’d probably be the one handing him the condom!” Julian never argued with them. Because that’s exactly how it was. Just then. Julian saw the notification on his phone. It was Hazel letting him know she had come and gone. He casually glanced toward the bedroom door. Julian shot up, staring in disbelief, and walked over to pick up the small box on the floor. He squeezed the box until it deformed. Hazel had even prepared this for him. This was exactly the scenario his friends had joked about. But when it actually happened, Julian suddenly felt incredibly angry. A suffocating, irritable emotion filled his chest. Chloe woke up and saw the box in Julian’s hand. While she blushed, a flash of triumph crossed her eyes. “Julian, please don’t do this.” “I texted you to take me away, it didn’t mean anything else. I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…” But before she could finish, she watched Julian throw the small box into the trash can. Chloe’s expression stiffened. Julian said: “Do I look like that kind of animal to you?” Chloe quietly let out a sigh of relief. So, Julian hadn’t lost feelings for her. He just cherished her too much. Julian continued: “Besides, you still have to go back to Europe to build your career. How could I possibly get in the way of that?” Chloe’s face turned ugly for a fraction of a second. She tested the waters: “What if… I wasn’t planning on going back…” Before she could finish, Julian interrupted her: “Don’t lie to me. Don’t I know you? You’re someone who chases their dreams. You’re not like those women who only care about getting married and having babies.” Chloe swallowed the words she was about to say. Julian brought out the clothes Hazel had bought. Chloe looked at the clothes with a troubled expression. Julian took one look at the brand and instantly understood. He sent Hazel a text: [Chloe doesn’t like the design philosophy of this brand. She won’t wear their clothes. Go buy another set.] Julian then took Chloe out to the dining area. Looking at the table full of lavish French cuisine, Chloe frowned again. Julian sent another text to Hazel: [Chloe doesn’t eat heavy food that makes you gain weight. She just got back from abroad and doesn’t want Western food either. Go to that authentic local spot I like, get some takeout, and bring it over.] Chloe said, sounding incredibly understanding: “It’s fine. I can eat this.” Julian looked at Chloe’s pale face, his eyes full of pity. He thought for a moment, then sent another text to Hazel: [Chloe’s not feeling well. I’m taking her out to clear her head. Just to the mountains nearby. We’ll be back before our anniversary.] The person who usually replied instantly sent nothing back. Annoyed, Julian called Hazel. The phone was turned off. Had she… blocked him? Suddenly. He saw the cake on the dining table. The words on the cake made him freeze. Why did she just leave the anniversary cake here like this? A diamond caught the light and sparkled. And then, Julian saw the ring sitting next to the cake. 06 The weather was beautiful today. Perfect for traveling. Perfect for moving. Having collected my five-million-dollar severance package, I moved out with lightning speed. I guaranteed Chloe wouldn’t see my face when she woke up. I booked an executive suite at a five-star hotel and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. Before sleeping, I even posted a melodramatic update on social media, announcing my breakup with Julian. When I woke up. I realized my phone had died and shut off. When I turned it back on, the notification chimes didn’t stop for a solid minute. Julian had sent me a ton of messages and left several missed calls. I skimmed through them. [Hazel, what is this supposed to mean? Throwing a tantrum now?] [Are you mad because I made you take care of Chloe?] [When I got there, Chloe was lying in the bathtub with a slashed wrist! Do you have any empathy at all?] He also sent a picture. The engagement ring I left behind had been thrown into the trash can. Along with the 5th-anniversary cake. … My eyes landed on the very last message— [If you’re so tough, then don’t ever come back!] Oh. Okay. So he was telling me not to come back. I felt completely justified in not returning Julian’s calls. But soon enough, I saw a new update from Julian on social media. The scandal surrounding Chloe’s plagiarism had blown up internationally and reached the US. The indie designer she had plagiarized, despite going by the pseudonym Sirius, was actually American. And he had just returned to the States. A blurry paparazzi photo from the airport circulated online. Black hair, green eyes, 6’2″, devastatingly handsome. The photo was quickly scrubbed from the internet, suggesting his background was quite powerful. Right in the middle of this storm. Julian posted an update: [Ants always love to see the swan suffer.] The comments were almost entirely mocking, with a few hardcore shippers mixed in. But mostly, it was just normal internet users. Sirius also posted an update: [The blind man plucked the moon from the sky, but didn’t know how to cherish it.] [So, I’m back to chase the moon again.] It was cryptic. No one really understood it. Some speculated it had nothing to do with the plagiarism scandal. After all, he wasn’t even the one who made the original post providing irrefutable proof of Chloe’s plagiarism. This post sounded more like an ambitious declaration of intent to steal someone’s girl. [Did the poster return to the US to pursue someone he likes?] The creator liked that comment. Immediately after, someone discovered that this account had posted a location tag a long time ago. It was the exact same high school Chloe attended. Someone suspected: [The poster is so forgiving… could the person he’s pursuing be Chloe?] The shippers had a field day for the first time: [The Poster: I did all of this just so you would finally notice me!] [We’ve been hating on this plagiarist for so long, and it turns out it was just a twisted lovers’ quarrel?] The comment section was a chaotic mess. But Sirius never reappeared to clarify anything. Chloe, who had been hiding like a turtle in its shell for days, suddenly popped her head out. She posted: [You cannot force love. Trying to scoop the moon’s reflection from the water will only push the real moon further away.] Suddenly, a bunch of accounts sprang up, all pushing the same narrative: The “moon” Sirius was talking about was Chloe. That dress was designed specifically for Chloe. Sirius was using the wrong method to pursue Chloe, using the false plagiarism accusation to get her attention. And so on. Meanwhile. In the hotel lobby. Someone suddenly called out to me— 07 The blurry image from the phone materialized into a high-definition real person right in front of me. Mixed-race features. A strong nose, a sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. A simple black t-shirt couldn’t hide the defined muscle lines of his chest and abdomen. Veins popped on his arms. His slightly curly black hair seemed styled with wax, and his incredibly long legs demanded attention. He had a cocky expression. A total bad boy. He raised an eyebrow at me and said: “What a coincidence. You’re staying here too.” After a brief moment of shock, I blurted out in surprise: “You’re—” That exquisite face froze for a second before his green eyes filled with immense joy. “You remember me? I thought you had forgotten me a long time ago…” I blurted out: “You’re Sirius!” The pedestrians nearby heard me and turned to look. Someone even pulled out their phone and started a video call: “Wife, I’m at that hotel where you helped your bestie catch her cheating husband. I think there’s a celebrity here. Take a look, do you recognize him? Should I go get an autograph for you?” Sirius: “…” I quickly apologized: “I’m so sorry for causing a scene.” He instinctively shook his head: “It’s fine…” “Let me buy you dinner to make up for it.” He said: “…Actually, it was quite a scene.” And just like that. We ended up sitting in a small diner down the street. When the waiter asked about dietary restrictions, he said: “No cilantro, extra spicy.” I casually remarked: “You have the exact same taste as me.” “We’re pretty compatible.” He seemed to smile secretly to himself. That was the first time I thought we had met by the river. Later. Maybe it really was destiny. I kept running into Ethan River. Once, near my new apartment, he was out for a run. Sweat dripped down his sharp jawline, radiating pure testosterone. Another time, at a bookstore I used to frequent in high school. He was there too, dressed fashionably, but giving off a very peaceful vibe. Another time, at my company, the sales department brought in a major client. … By the seventh “coincidental” encounter. I stopped him. Before he could casually act like he had just bumped into me again, I said— “Ethan River, do you have a crush on me?” As soon as the words left my mouth. The man in front of me widened his eyes. His pale skin started turning bright red, starting from his neck and creeping all the way up his face.

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