1 Every year, in the isolated hollow of Blackwood Creek, a girl of age is chosen to be the Patron’s Bride. The chosen one must enter the sacred cavern to lie with the Patron, a mysterious entity the town has worshipped for generations. If she emerges alive, she becomes a revered Matriarch, and any child conceived from the union is said to be blessed with a life of fortune. If she dies… well, the town simply waits for the next year’s Bride. The “blessing” of her sacrifice is then said to pass to her family. But no one ever wanted to be chosen. Families fled the valley, pulling their daughters out of school, anything to escape the selection. Except for me. I volunteered. Because I had a hunger. A desperate, gnawing curiosity to know what a god felt like. The day before the spring equinox, I was sprawled on my bed, scrolling through my phone, when a crowd of people flooded into our yard. Elder Hawthorne, the town’s de facto leader, was at the forefront. “Elara,” he boomed, a grin stretching across his weathered face. “We’ve come to give you the good news!” I shot up from my bed. “Elder Hawthorne, does this mean… I’ve been chosen? Can I be the Patron’s Bride?” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “Your sister Clara was the Bride just last year, so your name wasn’t meant to be in the running. But since you insisted so fiercely, we had no choice but to open the Sanctum and ask the founders.” “We cast the stones three times,” he continued, his voice dropping to a solemn tone, “and three times, the founders gave their consent. It is settled.” “Yes!” I practically leaped into the air with joy. “Calm yourself, child,” the Elder said, handing me a list. “Here is what you will need to prepare. We will escort you from your home at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I’ve asked a few of the more experienced women to help you get ready. You can ask them anything you don’t understand.” “Oh, thank you, thank you! I’m… well, I’m not very experienced. What exactly will I need to do… in the cavern?” I asked, trying to sound shy. Martha, my neighbor and one of the town’s older women, frowned. “We’ll instruct you on that tonight. For now, we must prepare your ceremonial gown.” I dashed into my room and returned a moment later, clutching a full ensemble—a deep crimson gown, hand-embroidered with ancient symbols, and an ornate headpiece. “I’ve always dreamed of marrying the Patron,” I announced breathlessly. “I’ve had this ready for a long time.” Our town had fallen on hard times. More and more people were leaving for the cities to find work, leaving Blackwood Creek to rot. I was the last unmarried woman of a certain age left. That’s why, even at twenty-eight, I was still considered a candidate. As someone who had supposedly dreamed of this day my entire life, I had prepared for it meticulously. As soon as the Elder and the other men left, I eagerly turned to the women. “So, how do I please the Patron?” Martha followed me into my bedroom. Her eyes immediately fell on the collection of objects scattered across my bed. Her face went pale. “Elara,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Tell me true. Are you… untouched?” “Of course, I am.” “Then what are these?” she asked, gesturing at the mess. With a flourish, I gathered the items and began to explain. “This is my secret weapon. For years, none of the Brides have conceived the Patron’s child, have they? It’s because the women themselves aren’t prepared. So, I consulted a wise woman, a seer, and she told me I needed to use these. With their help,” I declared, “I can have as many of his children as he desires.” Martha took one of the objects from me, her expression a mixture of disbelief and intrigue. “This… this thing is that powerful?” “It is. If you like them, I can give you one each. I have plenty.” I opened a drawer and pulled out several brand-new, still-in-the-box items, handing one to each of the wide-eyed women. Each was worth a small fortune, and just like that, they were bought. They not only taught me the secret words to whisper to the Patron, but they also impressed upon me one critical rule: no matter what happens in the cavern, I must not, under any circumstances, open my eyes. Filled with a rush of excitement, I decided to share my most precious secret. “Martha,” I began, leaning in conspiratorially, “the seer who advised me… she said I have a blessed womb. She said I’m like fertile soil—if someone tills the land, a forest is sure to grow.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “That’s why I’ve kept myself pure for so long. No man is worthy of this body, except for the Patron.” Clatter. The device in Martha’s hand slipped from her grasp and hit the floor. When she saw me looking, she forced a smile back onto her face. “That’s wonderful, dear. The future of our town rests on your shoulders.” 2 To be certain, after I had fasted and bathed as instructed, they laid me down on the bed to perform the final check. Two of Martha’s fingers probed, struggling to find any purchase. Finally, she sighed with relief. “You are pure, Elara. The Patron will be pleased,” she said, her voice softening. “Now listen closely. What I’m about to tell you is the key to winning his favor. You cannot make a single mistake.” They drilled me until midnight, going over every last detail until I was dizzy with instructions. The next morning at eight, I was brought to the Sanctum. It stood in the heart of the village, a grim, windowless building that only men were permitted to enter. Women were forbidden from even kneeling at its door. The only exception was the Patron’s Bride. As I stepped over the threshold, a wave of vertigo washed over me. It felt like I’d seen this all before in a dream, a scene I couldn’t quite grasp, the details slipping through my fingers like sand. “Don’t just stand there daydreaming,” Martha hissed. “Kneel and pray to the founders for their blessing.” “Yes, of course.” Half an hour of tedious rituals later, I was finally led to the courtyard behind the Sanctum. They intended to change me into the ceremonial gown right there, out in the open sun. I clutched the front of my simple dress, hesitant. “Here? But… the men from the neighboring houses can see. My body is for the Patron alone. They are not worthy.” Martha’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Those men are the ones who inspect you for the Patron. Only if you pass their examination will you be worthy of ascending the mountain.” I fell silent and let my hands drop. No matter how many X-rated films you’ve watched, nothing prepares you for the hot blush that creeps up your neck when the last piece of your clothing falls away in front of strangers. Another half hour passed. Dressed in the magnificent crimson gown and ornate headdress, I emerged from the back of the Sanctum. As I looked up, I saw several of the town’s elder men staring, their eyes bloodshot, their throats working as they swallowed. Elder Hawthorne nodded, satisfied. “Let’s begin.” At his signal, music began to swell from unseen players. Unlike the joyous tunes of a normal wedding, the music for the Patron was a somber, ancient dirge. Its melody was both grand and unsettling, its notes seeming to bore into your very soul. My head grew fuzzy, and I forgot everything, my feet moving automatically, following the procession out of the Sanctum. Halfway down the path, my left foot caught on my right. I pitched forward, crying out as I fell to my knees. My palms scraped violently across the rough stone path, leaving a smear of blood in my wake. “To see blood on such an auspicious day! This is a terrible omen!” Elder Hawthorne’s face darkened with anger. I quickly pulled a small charm from a hidden pocket in my gown. “Elder, don’t worry! The seer gave me this lucky charm. It ensures my success in all things,” I said, my voice bright and confident. “Besides, she foretold that my day would begin with sorrow but end in joy. This bleeding only proves that everything from this moment on will go perfectly!” My words seemed to placate him and the other elders, and the procession continued. But for some reason, the cuts on my hands wouldn’t stop bleeding, leaving a faint, crimson trail behind us. The stinging pain made it impossible to focus on the hypnotic music. As we reached the trailhead leading up the mountain, a black cloth was tied over my eyes. The Patron desires purity in his Bride’s gaze, the Elder had explained. I was not to look upon the wild spirits of the mountain, lest he find me tainted. With my vision gone, my other senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. I could feel the uneven ground beneath my feet, the path turning from worn stone to dirt and roots. The music behind me seemed to intensify, crawling under my skin, inescapable. The air changed, too, losing the smoky scent of the village and taking on a cold, clean fragrance. I instinctively clenched my fists, and the pain in my palms flared. I don’t know how long we walked, but I could feel the sun beating down directly overhead when they finally allowed me to remove the blindfold. Before me was a winding, narrow path. It ended at a yawning cavern, a mouth leading into endless shadow. Beside it stood a colossal tree, its branches reaching for the sky. The intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air, so thick you could almost taste it. The villagers claimed this tree had fed on the essence of countless Brides, which was how it grew so tall, so fragrant. Ten yards from the cavern’s entrance, the procession came to a sudden halt. Elder Hawthorne’s small, cloudy eyes fixed on me. “Are you certain you want to go in?” 3 My cheeks flushed, a blush of what I hoped looked like shy anticipation. I gazed at the dark maw of the cavern. “I am.” “The Patron is said to be tall and handsome, a match beyond compare,” I said, my voice thick with feigned desire. “I’m not getting any younger, and I’ve never known the touch of a man.” My crude words made the men around me frown. Even Elder Hawthorne seemed displeased. But I had passed all their tests that morning. And I was, by my own declaration, the fertile vessel they so desperately wanted. No matter how much he disliked me, he had to let me go. “The village has no other unmarried girls, Elara. This difficult duty falls to you,” he said, his tone grim. “When you are in there, think of your parents. You’re the only child they have left.” My face grew even redder. “Don’t you worry, Elder. I promise I’ll come out with the Patron’s child. My parents will have a grandchild to dote on, and our village will prosper!” No one but me was allowed to set foot in the Patron’s domain. They could only escort me this far. Under their watchful eyes, I walked quickly down the narrow path and stepped into the cavern. The scent of jasmine and the warmth of the sun vanished behind me, replaced by the damp, cloying smell of rot and decay. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. And then I saw him. At the end of the passage, a powerfully built man sat on a throne carved from stone. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. “Are you… the Patron?” The man didn’t move. He made no sound. As I drew closer, I could see his head was tilted back slightly, his chest rising and falling in the shallowest of breaths. Following Martha’s instructions, I knelt and bowed my head to the ground. “Your Bride is here to present her gift,” I murmured. “I am Elara of the House of Croft. I am twenty-eight years of age. After tonight, I am your woman.” Martha had said the Patron would not unwrap his gift himself. I had to offer myself to him. As a woman of my age, though I had no real experience, I’d done my research. I knew the steps. With every step I took, another piece of my ceremonial gown fell away. By the time I stood before him, I wore nothing but my most delicate underthings. The air in the cave was frigid, and a shiver wracked my body. Martha’s words echoed in my mind: The Patron will not move, but his body is warm. You must press yourself against him, use his heat to warm yourself. Otherwise, you won’t survive two days in the cold. I reached out and unfastened his clothes. His skin was warm to the touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, and my legs went weak. I practically melted into his arms. “Patron…” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. “You’re so warm. Won’t you hold me?” “I never knew you’d be so handsome,” I purred. “If I’d known how good it was to be the Patron’s Bride, I never would have let my sister come here last year. She was useless, you know. Only lasted three days before she died. Don’t you worry,” I whispered, my voice turning husky, “I’m much stronger than she was. I’m sure I can take whatever you dish out.” I thought his body felt… pliant. Not stiff and unmoving like Martha had described. Was it because the day was so warm? According to the rules, it was time to proceed to the next step. I pulled his expensive clothes from his body, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Soon, he was as bare as I was. In the dim light filtering from the cave entrance, I could make out the hard planes of his stomach. I couldn’t resist pressing my cheek against his eight-pack. “Did my sister touch you here, Patron?” My fingers trailed slowly, deliberately, downwards. “What about here? Did the other Brides touch you here? Did they tell you how… impressive you are?” Was it my imagination, or did I feel a faint tremor run through his body? No, Martha said the Patron never moved. It was up to the Bride to do all the work if she wanted to conceive his child. I took a deep breath, positioned myself over his hips, and lowered myself down. His body bucked upwards in a sharp, involuntary thrust. I was still reeling from the shock of his movement when, in the next instant, the cavern was suddenly filled with people…

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My father and mother guarded the Northern Marches for ten years. They returned with an adopted daughter, a girl as beautiful and seemingy innocent as a lily. The moment we met, my family suddenly began to hear her innermost thoughts. Outwardly, she was warm and affectionate toward me, but in her heart, she seethed. “So this is the sister who was raised in the capital’s luxury. She’s never known the bitterness of the frontier. Dressed in such finery… she truly knows nothing of hardship.” The eyes of my father, mother, and brother turned on me, filled with blame. But what she didn’t know was that in this life, there was one more person who could hear her thoughts: me. … The sun beat down relentlessly as I stood alone under a parasol, waiting at the gate. A carriage slowly turned the corner, its simple canvas top a stark contrast to the grand, opulent manors lining the street. Before it had even stopped, a young woman leaped down. She was my age, her dark hair tied back with a simple red ribbon. She had the lively, almond-shaped eyes of a fawn, and every movement was filled with a playful, charming energy. “You must be my sister from the capital. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Seraphina.” Her words were sweet, but I already knew the venom in her heart. Sure enough, as my parents and my brother, Gareth, hurried out of the carriage after her, I heard that secret voice again. “My sister has lived in the capital her whole life, never tasting the bitterness of the Marches. Look at her, so extravagantly dressed. She knows nothing of true suffering. A single one of her hairpins could probably cover a soldier’s wages for a year, couldn’t it?” My parents and brother froze, their expressions hardening. They shot me accusing glances. It was just like in my past life. I had been filled with joy, eagerly awaiting my family’s return, only to be met with their instant, baseless resentment. No matter what I did—or even if I did nothing at all—Seraphina’s “inner voice” would guide them to turn their hearts against me. I had done nothing, yet I became a spoiled, disrespectful degenerate in their eyes. I died of a broken heart. Seraphina, however, had used my life as a stepping stone, becoming a celebrated paragon of humility and strength. But now, I no longer felt the sting of their coldness as I had in my past life. I simply nodded at my parents and my brother. “Father. Mother. Gareth.” Then I turned and walked back into the manor, not caring whether they followed. Behind me, Seraphina’s inner voice chimed in again. “Why won’t my sister speak to me? Is she trying to put me in my place? These ladies from the capital are always so wrapped up in their petty games. They have none of the simple honesty of the frontier people.” My mother, hearing this, bristled with indignation. “My lord, this daughter of ours has no manners at all!” My father, Lord Marshal Valerius, said nothing, his face a grim mask. Gareth couldn’t hold back. “I have no sister so rude and arrogant. In my heart, my only sister is Seraphina!” Seraphina was clearly delighted but put on a show of magnanimity. “Perhaps my sister feels that I’ve stolen our parents’ affection. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have presumed to call myself their daughter.” Hearing her usually cheerful adopted daughter speak so humbly, and seeing the tears welling in her almond eyes, a fire of rage ignited in my mother’s heart. She scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You are my daughter, Seraphina, and no one can take that place! Don’t you waste your tears on someone so inconsequential.” My father and Gareth rushed to comfort her as well. How absurd. My own parents, on the very first day of their return, calling their own flesh and blood “inconsequential” for the sake of an adopted child. My chest felt hollow. It should have ached. It should have been breaking with grief, with an unbearable agony. But it felt nothing. In my last life, the heart that had yearned for my parents and missed my brother had already died. It died when Gareth gave Seraphina the holy scriptures I had painstakingly copied, just so she could tear them apart for fun. It died when my mother, cradling a drenched Seraphina who had “fallen” into the lake, accused me of having a viper’s heart. It died when my father had me flogged, forcing me to give up my position as companion to the princess so that Seraphina could have it. I walked briskly to the main hall and turned, cutting through their tender family moment without a shred of emotion. “It is time for the evening meal.” The chatter behind me ceased. Perhaps they had suddenly remembered that the “inconsequential person” was still there. My mother’s embarrassment quickly turned to fury. “What is this attitude?” she snapped. “Is this how you treat your parents?” “Disrespectful to your parents, cruel to your sister… How did I ever give birth to a daughter like you?” I feigned confusion, tilting my head as I looked at her twisted, angry face. “I merely announced that it was time to eat. How is that disrespectful?” It was like punching a pillow. She was left speechless. Finally, my father intervened. “Enough! Both of you, be silent!” he commanded. “To the dining hall. Now.” In the hall, we took our seats around a large, mahogany table. But on its vast surface were only a few bowls of thin gruel and some meager vegetables. Seeing the simple fare, Gareth slammed his chopsticks down. “What is the meaning of this? Are you intentionally trying to starve us?” Seraphina tried to smooth things over. “Gruel and vegetables are fine. Our sister worked hard to prepare them.” But in her heart, she murmured, “My sister has seen every delicacy the capital has to offer, yet she prepares only this for us. Can she truly hate me this much? I should find a chance to tell our parents to send me away. I can’t be the cause of a rift in this family!” My father finally spoke, his voice a command. “Kneel!” I remained standing, unmoved. In my past life, because of Seraphina’s inner voice, the lavish feast I had prepared was seen as proof of my decadence. It was Seraphina herself who had clutched her heart and declared that the soldiers on the frontier were suffering, and that a simple meal of gruel would have been more than enough. And now, I had prepared the simple meal they wanted. Why were they still angry? When I didn’t move, Gareth lunged forward and grabbed my arms, forcing me down with brutal strength. He had trained in combat since he was a boy and had been hardened by years in the army. I, a girl raised in the gentle confines of the capital, was no match for his power. In an instant, bruises bloomed on my wrists as he forced me to my knees. My father pointed at me, calling me a disgrace. Gareth’s voice was laced with accusation. “You feast on delicacies every day in the capital, and this is what you prepare for our parents’ return? You are an unworthy daughter!” “And how, brother, would you know that I feast on delicacies every day?” I asked, my voice weak. My frail body couldn’t withstand his assault, and a mouthful of blood suddenly spilled from my lips. Seeing me cough up blood, Gareth released me in shock. I wiped the blood from my chin, my voice cold. “When our grandmother was alive, she forbade me from eating meat. At every meal, I was allowed only half a bowl of gruel. For you and our parents, I specifically ordered the kitchen to bring a full bowl. How does that make me an unworthy daughter?” My grandmother had despised my mother. After my mother abandoned me at the age of three to follow my father to the frontier with Gareth, her cruelty toward me only intensified. Half a bowl of gruel was a regular occurrence. If she was in a foul mood, I would be forced to kneel for hours on an empty stomach. It was a laughable shame—the daughter of the renowned Lord Marshal, starving in his own home. But it was the truth. My parents’ expressions flickered. They knew of their mother’s nature. My mother, remembering the years of torment she had endured under her mother-in-law, finally felt a genuine pang of sympathy for me. Tears streamed down her face as she helped me up. “My poor child, you’ve suffered.” “Your brother didn’t mean it. We are all family. Don’t take it to heart.” I said nothing, staring at the dark bruises on my arms. My father shoved Gareth forward. He stumbled, hung his head, and mumbled an apology. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Seraphina rushed over, dabbing at the bloodstains on my gown with her handkerchief. “Oh, sister, it pains my heart to see you like this!” But in her mind, she was saying, “Yes, my sister has suffered, but it wasn’t Gareth’s fault. Why must she be so aggressive about it?” At her words, the atmosphere shifted once more. Gareth’s guilt vanished without a trace. The pity in my parents’ eyes faded, replaced by annoyance at my “impertinence.” I had no desire to deal with them. I turned and walked away. As I left, my father called after me, “Tomorrow, you will go to the palace. The Queen will be selecting a companion for the Princess. Remember to help your sister.” In the Royal Gardens, the Queen sat on the main dais, with Princess Aurelia nestled by her side. Princess Aurelia was the youngest child of the King and Queen, doted upon and known for her spirited, whimsical nature. In my past life, she had chosen me to be her companion. Not because of any great talent, but simply because she thought I was beautiful. It was as simple as that. But Seraphina, in her inner voice, had convinced my parents that I had used tricks to ensure she wasn’t chosen. I was punished, forced to kneel before the ancestral tablets in our dark family chapel to “reflect on my sins.” My father took the family scourge to me, the horsewhip lashing my back again and again. He demanded that I “repent” and give up my position. No matter how I explained, he only believed the “inner voice.” But a companion chosen by the royal family was not a position one could simply relinquish. In the end, he had to trade his military merits to secure Seraphina a place in the palace. Now, I watched Seraphina perform on the dais. She wielded a light, flexible sword, her red tunic rustling as she moved, drawing gasps of admiration from the other noble ladies. But Princess Aurelia looked bored. Everyone assumed her spirited nature would draw her to a unique woman like Seraphina. But the princess had a secret preference for delicate, willow-like beauties. After Seraphina stepped down, I took the stage, dressed in a gown of flowing silk with gossamer sleeves, my eyebrows painted like willow leaves, my eyes full of gentle grace. At first glance, I looked like a celestial maiden descended to earth. I hadn’t even begun my performance when Princess Aurelia started tugging on the Queen’s arm, whining like a spoiled child. “Mother, I want her!” Just like last time, Seraphina’s eyes immediately reddened with tears. And just like last time, when Gareth came to collect us, she made a show of congratulating me. “Congratulations, sister, on winning the princess’s favor and becoming her companion.” But in her heart, she sobbed, “The princess seemed so interested during my performance. Why did she choose my sister the moment she appeared?” Those ambiguous words had been the evidence that condemned me in my past life. This time, I couldn’t be bothered to feign a sisterly bond. “The princess likes me, so she chose me,” I said languidly. “There is nothing to congratulate.” Gareth frowned. “Seraphina lost her chance, and you’re here gloating. You’re disgusting.” I didn’t even look at him. I simply lifted the curtain of the carriage and stepped inside. My cool voice drifted out. “Are you driving this carriage or not? If not, I’ll find someone else. I have no time to waste on your squabbling.” Back at home, the same scene from my past life played out. My mother held Seraphina, comforting her, while my father ordered me to the chapel to “reflect.” I rolled my eyes disdainfully. “Tomorrow, the princess will summon me to the palace as her companion. Are you certain you want me to be on my knees all night, Father?” I had specifically asked the princess for this favor, anticipating this very move. My father’s face turned crimson with rage, pointing at me and sputtering, unable to form a coherent sentence. I turned my back on him, leaving him with only my cold silhouette. The next morning, no one came to see me off. The coachman was in a difficult position. “My lady,” he explained in a hushed tone, “it’s not that I want to make things hard for you, but the Lord Marshal has forbidden me from taking you to the palace. My hands are tied!” I didn’t blame him. I turned left out the gate and hired a carriage from the livery stable down the street. Fools. Did the border sands scour the sense from their heads? They’ve forgotten you can hire a carriage right outside your own door. At the palace, I was not surprised to see Seraphina. My father had rushed to the palace the night before to ensure her wish was granted. Princess Aurelia hadn’t arrived yet. Seraphina was deep in conversation with a girl whose makeup was exquisitely applied. It was Duchess Isolde. In my past life, she had been envious of Seraphina’s “freedom” on the frontier and had taken her as a confidante. When Seraphina hinted that I was suppressing her, Isolde had taken it upon herself to be her champion. She was the one who had ruined my reputation and had me driven from the palace in shame. In this life, she and Seraphina had become friends once again.

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1 I had just stepped out of the operating room when the rumors hit like a tidal wave. Whispers of me being the “Herpes Whore,” the “Syphilis Surgeon,” echoed through the hospital corridors. A viral screen report, with my name—Dr. Stella Kane—emblazoned across the top, had been leaked online. The result: positive. Overnight, I went from a respected surgeon to a moral degenerate, a pariah. When I looked to my husband, Julian, for protection, all I found was a chorus of mockery from his friends. “Your wife is famous now, Julian. Every restaurant and mall she’s ever been to is doing a deep clean. They’d rather she just drop dead somewhere far away.” “Even the eighty-year-old beggar on the corner wouldn’t touch her now. You couldn’t pay him to. Everyone knows she’s filthy!” Julian himself had anonymously posted more than a dozen threads fanning the flames. “Chloe finally got her chance in the OR, but no, Stella had to fight for the spotlight. Well, I’ll give her all the spotlight she can handle!” Looking at the man whose eyes simmered with resentment for me, I turned and scheduled an abortion. 【The “Syphilis Surgeon” ate at the Crane’s Landing restaurant. We have completed a full sterilization. Everyone can dine here with confidence. Praying that diseased bitch never comes back!】 【Spreading her virus everywhere, what’s the difference between her and a plague rat? Just stay home and rot, don’t come out and infect the rest of us!】 One comment, in particular, stood out, a deliberate warning: 【She’s a doctor, you know. Be careful if you go to City General. You don’t want to catch what she has.】 I didn’t have to guess. That was Julian. His goal was simple: to drive me out of the hospital, to avenge his precious Chloe’s wounded pride. The internet was a deluge of insults and condemnations. My mind went numb. I couldn’t even cry. I closed my eyes in despair and called a colleague in OB/GYN to book the procedure. “Stella, I thought this baby was something your husband wanted more than anything. What does he think about this?” Our seemingly perfect little family of three… I was only just discovering the rot festering beneath the surface. My fingers trembled as I gently touched my swollen belly, a wave of nausea rolling through me. My colleague knew about the online rumors. She assumed I was buckling under the pressure and didn’t press further, simply scheduling the appointment. I had just signed the consent form when the husband of a patient charged at me with a knife, his face contorted with rage. “You call yourself a doctor? God knows how many men you’ve been with to get riddled with diseases. If you’ve infected my wife, you’ll pay for it!” My pregnant body was clumsy. I couldn’t dodge in time. A searing pain erupted in my shoulder as the blade sliced through my coat, and blood began to well from the gash. I pressed my hand to the wound, trying to stay calm. “Those are just rumors. I’m not sick. Someone is framing me.” But he wouldn’t listen. He yelled for others to come and see, turning me into a public spectacle, a sinner on trial. “Just because you say they’re rumors? No one admits to having a filthy disease, and you’re no different. The proof is all over the internet! What’s the point in denying it?” Then, a splash of red. The acrid smell of paint filled my nostrils as a bucket of it was thrown over me, soaking my clothes and stinging the open wound on my shoulder like salt. “Get the hell out of this hospital, or we’ll complain to the board! If that doesn’t work, we’ll call the police and report you for intentionally spreading a virus!” I wiped the sticky paint from my face, too terrified to look up, feeling utterly defeated. Just then, Julian rushed over, pulling me into his arms. “You’re pregnant. You should be at home resting. What if these barbarians had hurt you? What would I do?” Chloe followed close behind him. The fresh, red love bites on both their necks told the whole story. “Stella, are you alright?” Chloe asked, her voice dripping with false concern. “Julian felt so bad for you, working so hard while you’re pregnant, that he helped me get the position of department head in OB/GYN. You’re not mad, are you?” Because of this scandal, the hospital director had already suspended me. I hadn’t expected such a grand surprise upon my return. Since they loved taking what was mine so much, I would disappear forever and let this tragic couple have their twisted fairy tale. The two of them stood there, clean and pristine, making me look even more like a fallen, painted clown. I turned to leave, but Julian grabbed my paint-soaked arm, then recoiled in disgust. “Chloe has a difficult case. She wants you to take a look.” Seeing Chloe’s saccharine smile, a shiver ran down my spine. “I need to go home and shower.” A flicker of impatience crossed Julian’s brow, his face darkening. “You’re her senior. There’s no need to make excuses to shirk your responsibilities. Get going.” He had given his ultimatum. There was no room for discussion. He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward a room at the end of the hall. Before I could react, he shoved me inside and locked the door. 2 My heart leaped into my throat, clenching into a tight, painful knot. I spun around to see a burly, disheveled man walking toward me, a leering grin on his face. “Stay back! This is a hospital!” The man spat on the floor, his eyes filled with contempt. “You’re that ‘Syphilis Surgeon’ from the internet, aren’t you? You look like a whore. Must have cheated a lot to get so diseased.” “But I like them diseased. It’s not like a man can get cervical cancer. Don’t be difficult. I’m probably the only man in the world willing to play with you now!” He lunged, grabbing at my clothes. I pressed myself against the door, curling into a ball. I could faintly hear voices from the other side. It was Chloe, her voice a petulant whine. “It hurts me to even think of you with her. She’s always the star at the hospital. Can’t you get rid of her for good? She’s taking all my surgical opportunities, boo-hoo…” Julian’s voice was smug, confident. “Don’t worry, my little sweet pea. This plan will ensure she’s gone from the hospital for good. Who does she think she is? She can’t compare to you in any way. She’s only fit to stay at home, have babies, and cook, like some old maid.” Even through the thick wood of the door, I could feel his disdain. Riiip— The paint-caked fabric of my uniform tore. A pair of grimy hands reached for me. I fought with all my might, but it was useless. Just as I was about to give up, the door was thrown open. I turned, ready to scream for help like a drowning woman grabbing for a lifeline, only to see that the doorway was crowded with people. The man instantly changed his tune, pointing at me and shouting, “It was her! She seduced me! She has diseases and she’s still trying to lure men into her bed! I’m a victim here!” In an instant, I was once again the target of everyone’s fury. The man’s wife stormed forward and slapped me, her spittle flying as she screamed, “So it’s you! You promiscuous bitch, trying to seduce my husband! If you’ve given him your filthy diseases, I’ll make you regret the day you were born!” “If this hospital doesn’t give me an explanation today, I’m calling the cops!” A hospital administrator pushed through the crowd, his face a thundercloud. “A full suspension, effective immediately! We will investigate this thoroughly!” After the administrator left, a few of Julian’s friends eyed me with malicious amusement. “Stella, couldn’t Julian satisfy you? You must be really desperate, not picky at all…” “Don’t mind me for being blunt, but if you’re sick, you should stay home and get better. Spreading it on purpose is a crime, you know. You could go to jail for that.” Julian finally arrived, pulling me out of the throng. “What’s going on, honey?” he asked, looking from me to the crowd with an expression of pure confusion, as if he truly had no idea what had happened. His friend recounted the incident with relish, adding his own embellishments, ensuring everyone in the vicinity heard. “Honey, don’t be afraid,” Julian said, his voice full of concern. “Of course, I believe you. You would never do something like this.” But as he spoke, he was using a burner phone to record the entire scene, ready to upload it to the internet and brand me a “promiscuous cheater.” I never knew he was such a good actor. A chorus of condemnation rose around me. Julian, feigning a difficult position, said, “Tonight is Chloe’s promotion dinner. A few of our friends will be there. Why don’t you take this opportunity to apologize to everyone on a livestream? We’ll all support you.” I had done nothing wrong. Why should I apologize? I knew that if I went, it would only make things worse. “You all have fun. I’m not going.” Julian’s immediate instinct was to defend Chloe. He grabbed my wrist. “Chloe is just trying to help. Don’t be ungrateful. I only helped her get the department head position because it was a natural progression. Are you jumping to conclusions again?” I had said one sentence, and he launched into a tirade on Chloe’s behalf, terrified she would bear even a hint of blame. But me? The torrent of filth online was crushing me, but he felt no pity. In fact, he kept raising the stakes, showing no mercy. In the end, Julian dragged me to Chloe’s celebration. The moment I entered, everyone scattered as if I were the plague, desperate to avoid any association with my “virus,” my “misfortune.” Seeing this, Chloe feigned kindness, her voice syrupy sweet. “What is everyone doing? Stella came all this way to celebrate my promotion to department head. You’re all being so cruel.” She started to walk toward me, to take my hand. But Julian intercepted her, pulling her a safe ten feet away from me, his posture defensive. His devotion to her was truly something else. A waiter then brought in a small, rickety table and placed it in a corner, setting down a plate of leftovers as if feeding a dog. 3 “I’m so sorry, Stella,” Chloe said, her voice laced with false sympathy. “This is for everyone’s health and safety. We’ll go live later and help you clear things up. We’re still good friends and colleagues, right?” One of Julian’s friends chimed in. “Hah! Didn’t you see the director’s face today? Black as thunder. Besides, who would dare let her treat them? What if she makes things worse? Hahaha!” The room erupted in jeering laughter. I clenched my jaw, my voice cold. “I’ve shown my face. Can I go now?” Julian, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke. “They’re just joking around. Right now, we’re the only ones willing to eat with you. You should be grateful.” He then forced me down onto a low stool, in front of the plate of spoiled food, like an animal they kept for their amusement. A moment later, a waiter rushed in and began spraying me with disinfectant, the clear liquid mixing with the red paint to create a foul-smelling soup that streamed down my face. Then, his friend set up a phone on a tripod, aimed it at my face, and shrieked with excitement. “The stream has only been on for a second and there are already three hundred thousand people in here! Stella, you’re going to be a huge star!” Julian cleared his throat, a pointed reminder. The friend quickly corrected himself. “I mean… more people will get to hear Stella’s sincere apology.” The livestream feed, projected onto a large screen, was a blur of scrolling comments. 【That whore is eating out? Doesn’t she know how dirty she is? Just looking at her makes me sick.】 【Look what she’s eating, spoiled leftovers! It’s worse than what my dog gets. She deserves it. Maybe now she’ll learn not to go around seducing other people’s husbands!】 【Any man in this stream who’s been with her better get checked. You could have a virus and not even know it. She’s a menace!】 【She’s ruined lives and she still won’t apologize!】 … Julian shoved the camera in my face, his voice a soft, gentle threat. “Let’s just apologize to everyone, honey. For the sake of our future child, don’t you think?” I dug my nails into my palms so hard I drew blood, but I couldn’t feel it. Under his relentless pressure, I numbly opened my mouth. “Julian, do you really think I’m sick?” His face instantly darkened with impatience. “What I think doesn’t matter. What matters is what other people think. An apology isn’t going to kill you. Stop wasting time!” If I apologized, it would be an admission of guilt. The rumors would be cemented as fact. The abuse would only intensify. They were trying to push me over the edge. Seeing the smug, triumphant look on Chloe’s face, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I turned to the camera. “If you really want me to apologize, then I’ll grant your wish.” I slowly stood up and bowed to the camera. “I. Am. Sorry.” As expected, the number of viewers surged, and the comments grew even more vicious. 【The Syphilis Surgeon finally admits it! So stubborn for so long!】 Julian pretended not to see the comments, patting my head with satisfaction. “That’s right. Everyone will forgive you. You’re setting a good example for our child.” Chloe then pushed me back onto the stool and stuffed a piece of moldy bread into my mouth. The others in the room raised their glasses in celebration, as if a mission had been accomplished. The clinking of glasses and their raucous laughter nearly blew the roof off. I sat there, my heart a dead, gray ash. The endless stream of filth on the screen no longer stirred any emotion in me. “Julian, darling, you have to take me to the hospital. A patient is in labor, and I have to be there.” The room emptied in a flurry, leaving me alone with the livestream. A second later, a violent cramp seized my abdomen, a heavy, dragging sensation pulling everything downward. As a doctor, I knew what was happening. There must have been an abortifacient in the bread. Just as the thought crossed my mind, a warm, sticky stream of blood began to flow from between my legs. Dragging my pain-wracked body, I took the phone with its screen full of vitriol, got in my car, and drove toward the river. As the car began to sink into the water, I gave the camera one last, tragic smile. “My death is on every single one of you.” I tossed the phone into the river, slipped out through the window I had left open, and escaped from that hellish life forever. Julian was sitting in the hospital corridor, composing a message to placate me. But before he could hit send, his friend ran up to him, shaking his phone frantically. “Julian! Quick… look! Stella… she just killed herself on the livestream!” At the word “suicide,” Julian’s eyes widened, and he let out a hysterical roar. “What are you talking about? Say that again!”

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I was seven months pregnant when I went to book a suite at a luxury postpartum recovery center. As the staff member entered my information to finalize the contract, she gave me a strange look. “Ms. Vance, our system shows your husband registered with us six months ago.” “But the spouse on file… it’s not you.” I was completely baffled. I pulled out my wedding photo with Alex, holding it up as proof. The staffer rolled her eyes and turned her monitor toward me. “Mr. Thorne has been married for five years. They’re already on their second child. Here’s their marriage certificate and the photos from their last stay with us.” In the photo, my husband, Alex, was holding a baby, beaming at a woman I had never seen before. They were close, their body language intimate and affectionate, looking for all the world like a couple deeply in love. And the man on the marriage certificate was, without a doubt, my husband. If they were husband and wife, then who was I? 1 “Mr. Thorne’s wife is one of our premium members. The audacity of some people, trying to latch onto a wealthy family like this!” “Get out! We don’t serve shameless, pregnant homewreckers here.” The receptionist’s face was a mask of haughty disdain. She looked me up and down, and before I could even begin to explain, she had security escort me out. By the time the shock wore off, the heavy glass doors of the recovery center had swung shut behind me. My mind was reeling. I kept replaying the image of that marriage certificate, those photos. It was Alex’s face, his name, his information. But the woman in the picture was a complete stranger. Why would Alex hide the fact that he was already married? The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I immediately called him, desperate for an explanation. But the call went straight to voicemail. I sent a barrage of texts, but they all went unanswered. Then I remembered. He was on a business trip overseas. He was probably busy with work. His company was expanding its international operations, preparing for an IPO. This trip was for a crucial deal; if he landed it, the company would reach a whole new level. Unable to reach him, I had no choice but to bottle up my emotions and wait for his explanation. But if what I saw was true, I would make him pay. Just then, a video call came through. It was Alex. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I was tied up in a meeting and just saw your messages.” His familiar face filled the screen. He was in his office, dressed in a sharp suit. Several half-empty teacups, still steaming, sat on the table beside him. He looked exhausted, and a pang of sympathy shot through me. I was about to ask if he was okay, but the memory of the past hour snapped me back to reality. I stared at him, my voice tight with fury. “Alex, are you hiding something from me? Is there someone else?” The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a look of sheer panic. He looked like he was about to fall to his knees right there on camera. “Honey, no! I swear! I only love you!” “There’s no one else! There never has been!” Frantic to prove his innocence, he spun his camera around, showing me every corner of his office, pointing out the complete lack of any feminine items. “Who’s been telling you these things?!” “Is it some media rumor? I swear, when I get back, I’ll sue them into oblivion!” “Honey, you have to believe me. I’ll only ever love you.” Seeing his pale, panicked face, his frantic gestures, I started to relax. Alex and I had met in college. He’d had a crush on me for two years before finally working up the courage to ask me out. He showed up with a massive bouquet of roses, stumbling over his words, a complete nervous wreck. He had this cool, aristocratic air about him, but he was incredibly shy. The contrast was intriguing. After six months of him courting me, I found myself falling for him, and we started our life together. To give me a better life, he started his own company after graduation. In just two years, he had built it from the ground up, never once complaining about the hardship. When he finally found success, he presented me with all his company shares as a dowry. I remember his proposal vividly. He stood under the moonlight, his voice filled with a sacred reverence as he made his vow: “You are the only one for me, for the rest of my life. Everything I have is yours. If I ever betray you, I want you to take everything and leave me with nothing, to never recover.” He laid his entire world at my feet as proof of his devotion. In that moment, I knew he was the man I could entrust my entire life to. After we were married, he was endlessly attentive. He handled everything, big and small. All our friends knew him as the doting husband who was always home by seven. How could a man who loved me this much have another family? The thought began to soothe my doubts. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll believe you this time. But if I find out you’ve been playing me, you’re dead.” He swore his loyalty again and again, and I finally ended the call, satisfied. The weight in my chest lifted. I was about to start looking for another recovery center when my assistant called. The person in charge of our new product launch had been in an accident on the way to the office. The company was in chaos. My assistant couldn’t reach Alex, so she had called me as a last resort. This launch was a critical turning point for the company. It couldn’t fail. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to go to the office myself and handle the crisis. 2 Two hours later, I arrived at the company headquarters. The media was already set up, but with no one to lead the press conference, the atmosphere was tense. My assistant looked at me as if I were a savior. I told him to go to the hospital first, to make sure our colleague was okay before coming back. After he left, I took a deep breath, composed myself, and walked into the conference hall. As I entered, several of the senior executives saw me and began whispering to each other. I assumed they just didn’t recognize me and smiled, offering a greeting. To my surprise, they shied away from me as if I were carrying a disease. I brushed it off, introduced myself, and was about to announce the start of the press conference when a voice cut through the room. A woman stood up. She held up a marriage certificate, waving it at the cameras. “Miss, you claim to be the CEO’s wife. Then who am I?” I froze. It was the woman from the recovery center, the one from the photo with Alex. What was she doing at a Thorne Industries press conference? I didn’t know her, but as I looked closer, I realized her clothes, her jewelry—it was all in my style. And the limited-edition handbag she was carrying… Alex had stood in line for hours to buy that for me. A hot rage surged through me. “Security! What is the meaning of this?” The conference hall instantly filled with gawkers, and the livestream chat exploded with insults aimed at me. 【Everyone knows @WanderlustWendy! Her husband adores her! I can’t believe some homewrecker is trying to move in on her man.】 【So when Wendy posted an hour ago that she was going to confront a mistress, she was serious? And her husband is the CEO of Thorne Industries?!】 Wendy smirked, a look of pure contempt on her face. She held the marriage certificate up to the camera. “My husband and I have been married for five years. We’re inseparable. I had no idea he had someone on the side.” Her fans descended on me like a pack of rabid dogs. 【She probably got pregnant by some random guy and is trying to trap a rich man! The nerve!】 【If you’re Mr. Thorne’s wife, show us your marriage certificate!】 【Has she looked in a mirror? Does she really think Mr. Thorne would fall for someone like her? I’m going to be sick!】 It was ridiculous. My marriage to Alex was legally recognized. The child in my belly was his. “Please stop spreading these lies,” I said, my voice shaking. “Alex and I are the legally married couple. We built this company together.” I opened my phone, searching for a photo of our marriage certificate, but I couldn’t find one. I remembered then, in a fit of youthful passion, we had torn it up right after the ceremony. We were in the process of getting a replacement for the baby’s birth registration. Wendy let out a soft, mocking laugh. “I knew she couldn’t produce one. Because I am Alex Thorne’s wife.” The online sentiment was unanimous. 【Yeah, we’ve watched Wendy’s channel grow from the beginning. Mr. Thorne has always been so good to her. Why would he want some cheap trash like this?】 I was confused. Alex was always so busy with work. Any free time he had, he spent with me. How could he possibly be having an affair with this Wendy, let alone co-running a “couples” social media account with her? Seeing her smug expression, I snapped. “Your marriage certificate is a fake. Forging official documents is a crime.” Wendy, seeing that I was still refusing to back down, threw a stack of photos at my face. They were pictures of her and Alex, from childhood to adulthood, growing up together, the very picture of childhood sweethearts. The doors to the conference hall opened, and a little boy walked in. His features were a miniature version of Alex’s, right down to his confident demeanor. “Mommy, who’s making trouble at Daddy’s company?” He walked through the room as if he owned the place, completely unfazed by the crowd. The internet exploded. 【That kid looks exactly like Mr. Thorne! It’s undeniable! Can this mistress just stop trying to ruin their family?】 Wendy tilted her chin up, looking at me as if I were garbage. “Stop dreaming. I am Alex Thorne’s wife. You need to accept reality. Not everyone gets to marry into wealth and live a fairytale.” How could this be? How could that child look so much like Alex? My mind was screaming, but then I thought of how attentive Alex always was, how much he loved me… I was so confused. I frantically called Alex a dozen times, but every call went unanswered. “You coward! You’re letting someone bully your wife? Do you have a death wish? You’d better clear this up right now, or you’ll regret it.” My blood was boiling, but I forced myself to stay calm. Alex had looked exhausted a few hours ago. He was probably sleeping. He always silenced his phone when he rested. It was possible he just wasn’t getting my calls. So, I called Leo. He was Alex’s best friend; they had been inseparable since they were kids. He answered immediately. I put him on speaker, my voice hoarse. “Leo, tell me the truth. Is Alex seeing someone else?” Leo sounded like he had just woken up. He was instantly alert. “Stella! Who told you Alex was cheating?! Who’s spreading these lies?!” “I swear on my life, Stella, Alex is not cheating on you. You are his only wife.” Hearing his words, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I played the call for everyone to hear. Leo was a famous actor. He would never help me lie. For a moment, the online opinion was split. 【That’s Leo Vance! Why would he lie? Maybe this woman really is Mr. Thorne’s wife.】 【No way. Wendy’s kid looks exactly like Mr. Thorne. They have to be father and son.】 I raised an eyebrow. “There are many people in this world who look alike. And people can be deceitful. Who’s to say this child hasn’t had plastic surgery? You can’t judge by looks alone.” Seeing that I was still stubbornly refusing to give up, Wendy’s lips curled into a sneer. She took out her phone and made a video call. Alex answered instantly. She projected the call onto the large screen. A moment later, Alex’s face appeared before me. The face that was by my side every day. A face I knew better than my own. He wouldn’t answer my calls, but he answered hers instantly. A wave of dizziness washed over me. He had better clear this up, and fast, or I would make his return very unpleasant. But his next words left me frozen in place. His voice was incredibly gentle. “Honey, what are you doing?” The little boy ran over to the screen, calling out sweetly, “Daddy!” Alex’s lips curved into a smile. “Have you been a good boy for Mommy?” The boy nodded, then his little face scrunched up. “Yes, but someone is making Mommy sad. A woman came today and said Mommy was a mistress, and she embarrassed her in front of everyone.” A flash of surprise crossed Alex’s face, quickly replaced by anger. “Who is this nobody, causing trouble at Thorne Industries? My only wife is Wendy.” “Wendy, hit her back. Your husband will support you.” As he spoke, Wendy rushed toward me. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “I have tolerated you again and again, but you just get worse. I’ve proven who I am. You should accept it now.” I stood there, stunned, my face pale. “How is this possible? That’s not Alex. Alex would never do this to me.” “Give me the phone! I need to ask him what’s going on!” I reached for the phone, wanting to confront him myself. But Wendy wouldn’t let me. Seeing me approach, a flicker of panic crossed her face. She quickly stepped back and yelled, “What are you doing?! This is my husband! So when you can’t win an argument, you resort to violence?” “Security! Is there any security here?! Get this bitch out of here!” The scene descended into chaos. Security guards moved toward me. I clutched my stomach, looking at them. “I’m pregnant. If you touch me and something happens, can you take responsibility for that?” Seeing my condition, the guards hesitated, looking at me with uncertainty. “Miss, this is a press conference. You should probably leave.” I was furious. “Are you blind? Can’t you see who’s causing the trouble here?” I didn’t know what Wendy’s game was. The face on the screen was Alex’s, but with today’s technology, it could easily be a deepfake. Unless I saw him in person, I wouldn’t believe it. As I was thinking, I remembered someone who could prove my identity. “Yes! His mother! She can prove who I am.” I frantically pulled out my phone, about to call my mother-in-law. But when I saw Wendy’s smug expression, I put it away. “You say you’re Alex’s wife. Then you must have his mother’s number. Alex isn’t in the country right now. You could have faked all this other evidence. It proves nothing. If you’re so confident, call his mother. Let’s see if she recognizes you as her daughter-in-law.” My mother-in-law was a world-renowned painter, often seen at international events. Wendy wouldn’t dare to fake someone so famous. Besides, my mother-in-law adored me. The day I married into the family, she gave me their ancestral jade bracelet. Whenever Alex and I argued, she always took my side, scolding him for his faults. She treated me like her own daughter. When I got pregnant, she sent me a huge sum of money for nutritional supplements. Wendy’s lips curled into a sneer. “You just won’t give up until you hit a wall, will you? I bet you don’t have her number.” With that, she dialed a number and put it on speaker, her voice full of grievance. “Mom, someone is causing trouble at the company. She’s claiming to be Alex’s wife and calling me a mistress. You have to come and set things right.” A very familiar voice came from the other end of the line. “Who dares to bully my darling daughter-in-law? I’m on my way to sort them out.” The livestream chat erupted. 【Okay, it’s settled. Wendy is the real wife. No mother-in-law would be that affectionate to a fake.】 【That Stella woman is such a bitch, just trying to marry into money.】 【She’s been slapped in the face with the truth so many times and she’s still insisting. The nerve of this woman.】 I stared at Wendy in disbelief. She just smiled and waggled her phone at me. “My mother-in-law recognizes me as Alex’s wife. Why won’t you believe it?” My fists clenched, my chest heaving, my shoulders trembling uncontrollably. “Mom, it’s me, Stella! I’m your daughter-in-law! How can you take the side of this… this stranger?” Before I could finish, Wendy snatched the phone back and slapped me again. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Who gave you permission to claim my mother as your own?” Her voice was full of manufactured grievance as she cooed into the phone, “Mom, you have to come to the office and prove who I am. Otherwise, some bitch will keep trying to claw her way into our family.” The person on the other end had to be an imposter. I took out my own phone and sent a text to my mother-in-law, briefly explaining what was happening and asking her to come and verify my identity. She replied immediately, saying she was on her way. Knowing her fiery temper, I was sure that when she arrived, Wendy would be thrown out on her ear. I just had to wait for her to get here, and the truth would be revealed. Not long after, her car pulled up to the main entrance. She got out, leaning on her signature cane, walking a little slowly. Seeing that it was really her, the knot in my stomach loosened. I rushed forward to help her. “Mom, you’re finally here! You have to explain to them that I’m your daughter-in-law!” “Some woman showed up out of nowhere with a child, claiming to be the lady of the house. They’ve all been bullying me! You can’t let them get away with this!”

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To force my hand, to make me call off our engagement, my fiancé drove my father’s company into the ground, burying it under millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed into the ICU. As I was on my knees, begging my fiancé for the money to cover the surgery, my childhood friend, Jack Blackwood, suddenly returned from abroad. He arranged for the best doctors for my father and stayed by my side, holding vigil with me day and night. But a week later, my father suffered another, more severe heart attack. To give him peace in his final moments, Jack knelt by the hospital bed and swore he would marry me, that he would take care of me for the rest of his life. After the funeral, my heart a hollowed-out cavern, I broke off the engagement. Instead, I married Jack. Five years later, however, I overheard a conversation between him and my ex-fiancé. “You played a masterstroke, I’ll give you that. You got that clingy leech Renee to let go of me, and she even thanked you for it. Tell me, if she ever found out you were the one who really killed her father, you think she’d want to gut you?” … My hand froze on the private room’s door handle. Inside, my ex-fiancé’s mocking voice continued, dripping with amusement. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? Renee grew up with you, looked up to you like an older brother. I bet she’d never in a million years guess that the man who bankrupted her father’s company was you.” “If it wasn’t for Ava, I never would’ve taken the fall for you all these years. I may have hated the girl, but I wouldn’t go so far as to stress a man into his grave.” A glass slammed onto the table, and Jack’s voice, thick with drink and fury, cut through the air. “What I owe Renee, I’ll spend a lifetime repaying. I only helped you back then because I wanted Ava to be happy. If you ever betray her, if you make her shed a single tear, I will end you.” The other man just clicked his tongue in mock admiration. “So devoted. A real tragic hero. Too bad she met me first. You just focus on protecting your precious Renee. After all, you killed her father. Better watch your back for when his ghost comes calling in the middle of the night.” CRASH! A glass shattered against the door, fragments exploding everywhere. Footsteps rushed towards the door. I took a sharp breath and fled, my feet carrying me down to the bar on the ground floor. I grabbed a drink and downed it in one go. The burn of the alcohol, something I never touched, brought tears streaming from my eyes. His words echoed in my mind, a torturous loop. It wasn’t my fiancé who had ruined my father. It was Jack—the same man who had paid for his surgery. And that second heart attack, the one that took my father a week later… it must have been because of something Jack said. No wonder Dad had stared so intently at Jack as he took his last breath. I had been so naive, thinking it was a look of gratitude, of entrusting me to him. The man who had shared my bed for five years, the husband who’d held me in the palm of his hand like I was something precious… was the monster who had indirectly killed my father. And our marriage, this five-year performance of love, was nothing but a long, drawn-out act of penance for his guilt. The absurdity of it all was a bitter pill to swallow. Grief and rage churned inside me like a storm. Just as my gaze fell on another glass, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Jack buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice, soft with alcohol, a tender whisper. “Renee, where did you go? I missed you… Let’s go home. I love you, Renee… I love you so, so much…” For years, this was his ritual. Every time he drank, he would murmur these words of love. His friends always said it was the truth coming out, that he was utterly devoted to me. Now, it was all a grotesque joke. I calmly pushed him away and helped him into the car. Jack’s head came to rest on my lap, his brow smoothed in sleep, his breathing even. “Ava… Ava… Why wasn’t it me? Why…” This time, I heard it clearly. The name that haunted his dreams. Ava. Ava Sterling. The woman who had stolen my fiancé. Jack’s one true love, the one that got away. He had never forgotten her. He had married me, played the part of a doting husband, all while his heart belonged to another. I had underestimated the depths of his love for her. With a thud, his phone slipped from his pocket. I bent to pick it up, the screen lighting up with a new message. “Jack, thank you for covering for me with the drinks tonight. I can’t accept the necklace, it’s far too much.” A second later, I saw Ava’s new Instagram story: “Love is priceless.” The picture was of a breathtakingly brilliant necklace, the very one reported in the news as being sold to a mysterious billionaire for a hundred million dollars—a one-of-a-kind piece. She posted it for me. I knew it. Just this week, Jack had been so busy he’d skipped meals, landing himself in the emergency room with stomach pains. The moment he was discharged, he flew to England. At the time, I was both furious and worried, thinking he was killing himself for his work. Now I knew the truth. He went to an auction. He went, even while doubled over in pain, to buy the most precious necklace in the world and lay it at the feet of his goddess. Some impulse I couldn’t control made me type in the screen lock password. The last digit went in. The phone unlocked. It was Ava’s birthday. Jack had never let me touch his phone, always saying they needed to respect each other’s personal space. As the screen came to life, Ava’s radiant smile filled my vision. No wonder his expression always softened whenever he unlocked his phone. I opened his photo gallery. It was a sea of neatly organized albums. [Ava, Age 10] [Ava, Age 11]… [Ava, Age 25] Each album was a chronicle of her smiles through the years. Among the thousands of photos, not a single one was of me. Not even of himself. Only Ava. Just like his heart. From the beginning, it had only ever been Ava. What dark secrets did Jack’s diary hold? And how would Renee cope with the full, devastating truth of his betrayal? Continue reading to find out. I opened the notes app. It was his diary. [Date, Sunny. Ava scratched her leg on a branch today. It’s my fault. I never should have planted those rose bushes in the yard.] [Date, Sunny. Ava got married today. As long as she’s happy, anything I do is worth it. My only purpose in life is to see her smile.] [Date, Rainy. I got married. When I saw Ava in the crowd, all I could wish for was that she was the one standing beside me.] The car pulled into our driveway. I looked up at the barren yard, and a chill seeped into my bones. There used to be two magnificent peach trees in that yard. Jack had transplanted them from my family’s old estate, a gift from my father who had planted them for me on my tenth birthday. Whenever I looked at them, I felt like my father was still with me, that he had never left. Then one day, the trees, once heavy with fruit, simply withered. Their roots had mysteriously rotted away. Jack had held me for three days and nights as I cried, comforting me. Now I knew. It was him. He had also destroyed the last living memory my father had left me. A message from his assistant popped up on the screen. [Mr. Blackwood, per your instructions, the final draft of your will is complete. All assets are to be left to Ms. Ava Sterling.] [It just needs your signature to be executed.] Through a blur of tears, I saw him. The man at the funeral, holding me, his voice thick with emotion as he made his promise. “Renee, I will give you a home. Everything I have will be yours.” After putting Jack to bed, I didn’t bother with my usual routine of taking off his shoes and caring for him. I turned and went straight to the guest room. I closed my eyes, but all I could see were flashes of his “love” for me over the past five years. The next morning, sunlight streamed in, and I opened my eyes to find Jack gazing at me, his expression tender. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “Renee, were you upset with me last night? I’m sorry, I had too much to drink at the event. I promise it won’t happen again.” His gentle demeanor was just as it had always been. I just hummed in response, pushed him away, and went into the bathroom to wash the lingering warmth of his kiss from my skin. The breakfast table was laden with food. In the past, this would have filled me with joy. But after reading his diary, I couldn’t feel anything but disgust. Every single dish was one of Ava’s favorites. The sound of a key in the front door lock turned, and Ava walked in, dressed in a pristine white dress. She moved through our home as if she owned it, taking a seat at the table. She offered me a faint smile. “Sorry to intrude, Renee. Jack and I have a photoshoot this morning, so he invited me over for breakfast.” I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the key fob in her hand—an exact replica of my own. Jack, ever perceptive, noticed my mood and leaned in to whisper an explanation. “Ava’s our best friend, Renee. It’s normal for her to have a key to our place…” He didn’t finish. His voice shifted, and he shot up from his seat, snatching the glass of soy milk from Ava’s hand. “Ava, you can’t have soy milk! How can you still forget after all these years?” Ava pursed her lips into a coy smile. “That’s right. I’m so lucky to have you around to remember for me.” They stared at each other, lost in a look that spoke of years of shared history, like two lovers caught in a private moment. I had no interest in watching their display. As I was about to leave, Ava’s voice stopped me. “Renee, I remember you studied photography. Could you shoot for me today? I don’t really trust the new photographer.” I hadn’t touched a camera since my father died. The moment I held one, all I could see was him, the man who taught me everything about photography, his face pale and defeated in his final moments. I couldn’t bring myself to press the shutter button again. Jack knew this. He had locked all my cameras away, telling me not to force it, that he would be there for me until I was ready. But now, before I could even answer, he was pushing me towards the back seat of the car. “Renee, you know Ava gets carsick. You’ll have to sit in the back.” But he had forgotten that my motion sickness was far worse. Having barely touched my breakfast, my stomach churned violently the entire ride. When we arrived, Jack carefully fussed over Ava’s dress, bending down to help her into the studio. I leaned against the car, gasping for fresh air. “Renee, the shoot is about to start,” Jack said, his voice firm as he grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. “Stop being difficult and do a good job. This is important for Ava and for Blackwood Enterprises.” I stumbled, nearly falling to the floor. Holding a camera after five years felt both foreign and terrifying. My hands trembled. I fought back the wave of grief and forced myself to press the shutter, again and again. During a break, when it was just Ava and me in the studio, she flicked through the photos on the camera, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re just as useless as your father was, Renee. Can’t do anything right.” Her words twisted in my gut. “Like father, like daughter, I suppose.” My nails dug into my palms, my body trembling with a rage I could barely contain. SLAP! A sharp, stinging pain exploded across my cheek. Ava shook her hand, looking down at me with utter contempt. “You’re so shameless, Renee. After being dumped, you immediately latched onto Jack. What makes you think you’re worthy of him? Let me make one thing clear: whether it was your ex or Jack, they were always mine.” “You don’t deserve him.” My head was still turned from the force of the blow. Before I could process what happened, Ava grabbed my hand, swung it at her own face, and then collapsed gracefully to the floor. Clutching her cheek, her eyes filled with tears, she was the very picture of a damsel in distress—a complete transformation from the venomous woman of a moment ago. “Renee, I wasn’t criticizing your work… I just wanted to ask if you could try a different angle… If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so…” The studio door opened. The water glass in Jack’s hand fell to the floor. He rushed past me, kneeling to anxiously check on Ava. “Jack, I’m fine, really. Please don’t blame Renee. It wasn’t her fault, I just lost my balance.” “Ava, you’re too kind,” Jack said, carefully helping her to her feet, his touch as gentle as if she were made of porcelain. “You don’t have to cover for her. I saw what happened with my own eyes!” He pulled her into his arms, his face a mask of fury as he turned to me. It was the first time in our five years of marriage that he had ever looked at me with such anger. “Renee, apologize to Ava! I’ve been too easy on you these past five years! I’ve spoiled you into a venomous shrew!” “You know how important her face is to her career!” He glared at me, his rage so blinding that he didn’t seem to see the red, swollen handprint on my own cheek. I lifted my chin, my gaze meeting his, my voice eerily calm. “The one who should be apologizing is Ava, not me. She brought up my father. And speaking of my father, Jack… is there nothing you feel you need to apologize for?” A flicker of shock crossed his eyes, gone in an instant. “If it weren’t for me back then, Dad would have been gone even sooner. Renee, I promised him I would take care of you for the rest of my life, but that promise was conditional on you not hurting Ava.” A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. I should have known better than to expect anything from him. The world suddenly went dark, and I felt myself falling backward into unconsciousness.

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After the crash, dying, I didn’t call my wife—the chief of surgery. I waited calmly for the ambulance. In my last life, she answered first, rushed to save me with a top medical team. Later, I learned who was in the other car: her first love, the one who got away. He missed the golden hour for treatment, lost an arm and a leg. Unable to accept it, he jumped from the hospital roof. My wife told me not to feel guilty. But on our wedding night, she drugged me, sliced my tendons, and dragged me to his grave, forcing me to kowtow and apologize. “You were faking! If not for you, Julian would’ve lived!” She ran me over repeatedly until I was pulp. Now, back at the crash, I won’t fight for her. Let her save him this time. 1 My neck was pinned against the seat, unable to move. Blood trickled down from my temple. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pulled out my phone and deleted every trace of Evelyn Reed. The paramedics from the first ambulance rushed to the other car. After I saw Evelyn get her precious Julian onto a stretcher and into the vehicle, only then did I dial 911 and request another unit. Gasoline was leaking, and the hiss of sparks began to spread. I used every last ounce of strength to free myself, but the car exploded just as I scrambled clear. The emergency room was a chaotic swarm of people. Evelyn came over, gave me a cursory glance, and declared my injuries minor—just some external wounds that needed simple dressing and observation. Nearly every doctor and nurse, following her lead, was focused on saving Julian Cole. It was the Reed family hospital, after all. What Evelyn said was law. The pain in my leg gradually faded, replaced by a terrifying numbness. In my previous life, Evelyn had rushed to me the moment I called, but in doing so, she’d let Julian miss his window for optimal treatment, leaving him disabled. His death became a landmine in our marriage, ready to detonate at the slightest touch. On our wedding night, she’d tricked me into taking an overdose of sedatives, telling me it was to help with the champagne, and then she’d severed my tendons. When I came to, she’d thrown me from her car in front of Julian’s grave, forcing me to kneel and beg for forgiveness. Her eyes were bloodshot as she screamed at me, “Leo Vance, why don’t you just die? Why did you have to provoke him with my reputation, making him rush to clear the air about us? You’re the one who should be dead.” She’d vented her rage by running me over repeatedly, not stopping until I was pulp. I never imagined I would be reborn, right back at the scene of the crash. I didn’t want the regrets of my last life to repeat themselves. So this time, I waited. I let her save Julian first before I called for help. I just never thought she would abuse her authority to pull every available resource to save him, leaving me with nothing. With what little strength I had left, I called out for a doctor, a nurse, anyone. Finally, a young physician approached. “Doctor, help me. I can’t feel my leg.” He didn’t even bother to look at my leg. He just sneered. “Mr. Vance, I know who you are. You’re Dr. Reed’s husband, right? She already said you’re fine. Your external wounds are treated. You just need to be observed.” “Dr. Reed also mentioned you get pretty jealous, that you’ve pulled a lot of stunts to get her attention. Hey, you should give me some tips, man.” After three years with Evelyn, I never imagined this is how she talked about me behind my back. 2 I watched the frantic activity around me, but not a single person came to check on my condition. After what felt like an eternity, a young nurse finally called out, “Dr. Reed, Mr. Vance’s blood pressure and heart rate are dropping fast! You need to come look!” Evelyn came over, pried my eyelids open, shone a penlight in my eyes, and took my blood pressure before giving me a rough shove. “Hey, Leo, that’s enough. I can handle your tantrums on a normal day, but look at where we are. Julian is in emergency surgery. If we’re a minute too late, he could lose his leg. I’ll let the fact that you were stalking and threatening him slide this one time, considering you’re injured.” My mind went blank. In our three years together, forget having the time or energy to stalk someone—I was the one being monitored, even when I went to the bathroom. I closed my eyes, refusing to engage. She pinched my right thigh, hard. “Alright, stop playing dead. Get your IV drip and go home. Don’t cause any more trouble.” My leg was truly numb. But no one believed me. Evelyn then led a procession of medical staff, wheeling Julian towards the ICU, leaving only the young nurse to watch over me. “Head nurse, it’s bad! Mr. Vance’s BP is down to 60 over 40!” “Damn it, it’s crush syndrome! He’s going into shock! Get the crash cart, push one of epi, and call for backup in OR two!” They finally realized the gravity of the situation and started scrambling to save me. Staring up at the shadowless lamp above, I felt a strange, sharp sense of being alive. It was only in this second life that I began to truly understand my relationship with Evelyn. Three years ago, when my younger brother needed a massive sum for his uremia treatment, it was Mr. Reed, Evelyn’s grandfather, who provided the funds. Though my brother passed away in the end, I was eternally grateful to the Reed family. Even when the condition for their generosity was that I marry into their family, I agreed. When I met Evelyn, we hit it off. She was obsessed with medicine, so her grandfather poured all his energy into me, making me the acting CEO of the Reed Corporation. This all changed six months ago when Julian returned from abroad. Evelyn grew distant, often staying out all night. Julian was her first love. Though his family was poor, he had refused to marry into hers. Mr. Reed, admiring his pride, had given him money to study overseas instead. Everyone whispered that the golden couple was finally reunited, a spark ready to ignite a wildfire. They said I’d been wearing a green hat for a while. I didn’t believe it at first. Evelyn even introduced us, and Julian and I got along great, adding each other on social media and lamenting we hadn’t met sooner. But soon after, Julian began to provoke me relentlessly through private messages. When Evelyn claimed she was on duty, Julian would send me a video of them at an amusement park, kissing each other. When Evelyn said she wasn’t feeling well and was on an IV drip, Julian would send a photo of her asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, a blissful smile on her face. And every time, before I could confront her, she would wrap her arms around me, her tone affectionately chiding. “Leo, are you made of wood? Can’t you tell when someone isn’t feeling well?” “Leo, you don’t love me at all. I’m exhausted from my shift, and you’re here accusing me, questioning me.” But she didn’t know that when she worked late, I would wait with a late-night snack to drive her home. When she was sick, I would stay up all night by her side. She was an untouchable goddess, and I was the dirt beneath her feet. I loved her. If she said it, I believed it. Julian grew bolder, even coming to my office to flaunt his position and humiliate me. When I told Evelyn, she would just dismiss it, saying I was being petty for a grown man. She insisted it was all in the past, that they were just old friends catching up, that nothing was happening. She’d accuse me of thinking so little of her, her eyes welling with tears. After Julian jumped, she didn’t cry, didn’t grieve. She just told me to focus on the wedding. I helped her pick her favorite dress, try on the most beautiful makeup, only for her to butcher me like a fish on our wedding night. I realize now that when you truly hate someone, you can be perfectly calm, without a single ripple on the surface. Unfortunately, I was too lost in the joy of my own survival to see it. By the time the fire started, I realized it was all just a beautiful, empty illusion. Under the influence of the anesthetic, I drifted into a deep sleep, and the world around me slowly faded to black. 3 When I woke up, Mr. Reed was sitting beside me, leaning on his cane. I looked around the luxurious VIP room. The walls were stark white, devoid of any color. I felt a dull ache in my leg. As I tried to lift the blanket, Mr. Reed gently pressed my hand down. “Leo, my boy, I’ve failed you. It’s my fault I didn’t rein Evelyn in, and that’s why your condition was delayed. Aiya.” Confused, I tried to lift my leg, but my body wouldn’t respond. I froze. My lower right leg was gone. In the last life, Julian became disabled and jumped from the roof. This time, I was the one who was disabled. Was I supposed to die, too? Surprisingly, I felt no grief, no despair. It was as if it wasn’t my leg that was gone. “Leo, you just focus on healing. Grandfather will hire the best doctors to fit you with a prosthetic. You’ll be just like you were before.” I didn’t respond. The silence grew awkward. Mr. Reed called Evelyn, thoughtfully putting her on speakerphone, hoping she would come see me. “Evie, where are you? Get to the Special Care unit, room 1, right now.” I heard Julian’s laughter from the other end. Evelyn must have been feeding him fruit. “Evie, it’s too sour! No more, no more, haha!” Then, Evelyn’s voice. “Come on, just one more bite. It’s sweet! Hi, Grandfather, what’s up?” Yes, they were so sweet. The only thing sour here was my heart. Mr. Reed’s face hardened. “Evelyn Reed, if you continue to fool around with that shameless creature, I will disown you as my granddaughter.” “Grandfather, I don’t know what kind of spell Leo has put on you. He’s just the man who married in. You’re giving him far too much importance.” Mr. Reed probably regretted putting her on speaker. But it didn’t matter. I’d figured it out. I was just the man who married in. And a man like that should know his place. How could he ever hope to reach the lofty heights of the Reed family’s heiress? “You get over here right now. Leo is seriously injured. If you insist on being stubborn, I’ll cut off all of Julian’s treatment.” Evelyn cared too much about Julian. She came, reluctantly. “Leo, I’ve got to hand it to you. You run to Grandfather with every little thing, don’t you? Didn’t I tell you to go home after your IV? Why are you still in the hospital?” She looked at me with disdain, as if I were a dog. “Evie, apologize to Leo.” “Apologize for what? Grandfather, it was Leo who blew things out of proportion, spreading dirty rumors about Julian and me. That’s why Julian got hurt so badly! If I had been a minute later, he would have lost his leg!” Evelyn glared at me, as if I were the world’s greatest sinner. “Evelyn, I lost a leg in this accident. Do you think that’s enough?” She stared at me. “Leo, you’re still throwing a tantrum. He was hurt badly, so I spent some time with him. What’s the big deal? Can’t you be a little more magnanimous as a man?” Remembering all of Julian’s provocations, I didn’t back down. “How am I not magnanimous, Evelyn? My fiancée has been sleeping with her ex-boyfriend for half a year. The other man has been flaunting it in my face. You tell me, how much more magnanimous am I supposed to be?” “You’re being unreasonable,” she snapped, slamming the door on her way out. Mr. Reed, seeing the tension between us, tried to placate me. “Leo, you’ve always been a sensible boy. I think very highly of you. I was going to entrust the Reed family business to you. Evie has been spoiled since she was a child. I’ll have a good talk with her later, make her apologize. Couples don’t hold grudges overnight. Just humor her a little, and it will be fine.” I looked at this white-haired man, my benefactor, my heart a mix of emotions. “Grandfather, when I was working myself to the bone to manage your business, she still looked down on me. Now that I’m disabled, you expect us to live happily ever after? Do you even believe that yourself? I’ve humored her for three years. If you raise a cat for that long, at least it knows you love it. But her?” “Leo, I know you’re upset about the leg. Don’t worry, I’ll find the best team for your surgery. You two will have a good life together.” I cut him off. “Grandfather, if your grandson had married into a family with a girl like that, would you still advise him to make it work? I’m a person. I have dignity.” “Then what do you want to do?” “The debt of gratitude has been paid. I want to break up.” 4 Half an hour after storming out, Evelyn returned, immediately confronting me. “Leo, I’ve been gone for so long, and you didn’t even come looking for me. Are you trying to end things?” “Yes. I want to end things. I want to break up.” She stared at me in disbelief. “Leo, have you had enough of this drama? Fine. I’ll forgive you this time. Don’t let it happen again.” She held out a peeled orange. I looked at it, feeling sick to my stomach. I swatted the orange from her hand. “Evelyn, I said I want to break up. Did you hear me? And I don’t want Julian’s leftovers.” Now Evelyn was truly furious. She raised her hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist. “Evelyn, when I loved you, I was willing to indulge you, to give in to you. Now that I don’t, you can forget about ever walking all over me again.” “Leo, is it really that serious? You’re demanding a divorce over something so small? Are you really going to give up the fortune Grandfather promised you?” In her eyes, every fight about Julian was just me making a mountain out of a molehill, always ending with me backing down and choosing to believe her. I threw back the covers, my voice calm. “You tell me if it’s serious.” She saw the stump of my leg, wrapped in thick, blood-soaked bandages. Her hand trembled as she reached for the dressing. “How…?” Then, she lifted her chin, her pride returning. “Are you sure you want to break up? It’s just a leg. You can get a prosthetic.” I looked at her exquisite face. A true beauty. I had been blinded by it for so long. At the door, Julian was leaning on his crutches, enjoying the show. “Evelyn, your lover is here. Aren’t you going to invite him in?” She saw him and rushed to his side. Julian didn’t hide the triumphant look in his eyes. Mr. Reed clutched his chest, gasping with rage at the sight. “Mr. Cole,” I said, “now that Evelyn and I are splitting up, you’d better be ready to catch this heaven-sent fortune that’s coming your way.” “I don’t agree,” Evelyn said, always so domineering. “I don’t care. It’s a breakup, not a divorce. I don’t need your consent. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can make room for you two golden lovebirds.” Evelyn started to say something, but Julian cut her off. “Evie, Leo must have misunderstood our relationship again. Don’t be impulsive. You two should talk it out.” Julian was still acting. I couldn’t stand it. I threw my phone at him. “Mr. Cole, why don’t you explain this?” Evelyn picked up the phone. “Leo, I’ve explained this to you so many times, and you still don’t believe me. You actually hired someone to stalk us and take secret photos, threatening to expose us to the media. Julian was rushing to explain things to you when he got into the accident.” She took out her own phone, intending to find proof of my “threats,” but instead, all she found were the countless photos, videos, and humiliating messages that Julian had sent me. I had asked her about these photos before. She’d told me they were just friends, that I shouldn’t overthink it, that I was being small-minded. “Evelyn, I’ve already died once. Being run over by a car, again and again… it hurts. It hurts so much that it was enough to make me forget my love for you. Let’s just let each other go.” Evelyn froze for a few seconds, her eyes wide with shock. She spoke in disbelief. “You’re… you’re reborn, too!”

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I was hit with a sudden, searing case of acute pancreatitis. But when I got to the hospital, the doctor refused to see me. All because my husband was an ER doctor there. He’d given orders that no one was to treat me. Last time, I made one phone call, and he was there in an instant. But in his absence, his one true love got into a car accident. She died at the scene. He blamed me for all of it. On my mother’s birthday, he drugged my entire family. He took a scalpel to me, stabbing me over and over. “Does it hurt? Victoria was in more pain. If it weren’t for you, she never would have been out there in my place.” “You killed Victoria. I’m going to make your whole family join her in death!” I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back on the day I drank myself into pancreatitis for his sake. This time, my husband ran straight to Victoria, without a moment’s hesitation. He thought he’d made the right choice. But in the end, he was the one on his knees, begging me to come back. … The sharp, stabbing pain in my abdomen jolted me awake. Rain was lashing against the window. A glance at the clock confirmed it. I was reborn. Reborn on the day I drank so much that I gave myself acute pancreatitis. It’s an agonizing, life-threatening illness. Realizing the attack had just begun, I grabbed my car keys and drove to the nearest top-tier hospital. At this hour, only the ER was open. The doctor on duty looked up at my name, frowned, and called out, “Aria?” It was none other than my husband’s college roommate and colleague, Dr. Luke Carter. I didn’t have time for pleasantries. Clutching my stomach, I rasped, “Luke, I drank a lot today. I think it’s pancreatitis. You have to admit me, now.” Having lived this once before, I knew the most critical thing was to get admitted and start an IV. But to my shock, Luke tossed my ID aside, his tone hostile. “Can’t do it.” I was floored. “What do you mean?” “Stop pretending. Jason already told me. You’re not sick.” The disdain on Luke’s face was palpable. “You and Jason are married now. You should trust him. Pulling these kinds of cheap tricks is pathetic.” I knew he’d misunderstood. “Luke, I’m not acting. I really have pancreatitis. Run some tests if you don’t believe me.” His frown deepened. “What do you think this hospital is? A playground? Do you think medical resources are for you to waste? Get out of here. Don’t hold up the other patients.” As he spoke, a line of five or six people had formed behind me. Hearing his words, they started to murmur, their glares like daggers. “If you’re faking, you shouldn’t be in line.” “What is wrong with young people these days? Too much money and nowhere to spend it?” I knew it was pointless. Luke wasn’t going to help me. Amidst the chorus of accusations, I clutched my stomach and stumbled out. Just as I reached the door, Luke’s voice stopped me. “Aria, you know about the incident with Jason and that patient a few days ago, right? Our department head is transferring out. That position was supposed to be his.” His face was a mask of cold warning. “If you want what’s best for Jason, stop embarrassing him here.” I wanted to argue, to defend myself. But another wave of excruciating pain sent a cold sweat down my back. For a pancreatitis patient, every minute without treatment is another minute closer to death. I didn’t say a word. I just pushed the door open and left. Luke was usually a gentle person, but he was always hostile towards me. He still believed I was the other woman who had broken up Jason and Victoria. He thought I’d used some underhanded tactic to steal Jason, to tear apart a match made in heaven. Outside the exam room, it felt like someone was taking a knife to my insides. In my last life, the pancreatitis had hit at this exact same time. Then, I had called my husband, Jason, who was on duty. He had come home immediately to take me to the hospital. But because he left, his first love, Victoria, had gone out to pick up a patient in his place. She’d gotten into an accident on the way and died instantly. Later, Jason found out that Victoria, before she died, had slept with the hospital director to get his disciplinary action revoked. The next day, the hospital did indeed drop the complaint against him. And with her dying breaths, Victoria had been calling his name. That day, Jason locked himself in his room and chain-smoked two packs of cigarettes. When he finally emerged, he seemed back to normal. He smiled and talked to me, drove me to and from work, and cooked me dinner. I thought he had moved on. I thought he had finally realized that as a married man, he shouldn’t be grieving his ex-girlfriend so intensely. But on my mother’s birthday, he volunteered to cook. He poisoned every dish. He tied me to a chair and stabbed me over and over with a scalpel. Blood pooled on the floor around me. I begged him to spare my family. But Jason’s eyes were red with rage. “If I spare them, will that bring Victoria back? You deserve to die, Aria. Why did you have to drink so much that day? Did you know Victoria’s car was going to crash?” I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a psychic, that I had no way of knowing what would happen to her. The reason I had drunk so much was because the patient’s family who had complained about Jason was friends with my boss. Jason was up for a promotion to department head, and this complaint would have ruined everything. I couldn’t bear to see his hard work go to waste. I had pulled strings with my boss, arranged a dinner with the family, and drank three bottles of hard liquor before they finally agreed to withdraw the complaint in front of me. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to tell him. But Jason was beyond listening. He shoved the scalpel into my mouth, twisting it violently. “It’s all your fault, you and your damn mouth! If you hadn’t drunk so much, Victoria would still be alive! Your parents are scum for raising a daughter like you! Your whole family can go to hell with her!” My body convulsed with pain, tears mixing with the blood from my open wounds. Finally, when he had tortured me enough, he threw the scalpel aside. He took out a lighter and set the whole house on fire. “Victoria, I’m coming to be with you.” Looking into his love-struck eyes, I realized how foolish I had been. I had known it even as I was drinking myself sick. The reason the usually gentle Jason had gotten into a fight with a patient was because Victoria had been rude to them, and they had insulted her. When Jason found out, he had lost it and beaten the person up. A more violent spasm of pain shattered my thoughts. My stomach hurt so much I could barely stand. Time was life. I couldn’t stay here any longer. I forced myself to the entrance, hoping to catch a cab to another hospital. But the rain was coming down in sheets now, hailstones the size of pigeon eggs hammering against the glass. The sound was terrifying. It was the middle of the night, and with the storm, after ten minutes of waiting on my phone, not a single car had accepted my ride request. I had no choice but to drag myself to the nurses’ station and ask if there were any other doctors on duty. The nurse’s smile vanished the moment she saw my face. She waved me away like a beggar. “No, all the doctors are busy.” “But I saw two doctors in their rooms and no one…” I started, but her cold glare cut me off. I swallowed my words and pleaded, “I’m in a lot of pain. If there are no doctors in the ER, can you call a specialist from one of the wards for a consult?” “No,” she said, her voice laced with disgust. “I told you to stop acting. Dr. Evans already gave instructions. No one is to treat you.” From Luke’s attitude earlier, I knew. Jason must have been reborn, too. That’s why I hadn’t contacted him. But I never thought he would be so cruel, so utterly ruthless as to order the entire hospital not to treat me. Jason was a brilliant doctor, the protégé of the ER department head. If he hadn’t defended Victoria, he would have been the most likely candidate for the next department head. So everyone here listened to him. The pain was getting worse. I bent over, trying to inch my way back to the entrance to try my luck again. But after just a few steps, I heard two nurses laughing. “So that’s Dr. Evans’ little homewrecker. She’s not even that pretty.” “Of course not. I heard she drugged him to get him to prescribe her company’s meds, and he had no choice but to marry her.” “She’s a great actress, though. She really looks like she has pancreatitis.” They weren’t even trying to be quiet. Every word reached my ears. It was only then that I realized how toxic my reputation was in this hospital. Jason and I had indeed met here. I was a pharmaceutical rep, and he was a doctor. At first, I had tried to use him to get my foot in the door. But then, government policies changed, and the market shifted. I lost my job. It was only after that that Jason and I actually started seeing each other. When we met, he and Victoria had already broken up. I never understood why everyone called me the other woman. But I didn’t have time to dwell on that now. This disease progressed rapidly. If I didn’t get treatment soon, I would actually die. I managed to collapse into a chair, my body wracked with tremors. I was hunched over, unable to stand up at all. My entire back was a mess of numbness and pain. A thought, cold and terrifying, crept into my mind. If this continues, am I going to die? Just then, an older woman noticed something was wrong. She gave me a gentle nudge. “Young lady, are you alright?” I looked up. My pale, ghostly face made her jump back. I was completely limp now. I slid from the chair and crumpled to the floor. “Oh my god!” she shrieked. “Doctor! Doctor, help! Someone’s collapsed over here!” Her piercing cry brought Jason and Victoria, who had just walked in, running over with a pile of things, thinking there was an emergency. Until they saw my face. Jason stopped. He dispersed the onlookers and then looked down at me. “Aria, have you had enough?” I looked up at him. He had a smile on his face, the smile of someone who has narrowly escaped disaster. It was just as I thought. Jason had gone to save Victoria. She stood beside him, looking shy and demure. The chemistry between them was so thick it warmed the air. It made sense. Victoria had never gotten over Jason, and he had come to her rescue at a critical moment. Of course their feelings would have deepened. I wanted to spit a sarcastic retort. But in the face of my own mortality, I had to swallow all my pride. I reached out, my fingers brushing the hem of his white coat. “Jason, I have persistent upper abdominal pain, it’s radiating to my back, and I feel nauseous. Please, just admit me.” I thought he would agree. After all, he knew my condition was real. But he just scoffed. “Aria, you’ve memorized your lines well. Too bad no one gets sick by the textbook.” I couldn’t believe it. “You think I’m faking?” “Even if you’re not, you drank yourself into this state on purpose. It’s not serious.” He was dismissive. “Aria, we doctors hate people like you who abuse their bodies. I’m teaching you a lesson this time, so you’ll learn the consequences of not taking care of yourself. But don’t worry, I won’t let you die.” His words plunged me into despair. Jason. I really am seriously ill. I tried to get up, to find some way to save myself. But the pain had sapped all my strength. I lay on the floor like a beached fish. The pain spread from my abdomen to my heart, then through my nerves. Finally, it tore me apart. Jason had been about to leave with Victoria. But my struggling on the floor caught his attention. He turned back, about to approach me.

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My sister took credit for a rescue I performed and was adopted by a wealthy family from the city. I studied hard, got into college, and graduated, eager to reunite with her. But she locked me in a basement and starved me to death. “Only when you’re dead,” she’d said, “will the credit for that rescue truly be mine. Go to your grave with that secret, dear sister.” What she didn’t know was that I had already reconnected with my billionaire biological parents. I never wanted a share of that glory. I opened my eyes and I was back at the moment of the rescue. 1 “Help… help me…” The moment my eyes opened, I saw a middle-aged man struggling in the lake, his body slowly sinking. The familiar scene, my own thin, frail body—I knew I had been reborn. Without a second thought, I plunged into the water, swimming with all my might toward the drowning man. I knew who he was. A wealthy tycoon from the capital, Ashton Stark. He was here sketching and had accidentally fallen into the lake. In my previous life, I was the one who saved him. But while I was gone changing my wet clothes, my sister seized the opportunity to claim my heroic deed as her own. We were both orphans from the same home. To repay the favor, Mr. Stark adopted my sister, Maya, and took her back to the city with him. I hadn’t cared then. I believed an older sister should always yield to the younger one. I let her take the credit and even wrote her many letters after she left, all of which went unanswered, disappearing into a void. It wasn’t until my junior year of college, when I found my real parents, that I went to the city to see her, worried she wasn’t doing well. Instead, I walked straight into my own grave. I still remember the bone-chilling cold of the basement, the utter despair of being trapped with no one to call for help. And outside the iron door, Maya’s cold laughter. “You came looking for me because you wanted to tell Dad the truth about the rescue, didn’t you? Well, too bad! The credit is mine and mine alone!” “As for you, you can take that secret to your grave!” Only in my dying moments did I understand. Maya had never seen me as a sister. She despised me, looked down on me, saw me as a stain on her life that had to be erased. Since I’ve been given a second chance, I’m taking back all my kindness. As for all the evil she did in my last life, I’ll be returning it to her twofold in this one. Right now, I was only twelve. Saving a grown man nearly depleted all my strength; I almost drowned myself. After finally dragging Mr. Stark ashore, I gritted my teeth and performed CPR, pressing on his stomach until he coughed up water. Once I was sure he was breathing, I collapsed beside him, gasping for air. That’s when Maya ran over. Back then, she wasn’t Maya Stark. We both used the director’s surname. I was Chloe Reed, and she was Maya Reed. Maya was two years younger than me. She covered her mouth in feigned shock. “Chloe, you saved someone?!” I was too busy catching my breath to answer her. Her gaze fell on Mr. Stark, sizing him up before she recited the exact same lines as in my past life. “Chloe, your clothes are soaked. You should go back and change. I’ll watch him for you.” She wanted me out of the way so she could take the credit when he woke up. This time, I wouldn’t let her have her way. 2 “Maya,” I said, my voice weak, “I’m too tired to walk back. Could you get me a towel?” “Oh…” Maya was clearly reluctant. She tried to change the subject. “Chloe, who is this man? He’s not dead, is he?” Who he was didn’t matter. What mattered were his expensive clothes and the gold watch on his wrist. I knew what Maya was thinking. Just then, Mr. Stark groaned and began to stir. An idea sparked in Maya’s mind. She rushed to the lake, splashed water all over herself, and then ran back to help Mr. Stark sit up. Her small face was a mask of concern. “Are you alright? You nearly drowned! It’s a good thing I saved you!” I watched her performance with cold detachment. I’d missed this scene in my past life; I had to get a good look this time. She was a natural. Her hair was soaked, her expression flawless. “I wanted to call 911 for you, but your phone is waterlogged, and I don’t have one…” She lowered her head, her voice dropping to a pitiful whisper. “Our orphanage is nearby. Why don’t I take you there to rest for a bit?” I had caught my breath. I got up and helped Mr. Stark from the other side, adding, “Yes, you can change into some dry clothes at the home. You don’t want to catch a cold.” Mr. Stark looked between the two of us. “You two saved me?” Maya gritted her teeth. She desperately wanted all the credit, but I was still here. She had no choice but to nod. “Yes, we pulled you out of the lake together.” “Thank you. You’re my saviors!” Mr. Stark thanked us profusely as we helped him towards the orphanage. On the way, Maya was eager to impress him, fawning over him constantly. She asked if he was tired, offered him a piece of candy, playing the part of the innocent, sweet child to perfection. I remained silent, only offering a kind smile whenever he looked my way. When we reached the orphanage and the director took over, Maya and I both breathed a sigh of relief. But it wasn’t long before the director called us back. I knew the moment had come. The adoption. Since Mr. Stark already had a son, he could only adopt one more child. So the director asked us, who wanted to be adopted? Maya immediately rushed forward and hugged Mr. Stark’s leg. “Mr. Stark, please adopt me! I’ll study hard and be a good girl. More than anything, I want a family!” Mr. Stark looked at me. I lowered my head, my voice filled with sadness. “Then you should adopt Maya, Mr. Stark. She always says the orphanage is a horrible place. This is her chance to leave.” I turned to walk away, but “accidentally” stumbled and fell. The director rushed over to help me up. “Chloe, what’s wrong with your leg?” I whispered, “Mr. Stark is so tall and heavy. I used up all my strength saving him. I haven’t recovered yet.” “Oh, that’s not right!” I feigned panic and quickly added, “I mean, Maya and I saved Mr. Stark together! We swam in the lake and pulled him out together!” The director, always straightforward, blurted out, “Since when does Maya know how to swim?” In that instant, Mr. Stark’s face darkened. In my past life, worried about Maya, I had thoroughly investigated Mr. Stark. I knew he was a kind and upright man who couldn’t stand lies and deceit. Now that her lie was exposed, how could she possibly be adopted? Sure enough, Maya’s face fell. She stared at me, her almost-crying face filled with venom. I just raised an eyebrow at her. It’s just acting, isn’t it? I can do that, too. 3 In the end, Mr. Stark adopted me. But he also promised to sponsor Maya, covering her living and educational expenses, and even offering her a job in the future. It was a happy ending for everyone—except Maya. Soon, Mr. Stark’s assistant arrived at the orphanage to handle the paperwork. It was time for me to leave. The director and the other children came to see me off. Maya, feigning reluctance, clung to my hand. She stared at me, her grip tight. “Sister, I never knew you were this kind of person. Willing to abandon even me just to escape this dump.” I smiled faintly. “I just told the truth, Maya. And I never knew you were the kind of person who would lie about saving someone just to be adopted by a rich man.” “You…” She gritted her teeth and huffed, her fists clenched. “So what if you’re adopted? Mr. Stark is sponsoring me, too. Sooner or later, I’ll come find you!” “You’re just moving to a big city. You probably won’t even be able to adjust. You’ll be sent back in a few days!” “Did you hear me? You…” She was still shouting, but I had already turned my back on her, leaving her with a dismissive wave. The road ahead was long. I was curious to see how she would navigate it this time. I went to the capital with Mr. Stark and changed my name to Chloe Stark. Mr. Stark’s wife had undergone a hysterectomy after a difficult birth, so they only had one son, a year younger than me, named Leo Stark. On my first day at the Stark’s, Leo threw a snake on my bed. But I just grabbed the snake and threw it right back in his face. After that, Leo never dared to mess with me again. He obediently called me “sister.” Now, I had the perfect conditions I never had in my past life. I transferred to a top junior high school, had a private driver, and caring adoptive parents. I was like a newly sprouted sapling, greedily absorbing nutrients and growing. In my past life, I hadn’t found my biological parents until my junior year of college. At this point, they were still abroad, so I wasn’t in a hurry to reconnect. With the memories of my past life and the hard work of this one, I quickly became the top student in my school, a position I maintained until high school graduation. My adoptive parents adored me, and even Leo genuinely accepted me as his sister. I remembered my adoptive mother divorcing my father during my high school years in my past life, but in this life, they were exceptionally loving. Our family of four lived a peaceful and warm life. After the college entrance exams, I chose a local top university and visited my family regularly. Life was orderly and on track. Until the summer before my sophomore year. I went home to visit my parents for the weekend and saw a long-unseen figure in the living room. Maya was wearing a delicate slip dress, her face lightly made up. She greeted me with a provocative tone. “Sister, long time no see.”

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The day Damian Thorne and I finalized our divorce, I was three months pregnant. Divorce papers in one hand, his long-lost love in the other, he sneered at me. “Claire, you really think I can’t live without you? Let me tell you something—you don’t control me.” I saw the woman on his arm, Sienna, shift uncomfortably. I offered him a soft, almost pitying smile. “Damian, everything has always come so easily to you. That’s why you never learned to cherish anything. It’s rare to get a second chance with your first love. I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for.” From sixteen to twenty-eight. For twelve long years, I’d catered to his every whim. I was just so, so tired. 1 I collapsed at my desk after pulling an all-nighter. My junior colleague, Lily, rushed me to the hospital. Clutching my lab results, her expression was a tangled mess of emotions. “Claire… you’re pregnant. Three months along.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she threw her arms around me, her voice trembling. “Did something terrible happen to you? Please tell me.” Her dramatic fear made me chuckle. “No, nothing like that,” I said softly. “I’ve actually been married for three years. I’m sorry I never told you.” To all my colleagues and friends, I was single. Some things, I’d simply never felt the need to mention. “You scared me to death!” Lily swatted my shoulder, her pout adorable. “I was worried sick! Marriage is a huge deal, how could you keep it from me?” I smiled. “I may have kept the wedding a secret, but you’re the first to know about the divorce. How’s that for an exclusive?” Lily froze for a second, then burst into tears all over again. She was such a sweet girl, young and full of tears. “Hey, no more crying. I have the day off tomorrow, a rare treat. Let me drive you home.” She clung to me, sobbing dramatically. “I want to see the face of the son of a bitch who broke your heart! How could anyone be cruel to someone as gentle as you?” I dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue, a curious thought popping into my head. “What if… what if I was the one who broke his heart?” “No way!” Lily said, her loyalty fierce and unwavering. “You’re too kind, too beautiful. You speak so softly… The first time I met you, I was afraid to even talk too loud, scared I’d startle you. And for three years, you’ve known I’m bad at staying hydrated, so you bought a little electric kettle just to brew fruit tea for me, every single day.” The more she spoke, the harder she cried. “Forget him! Good riddance to bad rubbish! You’re out with the old and in with the new. Our Claire deserves better! The best!” In the end, I was the one comforting her, patting her back until she finally calmed down enough for me to put her in a cab home. I suppose I’ve always been good at soothing people. I’d had twelve years of practice with Damian. When I got home, the living room lights were on. The man on the sofa shot me a look of pure displeasure. “Three in the morning, Mrs. Thorne. Care to offer an explanation?” I hadn’t seen him in three months. He was a little thinner. The financial news had been full of his latest successful acquisition abroad; Damian’s talent was never in question. I brewed a pot of herbal tea, the fragrant steam filling the air. As I poured him a cup, the tight line of his jaw seemed to relax, ever so slightly. He glanced at me, his words still sharp. “Don’t think you can distract me. You’ve been pulling that trick since we were kids, Claire. Whenever you don’t want to answer a question, you offer tea.” A small, genuine smile touched my lips. He did know me, at least a little. I waited for him to finish his cup, then retrieved the divorce agreement from the drawer and handed it to him. Damian’s handsome brows shot up. He flipped through the pages, a cold laugh escaping him. “How considerate of you. You’re leaving with nothing? The press would have a field day, make it sound like Damian Thorne mistreated his wife.” My voice was even, placid. “In our three years of marriage, I made no financial contributions. You bought the house, the cars, furnished everything. If you’re worried about public opinion, we can agree on a story to tell.” “Oh, thank you so much for your consideration!” he snarled, his face a mask of fury. He snatched a pen, scrawled his name across the signature line, and slammed the document on the floor before storming out of the house. I sat on the sofa, calmly finishing the rest of the tea. An hour later, my phone buzzed. It was a picture from Sienna. Damian, in a plush bathrobe, holding a glass of red wine, lounging languidly on a sofa. I swiped up. Another picture of him, this one from three months ago. He was flushed from wine, his head resting in Sienna’s lap, just like when they were children. Sienna’s text read: Claire, you stole a love that wasn’t yours. It’s time to give it back. I typed my reply, imagining the fury it would ignite. She was always so proud, so easily wounded. Don’t get too comfortable. I am the one he married, the one the Thornes recognize as Mrs. Thorne. As long as we’re not divorced, you’re nothing but the other woman, hiding in the shadows. Stole her love? That wasn’t quite right. The moment I saw Damian Thorne at sixteen, my only thought was how to pluck that magnificent, untouchable flower from the heavens and plant it in my own garden. And now, after twelve years of admiring it, I was done. 2 I was sixteen when I first met Damian Thorne. My parents died in a car crash when I was young, so I lived with my grandfather. When he passed, he left me twenty million dollars and donated the rest of his vast fortune. He’d lived a wild life, driving away his one true love before remarrying. That true love, as it happened, was Damian Thorne’s grandmother. “Claire, I’m giving you one last chance because you’re my niece. Now tell me! Where did you hide the old man’s inheritance?” my uncle snarled, his finger jabbing at my face. “Such a devious little thing!” “I’m going to lose my mind! The old man was worth hundreds of millions, and you expect us to believe he didn’t leave a dime for his own children? That he donated it all?” my aunt shrieked, her face contorted with greed as she lunged at me. I calmly pointed to the security camera on the ceiling. “Touch a single hair on my head, and the footage instantly uploads to every news outlet in the country. ‘Prominent Art Curator Assaults Niece Over Inheritance Dispute.’ You won’t see a cent of Grandpa’s money, and you’ll lose your job. Doesn’t seem worth it, does it?” Her hand froze inches from my face, her eyes burning with a hatred so intense it could have drilled holes through me. “Claire, if it wasn’t for your birthday, your parents would never have been driving on the highway in that storm! You’re a jinx! A curse! You killed your parents, and now you’ve killed him too!” “You’re still as clueless as ever, Auntie,” I said, looking at her with genuine curiosity. “What makes you think words like that could possibly hurt me?” My uncle, lighting a cigarette, cut in. “Fine, let’s put that aside. The twenty million. You keep one, and your aunt and I will split the rest.” I stood up, snatched the cigarette from his hand, and slowly crushed it out in an ashtray. “Don’t smoke. Grandpa hated the smell,” I said with a serene smile. “As for the money, you won’t get a penny. And this house? It’s already been donated to the state as a historic landmark. Don’t come back.” He exploded, enraged that I’d given away a property worth a fortune. I would never forget their faces when I was eight, after my parents died, the ugly greed as they plotted to steal my inheritance. My aunt had the gall to blame me for their accident, conveniently forgetting that it was her drunken phone call, demanding my father detour to pick her up, that forced them onto that treacherous, truck-filled highway. “Damn it! I’m going to teach you some respect on your father’s behalf!” My uncle raised his hand to strike me. That’s when Damian appeared. He lazily caught my uncle’s wrist, the veins on the back of his hand popping as he twisted with surprising force, shoving him to the ground. “Picking on a kid. Real tough,” he scoffed, his brow furrowed in disdain. I discreetly slipped the mini taser I’d been holding back into my pocket and looked up at him. Damian Thorne. He was truly dazzling. Dark hair, stunning eyes, the face of a young prince born to wealth and privilege. Every arch of his brow, every glance, was a breathtaking sight. The bodyguards and lawyers he’d brought with him handled everything. Before he died, my grandfather had warned me that my aunt and uncle were wolves. He feared I wouldn’t be safe in my hometown of Havenwood, so he’d arranged for an old friend in New York to take me in, promising they would treat me well. “Claire,” he’d said, his withered hand stroking my hair, “I know you can take care of yourself, but my old heart still worries. They say the brightest flames burn the fastest, and the deepest loves don’t last. You seem so cool and distant, but you feel things more deeply than anyone.” His voice was gentle, full of love. “Strangers see a quiet, obedient girl, but I know how stubborn you are. Remember in elementary school? That boy who always pulled your hair? You’d cry and tell the teacher, but then you’d turn around and dump a bottle of hair dye on his head, forcing the poor kid to shave it all off.” Tears streamed down my face, but I was smiling. “I could never hide anything from you, Grandpa.” He smiled back. And as he smiled, his eyes closed, and his hand fell from my hair. From that day on, I was alone. Damian came to pick me up. I didn’t say a word the entire flight. It was only when we arrived at the grand Thorne estate in New York that the reality hit me: I no longer had a home. Suddenly, Damian spoke, his voice a little stiff. “Don’t be scared. From now on, this is your home. I’ll be like your brother.” I turned to look at his exquisite face, at the awkward attempt at comfort, and felt a flicker of something new. A seed of a sixteen-year-old girl’s fancy, planted in that moment, destined to be watered and nurtured daily. Who could have known then that twelve years later, I would be the one to rip that beautiful camellia from my heart? That day, Grandma Eleanor, dressed in an elegant cheongsam, came out to greet me personally. I’d seen photos of her, and even in her sixties, she carried herself with the same grace and poise of her youth. “That old rogue, Arthur Sterling, he certainly had a fine granddaughter,” she said, taking my hand and leading me inside. I glanced back at Damian. “Grandpa mentioned you,” I said softly. “I was born three months before you. Technically, you should call me ‘big sister.’” I watched, delighted, as a flush crept up his neck and stained his ears red. He shot me a glare and stomped off. So easy to tease, I thought. I’ll have to do it more often. Years later, Sienna would scream at me, calling me a siren, a temptress who had seduced Damian. I think it was at his eighteenth birthday party. He couldn’t hold his liquor and was passed out on a sofa in a private lounge. He wore a deep velvet suit, the collar open, revealing the elegant line of his collarbone. His usually pale face was flushed with a rosy hue, like a camellia in full, drunken bloom. I approached with a warm towel, my fingers brushing his lips. “Damian,” I whispered, “can I kiss you?” His eyes flew open, his ears turning crimson, but he didn’t pull away. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmured, and leaned in. His lips were just as soft as I’d imagined. Two seconds later, Sienna burst in, her face a mask of heartbreak. She shoved me hard, sending me staggering to the floor. “Claire! So it’s true! You’re in love with him! No wonder you’ve been so nice to him all these years.” I hit a decorative shelf on my way down, scraping my arm. “Yes, I love Damian,” I said, clutching my bleeding arm. I looked at Damian, who was still frozen on the sofa, and let tears well in my eyes. “Damian, I’m so sorry. I’ve hurt Sienna. I promise, I’ll never get close to you again.” I fled the room, closing the door behind me and wiping the crocodile tears from my eyes. Sienna and Damian had grown up together, and she’d always acted as if he were her exclusive property. I didn’t care if Damian loved me back; just looking at his face brought me a sense of peace, and that was enough. But Sienna, who pretended to be my friend, had secretly bullied me, even destroying precious things my grandfather had left me. Damian knew about the bullying, but he always tried to smooth things over, never willing to truly punish Sienna. He was drawn to me, I could feel it, but he couldn’t let go of his childhood bond with her. I’ve never had any use for a wavering heart. I was going to break this beautiful, sleeping camellia myself, and make Sienna regret everything. As for Damian? Once a flower is broken, who cares when it withers? 3 After giving Damian the divorce papers, I quit my job to focus on my health. While packing, I found a box of old trophies, gathering dust. If not for these tarnished awards, I might have forgotten the brilliant youth I once had. My grandfather was an internationally renowned watercolorist. I started learning from him at three, showing a natural talent. Many called me a rising star, the heir to his legacy. But now, my right hand can barely hold a paintbrush. The year I graduated high school, at eighteen, Sienna and her friends cornered me in the girls’ bathroom. She shattered my right hand with a baseball bat. For years after, even peeling an apple was a struggle. Damian came to see me, his face etched with exhaustion. “The Thornes and the Vances are at war over this. Sienna is a wreck, she regrets it, she’s in pain every day. Claire, can’t you just let it go? Drop the charges.” I looked up at his beautiful, troubled face, tears blurring my vision. “So this is the price of loving you, Damian? If it were Sienna lying in this hospital bed today, would you be asking her to just let it go?” He was silent for a long time before he finally whispered, “Claire… I’m sorry.” In the end, Sienna was sent abroad, and in everyone’s eyes, the matter was closed. She thrived overseas, living her life as the same proud princess she’d always been. And I, forced to withdraw from the art world, vanished amidst a chorus of ful sighs. I polished each of those trophies until they gleamed, then put them carefully away. At six that evening, Damian picked me up for dinner at the estate. It was a Saturday ritual—if we were in town, we’d have dinner with Grandma Eleanor. As I settled into the passenger seat, I was hit by a wave of perfume. Gardenia. Sienna’s favorite. It hadn’t changed in all these years. I opened the window, letting the crisp, desolate autumn air rush in. At a red light, Damian’s fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel, a clear sign of his agitation. I knew he was waiting for me to speak, waiting for me to surrender. He was so used to me placating him. When he was a rebellious teen, racing his car on winding mountain roads, I was the one in the passenger seat, staying with him until he’d had his fill of madness. When his father’s anger left bruises on his back, I was the one who crept into his room late at night to apply ointment and coax him to eat. When he was fighting with his family to start his own company, working himself to the bone, I was the one who brought him every meal. When he threw a tantrum and went drinking, calling me but saying nothing, I was the one who took a cab to the bar in the middle of the night to bring him home. When I was too busy with work to dote on him, he’d contact Sienna just to get a reaction out of me. The perfume in the car today was just another warning shot. A declaration of war. You’re the one who’s desperate for my love, Claire. If you don’t hold on tight, I can leave at any moment. It was a tactic that had never failed him before. Whenever he reached out to Sienna, I would panic and cling to him even tighter. “Damian, we need to find time to get the divorce certificate,” I said, my voice calm and even. “And you can tell Sienna she doesn’t need to send me photos anymore. You’re free.” His brow furrowed into a tight knot. “What did she send you?” I forwarded him the pictures. He scrolled through them, and then his anger flared. “Claire, your tolerance is truly something else. I was in the States for three months, I called you, and you didn’t say a single word about this. I was lying in her lap, and you didn’t care? Do you even have a heart? Do you even love me?” His chest heaved with suppressed emotion. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out, and smoked a cigarette in tense silence. When he got back in, he thrust his phone at me. On the screen was a blurry, pixelated photo. His voice was laced with a pain he couldn’t hide. “Claire, what have I been to you all these years? Huh? A replacement? A stand-in for Caleb Thorne?” In the photo, I was young, my hair in a high ponytail, wearing a school uniform, my cheeks flushed. Beside me, a boy with a radiant, sunny smile. His hand, hidden behind his back, was gripping my wrist tightly. In the springtime of my sixteenth year, I had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a boy, bathed in sunlight, the gentle breeze on our faces.

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Halloween was just around the corner when my two childhood sweethearts, the boys who had cherished me for twenty years, abandoned my grandmother, who suffered from dementia, at a busy intersection teeming with traffic. She never got to see me one last time. Before I could reach her, she was critically injured in a car accident and left this world forever. At that exact moment, a headline blew up online: “The Beaumont Brothers Race for Love! Who Will Win the Fair Maiden’s Heart This Halloween?” It turned out they had ditched my grandmother to fight over the privilege of spending Halloween with my stepsister. The one who lost, Ethan, took his frustration out on me. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t kept calling me, I would have been the one with Amanda tonight!” The winner, Dylan, issued a stern warning. “You’re an adult now. You need to be more considerate. Don’t you dare call me on Halloween!” After laying my grandmother to rest, I stared at an email sitting in my inbox: “Ms. Claire Preston, please reply to confirm your participation in the Lunar Exploration Initiative. If you accept, you will be given a new identity and will have no contact with the outside world for five years.” I calmly replied to the email: “Confirmed.” 1 I was at the hospital, handling the paperwork to get my grandmother’s deposit refunded, when I heard a familiar voice. “It was just a little cough. You two are so dramatic, dragging me all the way here for a check-up!” The Beaumont brothers, Ethan and Dylan, were carefully flanking my stepsister, Amanda, one on each side. There was a time when I was the person they worried about most. When I was a child, my mother had barely been buried when my father eagerly welcomed Amanda and her mother into our home. Through their calculated schemes, my father’s disappointment in me grew until he finally just sent me away to live with my grandmother. That was when I met the Beaumont brothers, who lived next door. They pitied the young, grieving girl who was bullied by her new family. They became my personal knights, guarding me, showering me with all the affection and care I had lost. They promised they would always be good to me. But the moment Amanda returned to town, all those promises turned to dust. They knew my grandmother was the only family I had left. They knew she had dementia. Yet they still abandoned her, without a second thought, at an intersection flooded with cars. Amanda was the first to see me. A triumphant smile spread across her face. “Claire, what are you doing at the hospital? You’re not… following us, are you? You’re keeping too close a watch on Ethan and Dylan, don’t you think?” I clutched the settlement papers in my hand, my glare fixed on the three of them. Dylan stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Amanda. “Claire, what are you doing here? You told us you were too busy with work to take your grandmother for her check-up, and now you have time to stalk us?” Ethan shook his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “I can’t believe you’d stoop to lying just for attention. Claire, how could you become so disgusting?” The mention of my grandmother sent a fresh wave of pain through my heart. I flew at Dylan in a frenzy. “Shut up! How dare you even mention her name?” “You knew she was sick! You knew, and you still left her on the street all by herself!” Dylan grabbed my wrists, his face dark and furious. “Claire, can you stop being so unreasonable all the time?” “We were doing you a favor, taking your grandmother for her check-up. We just dropped her off at the corner. It was a short walk home from there. She has legs, doesn’t she? What are you being so dramatic for?” Even now, they acted as if they were the ones in the right. My grandmother had treated them like her own grandsons. For more than a decade, they had loved nothing more than to lounge around her house, eating the meals she cooked for them. They had promised they would take care of her. But now, just for a chance to be with Amanda, they had discarded her like trash. I couldn’t bear to imagine how helpless my grandmother must have felt, lost and alone, surrounded by so many strangers, so many cars. “I wish I had never met you!” If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had any hope. If I hadn’t, I could have been there, watching over my grandmother. A flicker of shock, a hint of panic, crossed Ethan’s face. “It was thoughtless of us not to walk her all the way home, but do you really have to blow this out of proportion? Are you just going to throw away twenty years of friendship over this?” Amanda’s eyes darted between us, and then she spoke in her sickly-sweet voice. “Claire, this is all my fault. I’m the reason you’re all fighting. I’ll just… I’ll stop talking to Ethan and Dylan from now on, okay? Please don’t be mad at them!” With that, she covered her face and ran towards the exit. Ethan and Dylan shot me a hateful glare. “Are you happy now?” they snarled, before chasing after her. A little while later, I saw Amanda’s new social media post. “It’s easy to soothe an angry princess. All it takes is two knights and a ride on the Ferris wheel!” When I was a little girl living with my grandmother, all I ever wanted was to ride a Ferris wheel. Ethan and Dylan had promised they would make my wish come true before I turned twenty-five. But because I was always “too busy with work,” it never happened. Now, here they were, taking Amanda to the one place I had always dreamed of going. Looking at the picture of the three of them, so close and complete that there was no room for a fourth person, I managed a brittle smile. I had six days until my departure. The last day before I left was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I would visit her, and then I could leave without any regrets. From now on, I wouldn’t bother the three of them anymore. 2 Five days until departure. During her lucid moments, my grandmother always talked about wanting to go back and see her old house in the countryside. Now, she could never go back. And I was about to leave for a long time. I decided I would go see it one last time, for her. As I reached the edge of the village, I saw it. A massive bulldozer was mercilessly tearing down a corner of the old house. I rushed forward to stop it, but I tripped on the rubble and fell hard. A searing pain shot through my arm. I’d scraped off a large patch of skin, and the blood mixing with the dirt was a pathetic sight. I struggled to my feet and limped in front of the bulldozer, blocking its path. “This is my house! You can’t just tear it down without my permission!” Amanda emerged from behind a large tree, pinching her nose and fanning the air with her hand. “This dump is an eyesore. Turning it into a rose garden would be much nicer for everyone to look at. Old things are an eyesore. They should be torn down to make way for something beautiful!” Her words were a double-edged sword, and her cruel face merged with the one I remembered from a decade ago. Back then, after my mother died, I was so lost that the only way I could sleep was by clutching her portrait. Amanda had snatched it from me, forced me to crawl on the ground like a dog, and tried to make me eat scraps from the pig trough. In the end, even after I’d debased myself, she broke her promise and threw my mother’s portrait into a septic tank. She had stood before me then, laughing like a demon. “You want it back? Go on, jump in and get it! Things that belonged to dead people are bad luck anyway. Your cursed mother belongs in a cesspool!” I had run to my father for help, only to be met with his cold condemnation. After that, Amanda and her mother became even more vicious. They would beat me for the slightest perceived offense. My arms and back were covered in scars from their curling iron. Going hungry was a regular occurrence. Even now, seeing her, my first instinct was to flinch and hide. The Beaumont brothers followed her out of the house. There was a time when I’d accidentally walked into a lamppost, and Ethan and Dylan had rushed me to the hospital for a full-body scan, terrified that I might have been hurt. Now, they just stood there, hands in their pockets, watching me with cold indifference. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Old wounds and new betrayals made me tremble with rage. I raised my hand to push Amanda away, but before I could touch her, she let out a cry and collapsed to the ground. Ethan and Dylan rushed forward simultaneously. They cradled Amanda in their arms, checking her over for injuries with panicked tenderness. When they saw the red mark on her hand from a small stone, Dylan’s eyes turned red with fury. The usually impulsive Dylan strode forward and kicked me to the ground, his gaze icy. “Amanda is your sister! How can you be so vicious?” “As a member of this family, Amanda has a say in what happens to this old house. Are you trying to claim it all for yourself?” “It’s just a few broken-down shacks! Even the whole property isn’t worth a single one of Amanda’s fingers! Go and apologize to her, or don’t blame me for what happens next!” Ethan, the supposedly calm one, held Amanda in his arms and did nothing to stop Dylan. His eyes were filled with disappointment as he looked at me. “Claire, have we spoiled you so much that you think you can act this way?” An indescribable pain twisted in my chest. They had spent a long time in this house with me once. We had caught fish in the river and picked fruit from the trees. Those were the best memories of my childhood. They had promised they would preserve this old house forever, that they would bring their own children back here one day to experience our childhood. Their “forever” had been so painfully short. There were still photos of my grandmother and me inside the house. I wanted to get them back. But Dylan blocked my path. “You have to apologize to Amanda first. Otherwise, you’re not setting foot in there!” My grandmother was gone. The house was about to be gone. All I wanted was to keep a few photos of her as a memento. Dylan kicked the back of my knees, and I fell to the ground with a thud. Amanda shot me a triumphant look before turning back to the brothers, her expression now one of pitiable fragility. “Ethan, it’s so loud and dirty here. Can we go back now?” The coldness on Ethan’s face melted away, replaced by a gentle warmth. “Of course. Does your hand still hurt? Should we go to the hospital to get it checked?” Dylan rushed to her side as well. “Amanda, once this land is cleared, I’ll find every variety of rose in the world and plant them here for you, okay?” Coddled between the two men like a precious jewel, Amanda shot me a look over her shoulder, her lips silently forming the words: “You lose again, sister.” 3 Against her, it seemed I never won. She always managed to take what was mine with such ease. First, it was my father’s love. Now, it was the affection of the Beaumont brothers. Four days until departure. When I got back to the apartment I rented for my grandmother, I noticed something was wrong. Buddy, the Border Collie who had been her constant companion, was gone. The doors and windows were locked. Buddy was a smart dog; he would never have left with a stranger unless it was someone he knew and trusted. I quickly checked the security footage. Ethan and Dylan had been here before I got back. They had always been good to Buddy, so I should have been relieved. But for some reason, a sense of panic began to creep in. I threw on a coat and took a cab to the brothers’ villa. Before my grandmother got sick, I used to stay there sometimes. They had even designed a room and a walk-in closet just for me. I pressed my finger to the scanner, only to find that my print had been deleted. The password had been changed, too. Sometime during my trip, it had started to rain. I was soaked to the bone in an instant, and the anxiety in my chest grew stronger. Just as I was about to call the police, the door opened. Ethan stepped out, holding an umbrella. “What are you doing here? And soaked like this? Are you playing the wet-look card for sympathy?” I ignored him and tried to push past, but he grabbed my arm. “Amanda’s having a party. Don’t go in there and ruin the mood.” I stepped into the villa and saw that it was filled with people. Snacks and nutshells were scattered everywhere. Even my old bedroom and closet had been ransacked. A guy with bleached-blond hair saw me and swaggered over, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Whoa, playing the wet t-shirt game? C’mere and let daddy have a feel.” Dylan was lounging on the sofa, carefully peeling an orange for Amanda. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Once, a man had merely whistled at me, and the Beaumont brothers had bankrupted his entire family. Now, this sleazeball was openly harassing me right in front of him, and he did nothing. I never knew a man’s affection could turn to ice so quickly. I shoved the man’s hand off me and marched over to Dylan. “Where’s Buddy? What did you do with him?” Dylan ignored me. Amanda walked up to me, holding a glass of wine. “Drink this, sister, and I’ll tell you.” I was severely allergic to alcohol. When I was little, I’d accidentally eaten a liquor-filled chocolate and broken out in hives all over my body. It had terrified the Beaumont brothers. Ethan returned, carrying a case of wine. “Tell me. Where is Buddy?” I demanded. Amanda filled an entire table with glasses of wine and looked at me, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Sister, maybe one glass wasn’t enough for you. So I’ve poured you a whole table.” “Drink it all, and I’ll tell you where Buddy is.” Drinking that much wine would nearly kill me. I looked up at Ethan and Dylan. “Is this what you want, too?” Dylan was slouched in his chair, a cocky smirk on his face. “Whatever Amanda wants, we want.” Terrified of what might have happened to Buddy, I stepped forward and started drinking. Glass after glass, the fiery liquid burned its way down my throat, making me choke and cough. My vision blurred, but I forced myself to finish the last one. “Can you tell me now?” Ethan and Dylan didn’t look pleased. Their faces were dark and grim. Dylan finally spoke. “Amanda wanted to volunteer at a pet shelter, so we brought Buddy back for her to practice with.” “But the damn animal bit her. So I taught it a lesson and sold it.” My body swayed. My heart felt like it was being crushed. “Dylan, are you even human?” “That was Buddy. He’s been with us for over a decade. How could you do that to him?” Being called out in front of everyone made Dylan’s face flush with anger. “He was just an old dog. What’s he worth? Here’s ten thousand. That’s enough to buy a new one, isn’t it?” He pulled out a wad of cash and threw it in my face. I couldn’t stay there a second longer. My head was spinning as I staggered towards the door. I had to find Buddy. He was my last connection to this world, the only family member who would never betray me.

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