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—”

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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.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “405521”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

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.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “405520”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I saw a text message on my husband Preston’s phone. He had booked a luxurious ten-day European getaway for the Thanksgiving holidays. I smiled. He had always loved surprising me like this. But when the holidays finally arrived, that surprise never came to me. Instead, he told me he had to go on an urgent business trip out of the country. Then, I saw a post on his secretary’s Instagram Story: [A kiss of true love under the Bridge of Sighs in Venice. You kissed my lips, but you captured my heart.] Attached was a photo of her and Preston locked in a passionate kiss. I saved the photo and sent it to the Vance family group chat with the caption: Congratulations. Looks like you’re all getting a new daughter-in-law. 01 The Vance family group chat immediately exploded. Everyone started popping up. My mother-in-law: “Harper, is this some kind of misunderstanding?” Preston’s cousin: “Damn, Preston knows how to play.” His aunt quickly tagged the cousin: “Keep your mouth shut, kids.” My sister-in-law: “Why does that woman look so familiar?” Preston’s other cousin: “That’s his secretary, Chloe.” The chat fell dead silent. A moment later, Preston finally sent a message: “Chloe lost a game of Truth or Dare and had to post a kissing photo. She’s my employee, and I didn’t want to see the poor girl humiliated, so I helped her out. Everyone, calm down.” My phone rang immediately. It was Preston. “Harper, stop acting like a child, okay? How could you post a photo like that to the family chat? You know the Vance family is a major traditional household. The elders are very conservative. Delete it right now.” I kept my voice perfectly flat. “Is there something wrong with the photo? I think the lighting is great, and the caption is very poetic.” Preston’s tone grew impatient. “I told you, she lost a game of Truth or Dare. Why are you being so petty with a young girl?” I sat up straight, my tone turning deadly serious. “She’s kissing my husband. Of course I’m going to be petty. If you didn’t have feelings for her, you would never have entertained something like this. Preston, I hope you don’t make a mistake.” His voice softened. “Okay, I promise I’ll be careful next time. I’ll bring you back a nice gift from my trip.” I checked the calendar and asked, “How many more days until you’re back?” The timeline he gave me matched the ten-day European tour itinerary perfectly. Preston Vance had ultimately chosen to betray our marriage. A few days later, Preston returned. I went to the airport to pick him up. It wasn’t because I was clingy; the Vance family was hosting a large family gathering today, and we had to make an appearance as a couple. Preston walked out pushing a luggage cart. Trailing closely behind him, looking like a timid little bird, was Chloe. When she saw me, Chloe shrank back slightly in fear. “Mrs. Vance.” Preston gently put an arm around me and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for coming, honey.” His breath smelled faintly of women’s perfume. They had probably just finished kissing. I turned my head away and noticed a faint red smudge on his shirt collar. I didn’t say a word. Preston looked completely unbothered. “Honey, let’s drop Chloe off first, then head home together.” He naturally pulled open the passenger door, explaining that Chloe got motion sickness in the back. Chloe sat in the passenger seat and peeked at me cautiously. “Mr. Vance, maybe I should just call a cab.” Preston grabbed my hand, his tone shifting into overbearing mode. “It’s dangerous for a young girl like you to be out at night. Besides, dropping you off is on our way.” On our way? It was a ten-mile detour, but if he said it was on the way, fine. My eyes met Chloe’s in the rearview mirror. It was a silent clash of swords—we both knew exactly what the other was thinking, filled with a woman’s intuition. I lowered my eyes and asked softly, “Was it just the two of you on this trip?” Preston answered casually, “No, the other colleagues took a different flight.” Before getting out of the car, Chloe handed me a gift box, tilting her head. “Mrs. Vance, this is a gift for you. Mr. Vance said you love shawls. I hope you like it, though I wasn’t sure if the color would be suitable.” Preston chuckled. “Harper is a bit older, she doesn’t like bright, playful colors like you young girls do. It’s perfect.” A lump formed in my throat upon hearing that. I let out a quiet sigh. 02 The moment her car door shut, I sat up straight and shifted away from Preston. He frowned. “What’s wrong?” I handed him a mirror and told him to look at himself. He quickly spotted the lipstick stain. He frowned slightly, but immediately launched into an explanation to me. “When we got off the plane, Chloe tripped. I caught her, and it must have brushed against me then.” I took a deep breath, turning to look at him. My eyes carried a mix of heartbreak and a look that was hard to read. “Preston, we’ve been married for seven years. Before this, you never had secretaries who were so unsteady on their feet that they rubbed lipstick on your collar. Since when did female secretaries start accidentally spraying perfume on you and leaving lipstick marks?” He stayed silent for a moment before saying apologetically, “Alright. I’ll be more careful from now on.” I swallowed the heavy feeling in my chest. Even though ours was a marriage built on corporate alliances, we had legitimately dated for two years before tying the knot. It wasn’t a loveless marriage. But after seven years, it felt like we had reached the end. Before we stepped out to face his family, he grabbed my arm, looking serious. “Are you mad? Why? Because I didn’t spend the holidays with you and went on a business trip with my secretary?” “When did you become so unreasonable? You’re acting as immature as a little girl.” “You know the company is going through a crucial transition. I really don’t have the time to guess what’s going through your head. I flew out of the country and worked for ten days straight. I’m truly exhausted.” “If you want to be a proper Mrs. Vance, you shouldn’t be wearing your emotions on your face right now.” I suddenly lost all patience to play this game with him. I ripped my arm out of his grasp. “A ten-day luxury European tour? A business trip? Preston, do you really think I’m the only idiot in the whole world? “Was the kiss under the Bridge of Sighs sweet? Did you capture her heart?” I pushed the car door open, not looking back. “Let’s get through tonight’s perfect couple performance, and then we need to separate and cool off for a while.” By the time the family gathering ended, I was practically on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. Faking being the perfect couple hurts the body and the soul. When we got home, I drew a bath. I had just put on my pajamas and was applying body lotion when Preston gently wrapped his arms around me from behind, coaxing me softly. “Honey, I was wrong. I’ll never bring her up again. If you don’t like it, I’ll transfer her to a branch office, okay?” I wriggled out of his embrace. “Preston, don’t hug me when you smell like another woman’s perfume and lipstick.” He grabbed me again the second I broke free. “I’m sorry. Come wash up with me again, okay? You can literally peel my skin off.” He leaned in to kiss me. Just as I was about to slap him, his phone rang. I glanced at the screen. The caller ID was: Little Clumsy. Through the speaker, I heard Chloe’s delicate, tear-laced voice. “Mr. Vance, what do I do? I messed up the data in the files we brought back, and I don’t know how to fix it! The contract signing is tomorrow. What should I do?” Her voice was laced with panic, carrying a young girl’s reliance on a man in power. Preston frowned and replied, “What’s wrong with you? How could you be so careless? Stay at home and wait, I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone, turned around, and put on his coat, telling me, “This contract is crucial. I have to oversee it personally. You go to sleep, don’t wait up for me.” After speaking, he braved the freezing wind, completely forgetting to even wear a scarf, and hurried out the door. I sat quietly on the sofa and listened to the notification chime on my phone. I tapped it open. It was Chloe’s newly posted Instagram Story: A serious man is the most handsome, no matter what he’s doing. The photo showed Preston sitting under a lamp, painting Chloe’s fingernails. My suspended heart finally died. I locked the bedroom door, put on my earplugs and eye mask. There was no way he was coming back tonight anyway. The next morning, as I ate breakfast, the maid asked me, “Is Mr. Vance not eating breakfast?” I put down my utensils and thought for a moment. “You probably won’t need to make breakfast for him anymore. I imagine he won’t have much time to eat at home from now on.” I picked up my phone and opened it. Sure enough, Chloe had posted another story, this one filled with the “simple joys of life.” Preston was sitting at a street food cart. On the table sat soy milk and steamed buns. The rising steam blurred his face slightly. There were two sets of chopsticks and two bowls on the table. The caption read: The simple joys of life are just being with you. The endless flaunting of their affection was relentless. How picky was Preston with his food? He was allergic to dairy, allergic to peanuts, and if he ate anything remotely unsanitary, he would immediately get severe gastroenteritis. The chef in our house was held to higher standards than a five-star hotel. Ignoring a five-star breakfast to eat at a street cart—seeing this, I realized he truly was blinded by love, completely losing his mind. My fingers finally couldn’t resist the itch, and I hit the “Like” button. Very quickly, the post was deleted. 03 My prediction came true very quickly. Preston was rushed to the hospital with severe vomiting and diarrhea. When I arrived at the hospital, Preston was pale and hooked up to an IV, his eyes half-closed. His secretary was crying next to him, her eyes swollen red. She looked a hundred times more heartbroken than I, the actual wife, did. Preston was still asleep. When Chloe saw me, she immediately stood up and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Vance. It’s all my fault.” I held out a hand to stop her. “Of course it’s your fault. You’re definitely the reason he’s hospitalized. Have you figured out how you’re going to explain to the Vance family how you single-handedly put Preston in the hospital?” “Harper, it doesn’t involve Chloe,” Preston said weakly, waking up at that moment. Chloe rushed over and stood by the bed, her eyes as red as a little rabbit’s. “I really didn’t know you couldn’t eat street food. I’ll cook for you myself next time, okay?” Preston stopped her from saying more. “You go back first. I don’t need you to take care of me here.” I stood up from the sofa and stopped Chloe from leaving. “No, you should take care of him. There’s probably no one who can take care of him better than you. I have things to deal with at my company. I don’t have time to stay at the hospital.” Preston hurriedly explained, “I was up all night fixing data last night. Chloe felt bad this morning and treated me to breakfast. Please don’t misunderstand.” I grabbed my purse to leave, shaking my head to stop his explanation. “Whether your secretary is completely incompetent is Vance Corp’s business. It has nothing to do with me. But my husband spent the entire night with a young girl fixing data, and then hospitalized himself over the ‘simple joys of life’ this morning. It’s inevitable that I’d be unhappy. So, I don’t want to see you today.” Behind me, I heard Chloe’s anxious voice: “It’s all my fault. Let me go explain to Mrs. Vance so she won’t be angry.” Preston comforted her with a hoarse voice. “Stop crying. If you cry any more, you really will turn into a little rabbit.” That evening, succumbing to my mother-in-law’s various worries and explicit and implicit hints—being a wealthy family’s daughter-in-law is hard. Fortunately, I wouldn’t be one for much longer. Ultimately, I still carried the recovery soup and went to the hospital. The door to the VIP ward was slightly ajar. I walked to the door, just about to push it open, when I heard voices inside. “Preston, I kissed you because I truly love you. I don’t care that you’re married, and I’m not asking you to marry me. I just want to be by your side. Please don’t transfer me away, okay?” “Please, don’t reject me.” It was a delicate, heartbreaking cry. Peering through the crack in the door, I saw Chloe’s tear-streaked face resting against Preston’s body. She looked up at him like a god, her face full of admiration and worship. She gently tilted her face up and pressed her tender lips against his. “I’m begging you.” Finally getting a response, it went from a gentle, probing touch to a deep kiss. The long, intoxicating deep kiss made the two of them sink into it, unable to pull away. Clatter! The thermos in my hand dropped straight to the floor, making a massive noise that startled the two kissing people inside, causing them to break apart immediately. Seeing me standing at the door, Preston froze, and Chloe, her face flushed, shrank behind him. Preston ripped out his IV needle, jumping out of bed to grab me and explain. I threw a hard slap, striking his face and forcing his head to the side. “Get away from me.” Chloe rushed over, blocking him. “Mrs. Vance, how could you hit someone? It’s all my fault. If you want to hit someone, just hit me.” Looking at the two of them, a wave of nausea washed over me. I didn’t want to say another word. I turned around to leave. “Harper, it’s not what you saw.” I spun around fiercely. “It’s not what I saw, then what is it? Making out for five minutes, what are you going to tell me? You have a good working relationship? Or you were comforting a scared little girl?” “Don’t touch me, Preston. You make me sick.” “I’ll have the Sterling family lawyers contact you. Preston, I want a divorce.” 04 Preston chased me all the way into the elevator. I used my purse to smash him out of it fiercely. “Get out, I am not staying in the same elevator as you. Even sharing the same space as you, I find your breathing disgusting.” Preston’s face was deathly pale. He stood dumbly at the elevator doors, watching them slowly close, looking at my disappointed eyes that wished I could kill him. My elevator reached the first floor. Preston, in his hospital gown, was panting heavily having run all the way down the stairs. He blocked my path at the hospital entrance. “Honey, I’m not divorcing you. Don’t speak out of anger. We can’t get divorced. Listen to my explanation.” I shook him off. “A misunderstanding? You want my forgiveness? Which sentence do you think you have the nerve to say out loud? Preston, I am so disappointed in you.” Preston grabbed my hand, refusing to let go. “No, I admit I made a mistake, I lost my mind. I just felt a little bored, and she was young, fresh, and I had a momentary lapse in judgment and got distracted. But Harper, don’t cry. When I saw you just now, I completely realized that the person I love the most is only you. What I have with her is just playing a game.” I glared at him coldly. “Playing a game? Your games are endless. Preston, are you an actor? Why don’t you go into acting? The next Best Actor award would be yours.” “What did you say? You were just playing a game with me?” Chloe had taken the elevator down and chased after us. When the elevator doors opened, she perfectly caught Preston’s words. Her tears fell like beads, staring straight at Preston. “Everything you said last night was a lie? When you were in bed saying you loved me, that was fake? When you said she was boring, that was fake? When you said you would divorce her and marry me, that was fake too?” “Then what am I supposed to do? I love you so much. I really will die without you.” She cried beautifully like a rain-soaked blossom. Before Preston could comfort her, he saw me leaving and immediately tried to chase after me. A gasp came from behind, and Chloe collapsed softly to the ground. “Chloe!” Preston rushed over, gathering her into his arms. When he frantically looked back for me, he found that I had already opened my car door and sped away. “Harper!” Preston shouted loudly, but there was no one left to answer him. My fiery temper was inherited from my father, swift and decisive. When I got back to the home I shared with Preston, I called a professional moving company and began packing and clearing out everything I owned in the Vance house. The senior maids in the Vance household were running around in a panic. They called Preston, but his phone was off, so they called my mother-in-law and father-in-law. I didn’t answer their calls. I just uploaded a video to the Vance family group chat. This time, no one came out to speak. It was the high-definition video of Preston and Chloe’s five-minute passionate kiss. Both the emotions and the body language were perfectly captured—spicy, passionate, and full of desire. I posted a single sentence: “Doesn’t a love like this deserve my blessing?” Then, I clicked ‘Leave Group Chat’. From today on, I was no longer a member of the Vance family, and I had absolutely nothing to do with them. Preston’s phone was off, leaving him completely unaware of this. He didn’t know that outside his little universe of love, the whole world had exploded. When I returned to my family home, my dad jumped up, wanting to go to the hospital and break Preston’s legs. My brother coldly called our corporate partners, declaring that whoever did business with the Vance family would hereafter be an enemy of the Sterling family. The Sterling legal team worked overnight, calculating our pre-marital assets, marital assets, and drafting the divorce agreement. Meanwhile, Chloe innocently and romantically posted on her Instagram: I love watching the way you wake up next to me in the morning. The photo featured Preston’s sleeping face. It was clear the two of them had slept quite contentedly. I loved seeing it. I saved the picture with a quick screenshot and sent it along to the lawyers. I loved how direct young girls were about love, how much they loved to show off, and how they posted everything on social media. Finding evidence couldn’t be any easier. Preston didn’t want to divorce, but now it was out of his hands. The division of partnerships between our two families was underway. My father and my father-in-law were negotiating the terms. Disentangling the partnerships of two major conglomerates was no small matter. 05 After Preston was discharged from the hospital, he came to my family home every day to see me. Every time, he was kicked out by my brother, sometimes not even allowed through the door. But he insisted on coming, rain or shine. My mom couldn’t bear it anymore. With a disappointed face, she told him, “You say you love Harper, but you go and fool around with someone else, cheating and betraying her. If you say you don’t like Harper, then why are you putting on this act now? What’s the point of this?” He knelt in front of my mom, begging her. “Mom, let me see Harper. I am sincere about her. I really lost my mind, making mistake after mistake. Please, let me see Harper.” “She won’t even give me a chance to make one mistake. I will explain everything to her properly.” My mom sighed and shook her head. “Go back. Harper said she won’t see you again unless you sign the divorce papers.” It was useless for him to kneel at my house until he died. I wasn’t even home. I had started an impromptu trip with my best friend. My best friend tilted her head, her eyes sparkling, and smiled. “You just got dumb staying at home after you got married. You don’t know how wonderful the outside world is.” We went to the snow mountains, visited Shangri-La, and went to Qinghai Lake. I was won over by the beautiful scenery. The gloom in my heart was swept away, leaving only a good mood. The answers are always on the road, and freedom is in the wind. I resolutely refused to be a fool for love. During this period, Chloe frequently appeared as Preston’s girlfriend. In the social media posts my friends sent me, I could often spot Preston and Chloe together. I found it a bit funny. Preston’s brain must have been eaten by a dog. On one hand, he refused to divorce, and on the other, he was wandering around with his affair partner. Was he afraid people wouldn’t know he cheated? By the time I returned to the city, two months had passed. When I arrived at the airport, I actually saw Preston. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, waiting for me at the airport. He stepped forward, a gentle look on his face. “Honey.” I took a step back, looking at him coldly. “We don’t need to do this, Preston. Why hasn’t the divorce agreement been signed after two months? Haven’t you been having a great time playing around with your little mistress every day? Why are you dragging me down? Can’t we just let each other live?” Preston’s eyes darted away, looking a bit guilty. “We’ve been married for so many years. Do you really not care about our old feelings at all? I really need you.” I smiled. “You don’t need me. You just need a presentable wife who can earn you face. And I am tired of playing that role.” He only wanted my status as the eldest daughter of the Sterling family to give him prestige in the Vance family and make him look good at social events. Where else would he find a wife like that? If I hadn’t looked at his face back then, I wouldn’t have fallen for such a massive trap. Now he had found all these other women. Besides playing around, what use did he have for them? I pushed my luggage past him, leaving without turning back. I didn’t care how ugly his face looked. The second day after I returned home, Chloe came looking for me, asking to meet. I didn’t even need to guess to know that this kind of meeting was just the classic plot of persuading me to hurry up and divorce him so they could be together. But I still went. Before she could speak, I raised a hand to stop her. “I want to divorce Preston even more than you do. So, you’d better find a way to convince him to sign.” “Otherwise, how are you going to become Mrs. Vance?” Taking the words right out of her mouth left Chloe speechless for a long time. She lowered her head, pursed her lips, and twisted her fingers together. After a long while, she gathered the courage to say, “I know you won’t get back together with him and that you want a divorce. I didn’t come to you because of that, but because… Preston has another woman.” Ah?? I was stunned. After thinking for a moment, I started laughing out loud. “And then? Why are you telling me this? Expecting me to help you fight the mistress? Don’t worry, I never even considered you a threat, let alone mistresses number four and five. In my eyes, you’re all the same type, and I simply don’t care.” “Let me tell you the truth. In his eyes, you are worthless. You don’t understand the lives of the wealthy. They only marry their equals. Did you think a Cinderella story would fall into your lap? Stop dreaming. Little girl, being too naive will only make you look stupid.” “A wealthy family will never accept a daughter-in-law like you. No background, a homewrecker, and completely useless.” Chloe broke down and screamed loudly, “But I have Preston’s child!” “But I haven’t seen him for a week. I snooped on his phone and found out he has someone else outside. The person he likes now is another woman.” After she finished, she covered her face and cried, full of grievances. “What should I do? I can’t find him anywhere. I have nothing now. I only have him.” She saw my gloating face and suddenly looked at me suspiciously. “Did you send that little tramp to deliberately seduce Preston? How can you be so vicious? Since you couldn’t win him back yourself, you found someone else to disgust me?!” I looked at the unwillingness in her eyes and said coldly, “Is there something seriously wrong with your brain?” Seeing my expression, she became even more convinced of her guessed truth. Pointing at me, she said angrily, “Alright, Harper Sterling, let me tell you. If I don’t have a good life, neither you nor that little tramp will have a good life either.” As if she herself wasn’t a tramp. I lost patience to keep listening. I stood up. “I have zero interest in your affairs with Preston, and I am not as bored as you are. Please do not bother me again in the future.” After saying that, I turned and left. 06 It turned out I underestimated Chloe. She hired someone to follow and secretly photograph Preston and that girl, discovering that the girl was actually a university student. She tracked down the student’s major and university, and posted all the intimate photos of the girl and Preston onto the university’s official forum, demanding the school give her an explanation. A female university student seducing a married man—such behavior was deeply despised. The girl was called in by the university administration, demanding she immediately stop this immoral behavior and issue a public apology. The student refused. She had finally latched onto a big tree like Preston, how could she give up? Later, to quell the scandal, the university expelled her. Preston called my house. He sighed on the phone. “Harper, I said that as long as you were willing to give me a chance and we started over, I would cut off all ties. Since you refuse to give me a chance, why did you step in to suppress a little student? Mia is only 20 years old, she doesn’t understand anything.” I felt blood rushing to my head. I was so angry I wanted to curse him out. “Preston, get this straight. When I say you disgust me, it means even hearing your name makes me nauseous. Do you think I would care about your business? Do you think I would step in to manage your mistresses? You flatter yourself.” “Also, the lawyers have gathered all the evidence of your affairs. If you still refuse to sign the divorce papers, don’t blame me when I add even more conditions later. Do you want to walk away with nothing?” Eventually, Preston signed the divorce agreement. A month later, we officially divorced. Preston looked at me, showing some regret and an indescribable emotion. He finally just smiled and said, “Let me drive you home one more time, just like when we were dating, okay?” I took a step back and shook my head. “Preston, I used to really like you, and I thought we would grow old together. But we still ended up here. Since we are divorced, let it be. There is no need to entangle anymore. From now on, take care of yourself.” I didn’t know if he understood what I meant. He had a bunch of rotten peach blossoms (bad romances), and he thought he could play the field without any consequences. But he didn’t know that some pretty flowers are poisonous. Sure enough, as soon as Chloe found out Preston was divorced, she started pressuring him to marry her. How could Preston marry her? He could play around, but the position of Mrs. Vance had to go to a lady from a prominent family. Chloe finally understood what my words meant. So, she appeared at the Vance Corporation’s 30th Anniversary Press Conference, rubbing her visibly pregnant belly. She stood in front of the reporters, grabbed a microphone from one of them, and asked, “I want to ask CEO Vance, are you prepared to take responsibility for the child in your girlfriend’s stomach?” As soon as that question came out, everyone in the room turned their eyes, and all the camera lenses focused on her face and belly. Preston’s father’s face turned black, and Preston froze, speechless. A crowd of reporters immediately rushed forward to interview. “Mr. Vance, what is your relationship with this lady?” “I heard she was your former secretary. Did you develop feelings only after your divorce?” “Ms. Chloe, are you the other woman?” “Ms. Chloe, how many months pregnant are you?” A female reporter who was a mother herself asked sharply, “Ms. Chloe, your belly looks four or five months along, right? Mr. Vance has been divorced for less than a month. Did you have an extramarital affair?” “Mr. Vance, did you get a divorce because of her?” The Vance Corporation’s PR department quickly stepped in to calm the storm. Preston finally regained his senses and said, “Of course I will take responsibility. I was just waiting for an opportunity to plan a proposal. When there is good news, I will certainly notify everyone.”

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Liam Was Famous in Our Circle as the Ultimate Wife-Guy He refused to marry for family connections and spent three years spoiling me like crazy. But at the bachelor party just before our wedding. His “first love” asked: “If I crashed your wedding, would you leave with me?” He answered seriously: “Yes.” Holding back tears, I texted my filthy-rich best friend. [Can you pick me up right now?] Seven minutes later, she arrived, tires practically smoking. “I told you from the start, with your looks and personality, you should marry into real wealth! “My brother is gorgeous, my dad is a silver fox, take your pick!” 01 With the wedding approaching, Liam’s buddies threw him a wild bachelor party. His inner circle knew how much Liam pampered me. If he didn’t bring me along, he’d always be home by ten. Regardless of whether the others were done partying or not. So this time, they enthusiastically invited me too. But as soon as I walked in, the vibe felt off. People greeted me warmly, but kept shooting covert glances at Liam. I didn’t get it. Once everyone sat down, a girl with short hair arrived late. “Sorry, traffic was a nightmare. I’m late!” Tall and slender, her voice was crisp and bright. Beside me, Liam instantly froze. That was the first time I saw such a blatant, heart-skipping-a-beat expression on his face. She reached out a hand enthusiastically: “You must be the bride-to-be. Nice to meet you, I’m Emma!” Hearing that name, everything clicked. This was the girl Liam had desperately loved for five years. The one that got away. Back then, Liam wasn’t as composed as he is now. He chased her relentlessly. Thousands of roses arranged beneath her dorm window. A massive fireworks display set off on the beach just for her. His entire youth was consumed by her. But three years ago, she decidedly followed another boy to study in London. That was around the time I met Liam. At a party, he walked toward me through the hazy lights. I’d only had half a glass of wine, but I was completely intoxicated. I hurriedly asked my friends about him. When they shoved me toward him, I was so nervous I stuttered. “I-I’m Chloe. What’s your name?” The crowd burst into laughter. The frown Liam had worn for months finally smoothed out in that moment. After we got together, Liam poured all his gentleness into me. He memorized my favorite and least favorite foods. No matter how late I worked, he insisted on picking me up. Every holiday, he prepared thoughtful gifts. He posted me all over his Instagram, introducing me to all his friends and family. Even his friends got jealous. “Chloe, you really caught him at the right time. He spent years leveling up his emotional intelligence chasing the hardest girl to get, and now you reap all the benefits.” Those words never bothered me. Because they also said we were complete opposites in both looks and personality. I wasn’t anyone’s replacement. More importantly, I could feel that Liam truly loved me. After three years of passionate dating, he firmly proposed. I thought our love was finally blooming into a happy ending. But reality delivered a heavy blow. 02 Emma casually sat down next to me. She pulled a bottle of perfume from her bag and handed it to me. “A wedding gift. This scent is super elegant. I’ve used it for years.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling. I had to admit, she was poised and charming. Even the wedding gift was specifically for me, not Liam. I accepted it and thanked her. Then she pulled out her phone to add me on Instagram. “If he ever bullies you, remember to complain to me. “Even though Liam and I grew up together, I’m not taking his side. I’ll always have your back!” The friends around us applauded. “That’s our girl, always so badass!” Emma paused, looked past me, and locked eyes with Liam, who was sitting on my other side. “Hey, what’s with you? Haven’t seen you in three years and suddenly you’re mute?” The people around us sipped their drinks, watching the drama unfold. Their eyes were glued to the three of us. Terrified of missing a single second. Liam’s ears visibly turned red. He didn’t even dare turn his head to look at her. He just gripped his glass, trying to joke: “I’m not mute, I’m just out of practice with you. Don’t know what to say.” Emma laughed: “Blaming me for not keeping in touch these past three years?” She raised her glass to him, “Then we should keep in touch more often from now on?” Liam glanced at me and said, “I’m a whipped man. Texting you requires a whole approval process. I gotta report to the wife first.” Sharing a smile of buried hatchets, they clinked their glasses. Everything seemed out in the open. No hidden agendas, totally transparent. But sitting between them, my chest felt suffocatingly tight. Maybe because, after three years, I knew Liam’s body language too well. Tonight, he was way too tense. Drinks were downed, songs were sung, drinking games were played. As the night wound down, everyone was a bit buzzed. Liam lost a game of Truth or Dare to Emma and chose Truth. Emma, who had been perfectly composed all night, suddenly got reckless. Tilting her head, slightly tipsy and bold, she asked Liam: “If I crashed your wedding… would you leave with me?” The moment the question dropped, the already hyped crowd started hooting. “Ooooh, finally dropping the act!” “Yeah, this is the drama we’re here for!” “Come on, answer! Would you?” Liam’s eyes were a little red from the alcohol. He looked at her, emotions churning in his gaze. And answered seriously: “Yes.” The whole room exploded. “Holy shit! I knew it!” “Crash it! Crash it!” The cheering drew the attention of everyone in the bar. Sitting between them, I found it harder and harder to breathe. My hands started trembling slightly. I didn’t know how to face this humiliating situation. Using the restroom as an excuse, I fled the scene. Holding back tears, I texted my best friend, Riley: [Can you pick me up right now?] Riley called immediately. “What happened? Did those assholes do something?” “No, please just don’t ask. Can you come get me?” I felt like I was going to break down. Hearing my voice, Riley got frantic, yelling like a drill sergeant. “Stay right there, I’m on my way! Ten minutes! No, seven!” “It’s not that urgent, drive safe.” “Don’t tell me what to do!!” 03 Seven minutes later, Riley pulled up in her Bugatti like a hurricane. The tires were practically throwing sparks. The moment I saw her, I broke down, my eyes welling up. Riley grabbed my hand, furious: “How did they mess with you?! “Liam, are you blind? Can’t you see she’s crying?!” Riley was a billionaire heiress, fiercely protective and incredibly intimidating. Her mere presence immediately silenced the rowdy crowd. Spotting Emma, Riley’s gaze turned sharp as a knife. “Oh, so you’re here.” Emma stood up and tried to grab my arm, looking overly friendly. “We were just playing a game, why get so worked up? “I’m just naturally blunt. I’m not used to hanging out with such delicate girls, I guess I crossed a line. My bad.” Riley yanked me behind her. “Who said you could touch her? “You’re not blunt, you’re just playing dumb!” At this point, Liam sobered up. Rubbing his temples, he stood up. “Chloe’s tired. I should take her home.” Riley scoffed. “I’m already here. Who needs you? You can go back to playing dead.” The crowd stood awkwardly, watching Riley help me gather my things. She scolded me while she packed. “I told you from the start. With your looks and personality, you should’ve married into old money. But no, you insisted on suffering with this new-money trash. “This kind of circle, full of fake bitches and mind games—is it really a place for someone as pure as you?” Liam’s family was worth nine figures. A nine-figure “new money trash”… quite the niche insult. But coming from her, nobody dared to argue. Finished packing, Riley picked up my bag. Seeing the beautifully packaged perfume inside, she didn’t even ask, just pulled it out and tossed it on the floor. “What kind of expired garbage is this? The audacity to give this as a gift.” The bottle rolled across the floor, stopping right at Emma’s feet. Emma’s face went rigid. Riley pulled me away. Liam chased us to the door, grabbing my arm. “Chloe, don’t be mad. With the atmosphere like that, she suddenly asked that question, and my mind just went blank.” Looking into his deeply affectionate eyes, I suddenly lost all my energy. “Are you saying your instinct, your true desire, was to leave with her?” “Of course not. Chloe, it was just a game. If I said no, she would’ve lost face in front of all her friends.” “So to protect her pride, you trampled all over mine?” “I just gave her a polite answer! I’m giving you a marriage!” I shook him off, laughing out of sheer anger. “So I should consider myself lucky? “Liam, we’ve been together for three years, and I never realized you were such a master people-pleaser.” Right then, Riley pulled the car around, honking the horn aggressively. Liam tried to grab me again. “Let me take you home. We can talk in the car.” Riley frowned. “If you have so much free time, why don’t you take that basic-ass Tesla of yours and drive for Uber to clear your head?” Liam choked on his words. For the first time, his custom Bentley made him feel humiliated. I opened the passenger door and got in. Looking back at Liam, I said: “The wedding is off. “We both need to seriously rethink everything.” 04 On the way back, I scrolled through Instagram. I saw Emma had posted two stories. The first one: [She really doesn’t look like me at all. But don’t you think that just makes it more obvious you’re trying to prove a point?] The second one: [If you wanted to use these three years to prove that I made a mistake leaving you… congratulations, you succeeded.] The emotions I had been holding back all night finally shattered. I broke down sobbing. Crying for the three years of genuine love I had wasted. I always thought Liam’s obsessive pampering came from love. I never expected it was just a show put on for her. I was just a prop in their high-stakes emotional tug-of-war. Riley was painfully straightforward. She didn’t know how to offer sweet comfort. She just liked to solve problems. “Stop crying. There are plenty of men in the world. Just get a new one! “My brother is gorgeous, my dad is a silver fox, take your pick!” I cried until I laughed at her absurdity. “Riley, am I just useless? At a time like this, I still need you to stand up for me.” Riley patted my head. “Don’t be stupid, everyone’s wired differently. “My mom died when I was young, and left just the three of us. None of us are exactly normal, and we suck at showing affection. I was a rebellious nightmare growing up, so I don’t exactly get to be the hero often. “But you are naturally kind-hearted. Every day with you is like a breath of fresh air. “You’re still the gentlest nurse in the city. When I was hospitalized, if you hadn’t been there with me every day, patiently calming me down, I never would’ve made it through.” Those words helped. My shattered self-esteem slowly started to piece itself back together. Riley added, “Seriously though, won’t you consider marrying into my family?” She had said this many times. I met Riley when she was admitted to the hospital. The Chief of Surgery was her attending physician, and I was a nurse. But because I had a soft voice and a gentle touch with IVs, Riley threw a fit and demanded I be her primary care nurse. From then on, we built a deep, revolutionary friendship. At the time, I was already dating Liam, and Riley regretted it every day. “Why couldn’t I have gotten sick a few months earlier! “You were single then, I could’ve totally dragged you home to be my sister-in-law!” The innocent bystander in all this—Carter, her brother. Who had flown back from studying in London specifically to visit her. His face went dark every time she brought it up. Because of her relentless nagging, my relationship with Carter started below freezing. Whenever we bumped into each other, I’d awkwardly look down. He’d awkwardly look away. We pretended we were invisible. Recently, Carter had returned from abroad and joined our hospital as a surgeon. Right down the hall from me, actually. The arrival of this brilliant, icy-hot doctor sent the whole hospital into a frenzy. Nurses would find excuses to walk past his office twice a day. Sick leave plummeted. Meanwhile, I’d hold my bladder all shift just to avoid running into him in the hallway. Seeing me stay silent, Riley got excited. “You’re quiet… are you actually considering it? “Have you decided? My brother or my dad?” My mouth twitched. “If those are the only two options, I’d rather pick your dad.” Riley practically vibrated with excitement. “Hell yes! Honestly, I’d prefer that too! “My dad is old, he’ll kick the bucket soon. You inherit his fortune early, and we can hire pool boys every day! “My brother is no good. He has a perfect routine, he works out, he’s annoyingly healthy. I’m afraid you wouldn’t outlive him.” Me: “…” 05 The next afternoon, Riley arrived precisely on time to pick me up from work. Passing Carter’s office, she dragged me inside. “Bro, are you working late today?” Carter looked up from his monitors. He was 6’3″, with sharp features and a perfectly straight nose. His eyes were dark, cold, and captivating. The kind of absurdly good looks that made you complain about God playing favorites. Carter glanced at me, his gaze freezing cold. “No.” As soon as the word left his mouth, Dr. Bennett, who sat across from him, looked up in shock. “Dr. Harrington, aren’t you…” Carter shot him a glare that could melt steel. Dr. Bennett gulped and swallowed the rest of his sentence. Riley asked, “Then are you eating out tonight?” Carter paused, looking slightly aristocratic. “I suppose I could.” With that, he decisively stood up and gathered his files. Riley cheered, “Perfect! Since you’re eating out, I’m taking Chloe home for dinner. That way she won’t feel awkward with you there.” Carter froze. He slowly raised his head to look at Riley. His eyes suddenly carried an inexplicable murderous intent. “Then why don’t you just take her to a restaurant? Our chef’s food isn’t even that good,” Carter said, looking thoroughly pissed off. Their housekeeper, Maria, was originally hired to tend the gardens. But as she got older and couldn’t dig dirt anymore, she asked to be the chef. Her food was… well, extremely healthy. Riley went up on her tiptoes and whispered loudly in his ear: “I’m taking her home to introduce her to Dad. “Hehe, I’m getting a new stepmom! Are you excited? Surprised?” Carter slowly straightened up. Looking at Riley as if looking at a corpse. A few seconds later, he grabbed Riley by the collar and dragged her toward the imaging wing. “Come on, let’s get you an MRI. I want to see if they accidentally removed your brain during your last hospital stay.” Riley’s struggles echoed down the hallway. “My brain is fine! Bro, let me list the top three benefits of having a young stepmom. “One, Dad gets married, so he stops nagging us to get married. “Two, I’ll have her whisper in his ear to leave the company to me. You get to be Dr. Harrington in peace, I become CEO, everyone wins! “Three, stepmom is young and hot. Barring accidents, we’ll have a baby brother by next year, the family legacy is secure, and you don’t even have to have kids! You could even get a vasectomy—Ouch! Why are you pinching me?! It hurts!” 06 As we drove out of the hospital, a familiar car flashed by. I looked back. “Was that Liam?” Riley was perfectly calm. “Nope, you’re seeing things. He’s probably curled up in some bed right now pouring his heart out to his ‘first love’. He’s not worried about you.” I’m usually a very emotionally stable person. I figured even a breakup should be handled with dignity. But hearing her say that, I suddenly felt that dignity was overrated. I blocked Liam on every single platform. Out of sight, out of mind. Carter and us arrived at the house right around the same time. As soon as he walked in, he disappeared into his room to change. He had been glaring the whole ride. It wasn’t until Maria brought the food to the table that Carter finally emerged. When Riley saw him, she jumped. “Are you insane? Why are you dressed like that at home?” Carter sat perfectly straight at the dining table. Wearing a sharply tailored suit, not a single hair out of place. Looking like a cold-blooded Wall Street CEO. “I always dress like this,” Carter said through gritted teeth. Riley’s mouth twitched, but she stayed quiet. Right then, Mr. Harrington came home. He greeted me warmly and sat down at the table. Carter stared at his dad’s three-piece suit. “You’re not changing? Don’t you normally rush to put on your ratty undershirt the second you get home complaining suits are uncomfortable?” Mr. Harrington looked at me, then at the fully decked-out Carter, and said cheerfully, “It’s a rare occasion you kids bring a friend home. I had to look presentable.” Carter’s mouth twitched this time. Dinner officially began. Carter held a small bowl of rice, looking incredibly posh. “Move the pork roast and ribs to the other end. Too greasy.” Maria obliged. Carter elegantly chewed a single leaf of spinach. Mr. Harrington looked bewildered. “Aren’t you a total carnivore? Since when do you touch vegetables?” Carter froze. He looked at his father, who was systematically cutting his steak. “Don’t you usually eat steak with chopsticks?” Mr. Harrington choked. I quickly intervened. “Knives and forks can be a hassle. I use chopsticks for steak sometimes too.” The tension eased slightly. Carter continued: “My dad usually loves spicy fish heads and spits the bones right onto the table.” “Okay, you’re definitely sick today!” Mr. Harrington snapped, throwing down his fork and storming off. “You guys eat. I’ve lost my appetite.” He had now effectively been irritated out of two meals. Riley kept her head down, shoveling rice into her mouth. Too scared to speak, too scared to ask. It was Maria who broke the awkward silence. “There’s a car that’s been parked outside our gates for a long time. Not sure who they’re waiting for. Looks like a… Tesla?” Hearing that, Carter immediately stood up. “Keep eating. I’ll go check.” A moment later, Carter’s voice drifted up from the driveway. “Security, go chase away that EV. Tell him nobody here called an Uber and he has the wrong address. “Give him a fifty-dollar bill and tell him to go buy a burger. Waiting all night for nothing must be tough.” I whispered to Riley. “Your brother might be a bit unhinged, but he’s actually kind of nice to strangers.” Riley: “…” 07 Worried that Liam would harass me at my apartment, Riley insisted I stay at her place for a few days. Carter didn’t object. He even offered me his own master bedroom, claiming it had the best sunlight. He moved into the guest room next to his dad’s. Riley was astounded. “My brother never lets me bring girls home, let alone let them touch his stuff. I half suspected he was a raging misogynist. “But he’s being so accommodating to you! Do you know what this means?” “What does it mean?” I asked. Carter’s footsteps on the stairs suddenly slowed down. “It means those two cheating bastards went way too far! Even a cold-blooded reptile like my brother has awakened an ounce of sympathy!” Riley declared indignantly. “If you don’t know how to speak, just shut your mouth,” Carter grumbled venomously. Then he loudly stomped down the rest of the stairs. Carter’s room was immaculate, smelling faintly of cedar. I opened the window to let some air in. The breeze knocked a few papers off the bookshelf. I bent down to pick them up. One by one, they were medical charts I had written for Riley three years ago. At the very bottom was a note written by Carter. In very sharp, elegant handwriting. [Chloe, Central City Hospital.] It seemed completely devoid of emotion. Yet simultaneously looked like it was written with intense, suppressed feeling. I felt like I had stumbled upon a massive secret. My hands trembled as I neatly stacked everything back where I found it. I crawled back into his bed, terrified, lying stiff as a board. I kept telling myself not to overthink it, do not overthink it. But his scent was everywhere in the room. Whenever I closed my eyes, Carter’s face played like a movie reel in my head. Pathetically, I couldn’t sleep a wink. 08 The next morning, we gathered at the dining table. I sported massive dark circles. So did Carter. Mr. Harrington looked ten years older, completely exhausted. Riley was shocked: “What happened to you guys? Did nobody sleep?” I stammered: “I think it’s just… sleeping in a new bed. I’m not used to it.” Carter: “I also slept in a new bed. Not used to it.” Mr. Harrington glared weakly at Carter. “If you can’t sleep in a new bed, why do you have to torture your father? I don’t know what kind of manic episode he was having, but every time I came out to use the bathroom, he ran out to stare at me. Startling me all night, I barely slept a wink.” Carter looked completely justified. “What kind of normal person gets up to pee eight times a night?” Mr. Harrington’s lip quivered. “I’m old, my bladder is weak! Fine, I’m not normal!” With that, he slammed down his coffee mug and left in a huff of humiliation. He had now effectively stormed off from breakfast too. No wonder he never gained weight. Riley chewed on her bagel: “Have my brother drop you off at work later, I’m not driving you today.” I quickly declined. “I don’t want to inconvenience Dr. Harrington. I can just get an Uber.” Carter stood up and said, “It’s on the way anyway. I’ll just drive you these next few days.” Then he grabbed his phone, the tips of his ears turning bright red. “Let’s add each other’s contacts.” I was trying to figure out how to politely refuse. Riley chimed in, “Seriously bro? You’re driving a colleague to work and you want her number so you can Venmo request her for gas money?” I suddenly understood. So that was why. I had totally overthought things. I quickly pulled out my phone and added his number. And immediately Zelled him fifty bucks. “Is this enough?” Carter didn’t say a word. He just stared blankly at Riley. Looking like a man who had lost the will to live. 09 On the way to work. Carter drove, still sporting his signature icy glare. To break the awkward silence, I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through Instagram. One swipe, and my world collapsed. I realized that last night, the highly-aloof Dr. Harrington had posted a story. [Today, we added an extra plate at the table. 😊] The photo was of the massive mountain of rice in front of me. He also managed to catch my right hand holding the fork. Even with Instagram’s photo compression, it was painfully obvious… That bowl of rice was packed tight. I have a big appetite, but didn’t want to be rude and ask for seconds at a stranger’s house. So I had just aggressively packed down the rice to fit more into the bowl. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. What was worse was the comment section. I could see comments from mutual friends. Emma had commented almost instantly: [Who is that?! Who is that!] Liam had clearly recognized my bracelet and left several frantic comments. [She’s at your house? No way, what are you trying to pull??] [Tell her I’m outside your house to pick her up.] [You’re playing dirty! Just you wait!!] I slowly turned to Carter. “Dr. Harrington, why on earth would you post something like this?” Carter looked unfazed. “People usually think I’m antisocial and cold. I wanted to show my hospitable side.” I was speechless. “Dr. Harrington, how do you even know Emma and… Liam?” “Emma was a friend of a classmate. Three years ago, when I was studying in London, she moved there too. One day, this guy Liam adds me on social media, says a bunch of weird stuff, and tells me to ‘take good care of her’.” Suddenly, I remembered. They said Emma had moved abroad chasing another guy. The realization hit me like a truck. “The guy Emma chased abroad was you?” Carter suddenly turned his head and looked at me, his eyes dead serious. “I have absolutely no relationship with her. We aren’t even friends.” I quickly processed this web of connections. “So, for the past three years, you could see every single thing Liam posted?” “Yes.” I remembered how, when we first officially “met”, Carter had stared at me in a daze for a long time. Until Riley screamed like a banshee, snapping him out of it. “So, back at the hospital… when we supposedly met for the first time, did you recognize me?” I asked. “No. The timeline is reversed,” Carter said, keeping his eyes on the road. Word by word, it pierced straight into my heart. “I met you in the hospital first. Only later did I get Liam’s friend request, and on his feed, I saw you again. “If it wasn’t because I saw you in his photos… I never would have had the patience to listen to his nonsense, and I definitely wouldn’t have kept his contact on my phone until now.” This information exploded in my brain. Ultimately, I only latched onto one main point. Which meant, even when Liam was already dating me, he still couldn’t let go of his ‘first love’. He had pathetically reached out to her supposed crush to send those bizarre messages. My eyes burned, and I stayed silent for a long time. Carter quietly handed me a tissue. “Don’t be sad. There are plenty of men out there. Just get a new one.” I sniffled. “Those messages he sent you… is it convenient for me to see them?” Carter turned to stone for three full seconds. Then stated firmly: “No. It is. Not. Convenient.” Fine, whatever. Why was he acting like I just asked to see his underwear? 10 For the next little while, I slept at Riley’s house and commuted with Carter in the mornings. With all the constant chaos, the agonizing post-breakup phase flew by. Carter was like a caveman slowly discovering civilization. Not only did he learn how to care for others, he even started trying to cook. This terrified Maria, who thought she was about to be fired. The other victim was Dr. Bennett, who shared Carter’s office. Carter suddenly stopped working overtime. Dr. Bennett was left to hold the fort alone, his hairline visibly receding day by day. Riley marveled: “The most abnormal person in our family is becoming more normal every day.” But I still thought he was a little weird. For example, right before bed, he would check on me with the same bedside manner he used on terminal patients: “How are you feeling these past two days? Are you getting used to the bed?” I nodded: “I’m used to it.” He’d immediately turn around and post an Instagram story. [She’s finally getting used to my bed. 😊] The picture was of my jacket hanging on his bedpost. The comment section must have been brutally toxic. Because by the time I saw it, it was just a uniform row of: [Comment deleted] [Comment deleted] My jaw dropped. “Dr. Harrington, is this also to show off your hospitality?” Carter, peeling an orange for me, looked completely calm: “No, this one was to flex on the haters.” The first hater to be flexed on was Emma. Perhaps the flex kept her up all night. At the crack of dawn, she was waiting outside Carter’s house, peeking through the gates. She wanted to see with her own eyes who this “she” was that was driving her insane with jealousy. But she picked the wrong day. Riley, who notoriously slept in, miraculously woke up early that day. When the two made eye contact, Riley smiled like a demon. “You could have stayed in heaven, but you just had to come knock on hell’s door!” She had been wanting to punch someone for days. But living in a civilized society, she couldn’t exactly throw hands in broad daylight. Riley slowly rolled up her sleeves. Took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of her lungs: “INTRUDER! THIEF!” Then she charged out, fists flying in an absolute beatdown. Hearing the screams, Maria stumbled out of bed, grabbed a broom, and joined the fray. As Emma’s shrieks grew sharper and sharper, Maria regained a sliver of reason. “Are we hitting her too hard?” Riley: “If we don’t hit hard, how will the thief learn? Maria, your cooking is terrible, you gotta show you’re useful for something!” Hearing that, Maria instantly remembered her impending unemployment. To prove her indispensable value, Maria rolled up her sleeves and swung the broom with feral intensity. When security finally arrived, it took three guys to pull Maria off. Emma was left bruised and battered, her face swollen like a balloon, gasping for air between sobs.

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When my husband was diagnosed with cancer, the doctor said it was highly treatable, but the out-of-pocket costs would be astronomical. I immediately called my mom to borrow the money. She agreed over the phone, but behind my back, she secretly texted my husband, tricking him into thinking I was the one who had been diagnosed with cancer. I understood what she was doing. I blamed her for not trusting my husband, but she just looked at me seriously and said, “If your husband is willing to do the same for you, then I will gladly lend you the money.” Just as I was about to argue with her, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my husband: “Let’s get a divorce.” Staring at the screen, the slap in the face came so fast my cheeks practically burned. I had always cared so much about him. The only reason this cancer was even caught was because I forced him to go get a comprehensive physical exam. He just showed up; I was the one who booked the appointments, handled the insurance, and ran all the errands. If I hadn’t dragged him there, his cancer wouldn’t have been caught early enough to treat. I thought my absolute devotion would buy me a lifetime of companionship. Who knew I had married such a cold-blooded snake? Before I could even figure out how to reply, my mother-in-law started bombarding me with texts: “Come home right now. We need to talk. I told you to stop eating so much takeout and cook your own meals, but you never listen. Look what happened, now you have cancer.” Reading her rapid-fire messages, I felt like I was suffocating. When I finally dragged my heavy, exhausted body back to our house, his entire family was already sitting around the dining table, looking dead serious. My father-in-law, Arthur, cleared his throat and looked at me. “Come sit. We are having a family meeting.” My mother-in-law, Brenda, impatiently cut him off. “What’s there to meet about? Just hurry up and sign the divorce papers. My son is still young, what is he supposed to do, be dragged down by a sick person for the rest of his life?” Under the crushing weight of the room, I looked at my husband, Kevin. “Is this how your family treats me?” He sighed, putting on an incredibly innocent face. “Don’t get mad right off the bat. Let’s just be reasonable, okay?” I let out a cold laugh. Reasonable? When I found out he had cancer, my first instinct was to run to my mother and beg for a massive loan to save his life. When he thought I had cancer, his first instinct was to drop me. What reason was left to discuss? Noticing my expression, Kevin leaned forward, looking entirely serious. “Do you know? I watched a documentary once. The lives of families fighting cancer are miserable. They try so hard for years, and in the end, the patient still dies, and the family is left completely bankrupt.” “What’s your point?” I asked. He seemed to struggle to find a way to make it sound pretty. Finally, he choked out, “Isn’t it better to leave the living with a little hope and financial security? We are all trying so hard just to survive.” I inhaled sharply. As his wife, I had seen him at his worst, but to hear him try to sound poetic while actively asking me to lay down and die was a new low. “Did you even consider letting me try treatment?” I asked. “You don’t even know what the medical bills will look like.” He didn’t, but I did. The doctor said conservative estimates out-of-pocket would be around $200,000. I had just gone to my mom to borrow $100,000. And this was the ending I got in return. Kevin didn’t know how to answer, so Brenda quickly jumped in. “Oh, please, do we need to know the exact numbers? Western hospitals are all scams! The minute you walk in, they run a million useless tests and drain your bank accounts. Listen to me, you should see a holistic naturopath. If you don’t want a divorce, I can take you to this amazing alternative herbalist I found on Facebook.” Arthur nodded along. “Right. You’ve been with our family for years. You’ve worked hard. We wouldn’t just abandon you. So, we have two options: either we divorce, or you skip the scammer hospitals and let the herbalist treat you.” I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly what they meant. They didn’t care about alternative medicine. They just wanted to avoid paying for real scans and chemo, buy me some cheap herbal teas, and call it a day. And in their minds, this was an act of profound mercy. I slumped back in my chair. “The doctor already said it was caught early. We can start with targeted therapy, then see if we need surgical resection. If all else fails, we can wait for an organ transplant. We have plenty of time and treatment options.” Kevin suddenly interrupted, “But do you know about transplant rejection?” I froze. “We are nowhere near that step yet. Why would you bring that up?” “I just want you to know the facts,” he said. “People who get organ transplants usually don’t live that many years anyway. They spend hundreds of thousands of dollars just to buy themselves a few extra years, and then they need another transplant. Can I be honest? I think that kind of person is selfish.” I sucked in a breath of cold air. He was usually such a careless guy, always acting before he thought. But at this moment, he had skipped right past the targeted therapy and surgery, zooming straight to the worst-case scenario. “We are husband and wife,” I said quietly. “Are you sure you want to use the word ‘selfish’?” He nodded. “Yes, selfish. I know for a fact that if I were the one who got sick today, I wouldn’t even tell you. I would just quietly find a place to swallow a bottle of sleeping pills. I wouldn’t want to drag anyone down. That is the awareness I have as the provider of this family.” Looking at his self-righteous face, I finally understood. He was actually incredibly smart. He just used his intelligence to be horribly cruel. I forced a bitter smile. “So, what do you want me to do?” Kevin couldn’t wait. He practically lunged backward to grab a document folder and shoved it toward me. At that moment, my heart turned to absolute ice. Whatever was in that folder, I knew that while I was on my way home, they had been sitting in the living room treating me like an enemy, plotting how to trap me. I opened it. It was a post-nuptial agreement they had drafted together. First: I must choose alternative holistic medicine or only use drugs strictly covered by our basic insurance plan. No out-of-network or experimental treatments. Second: The husband has the right to terminate my treatment. If I pass away from the illness, considering the husband’s “efforts,” all my assets go to him. My parents get nothing. Third: I am strictly forbidden from secretly borrowing money to fund my own treatment. If I do, the husband has the right to divorce me immediately, I leave with zero assets, and I assume all the debt alone. I expected them to be harsh, but I didn’t expect them to try and pick my bones clean. “I’ve been married into this family for years,” I said softly. “And at the hardest moment of my life, this is how you treat me?” “Love goes both ways,” Kevin said defensively. “If I were the one who was sick today, I’d have already swallowed the pills and written my will. You just don’t have that level of sacrifice in you.” “Would you really swallow them?” I asked. Kevin looked at me dead in the eye. “Of course. You shouldn’t doubt my sense of responsibility to this family. If you care about us, sign the agreement. It’s actually good for you.” “Good for me? How?” It was a predatory, borderline illegal contract, and he had the nerve to say it benefited me. “Think about it,” Kevin reasoned. “You have cancer now. I’m willing to help take care of you. But if you can’t be saved… you’re an only child. Your parents will need someone to look after them, right? I promise you, I will take care of your parents in the future.” I stared at him with pure disgust. He was ready to throw his own wife in the trash, and he expected me to believe he’d care for my parents? He was already drooling over my parents’ estate! Brenda chimed in quickly. “Exactly! Stop being so self-centered. When a person is nearing the end, they should be generous. You should prioritize us and your parents. Stop being so selfish.” Honestly, I used to respect my mother-in-law. But at this point, the masks were completely off, so I didn’t bother saving her face. “Is a person simply wanting to live considered selfish now?” I asked. Kevin grew agitated. “Yes, it is! If you just blindly treat this illness and drain all our money, I’ll be saddled with a lifetime of debt because of you. When you die, what am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? I’m still young!” I cast a cold glance at him. I finally realized that when you no longer love someone, everything they do just looks pathetic. He always had a habit of yelling when he got emotional. I used to think he was just impulsive but had a good heart. I was so wrong. Now, he just made me nauseous. “Forget the post-nup,” I said evenly. “Let’s just get a divorce.” He nodded eagerly and immediately pulled out a pre-prepared divorce agreement. I wasn’t even surprised he had it ready. Who knows how long they had been scheming? The divorce agreement was much simpler. He keeps the house, we split the cash savings 50/50, and we take our own personal belongings. “This is the most fair way,” he explained. “My parents gave me the down payment for this house. Even though your name is on the deed, the law says whoever paid for it owns it.” “You bought the house, yes,” I said. “But you bought a bare-bones fixer-upper. I paid $50,000 out of my own pocket for the full gut renovation. Return my $50,000 renovation costs.” “How is it $50,000?” Kevin scoffed. “You aren’t even accounting for depreciation…” Before he could finish, Brenda shoved his arm, cutting him off. She shrugged and looked at me smugly. “Then go ahead and rip the renovations out and take them with you! I never liked your taste anyway.” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe how venomous they had become. To actually suggest I demolish the interior like a slumlord—it was shameless! Arthur, being a bit slower than his wife, didn’t understand her play. “Why are you telling her to tear it out?” he protested. “We live here comfortably!” Brenda rolled her eyes. “Let her tear it out! She has cancer. She needs to stretch every single penny. If she hires a demo crew, it’s going to cost her at least five grand. Do you really think she’s willing to waste that kind of cash right now?” Arthur’s eyes lit up with realization. He nodded at me confidently. “Go ahead. Tear it out and take it. If you can stomach the cost.” I slowly turned my head to look at Kevin. “This is your family’s final answer, right?” Kevin hesitated for a split second before saying, “I listen to my mom. My parents paid for the house anyway.” I let out a broken laugh. “Marrying you was the biggest regret of my entire life.” “The feeling is mutual,” he snapped back. “You’re no saint either. All you can think about is making us sacrifice everything for your illness! In the end, you’ll either drag out a miserable existence for a few years, or die early, leaving us scarred and broke.” “Do you know,” I said softly, “if you were the one who was sick, I would have gone into massive debt just to save you.” “Stop dealing in hypotheticals!” he yelled defensively. “My parents worked hard for their money. They raised me. Why should I drag them down for you? Am I supposed to just abandon my duty to my parents?” I looked at him coldly, finding the whole thing almost funny. At this point, I didn’t believe a single word that came out of his mouth. I knew that if a man could abandon his innocent wife so easily, he would absolutely abandon his parents when push came to shove. I sighed, pulled out my phone, and called my general contractor, Mike. Because I was the one who funded and managed the entire remodel, I still had his contact info saved. When he picked up, I said, “Mike, I need you to come over. Bring your crew and tear out every single piece of the renovation you did in my house. Rip it all to the studs.” In that instant, the color drained from all three of their faces. Arthur jumped up. “Are you really calling someone to destroy the house?! Are you out of your mind?!” Brenda quickly pulled him back. “Don’t panic! She’s bluffing.” But Arthur was terrified. He grabbed Kevin’s arm. “Talk to her! If she actually tears it out, where are we supposed to live?!” Kevin looked at me with profound disappointment. “Are you… are you really unwilling to leave me even this last gift?” That single, pathetic sentence almost made me throw up. “I’ll give it to you if I want to,” I said. “If I don’t want to, you get nothing.” He sighed heavily. “You’re still like this. Always acting on emotion. This is the time you need money the most, yet just to spite me, you’d rather we both suffer. If you didn’t have this selfish flaw, I wouldn’t even be divorcing you.” I shook my head. “We’re past this point. Stop gaslighting me. You’re just trying to find a scapegoat for your own shamelessness. My back hurts, I’m not carrying your guilt for you.” Brenda gritted her teeth. “I know exactly what you’re doing! You spent fifty grand on this, and calling the demo crew is just a show. You’re trying to scare us into paying you more! When the crew gets here, you’re going to say we can buy the remodel off you!” Kevin gasped. “Mom, is she really doing that?” “Can’t you tell?” Brenda sneered. “I always knew you married a calculating woman. She’s using all her little schemes on us!” At that moment, Kevin lost his temper. He yelled at me frantically, “How can you be so vicious?! We loved each other! I don’t want to abandon you, I just want a normal, happy life! What is so wrong about that?!” Brenda slapped her chest dramatically. “Stop talking to her about love! This woman has no heart. She only thinks of herself. Just say it! How much do you want for the house? Everything’s used anyway. We’ll give you fifteen thousand, max.” I shook my head. “It’s not for sale. You said I could tear it out and take it, so I’m tearing it out.” “What do you mean not for sale?!” Brenda shrieked. “You just think it’s not enough money! How much do you want?!” I pretended to think. “Since you want a price… fifty thousand. Exactly what I paid.” Arthur exploded. “Bullshit! You paid fifty grand brand new, now it’s heavily depreciated and you still want fifty?! Do you think we’re idiots?!” Kevin looked aghast. “I actually felt a little guilty before, but now I know divorcing you is the right choice. We haven’t even filed the papers and you’re already trying to extort us. If we stayed together, you’d drain my family dry.” “I just don’t think your family deserves a single dime of my money,” I said coldly. “Whatever I spent on this house, I’m taking it all back.” Arthur pulled Brenda aside, panicking. “What do we do? Do we really give her fifty thousand? If she tears it down, we have nowhere to sleep tonight.” Brenda’s face twisted with pure malice. She pointed a finger right at my nose. “Tear it down! Go ahead and tear it down! You think I won’t call your bluff?! I’m putting this on the record right now—the second a hammer hits my wall, you’re not getting a single cent from us!” I completely ignored her threat, packed my overnight bag, and told Kevin to get ready to head to the county courthouse to file the paperwork. Brenda kept chattering behind me, convinced I was trying to scare her. She deliberately slammed the dishes into the sink, making a massive racket, and spat out bitterly, “I think you deserve this cancer! It’s because you’re a terrible person. God gave you exactly the karma you deserve!” “However terrible I am, I’m better than you,” I replied flatly. “At least I don’t abandon my spouse the second they get sick.” She sneered. “Then why did karma hit you? My son is going to live a long, healthy life, and you’re about to drop dead.” I let out a long sigh. Her son definitely wasn’t going to live a long, healthy life. If Kevin wasn’t all talk, he’d be swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills very soon. Honestly, if he actually did swallow the pills like he promised, I’d believe he was telling the truth and admit I misjudged him. I’d respect him as a man of his word. But if he didn’t, then he was the ultimate hypocrite! Full of righteous morality, but rotten to the core! Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Mike and his demo crew. Mike, looking a bit confused, stepped inside. “Hey Emily. Are you unhappy with the work we did? It still looks brand new. Why are we tearing it out?” “I’m perfectly happy with the work,” I said casually. “I just want it gone.” Brenda sat at the dining table, laughing sarcastically. “Still putting on a show. Go ahead, tear it down. I’m begging you to tear it down.” Mike walked in, bewildered, while Brenda smugly poured herself a cup of tea. Mike turned to me and whispered, “Emily, to strip this whole place down to the studs… it’s gonna cost you about five grand in labor and disposal.” Brenda took a loud sip of her tea and mocked, “Oh wow, five thousand dollars! That’s enough to pay for a whole round of medical scans! Are you really willing to throw five grand in the trash right now?” Kevin and Arthur hid behind Brenda, letting her handle the negotiations, even giving her a secret thumbs-up. She spat a tea leaf back into her cup and drawled, “How about this. We’ve lived together for years, let’s both take a step back. I’ll make you an offer…” Before she could finish her sentence, I turned to Mike. “Tear it down. Right now. I have to get to the courthouse.” Mike hesitated. “Emily, are you sure? I brought the work order. Once you sign it, we’re taking the sledgehammers to it.” I immediately took his pen and signed the contract. Brenda clucked her tongue. “Look at her, so committed to the bit. Keep acting. I’ll give you a final offer. Fifteen grand. That’s our bottom line. Just take it and stop the performance…” I glanced at Mike. “Why aren’t you moving?” Hearing my tone, Mike immediately signaled his guys. One of them picked up a heavy sledgehammer. Brenda finally panicked. She jumped up and screamed, “I’m warning you! The second that hammer hits the wall, I am not giving you a single penny!” In that moment, I had two choices. One: take the fifteen grand, admit I was blind to marry him, and cut my losses. Two: kick my husband while he was down, ensuring that the man who had cancer wouldn’t even have a roof over his head. I chose option two. Money can always be earned back. But if I swallowed this anger, I wouldn’t find peace for the rest of my life. “Smash it,” I said calmly. The worker swung the massive sledgehammer, slamming it brutally into the custom drywall. With a deafening CRASH, a massive hole exploded in the wall. Brenda shrieked in absolute terror. She threw herself toward the wall, crying and screaming, “Stop hitting it! This woman is insane! You’re dying anyway, why won’t you let us live in peace?! Are you trying to drag us to hell with you?!” Her arrogant, smug demeanor was completely gone. Staring at the gaping hole in her pristine living room, she beat her chest in despair. Mike looked at me nervously. “Emily, what now?” “There are six of you,” I said. “Are you really going to let one old lady stop you?” Mike instantly understood. He knew I was the one who had paid him to build this place. He waved his hand, and his crew unleashed absolute chaos. The hardwood floors, the custom cabinets, the drywall, the luxury bathroom tiles—all smashed to unrecognizable pieces. Kevin stood frozen in the middle of the room, shell-shocked by the violence of the demolition. He stared blankly and muttered, “You crazy bitch. Even if you beg me on your knees to remarry you, I will never take you back!” Arthur and Brenda were running around frantically, trying to physically block the workers. But there were too many guys. They’d block the kitchen, and the bathroom would get smashed. They could only stand there and watch their beautiful home be reduced to concrete and dust. I smiled at Kevin. “Well, now our divorce agreement is perfectly balanced. Let’s go to the courthouse.” Brenda sobbed hysterically. “Divorce her! Divorce her right now! I don’t want to spend another second with this psycho!” Kevin took a deep breath, grinding his teeth. “Let’s go. We’re filing it right now. I just hope that when you are on your deathbed, you don’t come crawling back to beg me for help!” I glanced at him. I knew that if I told him the truth about his cancer diagnosis right then, it would be incredibly satisfying. But I wasn’t stupid. I saw right through his mother. In our state, there’s a mandatory 30-day waiting period before a judge finalizes a divorce decree. If I told them he had cancer now, she would absolutely force him to use his status as my legal husband to take out massive medical loans. Under the law, marital debt incurred during a medical emergency could make me liable for half of it. As long as I held onto the truth until the divorce was finalized, they couldn’t latch onto me like leeches and force me to subsidize his healthcare. I married the wrong man, but that didn’t mean I had to be an idiot. I was going to let this piece of trash walk straight into hell on his own two feet. Kevin and I went to the county clerk, filed the petition, and the 30-day waiting period officially began. As we walked out of the courthouse doors, Kevin glared at me fiercely. “I can’t wait to see the day you drop to your knees and beg me to save you. When that day comes, I’m going to kick you to the curb and tell you to rot!” I gave him a placid look. “I’m looking forward to that day, too.” Honestly, I was a little worried that during the next 30 days, Kevin might log into his patient portal, see his results, and immediately withdraw the divorce petition. But to my absolute shock, Brenda made an unexpected move. She actually made Kevin quit his job and took the whole family on a month-long vacation out of state. I heard through mutual friends that she was terrified I would withdraw the divorce to trap him, so she made him run away until the waiting period was up. She even bragged that if I tried to stall the divorce, they would just live out of state permanently, dodge the summons, and drag it out until I died of cancer. Because of Brenda’s brilliant plan, Kevin never checked his medical records or went back to the hospital for his follow-up. Finally, the 30-day waiting period was over. That day, the judge signed the final decree. Holding his copy of the divorce papers, Kevin waved it in my face with a cold sneer. “From today on, even if you die in a ditch, it has nothing to do with me.” He turned to leave, but I spoke up. “Hold on. I have a parting gift for you.” Brenda, standing right next to him, spat venomously, “What kind of gift? You’re already divorced, are you still trying to win him back? Thank God I took him away for a month, otherwise you really might have trapped us.” I calmly pulled up the hospital’s patient portal on my phone and handed it to him. Kevin frowned. “What is this? Are you giving me your phone?” I shook my head. “This is your electronic medical record. Your physical results came out a month ago, but you ran out of state and never checked them.” Kevin scoffed. “Oh, so now you care about my health? Don’t act like a loving wife in front of me, it just makes me sick.” “Just read it,” I insisted. He took the phone and glanced at the screen. Slowly, the arrogant smirk melted off his face, replaced by absolute horror. Brenda, who couldn’t understand the medical jargon, leaned in curiously. “What does it say?” Kevin dropped his arms, staring into space. “How is this possible? Why do I have cancer?” “They found your cancer a month ago,” I said honestly. “I went home to borrow money from my mom to pay for your treatments. But my mom was worried you were a scumbag, so she lied to test you. Looks like she won the bet.” Brenda panicked. She snatched the phone and read the screen frantically. “This is wrong! Weren’t you the one with cancer?! How did it suddenly become my son?!” “You guys hid out of state for a month partying,” I said evenly. “I’m guessing the cancer has gotten much worse. We were married once, so consider this a friendly heads-up.” Kevin was terrified. He lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “No, you can’t leave! Why didn’t you tell me clearly back then?! I’m not divorcing you! You can’t go!” I yanked my arm out of his grip. “The judge already signed the decree. Don’t touch me.” Brenda started hyperventilating. “How could you divorce my son when he’s sick?! You have a duty to take care of him!” She desperately grabbed the divorce decree and tried to shove it back at the court clerk behind the glass. “They aren’t getting divorced! Invalidate this right now!” The clerk, who had heard the whole exchange, rolled his eyes aggressively. “Where were you during the 30-day waiting period? Do you think the legal system is a game?” I put my copy of the papers in my purse and turned to walk away. Brenda threw herself in front of me, blocking the exit. She was sobbing hysterically. “My son is dying, and you hid the truth from us! You made him waste a whole month of precious time!” Kevin stood frozen in place, his face ashen white with fear. “Those were his test results,” I said coldly. “He chose not to check his own portal. How is that my fault? And where were you guys for the past month? Oh right, you were terrified my illness would drag him down, so you made him hide out of state.” Brenda wailed at the top of her lungs, “How can there be such a vicious woman in the world?! You abandoned your own husband when he got sick!” She screamed as loudly as she could, trying to draw the attention of everyone in the lobby to shame me publicly. But we hadn’t exactly been whispering. Everyone in the courthouse lobby had heard exactly what happened.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “405517”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day Everett Sterling’s plane crashed into the ocean, I nearly went mad, plunging into the waves to end my own life and follow him. It wasn’t until I was rescued that I realized it was all just a cruel, malicious April Fool’s joke. Right before I lost consciousness, I heard his little canary say in that sickeningly sweet, mocking tone: “Everett, your wife really loves you to death. If she knew you were just testing her, she’d probably go crazy, right?” He chuckled, his voice devoid of any warmth: “Crazy? After Serena had the baby, she’s been as docile as a caged rabbit. As long as you guys keep your mouths shut, this is the last time I’ll test her loyalty.” The crowd burst into laughter, everyone promising to keep the secret. Laying on the stretcher, I couldn’t shed a single tear anymore. Everett didn’t know, but that was also the last opportunity I would ever give him. From then on, my love for him dropped to zero. Chapter 1 When I woke up, I was in a private hospital in Manhattan. A peeled apple sat on the nightstand. In the past, whenever I was sick, Everett never showed up. He would only have his assistant send over a pile of flashy, expensive supplements. Seeing my calm expression, he picked up a slice of apple and held it to my lips. “Happy to see I’m not dead?” I turned my head away, avoiding the apple. I caught a glimpse of a faint purple hickey just below his collar. My voice was as calm as a pool of dead water. “Everett, let’s get a divorce.” His hand paused. Then, he simply popped the apple slice into his own mouth, chewing it loudly. A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. He made a phone call right in front of me. Soon, his assistant brought Leo in. I hadn’t seen him in a few months. Five-year-old Leo had grown a bit taller. However, the look in his eyes when he saw me was still full of distance and disgust. Shortly after Leo was born, he was taken to the Sterling estate in Long Island to be raised by his grandfather. I only got to see him during holidays. I knew exactly why Everett brought the child to the hospital. In the past, whenever he partied too hard outside and I gave him the silent treatment, he would use our son as a shield. I had lost count of how many times he had used this exact same trick. But this time, this trump card was no longer my weakness. Looking at Leo, who had gained some weight, I didn’t smile. Leo frowned in displeasure. He was simply a miniature version of Everett, even speaking with the exact same tone: “Serena, you’re still so boring and strict. Daddy, I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back and have Mommy Lila play Legos with me…” Mommy Lila? No wonder he refused to call me Mom. He had already acknowledged someone else as his mother long ago. Everett’s gaze instantly turned sharp. Leo obediently shut his mouth, but voluntarily buried himself in my arms, muttering: “Daddy yelled at me!” Usually, I would hold him tightly, but this time, I pushed him away. “Go complain to your Mommy Lila.” Those two identical faces froze at the same time. I stared straight into Everett’s eyes, speaking word by word: “Everett, I’m serious about the divorce. I’m not joking.” A flash of anger crossed his eyes, quickly morphing into mockery. “Serena, playing hard to get is only fun up to a point. If you really piss me off, you’ll never see your son again for the rest of your life.” So he thought I was just taking a step back to gain an advantage. I remembered last year, when he got into a scandal with a starlet that ended up with her in the ER. I asked for a divorce. He locked me in our penthouse for six months and refused to let me see Leo. I gave in back then. But it was also that time I realized I couldn’t bring myself to love him anymore. “Everett, I’m moving out as soon as I’m discharged.” I looked right at him, my gaze unwavering. Realizing I wasn’t throwing a tantrum, his face turned serious. “You want a divorce? We’ll see if you actually have what it takes.” After he led Leo away, I picked up my phone and sent a message to an unknown number: “I’ve thought about it. I’ll leave as soon as the National Dance Championship is over next week.” Chapter 2 After being discharged, I returned to the Sterling estate, packed a few things, and headed to the dance studio. Since I had decided to leave, I didn’t want any more entanglements with Everett. However, as soon as I walked in, my colleagues’ looks were complex and subtle. A colleague I was usually close to pulled me into a corner and asked worriedly: “Serena, how did you offend ‘Mrs. Sterling’? Not only did she steal your competition spot, but she also made the boss fire you.” Mrs. Sterling? Following her gaze, I looked toward the center of the stage. Lila Rose was wearing a haute couture dance outfit, exuding the aura of someone entirely spoiled. I almost forgot, she had always paraded around outside calling herself “Mrs. Sterling.” At that moment, she was arrogantly soaking in everyone’s envy, until she spotted me in the shadows. “Serena, I’m so sorry. The boss felt my style was better suited for the championship, so the only spot went to me.” Before, she used to hide her claws around me. Now, she dared to walk all over me. “Lila, what exactly is your style? A stripper’s style? Do you dare tell everyone your real identity?” She used to be a cam girl famous for pushing boundaries, and only got into this high-end studio because of Everett’s connections. Lila’s face flushed bright red, and tears quickly welled up in her eyes. Just then, an arm wrapped around her waist. Everett appeared in front of me, his gaze overwhelmingly oppressive. “And what exactly do you think your identity is?” I opened my mouth, but a wave of bitterness rose in my throat. His mother died saving me. Nine years of marriage, even giving him a child, couldn’t offset the weight of that life. When he was drunk, he would grab me by the throat and roar: “Serena, you married into the Sterling family to atone for your sins, not to play the rich wife! Don’t forget your place!” Seeing me zone out, Everett leaned in close and lowered his voice: “Serena, if you want to keep this job, crawl back to the estate like a good girl.” I finally understood. He was the “boss” Lila mentioned. He gave the spot to Lila and forced the studio to fire me, all to make me bow my head, admit my mistake, and take back the word ‘divorce’. Seeing I remained unmoved, he sneered: “Gotten tough now, huh? Want to escape my control? Then I’ll break your wings and see how you try to fly.” He made a phone call. Less than five minutes later, my best friend texted me: “Serena, I think I pissed someone off. I just got promoted, and my boss called me in and said he has to let me go…” I pressed my lips tightly together and began packing my belongings. As I left, I heard Lila mocking me from behind: “Serena, in the end, don’t you still have to rely on a man? I thought you had a spine.” My hand trembled on the handle of my suitcase. I turned around and fired back: “Did you forget? Legally, I’m not divorced yet. He is still my husband…” Suddenly, Everett grabbed my wrist. “Serena, who gave you the nerve to bully Lila in public? Did you treat my warnings like garbage?” My heart felt like it was pricked by a needle. Married for so many years, he never publicly announced my identity. The outside world only knew he was married, but he was never short of beautiful women by his side. Since I couldn’t participate in the competition anymore, I didn’t need to wait a week. Thinking of this, I actually felt relieved. Before returning to the estate, I went to a law firm. After printing out the divorce papers, I texted that number: “Not waiting a week. I’m leaving in two days.” Chapter 3 Back at the estate, I sat on the living room sofa, dazed. It was rare for Everett to come home this early. He stood in the entryway, looking at me against the light. In that moment, I seemed to see my past self. Sitting in the living room every day after work, waiting until late at night just for a husband to return. I used to greet him with a smile and considerately help him take off his coat. “Honey, are you tired today? I learned a new massage technique…” All these years, aside from dancing, I spent the rest of my time revolving around him. Day after day, cycle after cycle, yet it never earned me a single kind look. Looking back now, I felt I was an absolute fool. Seeing I didn’t react, Everett frowned: “What are you thinking about? Running away?” I found it a bit funny. “If I wanted to run away, what would you do?” He walked toward me, roughly pushing me onto the sofa, cleverly shifting the topic: “If you don’t like Leo, we’ll just have a daughter. Daughters are obedient. She can keep you company later, and you’ll have an easier time in this house.” When I married into the Sterling family, the staff saw he didn’t care for me, and because of my mild temper, they never respected me, dumping all the heavy chores on me. Those years, I loved him deeply and never complained. He saw it all but always stood by coldly. My thoughts snapped back as he tore off my nightgown. His kisses landed on my body, fierce and overbearing, carrying an obvious sense of punishment. No matter what he did, I was like a piece of wood, completely unresponsive. It turns out that when you no longer love someone, your body genuinely puts up defenses. Everett found it boring and got off me. “Serena, I know your body. You shouldn’t be reacting like this.” He pinched my chin, staring at me intently: “Tell me, do you have a man on the outside?” Everett loved to play around, but he was incredibly possessive and a germaphobe. A security guard at the studio once looked at me a second too long; he was fired that day and Everett found an excuse to throw him in jail. I bit my lip tight, laughing out loud in humiliation: “Yes, just like the ocean you died in, I’ve been filthy for a long time. Are you going to arrest all those men too?” Everett narrowed his eyes, his voice raspy: “Is that so?” Suddenly, he scooped me up into his arms and walked toward the bathroom. He actually doubted me! “Since you’re dirty, let’s wash you clean.” He threw me into the bathtub, aimed the showerhead at my face, and turned on the freezing water. Goosebumps covered my body. Stimulated by the cold water, my PTSD was instantly triggered. My mind flashed back to when I was thirteen, the scene of my parents’ plane crashing into the ocean surface. I trembled uncontrollably, curling up in the corner. But Everett thought I was faking it. “Serena, don’t forget the purpose of you marrying into this family. You are here to atone!” That phrase again. This was almost our only mode of interaction. Out of ten sentences, nine were laced with malice. Chapter 4 Seeing my eyes lose focus to the point where I was about to bash my head against the wall, Everett finally panicked and carried me back to bed. “What’s wrong with you? Where does it hurt…” “Everett, you’ve tortured me enough all these years. Let’s let each other go!” I used every ounce of strength I had to throw the divorce papers at his face. He stared at the signature line and sneered: “In such a rush to divorce, the guy on the outside can’t wait?” I closed my eyes and stopped talking. He slammed the door and left. After tomorrow, I could escape this nightmare forever. The next day, Everett texted me: “If you want my signature, come to the Hilton, VIP Room 708. I had the maids prepare your clothes.” It was a modified cheongsam that made my waist look incredibly slender. When I pushed open the door, a group of rich heirs were jeering and looking at me. Lila sat next to Everett, her smile blinding. “Serena, Mr. Thorne wants to see a dance. I sprained my ankle, so I have to trouble you.” The gazes of these men landed on me like they wanted to eat me alive. This was Everett’s goal—to make his legal wife entertain his mistress and business partners. “Serena, didn’t you want a divorce?” Everett leaned into my ear, his breath hot against my neck, but making me feel like I was plunging into an ice cave. “As long as you dance until he’s satisfied, I’ll sign.” He pushed me right in front of Mr. Thorne. The man wrapped his arm around my waist, his eyes blurry with lust: “They say dancers have the softest waists. I see it today. Don’t worry, I promised Sterling I’d just feel around, I won’t actually do anything to you. As long as I enjoy myself, Sterling gets the contracts for the second half of the year.” I looked at Everett in disbelief. Everyone in our circle knew Thorne was a creep with a fetish for dancers’ waists, and someone had even been sent to the hospital with a broken rib because of him. I struggled to run, but Everett yanked me back. “Serena, don’t be such a prude. It’s just a touch, you won’t lose a piece of flesh. This is your bargaining chip for the divorce.” So, this was the price of divorce. The moment the door closed, I plunged into despair. An aphrodisiac incense burned in the room, making my consciousness blur. I grabbed a wine bottle from the table and swung it at Thorne, but he caught my wrist. The bottle smashed against my forehead. I fell to the floor, blood blurring my vision. I wanted to bite my tongue and end it, but the silhouettes of my parents appeared before me. “Serena, you have to keep living.” Like seeing a beam of light in the dark, I bit down hard on Thorne’s fingers. While he screamed, I yanked the door open and ran out. Passing another slightly open door down the hall, I saw Everett. He had Lila pinned against the wall, kissing her. “Everett, shouldn’t you really go check on Serena? I’m worried Thorne might…” “What is there to worry about? I warned Thorne, he won’t go too far. I just want to use this to punish her. She’s been too disobedient lately.” Just as I was about to push the door open, Thorne’s bodyguards caught up and dragged me back. My heart died completely. Right before losing consciousness entirely, I slammed my head forcefully into the corner of the wall. Mom, Dad, Serena is coming to find you. An hour later, Everett pushed open the door to Room 708. He thought he would see me crying and begging for forgiveness. But all he saw was shattered glass and a pool of bright red blood on the floor. A cleaner was whispering nearby: “That girl earlier was so tragic. Her clothes were torn to shreds. She refused to submit and just smashed her head against the wall and died…” Chapter 5 Everett didn’t believe I was dead. He rushed to Thorne’s private estate. Thorne was having his forehead treated by a private doctor. Seeing Everett, Thorne looked a little scared: “I swear I didn’t do anything! She hit the wall herself! You can’t pin this on me.” Everett’s face was terrifyingly dark: “Say that to me one more time!” Thorne waved his hand impatiently: “Worst comes to worst, I’ll sign another year’s contract! Consider it compensation for your wife’s life! I even had her body sent back to the Sterling estate. I’ve done more than enough.” Everett completely lost control and beat Thorne mercilessly. “Who told you to touch her! I’ll kill you!” He beat Thorne into the ICU. Soon after, Thorne was reported for multiple sexual assault charges and went straight to prison after being discharged. In the days that followed, Everett kept running away from the reality of my death. Eventually, Mr. Sterling Sr. stepped in to handle the funeral. My name became a taboo in the Sterling household. On the day of the burial, Everett got blackout drunk. When he got home, Leo hugged his leg: “Daddy, I don’t want Serena to die. Can you bring her back?” The word “die” triggered Everett. He picked Leo up with one hand, his voice hoarse: “Who told you she’s dead? She’s not dead!” “And why didn’t you ever call her Mom?!” Leo burst into tears and was eventually taken away by the maids. On the seventh day after my death, Everett hid in our bedroom, crumpling the divorce papers in his hand. He stared blankly at the wedding photo on the wall. In the photo, I was wearing the cheapest wedding dress, yet smiling brightly. And he was as cold as ice. He only married me for revenge. Even though I wholeheartedly played the role of a wife, he couldn’t forget that his mother drowned trying to save me. In a daze, he thought he saw me walking toward him. He greedily hugged the silhouette: “Serena, is it you? You came back?” He inhaled the scent on her body. It wasn’t my usual gardenia, but a strong, pungent perfume. He snapped awake. The person in his arms was Lila. “Everett, let me be your wife, okay? Whatever she could do, I can do too.” She pressed closely against him. “Get out!” He pushed her away in a rage. Lila gritted her teeth, her eyes full of resentment. She touched her stomach and sneered: “I’m pregnant. It’s yours.” Everett looked quietly at her stomach, a cruel curve forming on his lips: “Are you sure?” He forced Lila to the hospital. An hour later, the paternity test was slapped onto her face. “The kid isn’t mine. During your ovulation window last time, I got a vasectomy. Did you forget?” Lila froze, then laughed like a maniac: “Everyone says you’re a playboy, but it turns out you’re a hopeless romantic. Too bad Serena will never know. She’s dead! Hahaha!” That same day, Lila was blacklisted from the entire industry and sued for fraud. Everett’s life became a blurry mess. Waking up thirsty in the middle of the night, he would subconsciously call out: “Serena, get me a glass of water.” Touching the cold empty space beside him in bed, he’d feel a suffocating pain. Until one day, outside the study, he heard his parents arguing. Chapter 6 “Old man, that corpse was obviously a fake. Everett is ruining his life over that woman. Shouldn’t we tell him the truth? Besides, what happened with Serena’s parents’ plane crash… Everett’s mother went to save her because of our families’ friendship. It was an accident! He’s blamed her all these years…” “Shut up! Let it be! I never liked Serena anyway. Married and still dancing outside all day, disgraceful. As long as Leo is still with us, that’s all that matters!” The Sterlings and my family used to be close. Everett and I were childhood sweethearts. When I was thirteen, my parents’ private jet crashed into the ocean. I witnessed everything and developed severe PTSD. On the anniversary of their death, I had an episode and jumped into the ocean. Mrs. Sterling thought it was Everett who jumped, so she dove in to save him without thinking. I was saved, but she drowned. Fourteen-year-old Everett came home from school to see me crying while holding his mother’s body. He decided I killed his only support system. From then on, he developed avoidant personality disorder, constantly seeking a sense of security by tormenting me and testing my love. Over our nine-year marriage, he played around with models and actresses, even flirting right in front of me. Only when he saw me suffering but unable to leave could he feel needed. On April Fool’s Day, he even faked a news report of his plane crashing into the ocean. He knew perfectly well the ocean was a shadow I could never overcome. He watched me run madly into the water while he and his awful friends laughed and took bets on the shore. The moment he learned the truth, Everett smashed his fist into the wall. “What… what have I been doing all these years?” He rushed to the cemetery, only to find a familiar figure standing in front of the tombstone. Chapter 7 My best friend held daisies, smiling at the headstone: “Serena, this is all I could do. You have to be fiercely happy for the rest of your life.” Everett rushed forward and grabbed her: “Where is Serena?! Tell me!” My best friend was startled, then furiously shook him off: “You bastard! Serena was killed by you, what else do you want?!” But under Everett’s relentless interrogation, she finally revealed the truth. The day I hit the wall and passed out, I met the man who had been helping me in secret—Grant Harrison. He was my sponsor when I danced, and the one I kept in contact with. Sensing my dangerous situation, he bribed the doctors and the funeral home in advance to fake my death. I was now living under a new name in California. He owned a top-tier dance theater there. A year later, I won the National Dance Championship in Los Angeles. On the podium, Grant walked toward me with a bouquet. He got down on one knee and pulled out a blue diamond ring. The crowd went wild. “Serena, if that marriage brought you pain, let me be your safe harbor for the next stop.” Just as I was about to nod, a man rushed the stage and swatted the ring away. “Serena! You can’t marry him!” Everett looked at me with bloodshot eyes: “You are my wife, how can you marry someone else?” I looked at him coldly: “Sir, you have the wrong person. I don’t know you.” “I’m sorry, I misunderstood you. But I love you. Decades of feelings shouldn’t end like this.” Grant tactfully stepped aside and dismissed the crowd. I figured there was no need to pretend anymore and said coldly: “Forgiveness? Everett, I told you the truth countless times, but you never believed me.”

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A bottle of water costs $15, and a sandwich is $40. People say we’re dead for sure. Little do they know, I’m a hardened “broke girl,” and this game falls right into my wheelhouse. I will be the only “broke” survivor to walk out of this hell. My 99 attempts to fight back couldn’t stop me from being sucked into this game world. The system’s electronic voice sounded: [Welcome, 100 players, to the Broke Survival Game!] [Initial funds: $50. Objective: Survive in the game area for 7 days.] [The winner gets a $1 million prize!] [Overspending, death, or leaving the game area will result in elimination—you will be burdened with a $1 million debt!] The voice paused, carrying a hint of cunning: [Now, do any cowards want to quit?] “Quit? Are you kidding me?” A punk with dyed blond hair and a lip ring sneered. “Seven days? I can survive just drinking tap water!” A chubby guy next to him in a cheap t-shirt wiped his sweat. “Yeah, exactly! $50 is plenty for hot dogs and pretzels if we budget right!” “Risk it all, turn a bicycle into a sports car!” “Only an idiot would quit!” The crowd buzzed with blind excitement. Not a single one of the 100 players quit. System voice: [Game rules activated. Players may no longer quit. 100 players have been deployed—Welcome to the Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) Labyrinth. Good luck staying alive!] With a flash of white light, I found myself in a massive, modern airport. It was huge, stretching out endlessly. Crowds of people bustled back and forth. It was impossible to tell who was a player and who was an NPC. My game account quietly showed my initial $50. Three metrics appeared on my interface: Hunger, Thirst, and Energy. All three were currently full. I saw a 24-hour convenience store across the way and walked over to check the prices. Just as I reached the refrigerators, a tearful exclamation exploded. “Shit!” It was the chubby guy from earlier. He was staring intensely at the cooler. “$15 for a bottle of water?! Is this a robbery?!” I walked over, my eyes scanning the shelves, and my heart sank. A cupcake was $50, a sandwich $40, a bagel $10, and even the cheapest bag of soda crackers was $18! A daily budget of $7.14? That wouldn’t even buy half a bottle of water. The chubby guy looked at me, his face written with despair. “Sister 66, we’re screwed! This money is only enough for three bottles of water! People are going to die in a week!” I sighed. “The system isn’t running a charity. I knew it wouldn’t be this simple.” Other players flooded into the convenience store, their faces reflecting the same shock and panic. The chubby guy pulled me aside. “Sister, I’m Player 44, Davis. Let’s form an alliance. It’s good to have a partner in the game. If someone bullies you, I can fight them.” He threw a few boxing jabs, looking reasonably agile. Before I fully understood the game’s rules, I didn’t want to ally with anyone, so I politely declined. I left the convenience store alone. First things first: find water. Free water. Outside the restrooms, I found a drinking water fountain. I found two discarded empty water bottles nearby, washed them thoroughly, and filled them to the brim. Water sorted. Cost: $0. Next, I needed to secure a massive amount of calories. I spotted a Starbucks. On the condiment bar, packets of white sugar, creamer, and raw sugar were neatly stacked. Sugar is a crucial energy source. The packets could be used in emergencies to prevent hypoglycemia. I walked over expressionless, my movements as natural and smooth as picking up something at home. Over a dozen sugar packets and a few creamers instantly slid into my pockets. The whole process took less than two seconds. Then, I calmly walked out of the Starbucks. Finding a secluded corner, I tore open two sugar packets and poured them into my mouth. The intense sweetness exploded, bringing a false sense of satisfaction. Calories sorted. Cost: $0. The airport’s AC was blasting like an icebox. Maybe the system did this on purpose; the colder it was, the faster you burned calories. My thin clothes couldn’t block the chill. I had to keep moving to stay warm. I found an airline blanket in a trash bin, discarded by a passenger getting off a flight. As time passed, my hunger grew stronger. At 8 PM, I wandered into a bakery. In the glass display, unsold baguettes and cheese breads gave off an enticing wheat aroma. My stomach let out a loud rumble. Relying on my acute “broke” intuition, I guessed the bread should be on sale by now. Sliced toast, originally $30, was now $15. But it wasn’t enough. Right before closing, the discount would be even lower, maybe even free. Every dollar saved was a chance to survive. I sat on a chair across from the bakery, resting with my eyes half-closed. Suddenly, an anonymous player broadcasted in the game’s global chat: [Hurry to the bakery in Zone A on L3! The bread here is half price!] “Half-price bread!” “Zone A! Hurry!” “Don’t grab it! It’s mine!” Twenty or thirty figures surged from all directions, frantically rushing the bakery. The small entrance instantly became a mob. In the chaos, I saw people waving cash, and others reaching directly for the bread on the shelves. The clerk shouted in panic, “Line up! Line up!” but it was completely useless. In just a few minutes, all the discounted bread on the shelves, including the toast I had my eye on, was swept clean! Those who managed to buy something looked relieved, as if they had survived a disaster. Those who didn’t beat their chests in frustration, their eyes full of despair. The air was filled with curses, complaints, and desperate sighs from other players. My Hunger level had already dropped by 70%. I took a deep breath, suppressing my stomach cramps, and shifted my gaze from the chaotic crowd up to the giant flight information display high above. Red flight statuses were continuously scrolling. It was time to show my real skills! In this airport, players could move anywhere. Even without a ticket, we could go to the departure gates. I quickly scanned the massive screen and precisely locked onto a few bold, red delayed flights. Only flights delayed for over 6 hours were my targets. Dragging my weakening legs, I walked toward one of the gates. A small crowd had already gathered there, the air thick with anxiety and sweat. Gate 102 had been delayed for 8 hours. Stranded passengers surrounded the gate agent. The agent was a young woman, her face flushed red, as the passengers’ spit practically flew into her face. “Is your airline completely useless?!” “My child is crying from hunger! Are you going to do anything?!” “Compensation! We demand compensation! Give us our money right now!” The scene was pure chaos. The agent’s voice drowned in the noise, and she looked like she was about to cry. This was the chance! I forcefully pushed my way to the center of the crowd. Not to break up the fight, but to stand directly in front of the gate agent. “Quiet!” I roared with all my might. The sudden outburst stunned the crowd into silence. I pointed at the mother holding a crying child, then addressed all the passengers, raising my voice to be as inflammatory as possible: “Look! Look how much the baby is crying! If we tear the roof down yelling here, is the plane going to fly? The airline made a huge mistake, and they must be held accountable! But what do we need most right now? Food! A place to rest! We need to save our energy to fight them to the end!” I turned to the overwhelmed agent, speaking rapidly: “Everyone is highly emotional. The priority is to calm the passengers down. Issue meal vouchers and hotel vouchers immediately! Let everyone eat and settle down first. Otherwise, if this blows up, can you take the responsibility?” “I’ve been telling them that meal vouchers and hotel vouchers can be issued, but they don’t want them,” the agent said, sounding wronged. “Everyone needs to line up and get them according to their boarding passes.” “You’re still talking about procedures at a time like this?” I interrupted her, pointing to the mom with the baby. “Look how tired this mother is. Can she really stand in line for your meal vouchers after holding a child for 8 hours?” I turned to the mom. “Ma’am, give me your boarding pass! I’ll get it for you.” I held out my hand with undeniable authority. The mom, grasping at straws, immediately shoved her boarding pass into my hand. Once someone took the lead, the effect was instant. Several other passengers—those with elderly family members, kids, or just looking extremely exhausted—started shoving their passes into my hands too. “Help me get one too!” “And mine!” In an instant, I was clutching over a dozen boarding passes. I turned to the agent, thrust the passes at her, and lowered my voice. “Hurry up. Let’s solve the most urgent ones first. Better than ending up on the news, right? Give me two extra meal vouchers, and I’ll help you pacify these people with kids. It gives everyone an out.” The agent looked at me gratefully and typed furiously on her computer. She pulled out a stack of meal vouchers, counted out the ones matching my passes, then quickly grabbed two more, shoving them all into my hands together with a thankful look in her eyes. Done! My heart hammered, but my face remained calm. “Ma’am, here you go! Take the baby and go eat!” “Sir, here’s yours!” I quickly distributed the corresponding vouchers and boarding passes back with practiced efficiency. Finally, I pinched the two extra vouchers, stuffed them into my innermost pocket, and shouted to the crowd: “Everyone go get your vouchers, eat, and rest! Save your strength! We’ll settle the score with them later!” While the crowd’s attention shifted to claiming their vouchers, I slipped away like an eel, disappearing into the bustling terminal concourse. To survive this game, you had to be better at finding loopholes than the average person. Just outside the lounge, I ran into Davis again. He smiled good-naturedly. “Sister, I saw what you did. You were negotiating like a mob boss in a movie. Are you sure you won’t ally with us? We might need each other’s help later on.” In just one day, he had gathered four other players around him. I still declined his invitation. After stuffing myself with a burger combo using the voucher, my Hunger level temporarily filled back up, but exhaustion washed over me like a tide. My Energy level had fallen below 50%. It was now 11 PM. The airport foot traffic had noticeably thinned out, most stores were closing, and the lights dimmed. An indescribable, eerie atmosphere began to settle in. The seats in the terminal all had armrests to prevent people from lying down. A young player, likely unable to hold on any longer, wrapped himself in a thin jacket and curled up on the floor, trying to sleep. Barely two minutes passed before a bright flashlight beamed directly onto his face. “Get up! No lying down here!” the security guard’s voice was robotic and devoid of emotion. The young player ignored the NPC, rolled over, and kept sleeping. Suddenly, a squad of guards armed with batons rushed out from a corner. Without a word, they forcefully hauled him up and threw him out the main doors of the airport. The global chat broadcasted: [Player 13 eliminated for leaving the game area. Debt: $1 million.] Right after, players in other zones were eliminated in the exact same way. The system was forcing our hand, using exhaustion and the cold to squeeze out the players’ last drop of sanity. By this time, my Energy level was critically low. To avoid elimination, I pulled the ragged blanket over myself and fell asleep sitting up in a terminal chair. The sun rising the next day informed us that only one day of the game had passed. My Energy barely crawled back to 75%, but my Hunger had dropped back down to 50%. With one meal voucher left, I wasn’t too panicked. I drank some cold water, ate two sugar packets, and headed toward the departure hall to hunt. Suddenly, a player sprinted past me, snatching a hot dog right out of a child’s hand. He brushed past me, nearly knocking me over. The child burst into tears. Security rushed over, surrounded the player, and tossed him into a police cruiser outside the airport. System broadcast: [Player 25 snatched NPC food, thrown out of the airport by security. Eliminated. Debt: $1 million.] I realized something: whatever you do in this airport, do not alert security. The airport was strange today. Not a single flight was delayed. I guessed the system had patched the loophole I exploited. All day, I wandered the hall like a normal passenger, popping into every duty-free and specialty store that offered free samples. Of course, I only ate and never bought anything. I watched the clerks’ faces while sampling, and as soon as I noticed them glaring at my freeloading, I’d quickly slip away. I managed to scrap by until the evening. I used my last voucher for dinner, topping up my Hunger again. My Energy dropped even lower today. This time, I chose not to make do with a terminal seat. I slipped into a dim side corridor. At the end of it was a golden real estate spot I’d discovered during the day: an abandoned equipment room with a cracked-open door. It was full of junk, but once the door closed, it was a private sanctuary. I had just stepped inside, before I even had time to shut the door properly, when—Bang!—a loud crash echoed as someone kicked the door wide open. A tall white guy stormed in, followed by two young punks. Scared, I shrank further back into the room. “Get out, this place is ours!” the tall guy yelled at me. I recognized him. Yesterday at the bakery, he was the one fighting the hardest. He had even snatched bread straight from the hands of two other players. Knowing I couldn’t mess with him, I decided to surrender my prime real estate. Just as I reached the door, the tall guy suddenly pulled out a switchblade and pressed it against my neck. “Hand over the rest of your cash and any food you have! Right fucking now! Or I’ll slice you open.” The madness and cruelty in their eyes told me they would absolutely do it! My brain raced. Fight back? I had zero chance of winning. Hand over the money? That meant being eliminated and bearing a $1 million debt. What do I do? What do I do? I swallowed hard. “Bro, let’s talk this out. You know robbery will get you eliminated by the system.” “Cut the crap! Hurry up, I’m out of patience.” The blade pressed deeper into my neck. I gave up resisting and decisively transferred my $50 balance to him. I could only earn a million if I stayed alive in the game. The tall guy got the money and shoved me out the door. As they closed the door, I heard a smug voice from inside: “Direct robbery works perfectly. Good thing he told us robbing wouldn’t get us eliminated. Now we don’t have to worry about running out of cash.” Who was “he”? Robbing NPCs was forbidden, but robbing—even killing—players was allowed. Who knew the rules this thoroughly? It was only day two, and I had lost my only $50. No money, no food. Was I just supposed to wait for death? Not long after, another anonymous broadcast echoed across the global chat: [The soda crackers at the Zone B 24-hour convenience store on the departure level are on sale.] The equipment room door opened. The tall guy and his lackeys walked out. I quickly hid to the side and tailed them toward the convenience store. The three of them used all their stolen money to buy soda crackers. Following the electronic chime of a successful transaction, the system broadcasted: [Players 5, 49, and 61 eliminated due to overspending. Debt: $1 million.] The tall guy wailed, “This is money I stole! How does that count as overspending?!” Before he could finish, he vanished into thin air like a beam of light. His two sidekicks disappeared like lightning strikes right after him. Dozens of bags of soda crackers and four or five bags of bread clattered onto the floor. I rushed over, stripped off my jacket, and wrapped the crackers and bread tightly inside. I guessed right. The system said from the start that overspending meant elimination, but everyone only had $50. How could anyone overspend? There was only one way: if you robbed another player’s money and spent more than $50, it counted as overspending. But when the tall guy robbed bread from players at the bakery, he wasn’t eliminated. That meant stealing food didn’t trigger the penalty. It was highly predictable that in the coming days, more people who figured this out would start brawling over food. So, the food had to be hidden perfectly. With this stash, I could absolutely survive until the end. I found five spots I deemed safe and scattered the crackers, intending to unlock one location each day to get through the final five days. By the time I finished, my Energy level was critically low again, hitting the red warning zone. I sat back down in the terminal chairs and fell asleep. Day three. A fit of violent, lung-tearing coughing erupted nearby, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. It was Player 47, Emily, a girl who looked very frail to begin with. She was curled up on a cold metal bench, her body shaking violently. Her face was flushed from coughing, bordering on purple. Her boyfriend, Brad, also a player, looked at her in disgust. “What’s wrong with you? A fever? Don’t tell me you can’t make it to day seven!” Emily’s voice was hoarse and weak, thick with phlegm. “I just… I feel so cold, so sick. Brad, can you hold me, please?” “No way. What if you infect me?” Brad refused. A piercing siren rang out across the entire terminal without warning. Heavy, synchronized footsteps approached from a distant corridor. Hazmat-suited quarantine personnel easily hoisted Emily up. “Let me go! I can’t be eliminated!” Emily screamed in terror, yelling at her boyfriend: “Brad, help me! Help me!” But Brad didn’t even look at her; he turned and bolted. The hazmat team ignored Emily’s cries. Under the horrified gazes of the other players, they threw her onto a stretcher cart and quickly disappeared down the corridor. A few seconds later, the system broadcast: [Player 47 severely endangered public health and safety. She has been forcibly removed from the game area for quarantine. Eliminated! Debt: $1 million!] [Player 87 severely endangered public health and safety. He has been forcibly removed from the game area for quarantine. Eliminated! Debt: $1 million!] Players looked at each other, their eyes brimming with suspicion. “87 ate food from the trash yesterday and had severe diarrhea today.” “You can’t catch a cold, and you can’t get diarrhea either.” Who would be next? Just the sound of a cough, even someone clearing their throat, was enough to make hearts pound. I had learned another rule: you cannot get sick. Even a minor cold or an upset stomach would get you dragged out of the game area. I survived the day relying on my scavenged bread and crackers. The airport was even colder today, literal freezing temperatures. I found a foil emergency space blanket in a trash can, discarded by a hiker. Wrapping it around myself kept me much warmer than that tiny, ragged airline blanket. By day four, more and more people were being eliminated. Waking up early, I decided to go grab my bread and crackers for the day. Avoiding the crowds, I headed to the first stash spot: a gap between a massive planter and the wall behind a remote restroom. Approaching it, I crouched down and reached into the familiar crevice. Empty! There was absolutely nothing inside. My heart plummeted. Unwilling to give up, I felt around carefully again. Not even a shred of the wrapper was left. Panicking, I sprinted to the next location. Nothing. Still nothing. All four locations where I hid the crackers had been robbed. Dozens of life-saving bags of soda crackers and bread had vanished overnight without a trace. My guaranteed victory had been completely overturned in an instant. To accurately locate every spot and silently clear them out in a single night—this wasn’t something an ordinary player could do. Who was it? Who had been watching me this whole time? My mood hit absolute rock bottom. I shamelessly went back to hunting for free samples, but the number of players doing the same had surged. The vendors were on high alert and had hidden all their sample trays. Even the Starbucks condiment bar was barren. The baristas had removed all the sugar packets. Trash cans became a battlefield. Many players still risked diarrhea to dig for scraps. By the time I checked them, not even a crumb was left. I dragged myself to 10 PM. All my stats were flashing red warnings. I walked toward a row of luxury boutiques. A player nearby whispered, “That girl’s probably getting eliminated soon. What’s she doing near the luxury stores?” In a trash can near the boutiques, I found several discarded designer bags and boxes. Travelers often threw away the packaging before departing to dodge customs taxes. I carefully stuffed the boxes into the most pristine Hermès paper bag, carrying it as I headed down to the departures level. During my earlier scouting, I noticed a high-end steakhouse there. Now, I was going to leverage it for a free resting spot and some complimentary appetizers. Pushing open the heavy glass doors, the warmth and aroma of roasted meat rushed over me. A server with a sweet smile jogged over to greet me. “Welcome! A table for how many, miss?” “Two.” I casually placed the eye-catching luxury shopping bag on the chair next to me, my voice carrying a trace of barely noticeable hoarseness. “Find me a quiet booth. I’m waiting for someone.” The server’s eyes swept over the bag, and her smile deepened. “Right away, miss. Right this way, please!”

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