On my wedding day, my fiancée publicly called off the ceremony, walking down the aisle with my best man instead. I stumbled out, shattered, only to be struck by a car in a brutal accident. The crash left me paralyzed, ending my dance career. In my darkest hour, Julian’s aunt, Seraphina Hayes, pulled me back from the Silverleaf River, where I’d considered ending my life. She married me in what tabloids called the “wedding of the century.” But on our third anniversary, I overheard her whisper to her assistant: “Same routine—switch Henry’s leg meds to vitamins. Delay his therapy again.” The assistant hesitated: “But if we keep delaying, he may never walk… You had him hit to paralyze him for Julian’s sake. Now Julian’s the star dancer, favored by your family. Must you still guard against Mr. Goldstein?” Seraphina snapped: “What does it matter? I’ll support him forever.” Her gaze turned distant, voice heavy with sorrow: “Since society won’t let me be with Julian, I’ll ensure his happiness—no matter who suffers.” 1 The truth hit me like a physical blow. I clapped a hand over my mouth, stumbling backward in sheer disbelief. How could I have been so blind? Every misfortune, every moment I thought was salvation, had been meticulously engineered by Seraphina herself! Tears streamed down my face, relentless and scalding. My heart felt as if it were being torn apart. Footsteps approached from inside. Panicked, I spun my wheelchair around, fleeing to the villa’s secluded backyard. Just then, the door to Seraphina’s private storage room, a place she always kept strictly off-limits, stood ajar. Inside, the walls were adorned with countless photographs and portraits of Julian, charting his life from infancy to adulthood. His dance certificates, his trophies, even replicas of the dance shoes and costumes he’d worn over the years – Seraphina had meticulously collected them all, displaying them like priceless treasures in glass cabinets. Every item, every inch of this room, screamed of her obsessive devotion to Julian. In the very center of the room lay adoption papers, clearly detailing her true relationship with Julian. Seraphina, I learned, had been adopted by Julian’s grandfather in her teens, meaning there wasn’t a single drop of shared blood between them. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound, tears still streaming. Seraphina, you truly played me for a fool! Very well then. Since this is the stage you’ve set, I will ensure they get the performance they deserve. Gathering my shattered composure, I left the room. As I exited the backyard, I bumped directly into Seraphina, who was hurrying towards me. She froze. “Henry, darling, why are you out here? And so far from the house? You didn’t… see anything, did you?” “No,” I replied, my voice flat. “Just took a wrong turn. Haven’t been out in the garden for a while.” Seraphina visibly relaxed. She knelt beside me, gently stroking my hair. “Silly boy,” she chuckled, “you’re getting more absent-minded as you get older, aren’t you? The guests are all here. Your wife will take you in for our anniversary celebration.” Her warm lips pressed against my forehead, but all I felt was a chilling, bone-deep cold. As we entered the grand ballroom, guests watched, their eyes filled with envy, as Seraphina guided my wheelchair. My gaze, however, locked onto the three-tiered strawberry cream cake dominating the center of the room. I am severely lactose intolerant. And strawberries? They’re Julian’s absolute favorite flavor. Sure enough, no sooner had Seraphina settled me into the seat of honor than Julian practically bounced over, tugging on her arm. “Aunt Sera, when can we cut the cake?” he whined playfully. “It’s your and Uncle Henry’s anniversary, but you got my favorite cake! That’s just cheating!” Seraphina, without a hint of shame, playfully tapped his nose. “Little glutton,” she teased. “First, let me give your Uncle Henry his gift.” Seraphina produced a bracelet and fastened it onto my wrist. I remembered a collector friend recently telling me, excitedly, how Seraphina had commissioned him to acquire a unique, fifty-million-dollar Patek Philippe timepiece. As a thank-you, he’d included a complimentary bracelet. Now, that very Patek Philippe gleamed conspicuously on Julian’s wrist. Meanwhile, the ill-fitting bracelet dangled loosely from mine. Later, during the dance segment, I sat below the stage, just as I did every year. Julian linked his arm through Seraphina’s and then addressed me: “Uncle Henry, since you can’t move your legs, I’ll take the opening dance with Aunt Sera. You don’t mind, do you?” Without waiting for my response, they glided onto the dance floor. Seraphina’s left hand rested on Julian’s shoulder, a gesture both restrained and possessive. Her right hand was intertwined, fingers locked, with his. Her almond-shaped eyes, brimming with tender affection, held no one but Julian. Though it was supposedly our wedding anniversary, this moment had become entirely about her and Julian. I had always believed Seraphina grandly celebrated our anniversary each year out of devotion to me, to ensure other high-society figures wouldn’t look down on me. Now, it was painfully clear this was her true motive all along: using our special day as a pretext, to legitimately draw closer to her true beloved. Whispers drifted from nearby guests: “Wow, Young Julian truly lives up to his principal dancer title, doesn’t he? He dances with such flair! If he and Ms. Hayes weren’t related, they’d look far more suited for each other than her crippled husband!” “Exactly! And while Ms. Hayes’ husband was once a prodigy in the dance world, he’s a mere shadow of his former self now, practically a wash-out! I bet Ms. Hayes will only keep him around for a few more years, then this used, broken man will be utterly worthless!” Seraphina, however, was utterly engrossed, dancing one number after another with Julian, oblivious to my predicament. Without her presence, these so-called high-society elites never bothered to mask their contempt for me. Their mocking voices grew louder, more spirited. Helpless, I fled the scene. I called my lawyer, instructing him to draft a divorce agreement. While I was at it, I secretly arranged for a ‘staged death’ service. 2 When the banquet finally concluded, I watched from my bedroom window as the last guests departed. Beneath the shadow of a sprawling oak, Seraphina stood for a long moment, her gaze fixed on Julian’s retreating figure, before she finally turned and came upstairs. The moment she entered the master bedroom, she pressed me onto the bed with an almost desperate urgency, raining down a torrent of kisses. “Henry, darling… tell me you love me, won’t you? I love you so much, so incredibly much. You’re mine! Only mine!” Fragments of past memories began to click into place, a horrifying mosaic forming in my mind. I finally realized: every time Seraphina was most desperate for me, it was always after she had seen Julian. Was I truly nothing more than a convenient substitute for her affections? A wave of nausea washed over me. I choked back a sob, tears welling in my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. Seraphina kissed away the dampness, finally regaining some semblance of control over her earlier, almost wild abandon. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you somehow?” She began to murmur reassurances, kissing my skin, but her touch only intensified my revulsion. I pushed her away, scrambling to the bathroom. I leaned over the toilet, retching again and again, emptying the contents of my stomach. Seraphina gently patted my back, her expression one of profound concern, as if her heart was breaking for me. “Are you feeling better, sweetie? Should your wife call for a doctor?” A bitter laugh bubbled up inside me. A doctor? To prescribe more useless vitamins? “It’s nothing,” I mumbled, pulling away. “Just ate too much. I’ll be fine now that I’ve gotten it out of my system.” Seraphina nodded, helping me back into bed. Her soft hands gently massaged my stomach, attempting to soothe my discomfort. Suddenly, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was Julian. Her eyes lit up instantly. She answered the call, then rushed out of the room. “Julian has a stomachache,” she explained, already halfway out the door. “His wife’s out of town, and he’s terrible at looking after himself. I should go see what’s wrong.” I had no intention of stopping her. Once Seraphina was gone, I opened the divorce papers my lawyer had emailed, then went to the study and printed them out. On social media, Julian was already broadcasting updates: [Just mentioned I felt sick from too much cake, and Aunt Sera immediately rushed over to take care of me! ~] The photos showed Seraphina bustling in the kitchen, gently coaxing Julian to eat, and tenderly wiping his mouth. In three years of marriage, even when I was at my sickest, I had never once seen Seraphina cook for me. Another update popped up: The video showed Seraphina gently hand-washing a stained pair of Julian’s underwear. Julian, wrapping his arms around her neck, playfully teased: “Aunt Sera, you’re so good to me. What if I get divorced someday and marry you instead?” Seraphina’s expression turned serious. “You’re a grown man now, stop talking nonsense!” But I could clearly see the tremor of excitement in her hands when Julian said that. I switched off my phone and signed my name onto the divorce agreement. 3 Seraphina didn’t return that night. The next day, I made my way to the dance company alone. Today was the celebration banquet for Julian’s promotion to principal dancer, an event Seraphina and I were expected to attend together. Since my paralysis three years ago, I hadn’t set foot in this place, a place where I once earned countless accolades. And after the accident, the dance company had been swiftly acquired by Seraphina. She had told me then that she wanted to preserve this place for me, as it held so many of my memories. Now, it was blindingly clear: her sole intention, from the very beginning, was to personally elevate her beloved Julian to this coveted position. A bitter smile touched my lips as my gaze fell upon Seraphina, who was now stepping out of a car, arm-in-arm with Julian. She hurried towards me. “I’m so sorry, darling,” she began, a practiced apology on her lips. “The road was blocked last night, so I couldn’t get back.” Her excuse held no weight with me. I merely nodded, my expression blank. Seraphina seemed about to offer further explanation, but Julian suddenly stepped forward, taking control of my wheelchair. “Aunt Sera, there are so many industry bigwigs wanting to chat with you over there! I can keep Uncle Henry company here, so go on and network, don’t worry about us!” Seraphina hesitated, glancing at me with a flicker of indecision, before she walked away. The truth was, ever since Julian and my former fiancée betrayed me, I’d had no private dealings with him. Any interactions we had were usually due to his connection with Seraphina. I had no idea why he was suddenly acting so chummy. Before I could even speak, Julian wheeled me, unprompted, down the company’s Hall of Fame. Where my performance photos, certificates, and trophies once proudly stood, there was now only a display of his images and accolades. Julian didn’t even bother to keep up the pretense any longer. His smug voice drifted down to me from above: “So what if you were a prodigy? Henry Goldstein,” he sneered, “now you’re nothing but a pathetic cripple, stuck beneath my heel!” As he spoke, he moved in front of me, extending his leg in a blatant display of arrogance. “See these top-grain alligator leather shoes on my feet? Aunt Sera had them custom-made by the brand, just to congratulate me on becoming principal!” He paused, then his grin widened. “Do you like them, Uncle Henry? Oh, wait, how silly of me! You’re paralyzed, aren’t you? Even if you did like them, you couldn’t wear such precious shoes! Oh, and since I’m in such a good mood today, I’ll be merciful and tell you a little secret! Aunt Sera and I aren’t actually related by blood, you know~ Not only that, but we secretly dated for years! The only reason she married you was because I had my eye on your fiancée, and I didn’t want you getting in the way, so I asked her to string you along! Henry Goldstein, you’re truly pathetic now! You’ll never out-dance me again, and even the woman you married was just my cast-off, a charity case I threw your way. If I were you, I’d have died of shame by now, wouldn’t you?” I met his gaze, my eyes cold. “Shouldn’t you be the one dying of shame? You couldn’t compete with me on talent, so you only got your chance to shine once my legs were broken. With such dismal dance skills, have you ever considered a career change?” My words hit a nerve. Julian’s face contorted in a furious sneer, and he violently kicked my wheelchair. “Bastard! You’re a worthless cripple now, and you still dare to act so arrogant in front of me!” He wheeled me furiously towards the ornamental pond in the dance company’s outer garden, all the while chuckling darkly: “Doesn’t Aunt Sera just adore calling you Henry in bed? Oh, and my nickname is ‘Sugar,’ you know, because I loved sweets so much as a kid. Aunt Sera even gave it to me herself! Henry Goldstein, I want you to watch as I take everything from you! How about we conduct a little experiment? You can see for yourself who Aunt Sera truly cares about!” With that, Julian seized my wheelchair, pulling me, and himself, headfirst into the pond.

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The entire Stellar Federation knew it: Marshal Orion Thorne was notoriously brutal in bed—tireless, inventive, and utterly uninhibited. As his designated Psychic Stabilizer, I had replaced my organic limbs with mechanical prosthetics, transforming myself into the most “durable” woman by his side. One day, after my fourth mechanical arm had been twisted clean off, I went to the cybernetics lab for repairs. There, I saw Orion, his touch tender, gently kissing a fragile, un-augmented Human. His adjutant, startled, jokingly asked him, “Can’t you control your rampaging psychic energy? Why are you so rough with Seraphina Vance, yet so gentle with her?” Orion’s eyes were cold, dismissive. “I have to release it somehow. Lily is too delicate; I’m afraid of hurting her.” My heart shattered. Tears streamed down my face, hot and stinging. I pulled out my comm-unit and dialed a professor at the Federation’s Cybernetic Institute. “I agree to the body decomposition and consciousness upload to the Cloud. Come for me in three days.” 1 “Ms. Vance, have you chosen your new mechanical arm?” The gentle voice of the cybernetics salesperson broke through my daze, snapping me back to the present. I painfully pulled my gaze away from the sight of them, my voice hoarse and raw. “Just a standard model.” Before, to ensure Orion’s utmost pleasure, I always chose the most advanced, top-tier components for my replacements, then had them covered with a layer of premium bio-synthetic skin, indistinguishable from real flesh. But now, I had no intention of catering to him anymore. From the core-chamber behind me, Lily Carmichael’s saccharine voice floated out. “Orion, darling, you really shouldn’t! Such an expensive core, and you just bought it like that!” She giggled. “I only said it looked pretty; it’s not like I’d ever use it.” A core was what powered a mechanical prosthetic. I had struggled for a long time, trying to work up the courage to ask Orion about getting a better core for myself, just to lighten the burden of repair costs. But Orion, his back to me as he dressed, casually tossed a cheap, obsolete core my way. “You don’t need anything expensive. You’re always replacing your prosthetics anyway.” At the time, I thought his logic made sense. After all, one good core could buy thousands of prosthetic parts. But today, I knew the truth: it wasn’t that I didn’t need a good one. It was that I wasn’t worthy of one. My chest ached, a swollen, throbbing pain. I paid the bill, a dazed emptiness consuming me, and stumbled out the door. Repairs here were exorbitantly expensive; I always installed them myself once I got home. Late that night, Orion returned. He hung up his coat, then strode over and pulled me into his arms. “Seraphina,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “look what I brought you.” A dull gray core was pressed into my palm. Orion waited for me to jump up in surprise, to lean in and kiss his cheek. But I merely managed a stiff, strained smile, then gently refused. “I don’t need such a fine core.” This core, I knew, was nothing more than a complimentary gift that came with Lily’s purchase. Earlier, while scrolling through my datapad, I’d seen Lily’s shared life photos. That astronomical “pigeon blood” crimson core had been polished down, its essence removed, leaving only the useless parts, which she wore as a necklace around her neck. Orion’s brows instantly furrowed. He scrutinized me, his gaze sharp. “What are you trying to pull?” he demanded. “Didn’t you say before you wanted a good core? Now that I’ve given it to you, you’re giving me attitude?” Orion Thorne was the Federation’s Marshal. Even the supreme ruler of the Imperial Senate had to defer to him; no one dared defy him. What’s more, his psychic energy was notoriously unstable, liable to erupt at any moment. What I was doing was pure suicide. He grabbed my wrist, his lips twisting into a cold sneer. “I think I’ve given you too much leeway lately.” His voice dropped, laced with menace. “Strip. Now. And kneel.” 2 This was his usual method of humiliating me. Before, I always worried about angering him, afraid he would cast me aside. No matter how degrading his commands, I would obey. But this time, I acted out of character. I met his dark, brooding eyes, and softly, calmly, said, “Let’s end this, Marshal.” I never called him Marshal. Only Orion. I used that intimate address, hoping to pull us closer, to cling to that pathetic flicker of hope in my heart. Orion never corrected me, tacitly allowing my transgression. I was naive enough to believe I was special. The truth, however, proved how deluded I had been. The woman he truly cherished, the one he held in the palm of his hand, was Lily Carmichael. A storm brewed in Orion’s obsidian eyes. He gripped my throat, his voice low and menacing. “I’ll give you one more chance, Seraphina Vance.” His grip tightened. “What did you just say?” This was the prelude to his rage. I could already feel the agitated hum of his psychic energy, potent enough to crush me in the next second. But I offered a faint, sardonic smile. “Marshal, wouldn’t Ms. Carmichael mind you playing so… rough with me?” The mere mention of Lily’s name caused Orion’s expression to change instantly. His piercing gaze seemed to bore through my heart. “Don’t test my limits,” he snarled. Lily Carmichael was his limit. I was merely a tool for his release. I laughed at myself, a bitter, self-deprecating sound, but the tears, unbidden, streamed down my face. “I wouldn’t dare, Marshal.” Seeing my tears, Orion instinctively loosened his grip. He rubbed his throbbing temples, his brows furrowed. “Lily knows you’re my Stabilizer; she won’t mind. And when we’re married, you can still live here.” He never considered my wishes, dictating my entire existence. I had utterly had enough of this life. Fortunately, in three days, I would be free of it all. Orion seemed to think I had conceded. He reached out and ruffled my long hair. “Good girl. Go take a shower. Tonight, I’ll take you to see the Starglow Blossoms.” They were a critically endangered species across the entire galaxy, a symbol of unwavering love. Five years ago, Orion had brought one back for me. I treated it as a token of his affection, tending to it meticulously for a long time. When the flower withered, I was heartbroken for what felt like an eternity. Looking back now, I realized there was never any love there to begin with, which is why it never truly flourished. “I…” I wanted to say I didn’t want to go, but Orion’s sharp gaze pinned the words in my throat. Never mind. I couldn’t provoke him. If Orion suspected anything, a single command from him could make the Cybernetic Institute refuse my consciousness upload. Like a zombie, I followed him onto his private sky-jet. The landscape outside, from bustling metropolises to desolate wastelands, blurred past. My hands clenched tighter and tighter, afraid Orion was tricking me, leading me to my death. “Don’t be nervous. We’ll be there soon.” Orion’s voice was deep, sensual, carrying a hint of casual indifference. My choked breath slowly returned to a normal rhythm. He was right. If he wanted to kill me, he could do it in public, and no one would dare question him. In the distance, faint blue lights appeared, growing in number as we drew closer. I hadn’t expected so many. My eyes widened, a flicker of anticipation, however faint, stirring in my heart. Just then, Orion’s comm-unit chimed. Lily Carmichael’s helpless voice drifted out. “Orion, darling, I can’t sleep. I feel so awful.” She whined, “Come tell me a bedtime story.” 3 My heart plummeted, crushing all hope. All my expectations dissolved into nothingness. Orion had actually given her unrestricted access to his comms. No matter if he was in a top-secret meeting or on a critical mission, Lily Carmichael’s messages would play directly. My communications, however, were always on ‘do not disturb.’ My heart felt gripped again, each beat a thunderous ache. Even though I had decided to let go and leave, I couldn’t stop the anguish, pitying my past self. Orion slammed on the brakes after hearing the message, abruptly changing course. The Starglow Blossoms receded into the distance. As we passed a dark, barren planet, Orion opened the sky-jet’s hatch, his voice chillingly detached. “Get out.” I thought I misheard, turning my head stiffly to stare at him. This was a dangerous zone; space pirates were known to frequent these parts. But Orion, impatient, simply urged me again. “Lily always has trouble sleeping. I need to get her a companion droid.” The private sky-jet only had two seats. He wanted to buy Lily a droid, so I had to get off. I was abandoned on the desolate planet, my heart as dead and still as the world around me. Orion left without a backward glance, even accelerating to full thrust. My fingers trembled as I fumbled blindly with my comm-unit, trying to find a flight that could pick me up from here. I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until my comm-unit finally registered a response. I clasped my hands together, silently praying I would be safe until the flight arrived. “WHOOSH!” The deafening roar of a starship ripped through the silence of the void. I looked towards the vessel approaching in the distance, my face turning ashen. Space pirates! Ignoring everything else, I frantically initiated a video call to Orion. A regular message wouldn’t get through to him. The video connected, and I choked out a desperate plea for help. “Save me! There are space pirates here!” Orion’s voice, thick with suppressed rage, hammered against my heartstrings, shattering them further. “Seraphina Vance! I just got Lily to sleep! Is it really necessary to invent such a ridiculous lie just because I left you on another planet for a bit?! If you wake Lily, I swear I won’t let you get away with it!” He cruelly cut the video feed, convinced I was lying. The space pirates had intercepted the comms signal and located me. I was dragged onto their ship like a dead dog. “Isn’t this Orion Thorne’s Psychic Stabilizer?” A space pirate sneered, lifting my chin with the toe of his boot. “Stabilizer? She’s just a plaything for his release, isn’t she!” “You’re right! Probably already broken by Orion, too!” “Orion Thorne’s woman… just thinking about it gets me excited, hahahaha!” The inhumane torment lasted through the night and continued into the next day. My torso convulsed, my mechanical arms and legs completely ruined. I lay on the deck, my eyes empty, filled with utter despair. Around noon, the pirate captain’s comm-unit buzzed. Lily Carmichael’s delicate voice drifted from it: “Is she dead yet?” 4 I struggled to open my blood-crusted eyes, glaring at Lily Carmichael’s projection on the comm-unit, my heart seething with hatred. The pirate captain, confused, asked her, “No, she’s not dead. But wouldn’t it be better if she was?” Lily sneered, her voice turning venomous and chilling. “Sometimes, being alive can be far more painful than being dead. In a bit, just dump her back. Make sure it’s a big, noticeable commotion. I want to see what face she’ll have left to cling to Orion.” I had already decided to leave! Why were they doing this to me?! My throat was shattered, I could only scream and wail internally. My still-intact left eye, a mechanical one, stared blankly ahead, and I heard the faint whirring of gears grinding. A robotic voice chimed: [Recording complete.] No one knew that my left eye was a prosthetic. When I decomposed my body tomorrow night and uploaded my consciousness to the Cloud, Orion would receive this perfect gift. Lily Carmichael was so deeply entangled with these space pirates; if Orion continued to favor and protect her, it would be an act of treason and colluding with enemies! Even as Marshal, he would face the wrath of the entire Federation, eventually being annihilated by their combined forces. The space pirates, following Lily’s instructions, dumped me onto the busiest street of the Federation’s capital planet. In an instant, I became the focus of every passerby’s horrified attention. “Oh my God, so much blood!” “All her limbs are broken, and her right eye is gone. How horrifying!” Everyone exclaimed in shock. Suddenly, someone shrieked, “Look at her lower half!” A new wave of horrified whispers washed over me. I trembled with fear, desperate to hide, but with only my torso intact, I couldn’t move an inch. Someone recognized me, and many unpleasant words hung unspoken in the air, only making the situation more agonizing. Orion, upon receiving the news, arrived with astonishing speed. The surrounding crowds didn’t even need his troops to forcefully disperse them; they scattered like startled birds. This man, accustomed to battle and bloodshed, now trembled before my broken, mutilated body. His eyes reddened, veins throbbing at his temples. “Seraphina…” I remained utterly unresponsive, completely still. Orion, despite his severe germophobia, personally bent down and lifted me into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I never imagined it would be like this. I sent people to look for you, but they only found your comm-unit.” No matter what he said, I remained silent. He thought I was angry with him, blaming him. For the first time, he didn’t scold me for being unreasonable. It was only when he brought me to the Starfall Hospital that they discovered my larynx had been crushed; I simply couldn’t speak. He furiously ordered a relentless hunt for the space pirates. Then, in a rare display of tenderness, he spoke to me. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll stay with you always. I’ll get you the most expensive mechanical prosthetics, the finest core.” I finally reacted, my eye twitching. What’s the use of that? I thought. I won’t need a body anymore soon anyway. Suddenly, a knock echoed on the ward door. It was Orion’s adjutant. With Orion’s permission, he pushed the door open and whispered to him, “Marshal, Ms. Carmichael is here.” Orion abruptly stood up, striding quickly out of the ward. But it was too late; he collided head-on with Lily Carmichael. “Lily, why are you here? It’s all bloodstained in here.” Lily’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. “I came to apologize to Seraphina, boo-hoo.” She sobbed. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me a bedtime story just because I couldn’t sleep.”

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My two older sisters, Lily and Daisy, were in a car accident and lost their memories. They forgot all about me, mistaking our parents’ friends’ son for their own younger brother. Lily, the eldest, gave him the inheritance our parents had left for me. Daisy, the second sister, used her influence to have my postgraduate study slot transferred to him. I thought they had genuinely forgotten me. Until one day, I accidentally overheard Lily say to Daisy: “Faking amnesia is exhausting. How about we just kick Ryan Brooks out? Then we won’t have to pretend anymore.” They wouldn’t need to kick me out. I would leave on my own, joining a twenty-year closed medical research program. For those two decades, I wouldn’t be able to contact the outside world or return home. When my sisters found out, they wept, heartbroken. 1 I was still carrying the cake, not yet through the front door, when I overheard Lily, my elder sister, speaking. “Alright,” Daisy, the younger sister, chuckled in response. “And without him, we can focus all our attention on little Ryan. It’s a win-win.” My entire body stiffened, and the cake in my hands nearly slipped. So, for the past six months, my two most beloved sisters, the ones I revered… they had been deceiving me. They hadn’t forgotten me at all. They knew Ryan wasn’t their real brother. Why? I couldn’t understand why they would lie to me like this. “But it’s his twenty-third birthday today,” Lily suddenly spoke again. “Wouldn’t it be a bit harsh to kick him out right now?” Lily still remembered my birthday. They remembered everything, yet for the past six months, they had treated me like a stranger. Countless times, they had thrown me out of the house. Countless times, they had showered Ryan with affection right in front of me. “He’s really looking forward to this birthday,” Daisy’s voice was utterly devoid of warmth. “That’s precisely why we need to make him leave today, on the day he anticipates the most. Only then will he truly give up and stop clinging to us.” The word “clinging” pierced my heart like a dagger. Thud. The cake I had lovingly baked myself dropped to the floor, the creamy frosting instantly smearing into a messy pile. In the past, on my birthdays, Lily and Daisy always prepared my cake. They would also prepare many delicious dishes for me well in advance. So, every birthday was the happiest day of my year. This time, I had also been full of anticipation. I hoped that my birthday might trigger some of their lost memories. But now, I knew. They had been faking their amnesia all along. 2 I walked into the house, carrying the ruined cake. Lily sat on the sofa, shelling pecans for Ryan. Daisy was peeling an apple for him, carefully drizzling it with honey. They used to treat me that way. Every time I came home for the weekend, they’d buy me tons of snacks, and they’d both play games with me. Actually, they’d been treating Ryan like this for months. They treated me like a stranger, greeting me with cold indifference every day I returned. They never even cooked for me. I’d told myself they had amnesia, so I hadn’t dwelled on it. “Ethan, come join us,” Ryan said, flashing a wide smile at me. He was the son of my parents’ friends. A year ago, his parents and mine were on a business trip together when they were involved in a fatal car accident. I was there too. In that critical moment, my father shielded me, saving my life. With his last breath, he told me, “You’re a man now, you have to take good care of your two sisters from now on.” I took his words to heart, willingly giving up my own dreams to stay in Glendale with Lily and Daisy. But soon after, they were also in a car accident, which resulted in their amnesia. When they woke up, they had forgotten me, believing Ryan to be their biological brother, and lavished him with affection. 3 “You, darling, are just too kind. These are from your big sisters, Lily and Daisy. Isn’t it better to have them all to yourself?” Lily said, stroking Ryan’s hair with a doting expression. Ryan chuckled. “Even though Ethan isn’t usually very nice to me, I believe I can win him over with my kindness.” Daisy cast a cold glance at me. “People like him can never be won over. Look at him, we’ve taken him in for so long, and not only is he ungrateful, but he keeps pushing his luck, shamelessly staying here, claiming he’s our brother.” A chill ran through me. My grip tightened on the ruined cake. Ever since they started faking amnesia six months ago, they’d treated me like a stranger, telling me to leave the Vance family home. But this was my home. I couldn’t leave. So every day, I told Ryan to get out, and I insisted to them that I was their real brother. But even though I presented evidence, even had DNA tests done, they refused to believe me. They claimed I was only pretending for their money. They’d tried to kick me out countless times; it was only by stubbornly refusing that I remained. Back then, I didn’t understand why, even with all the evidence laid bare, they wouldn’t believe me. Now, I finally did. I looked at Lily and Daisy, taking a step closer to them. I placed the ruined cake on the coffee table. Through the clear box, I could see the cream slowly melting, distorting the cake’s original shape. “Lily, Daisy,” I began, my voice choked with bitterness, “it’s my birthday today.” I couldn’t believe that the two sisters who had once been so loving towards me would now treat me so poorly for the sake of an outsider. They had to have a reason. I didn’t want to expose their pretense. I wanted them to tell me themselves. “How many times do we have to tell you? We are not your sisters!” Lily snarled, a look of disgust on her face. She probably forgot how much she used to adore me. Back then, she’d spend hours playing on the slide with me. She would always tell me, “Ethan, your big sister will always be with you.” “Exactly,” Daisy added, her face equally cold. “What does your birthday have to do with us?” Normally, she was such a gentle woman, and so gentle with me. She owned her own company and once told me, “Ethan, don’t worry when you strike out on your own. Your second sister will pave the way for you.” But now, they had both changed. Just like this utterly ruined cake, its original form completely unrecognizable. 4 Lily snatched the cake and tossed it into the trash can, looking at me with cold fury. “Ethan Vance, please don’t come to our house anymore. You’re not our brother, you have no right to live here.” I should have noticed the signs earlier. They claimed to have forgotten me, yet they remembered my name, Ethan Vance. They treated Ryan as their biological brother, yet they never questioned why his surname was Brooks. I had simply trusted my sisters too much, to the point of foolishness. I desperately wanted to expose their charade, but I held back. If I did, they would surely be angry, and then they truly wouldn’t want me anymore. A dull ache spread in my chest. I looked at them with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t make me leave. I… I only have you two.” I would never forget my father’s dying words. I wouldn’t give up on them. Lily paused, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes. But after a few seconds, she spoke again. “No. You’re not our biological brother, so you can’t live here. Ryan is our brother.” Daisy rose and pushed me towards the door, her resolve unwavering. The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t believe they hated me so much. “Fine. I’ll go.” If my absence would make them happy, I was willing to leave. I turned to go, but then I heard Lily say to Ryan, “Ryan, your parents left you a substantial inheritance. I’ve already transferred it to your name.” My body stiffened, and I almost thought I’d misheard. Because of the inherent risks in our parents’ work, before their accident, they had already transferred all their assets to my two sisters. At the time, because I wasn’t yet 18, they had asked Lily to manage my portion of the inheritance. But now, she had actually transferred it to Ryan. Even if they had a good reason to treat him well, they shouldn’t have given him my money. I had no income now, and that was the money I had set aside for my postgraduate studies. 5 “Lily, that’s my money! You can’t give it to him!” I spun around, glaring at Lily, a surge of anger rising within me. To my surprise, she grew even angrier. She stood up and slapped me across the face. “How dare you have the nerve! You’re not even part of the Vance family anymore, what makes you think that’s your money?! That money was left for Ryan by our parents!” My ears rang, and my face throbbed. “You keep saying Ryan is your and Daisy’s real brother, but why is his last name Brooks?” I stared intently into her eyes, catching a momentary flicker of panic. But it quickly vanished, and she calmly fabricated a story. “Ryan was living on his own for a long time, raised by other people, that’s why his name is Brooks. As for you, you probably just made up that name yourself! You’re not our brother at all.” A cold dread settled in my heart. I thought if I spoke my mind this bluntly, they would stop pretending. But they kept up the charade. Lily, Daisy, what hardship are you enduring that makes you treat me this way? 6 In the end, I was still thrown out of my home. On my twenty-third birthday, the only two family members I had in this world abandoned me. I went to the university alone, planning to stay in a dorm room. But when I went to complete the enrollment procedures, I was told I hadn’t actually been accepted into the university’s postgraduate program. I froze. I distinctly remembered receiving an acceptance letter. I frantically searched my backpack, only to find my acceptance letter was gone. The staff member then said to me, “Think carefully. Did you perhaps get it wrong, or did you offend someone, and your acceptance letter was stolen?” I wasn’t stupid. I immediately understood the implication of her words. It could only mean someone had deliberately prevented me from pursuing my postgraduate studies. As this thought crossed my mind, I suddenly noticed several of Daisy’s friends. They were laughing and chattering, “Daisy is so good to Ryan! For him, she didn’t hesitate to give him her own brother’s postgraduate slot.” “Right, I wonder how she could be so heartless, even faking amnesia to make her brother suffer.” “You don’t know, do you? It’s because Ryan’s parents died saving Ethan back then. So Daisy and Lily feel they owe Ryan a huge debt.” I froze. The accident had happened so fast. Ryan’s parents died instantly. In the end, it was my father who saved me. Just then, I saw Daisy’s friends walk over to a car parked by the curb. Daisy got out of the car, with Ryan following behind her. My heart tightened. I rushed over. “Daisy, please, let me explain. The car accident wasn’t like that at all.” 7 Daisy heard my voice and glanced at me. But her face showed no emotion, only cold indifference. “I told you, I am not your sister! Stop calling me that!” At that moment, I couldn’t care less about anything else. I just wanted to explain everything to her. “Ryan’s parents didn’t…” Slap! She struck me hard across the face. “Are you trying to disrupt Ryan’s enrollment today? I’m telling you, get out now, or I’ll have someone forcibly remove you.” Lily had slapped me earlier, and now Daisy had too. To think that in the past, they wouldn’t even let a finger touch me. Now, because of an outsider, they were repeatedly showing such cruelty towards me. I clutched my stinging face, looking at her. “Daisy, this postgraduate slot is mine. I worked so hard to earn it. You can’t just give it away to Ryan.” She knew perfectly well how much effort I had poured into preparing for that exam. I had studied day and night. Back then, she and Lily had even encouraged me: “Keep going, Ethan. Once you get in, we’ll take you to buy a car.” Daisy’s eyes flickered, avoiding my gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ryan earned this himself!” With that, she pulled Ryan closer, her cold expression softening into tenderness. “Your second sister will take you to complete your enrollment. Once that’s done, we’ll go buy you a car.” Then, without waiting for me to speak, she directly pulled Ryan away. Her friends, unable to watch any longer, tried to console me. “Ethan, postgraduate studies aren’t everything. Go find a job.” But I had already promised my mentor that if I didn’t get into postgraduate school this time, I would agree to join a twenty-year closed medical research program. Once I joined, there was no quitting mid-way. For those two decades, I wouldn’t be able to contact the outside world or return home. Now, my postgraduate slot had been stolen from me. I had to honor my word. 8 I wandered the streets, utterly lost. My comm-unit vibrated. A trending news alert on the HoloNet showed Daisy taking Ryan to buy a car. Because Daisy had a HoloNet account with a significant following, and people didn’t know her family background, only that she was a successful entrepreneur, they believed her when she posted that Ryan was her brother. This time, someone had filmed her taking Ryan to buy a car, and netizens were commenting on how envious they were. I was envious too. All of this should have been mine. But now, it had been stripped from me by my two own sisters. My heart ached with pain. Lily, Daisy, do you truly not want me anymore? I went to Lily’s company. Downstairs, I wove a small cat out of foxtail grass. Many years ago, when our family was still poor and lived in the countryside, Lily, Daisy, and I found our greatest joy in weaving various small animals from foxtail grass. Back then, they always told me, “As long as a family’s hearts are connected, we’ll always be happy.” But now, their hearts were no longer connected to mine. Lost in thought, I saw Lily exiting the company building. I rushed over, holding out the woven cat to her. “Lily, look, I made this myself.” I looked at her expectantly, trying to stir some familial affection in her. But she merely gave it a cold glance, then slapped my hand away, sending the little cat tumbling to the ground. Just then, Daisy and Ryan arrived. Daisy saw the woven cat and stepped on it, crushing it. My heart sank. I looked up at them. Lily said coldly, “Get lost. Just looking at you annoys me.” Daisy added, “Such a bumpkin. Only country folk make things like that.” And Ryan, looking utterly triumphant, seemed to be saying to me, See? Your sisters don’t want you anymore. I clutched my chest, a profound ache settling within me. Seeing them turn to leave, I quickly said, “Lily, Daisy, I’m leaving now. I won’t be coming back.”

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1 Immediately, all eyes fell on me. Ever since the previous department manager resigned, I had been in charge of all department affairs. Everyone had assumed my appointment as the new manager was a done deal, practically etched in stone. Then, right in front of everyone, Damien Voss pulled Cici Brooks into the company’s main chat group. They each posted a message, one after the other. Anyone with eyes could see their profile pictures were a matching set, clearly for a couple. The entire morning, the whole office was abuzz with gossip, completely engrossed in the drama unfolding. As for me, I was already planning to resign, so I didn’t much care about losing the position that should have been mine. After sending my resignation letter via email to HR, I took a rare moment of leisure and went to the breakroom to brew myself a cup of honey-ginger tea. I hadn’t even taken two sips when Cici walked in. She brewed a coffee and sat beside me, wearing the smug air of a victor. “Skylar Vance,” she began, her voice dripping with condescension, “I know you’ve been Damien’s little secret for five years, but I’m his real girlfriend. Now that I’m back, it’s time for you, the other woman, to know your place and quietly disappear. As long as you keep your mouth shut, just like before, I won’t cause you any more trouble.” As she spoke, she played a voice message. It was a little boy, Leo, buttering her up from yesterday: “Auntie Cici, wasn’t I awesome? You won’t forget the Transformers you promised me, right?” I knew it. I’d wondered why things had aligned so conveniently. Watching her malicious gaze, my gut screamed at me to leave immediately. But she snatched the tea cup from my hand and poured it over her own face. Then, she violently smashed the cup at my feet, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The already lukewarm ginger tea dripped from her face, soaking her clothes and disheveled hair, making her look utterly pitiful. This woman was truly ruthless in her schemes against me. She blocked my exit, then shrieked, her voice shrill and ear-piercing: “Skylar, what are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?!” Her screams drew a crowd of colleagues, eager for the drama. She didn’t forget to splash coffee on her chest, too, then, with practiced ease, rubbed her neck raw. I couldn’t take it anymore. I slapped her hard. Damien Voss, hearing the commotion, rushed over and saw me, perfectly fine, striking a disheveled Cici. Without a second thought, he raised his hand and slapped me back. “Skylar Vance! If you don’t want this job anymore, then get out!” Still seething, he shoved me violently, then scooped Cici up in a bridal carry and carried her to his office. I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming into the edge of the table. The pain made tears stream down my face. The HR Manager, who had been hesitating whether to approve my resignation, immediately waved a hand and signed it. Damien, still coddling Cici, didn’t even glance at the content, directly approving my departure. The Finance Department, quick to switch allegiances and curry favor with Cici, the future boss’s lady, immediately processed my final paycheck. I still had a substantial amount of client data to hand over, so I bundled all the files, preparing to send them to Damien. To my shock, my company email account had already been deleted. The only person with the authority to delete a departing employee’s account was Damien Voss. I sent him a breakup message on his phone, only to discover he had blocked my calls and messages there too. With a bitter understanding, I left the company. After going home to erase all traces of myself, I headed straight for the airport. 2 The plane taxied slowly down the runway. I forced myself to close my eyes and rest. My mind kept replaying the moment I opened Damien Voss’s safe while clearing out my last belongings. After we became official, I had personally crafted a pair of matching rings for us. Damien had refused to wear his, instead hiding them in his safe, protected by a password I didn’t know. He said they would be our wedding rings when we finally married. I had often ached with the desire to secretly open that safe, but no matter what combinations I tried, I couldn’t guess the password. Until I used the date of the concert—Cici Brooks’s birthday—and the safe clicked open. Inside, there were no matching rings I wanted to reclaim. Only carefully preserved photographs and a diary. The photos were of an eighteen-year-old Damien and Cici, smiling at each other. Even slightly faded with age, their deep affection for one another was palpable. The diary was filled with the mundane details of their passionate, youthful romance. After Cici’s sudden, unexplained departure, the diary entries had turned into endless yearning. No wonder, after being reunited, they had burned with such intense passion for each other. As for the rings I had made, they were likely long gone, tossed away by Damien just like all the other tokens of our relationship. If I had known he’d already discarded them, I wouldn’t have bothered to open the safe and pry into his sweet past with Cici. And I wouldn’t have had to see that, even while he was with me, his heart was still consumed by longing for his first love. They truly were a perfect match, a pair of absolute scoundrels. Cici hadn’t even broken up with him, just vanished. Damien hadn’t even broken up with me, just rekindled things with Cici. I had poured my heart and soul into loving him for five years, only to be nothing more than a passing amusement. Sleep began to claim me, a hazy fog creeping into my thoughts. For a moment, I found it hard to discern if the Damien Voss who once cherished me was real or merely a figment of my imagination. If he didn’t love me, why would he take on all the household chores, terrified I might suffer the slightest inconvenience? If he didn’t love me, why would he break into a sweat of anxiety when my Uncle George called, urging me to return to Northwood City, begging me not to leave him? If he didn’t love me, why would he plan with me to have two children and adopt a cat and a dog after marriage, even picking out their names? …But if he truly loved me, how could he turn around and be with Cici without even a decent breakup? If he truly loved me, he wouldn’t have denied me the most basic trust, letting me be gossiped about by colleagues as a conniving homewrecker trying to climb the corporate ladder. Dwelling on these things was utterly pointless now. From the moment I agreed to my Uncle George’s arranged match, Damien and I stopped belonging to the same world. The plane landed. Uncle George and my Mom had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. “Skylar, my dear, Mom finally has you back! What was so great about that Southern city anyway? All that rain, so much dampness. You’ve always been prone to illness since you were little, yet you insisted on staying there all these years!” “Sister, you shouldn’t have let Skylar go to college down South in the first place. If my old friend hadn’t been looking out for her, who knows how much hardship Skylar would’ve endured.” At the mention of Damien Voss, Uncle George quickly asked me, “You’re back to get married this time, did Damien say anything? He used to praise you to me constantly, saying you were a rare talent…” “He was just being polite, Uncle George, because of your connection. How could you take it seriously?” But my uncle disagreed. “I know him better than you do. He’s not one to easily praise anyone, his eye is incredibly discerning! Who knows who will ever catch his attention again? Back in the day…” It seemed everyone knew Cici Brooks was Damien Voss’s unforgettable, fiery first love. Only I, like a fool, had carried on a secret relationship with him for five years, wounding myself to the point of utter devastation.

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I couldn’t snag a train ticket home for the long Thanksgiving weekend, so I ended up booking a spot on a budget tour group. Desperate times, I guess. The tour guide, deliberately, ripped my tank top strap, then tried to strong-arm me into buying some ridiculously overpriced, ‘designer’ lingerie – almost three thousand dollars – threatening to leave me stranded if I refused. A mob of burly men surrounded me, closing in. I took one look, and a grin split my face. “Uncle Frank, Uncle Bob, Uncle Jim, Cousin Mark!” I chirped. “You guys came to pick me up?” The guide’s triumphant cackle choked in her throat. 1. The holiday travel rush was insane; getting a ticket home was a nightmare. So, I settled for the only option left: a tour group heading to a destination less than a mile from my own doorstep. It was basically a very expensive, very roundabout taxi. Departure was set for 4:30 PM. I arrived at the bus terminal at 4:20 PM, only to find the tour agency’s coach had already pulled out. My jaw dropped. I immediately called the agency owner, who, to his credit, ordered the bus to turn back right away. I stood there, fuming, for a full twenty minutes before the bus finally reappeared. The driver, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, was profusely apologetic. “I’m so sorry, miss! The guide told me everyone was accounted for, so I just drove off.” He seemed genuinely sorry, but the guide – Amber, I’d soon learn – stood blocking the entrance to the bus, her face a thundercloud. There wasn’t a hint of apology in her expression, even after seeing me, the passenger she’d left behind. She just rolled her eyes and marched back to her seat. She looked younger than me, her face artfully made up, but her gaze was cold, her tone sharp. “What are you staring at, old hag?” If I hadn’t been so utterly desperate for a ride home, I would never have chosen a tour bus during peak holiday season. But given my predicament, I decided to bite my tongue and endure. For now. I scanned the bus interior. Every single seat was taken. No spot for me. I forced patience into my voice. “Excuse me, where exactly is my seat?” Amber was engrossed in her phone, not even bothering to look up. A spark of annoyance flickered within me. I asked again. Amber slammed her phone down, then shoved me hard. “What’s there to ask? Everyone else showed up before four! You came so late, who knew if you were even coming? There’s no seat for you. Stand.” I burst out laughing, a furious, incredulous sound, and shoved her right back. “First, the confirmed departure time was 4:30, and I arrived at 4:20 – early. Second, you didn’t even do a headcount before telling the driver everyone was here; that’s your job, and you failed. What’s more, I asked you several times about my seat, and you ignored me, then put your hands on me. Looking for a fight, are we?” I leaned in closer. “And finally, a tour group has a fixed number of people. There has to be a vacant seat. If you can’t find one for me, then you can stand for the next five hours.” Five hours on a bus without a seat, after paying good money? Not a chance. Perhaps sensing I wasn’t a pushover, Amber glared at me, her eyes spitting venom. “You were late, so no seat. If you don’t want to go, take your refund and get lost.” I sneered. “Are you the boss? Did you decide 4:20 is ‘late’?” Just then, my phone buzzed. It was the owner calling. I answered, put him on speaker, and didn’t mince words. “Hey, sis,” I said, making sure Amber could hear every syllable, “the guide here says I was late and there’s no seat for me, so she’s telling me to ‘get lost.’” Amber’s eyes widened in panic. She lunged, snatching my phone and frantically pressing ‘end call.’ The very next second, her phone rang. It was the owner calling her. She got an earful, a blistering tirade that turned her face a sickly shade of green. She mumbled a grudging apology, then snatched back my phone with ill grace. The owner, still on video call with Amber, counted the heads on the bus. There was an extra kid. It turned out this boy was Amber’s nephew, Leo. When the poor kid was pulled from his seat, he started fussing loudly. Amber, without a shred of mercy, slapped him hard on the back. “Get up, and give your seat to this old hag!” My knuckles cracked as I clenched my fists. “I suggest you watch your mouth.” I’d been training in self-defense since I was little, and after starting college, I was practically living at the gym. My muscles were clearly visible even under my short sleeves. Amber bristled, but bit back her retort. Once the little boy was up, an elderly lady in the next seat immediately tugged my arm. “Come on, dear, sit down. Don’t bother with a crazy person. I’ve got some homegrown apples here, have a piece.” From the lady’s tone, it sounded like Amber had already made quite a scene before I even got on the bus. But just as the apple was almost in my hand, Amber snatched it away. “I said no eating on the bus! I get motion sickness! Are you deaf, old woman?” 2. Amber stuffed the confiscated apple into her own bag, glaring down at us. “Let me repeat the tour rules!” she announced, puffing out her chest. “Rule number one: Once you’re on this bus, I’m in charge. No one challenges me. Violators pay a hundred-dollar fine.” “Rule number two: I get motion sickness. No eating on the bus. See something, I confiscate it.” “Rule number three: No phone calls or video chats. Too noisy. I like peace and quiet. Anyone making noise gets kicked off.” “Rule number four: When we reach our destination, you buy whatever I tell you to. Otherwise, I’ll leave you there.” “Rule number five: To be determined later.” From behind me, a young man snorted. “Psycho.” Amber wheeled around, strutting up to him. “What was that? Think you can mess with me because I’m a girl?” She put her hands on her hips. “We girls are delicate flowers, you know? We need gentle care and protection. I bet you don’t even have a girlfriend, do you? Ugly, bad temper – no wonder no one wants you.” The young man bristled, about to rise, but his friend quickly pulled him back down. “Don’t bother with her. We’ll deal with this after we get home.” Amber continued her tirade for a while longer, until the other passengers, almost in unison, pulled out their headphones and slipped them on. I followed suit, hoping to catch some sleep and escape the madness. I’d barely drifted off when I felt a tugging at my bag. My eyes snapped open. Amber’s nephew, Leo, was there, his dirty little hands yanking hard at the character keychain hanging from my purse. When his hands couldn’t yank it off, he resorted to using his teeth. I was just about to get up when he suddenly plopped to the floor and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. “She kicked me! She kicked me!” Everyone who had been sleeping jolted awake. Amber rushed over, wrapping an arm around her nephew, her eyes glinting with calculated malice. “You kicked my nephew! You owe me money, right now!” She pulled Leo closer, her voice rising. “If you’ve hurt him, can you even afford the damages?” Little Leo, meanwhile, wailed dramatically. “I don’t want money! I want that toy! I want the toy!” The series was red-hot right now, and the one on my bag was a rare, hidden edition, easily worth a couple of hundred dollars on the resell market. Seeing the adorable rabbit now, slobber-covered and dirt-stained from the kid’s teeth, was utterly frustrating. But I had several more at home, and I just wanted to get through the rest of this awful trip smoothly. So, I unclipped the rabbit keychain and tossed it into the boy’s lap. He finally quieted down, clutching the rabbit and showing it off to Amber, who promptly snatched it and stuffed it into her own bag. That bag seemed to be a repository for all the things she’d forcibly taken from people. Leo, meanwhile, rummaged inside, pulled out a bag of chips, and munched away noisily. I just shook my head. A while later, the bus finally pulled into a service area. I got off to use the restroom, but when I returned, I found my carry-on bag being stomped on by Leo. The bag was full of expensive cosmetics I’d chosen not to take with me because of the weight, and now they were all shattered. My fists clenched. The anger that had been simmering all day began to boil. I marched straight to the small police station located beside the service area and filed a report. The station was swamped and understaffed due to the holiday rush, but they assured me an officer would be dispatched before the bus departed again. I returned to the bus, my bag still a chaotic mess from being ransacked. The fury in my heart intensified as I began to inspect the damage. Amber chose that moment to return from the restroom. Her nephew instantly held up a bottle of perfume. Amber’s eyes lit up. She snatched the bottle. “I told you I get motion sickness. I hate strong smells. This perfume is confiscated.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Your nephew destroyed my things. Are you going to pay for them, or buy me a new set?” Amber acted completely nonchalant. “He’s just a kid, he didn’t mean it! Why are you, an adult, nitpicking with a child?” “Besides,” she added with a dismissive wave, “your stuff looked like cheap fakes anyway. Probably not even worth a hundred bucks total. Are you trying to extort me?” My cosmetics were all high-end, genuine brands. Even just one of my foundations cost hundreds, not counting the rest. Amber, on the other hand, was decked out in obvious knock-offs. As she argued with me, her nephew was sitting in my seat, drawing all over my bag with my eyebrow pencil. Not only that, he stuck his finished chewing gum right on my bus seat. Amber just shrugged. “He’s just a kid. Go on, hit him if you dare? You wouldn’t.” Without a word, I grabbed the kid, gave him a swift, disciplinary swat on the rear, and he instantly burst into wails. Amber started to lunge forward, intending to rescue him, but I shot her a look. “You want a swat too?” She immediately bit her lip, holding back. Just then, a police officer finally arrived. Amber, the queen of pre-emptive strikes, immediately started yelling. “Officer! There’s a lunatic on our bus! She just assaulted my nephew!” “He’s just a kid, what does he know? This old hag just attacked him! Look what she did to my nephew!” The officer glanced at me, then turned his gaze to Amber. “He’s just a kid who doesn’t know better. What’s your excuse?” He folded his arms. “Willful destruction of private property. Do you know how many days that can get you in detention?” Amber’s face drained of color instantly. I didn’t want her detained, just compensation for my losses. I pulled out my mobile payment QR code. “These items were half-used, so you can pay half price.” My damaged items totaled around ten thousand dollars. With the officer present, Amber grudgingly transferred five thousand dollars to me. She glowered at me as if she wanted to skin me alive, then rolled her eyes and tried to sit back down. I grabbed her arm and firmly pressed her down onto my original seat. The chewing gum her nephew had stuck there? She could enjoy it herself. 3. After the police officer’s visit, Amber remained unusually quiet for the rest of the journey. The other passengers finally breathed a collective sigh of relief; people made video calls, chatted, and shared snacks. Amber kept glaring at me, hunched over her phone, typing furiously. I subtly peeked at her screen, catching a glimpse of a profile picture that looked strangely familiar. My mom texted again, asking where I was. Just ahead was the tour group’s first stop: a large department store. Our family owned it. I texted back: Almost at our store, I can just head home from here. But my mom wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted on sending someone to pick me up. “Your Uncle Frank and the others are already here. Don’t be a bother, just come straight home for dinner, okay?” The bus slowly pulled up to the back entrance of the department store. I was busy texting my mom, so I only got up after everyone else had already disembarked. But then Amber suddenly moved close, took a pair of small scissors from her pocket, and snip! Through my tank top strap. The holiday heat had been intense on the bus, so I’d shed my jacket much earlier, leaving me in just my inner camisole. Both the camisole strap and my bra strap, which were quite thin, were cleanly severed. I looked at her, my gaze icy, the anger accumulated throughout the day reaching its breaking point. “Are you seriously trying to get yourself killed?” Amber puffed out her chest, looking even more arrogant. “Let me tell you, my boyfriend is a cop. This is his hometown! You won’t get away with messing with me here!” She glanced around, lowering her voice slightly. “We still have the return trip, you know. If you keep crossing me, I’ll make your life hell. But, if you buy one piece of lingerie, we can call it even.” We were in the parking lot, and I instinctively clutched my chest, trying to cover myself. “How much?” She smirked triumphantly. “Not much. Just nineteen thousand.” Nineteen thousand dollars, and she called it “not much”? She was trying to pull a scam right on my family’s turf! I scoffed, a humorless, angry laugh. At that moment, a group of men started gathering around us. Amber’s eyes lit up when she saw them. “See?” she hissed triumphantly. “If you don’t buy it, I’ll have these men take you away!” I swept my gaze over the men’s faces, and my smile broadened. “Uncle Frank, Uncle Bob, Uncle Jim, Cousin Mark!” I called out, my voice clear and cheerful. “You guys came to pick me up!”

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After seven years together, Victor Caldwell and I were finally getting married. I was excitedly knee-deep in wedding preparations, when I accidentally found our chosen venue double-booked. Or so I thought. My meticulously planned venue had been taken over, and I complained to Victor, only for him to brutally cut me off. “Are you ever going to stop nagging? It’s just a venue. If this one doesn’t work, we’ll find another.” I stared at Victor, stunned, completely bewildered by his sudden, icy attitude. He stopped contacting me first. And whenever I reached out, all I got were terse, clipped replies about how busy he was. It wasn’t until ten days before the wedding that I went to his office to find him. His voice drifted through the closed door: “Amber, I promise you, on the wedding day, all our guests will be at this venue. Her side will only have a bride.” “I haven’t changed the address on the invitations.” I stood there, frozen, the world tilting beneath my feet. So it wasn’t a double-booked venue. It was a stolen groom. 1. I stumbled home, my mind a blank, my heart shattered. I bumped into countless pedestrians along the way, oblivious. “Hey, lunatic! Can’t you watch where you’re going?” “Is she an idiot? Bad luck!” “Blind? Donate your eyes if you don’t need ’em!” My body stiffened at the insults, and I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “Yes,” I mumbled, “I am blind.” A flicker of surprise crossed the person’s face, and they walked past me without another word. They probably misunderstood. But I didn’t care to explain. Rain began to pour down, drenching me in an instant. Yet, I felt nothing, the icy drops tracing paths down my face. By midnight, I was predictably burning with a fever. In my feverish haze, my phone buzzed. “Chloe,” Victor’s slurred voice mumbled through the speaker. “Can you bring me a hangover remedy at The Golden Canary Social Club? These guys have gotten me totally wasted.” I froze, instinctively reaching for the medicine cabinet. Then, I caught myself, stopping mid-motion. “I’m sorry,” I rasped, my throat raw. “I have a fever. I can’t.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a chorus of teasing voices. “Victor, you lost! Looks like you’ll have to buy your own hangover cure.” A sweet, lilting voice, sickeningly familiar, chirped into the phone. It was Amber. I let out a soft, mocking scoff, and the line disconnected abruptly. Later that night, Victor stumbled home, reeking of alcohol. He yanked me, sleeping soundly in bed, to a sitting position. “Are you out of your mind? My friends were getting me hammered, and you just made excuses instead of bringing me a remedy?” He swayed, leaning over me. “Do you even care about me, your boyfriend, anymore?!” The heavy scent of liquor cleared my head a little. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to steady myself. “I said,” I enunciated slowly, “I have a fever.” The deliberate emphasis made Victor actually look at me. My flushed cheeks were enough of an explanation. He fell silent for a moment, then muttered softly, “I’m sorry. I’ll sleep in the study.” I let out a cold laugh and collapsed back onto the bed. Sleep was now impossible. From the study next door, I could hear hushed giggles and whispers. Annoyingly loud. I spent the entire night wide awake. The next morning, Victor emerged from the study, looking refreshed, with Amber trailing behind him. The moment he saw me, Victor’s smile faltered. He instinctively put some distance between himself and Amber. “Morning.” “The party broke up late last night,” he stammered, “and Amber didn’t have her keys, so I just brought her back here.” I nodded, sidestepping him and heading for the door. Victor grabbed my wrist. I looked at him, bewildered. He stuttered, “Where are you going? Aren’t we supposed to go wedding dress shopping today?” I paused, then turned and smiled. “Why don’t you two go? I have something urgent at work.” Victor seemed to visibly relax, a genuine smile forming on his lips. “Okay, then. Amber always has impeccable taste; I’m sure she’ll pick something we both love.” “Of course,” I agreed blandly. I informed Victor’s family and friends about the change of venue, then notified my own loved ones that the wedding was off. After that, I turned off my phone. I simply couldn’t bring myself to explain it all, one person at a time. Instead, I headed straight to the passport office. I’d already secured a spot for overseas study ages ago. But being a newlywed, I hadn’t wanted to be separated from Victor for so long, so I’d put it on hold. Now, with the wedding clearly not happening, I absolutely couldn’t give up this opportunity. As I walked out of the building, I saw Victor and Amber emerging from City Hall next door. Both of them were beaming. And then our eyes met, and all three of us froze. “What are you doing here?” I asked, cutting Victor off before he could speak, wanting to control the narrative. Victor flinched, his gaze instinctively darting away. 2. Amber extended her hand, linking it through Victor’s arm. She smirked triumphantly. “Victor came with me to take care of some business.” I merely glanced at her, my voice flat. “Congratulations.” Victor tried to follow, to explain something, but his outstretched hand found only air. “Chloe!” I didn’t stop, quickening my pace. That evening, Victor returned, with Amber again. I looked at them impassively. “Do you want me to give you the master bedroom? I don’t think the study is big enough for two.” My words seemed to strike a nerve with Victor. His face darkened. “Chloe! Do you have to be so cutting?” He threw his hands up. “What’s happened to you? You’re acting like a shrew!” I found myself laughing, a dry, humorless sound. It seemed I hadn’t said anything, hadn’t done anything, yet the label of “shrew” had already been slapped on me. I pointed at my head, still smiling faintly. “I’ve worn so many hats lately, I don’t even know which one I should be wearing anymore.” Victor looked uncomfortable for a split second. Then, a stinging slap across my face. “Don’t push your luck! Don’t forget, this is my house! You eat my food, drink my wine, live under my roof! And you have the nerve to talk to me like that?” He grabbed my arm, shoving me towards the door. “Get out! Get out of my house!” He pushed me out before I could even grab my phone. My face paled, and by the time I registered what was happening, I was locked out. “Victor Caldwell! Give me my phone!” I pounded on the door frantically. But the door remained stubbornly shut. It was autumn, and the air was crisp. I rubbed my arms, goosebumps rising on my skin. This may have been the place I’d grown up in, but at that moment, I was homeless. Penniless and without a roof over my head, my only option was to walk to the office. By the time I arrived, I was utterly exhausted, collapsing onto my desk and falling asleep instantly. It wasn’t until the next morning, with the help of my colleagues, that I managed to buy a new phone. I immediately dialed Victor’s number. It wasn’t him who answered. Amber’s voice came through the receiver. “Victor, it’s an unknown number.” Victor sounded annoyed. “If you don’t know it, hang up.” But Amber didn’t hang up. She probably guessed it was me. “Victor, maybe you should apologize to Chloe? She is a girl, after all… she needs to save face…” An innocent facade. That was my assessment of her. I let out a soft, mocking laugh. It was a terribly clumsy trick. Yet, Victor’s next words froze me. “Why should I care about her? She has nowhere else to go in this city anyway.” He scoffed. “She doesn’t even have her phone. She won’t last long before she comes crawling back.” The line clicked dead. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to process it. So. He knew. I let out a bitter, mirthless laugh. I had thought my heart was numb, incapable of further pain, but a sharp ache still pierced through me. I immediately redialed the number. “Why are you calling again? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Amber’s impatient voice snapped. “Don’t you know how pathetic you are, clinging to Victor like a bad rash?” I ignored Amber’s stream of insults. I just smiled faintly. “Let’s meet. I have something for you.” Amber sounded suspicious. After a moment of hesitation, she agreed. “Southside Cafe.” I hung up and headed straight out. When the appointed time came, Amber was nowhere to be seen at the Southside Cafe. 3. “Chloe! Are you trying to bully Amber again?!” Victor’s impatient voice rang out. “I told you, there’s nothing going on between me and Amber. Why are you still causing her trouble?” Then, a sharp, stinging slap across my face. My cheek burned. I let out a derisive laugh, looking at Victor as if he were a complete stranger. “Hitting people first, without knowing the full story – is that the Caldwell family’s ‘breeding’?” Victor’s face turned an ugly shade. He pursed his lips, seemingly at a loss for a comeback. But since Amber hadn’t shown up, I didn’t need to hand over what I had for her. “If I truly wanted to cause her trouble, would I be calling your phone?” I asked, a hint of disdain in my voice. “Did I somehow know she’d answer your phone? That’s laughable.” I took a step closer, slowly advancing on Victor. His face grew even more distorted, and he instinctively stumbled backward. I found it utterly boring, turned on my heel, and walked away. Victor didn’t seek me out again, but the wedding day was drawing nearer. With only one day left, he, in his great mercy, sent over a necklace. No wrapping, no box. Just a bare, tarnished necklace. “Didn’t you love this necklace?” he said, holding it out. “I bought it back for you.” A sudden, sharp humor bubbled inside me. I looked up, meeting Victor’s eyes, my expression serious. “If you think I’d care for a secondhand necklace that was originally mine, then was stolen by Amber, and now you’re ‘buying it back’ for me, then you severely underestimate me.” Victor looked guilty, his face flushed. He braced himself, gritting his teeth. “Why are you being so unreasonable?” “You have what you wanted most, and I’m here by your side. What else could you possibly want?” he pressed, stepping closer. “Tomorrow, we’ll be husband and wife.” I gave him a half-smile, saying nothing. “I understand,” I replied flatly, then turned and walked away. “Where have you been staying these past few days? Your ID is at home. You can’t possibly be…” He started, reaching out to grab my hand. For a moment, I felt a flash of shame. Then, anger surged through me. I yanked my hand away from Victor, my eyes filled with an unspoken pain. “Victor Caldwell! If you knew I had nowhere to go, why did you kick me out?!” “Did you really…?” His gaze darted away, guilt etched on his face. He turned his head. “I thought you’d give in to me after half a day.” At that moment, I was just tired. “Forget it,” I mumbled. I didn’t want to deal with him anymore, and strode purposefully forward. But just as I reached the ground floor of my office building, an uninvited guest was waiting for me. “Chloe.” I instinctively turned and saw Amber. “You got the necklace, right? Consider it a little compensation from Victor and me. You loved it, didn’t you?” I looked at Amber. Around her neck, glinting, was “The Eye of the Ocean,” a diamond necklace recently sold at auction for hundreds of millions. Catching my gaze, Amber tilted her head haughtily, her hand brushing the necklace. “Victor said you liked that old necklace, so he traded ‘The Eye of the Ocean’ for it.” Her tone was ridiculously smug. “It’s just trash,” I said, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Keep it yourself.” Amber instantly exploded, her face contorted in impotent rage. I ignored her. The next day, I boarded my flight overseas, ignoring the frantic, endless calls from those mad dogs – Amber and Victor. Just before boarding, a powerful shove sent me sprawling onto the ground. “You’re ditching our wedding for this?!” 4. Amber, dressed in a wedding gown, had tears in her eyes, looking utterly pitiful. As for Victor, he was absolutely seething. I glanced at their attire; they both looked a mess, splattered with what looked like mud or trash. “Tsk. Isn’t this the wedding you two dreamed of?” I asked, a mocking lilt in my voice. “What? Couldn’t go through with it without me?” Amber seemed to snap. She lunged, pinning me to the ground, her weight crushing me. “Do you know you ruined me?!” she shrieked. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be the happiest bride today!” A searing pain flared in my neck. Suffocation clawed at me. Victor stood nearby, watching me with a complex expression, making no move to help. After a few tense moments, airport security finally noticed my predicament. “Hey! What are you doing?” one shouted. “If you don’t stop, we’re calling the police!” Several security guards rushed over, pulling Amber off me. I finally gasped for air, relief flooding through me. I quickly thanked the guards, then sprinted towards the boarding gate, getting on the plane as fast as possible. The moment I turned my phone on after landing, my best friend, Lynn, called. “Chloe, you weren’t there today, but you have no idea how awkward it was!” Lynn exclaimed. “All the guests were tricked; the wedding venue was empty!” “Victor Sr. was furious,” she continued, “he called Victor and demanded he show up. And that’s when the whole ‘switching brides’ thing was exposed right there! Victor and Amber got a serious beatdown.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. I’d expected something like this. Victor Sr. was obsessed with appearances; he would never tolerate such a public humiliation, especially switching brides for a mistress. “I saw them,” I said, a dark amusement in my voice. “They looked like hell. Amber even tried to kill me, but security stopped her.” Lynn gasped, horrified. Her concerned questions warmed my heart. “But it’s a shame,” she finally said. “I didn’t fly all this way just to see that circus. I just wanted to see you.” I fell silent, a bitter taste in my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. Lynn seemed to smile faintly. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I just want you to be happy. Once you’re settled, I’ll come visit you.” The moment I hung up, the full weight of being in a foreign land settled over me. But without those annoying people in my life, things were surprisingly peaceful. Six months later, old friends started messaging me, one by one, checking in. This sudden, strange outpouring of concern surprised me. I tried to probe, but I couldn’t get any solid information. Outside, the rain poured down, and my heart felt just as restless. Knock, knock, knock, knock— A violent pounding on my door made me jump. I crept cautiously towards it, my voice trembling slightly. “Who’s there?” Through the peephole, I saw no one. My hair stood on end. All sorts of terrible possibilities flooded my mind. “Open the door! I want to come home!” A familiar voice sent a jolt of pure dread through me. It was Victor! “This isn’t your home! Get lost!” I yelled, my voice rough and angry. I’d tried to alter my voice as much as possible, and definitely wasn’t speaking my native language. But the person outside sounded delighted. “Chloe, it’s you, isn’t it?” “I know it’s your voice! I came for you! Let’s stay together, okay?” Victor’s voice was filled with a desperate, childlike joy.

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1 My husband, Ethan Beckett, was a man of strict habits, often distant. He didn’t seem to care for me. Every night, he’d button his shirt all the way to the top before bed, and, just to top it off, he’d slip a self-improvement guide under my pillow. I’d finally reached my breaking point. I was about to hand him the divorce papers when, suddenly, a string of comments appeared before my eyes: [Poor Dragon Lord, about to be heartlessly abandoned during his mating season.] [The clueless female lead is blind as a bat! That’s not a self-improvement guide he’s slipping under your pillow, it’s ‘Beastman’s 108 Positions’!] [Female lead, why don’t you just touch him? The Dragon Lord’s… well, his ‘firepower’ is about to explode! He’s only holding back because he’s afraid of scaring you!] I froze, my hand hovering, the divorce papers momentarily forgotten. Then, I tentatively reached out and brushed my hand over his abs. … Ethan’s expression remained indifferent, his amber eyes gazing at me with a calm, almost serene, detachment. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice still that familiar, cool tone. The comments continued to scroll: [Is the male lead a ninja? So much self-control, and it’s already the third day of his mating season.] [What’s the male lead doing wrong? He’s only holding back and going for a ‘pure’ romance because he’s terrified of scaring the female lead away. He’s absolutely crazy about her!] [It’s no wonder the female lead thinks the male lead doesn’t like her. Tonight, out of spite, she’ll go to a club to find a male escort and get caught! That’s how the male lead and the true female lead finally meet.] What?! A male escort? And getting caught? Don’t jump to conclusions about things that haven’t even happened! My gaze drifted casually away from the comments. “N-nothing at all,” I stammered, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “You just had something on your shirt. I was just wiping it off for you.” Ethan said nothing, simply staring at me for a long time. So long, I was convinced he’d realized I wanted a divorce. I started to nervously crumple the divorce papers in my hand, but then Ethan picked up his bathrobe and walked into the bathroom. My spirits plummeted. I’d only touched him, and he immediately went to wash. Was he truly that disgusted by me? The comments, however, were anything but calm: [Silly girl, he’s not disgusted by you at all, he’s, hehehe…] [Whoa, whoa, whoa! The male lead finally couldn’t hold it in! The female lead just touched him, and now he needs a cold shower!] [Ah! The male lead is whispering the female lead’s name in the bathroom!] My cheeks burned. Was this the comment section or a private chamber? An hour later, Ethan emerged from the bathroom, his voice much clearer, less strained. “The Beckett Foundation is hosting a charity gala tonight. I need you to accompany me.” I frowned. “Oh, I don’t know…” Those galas were always exhausting and dull. Ethan reached out and gently tugged my sleeve, his voice softening, almost pleading. “Just this once.” The comments went wild: [Ugh, it’s a shame the male lead is lowering himself and begging, but the female lead still refuses and goes to find a male escort at a club!] [The Dragon Lord, uncomforted during his mating season, then finds his wife flirting with an escort! Heartbroken, he’s ultimately ‘rescued’ by the true female lead, and their romance begins!] [Female lead, just agree! If you don’t, you two are doomed tonight!] [Not only doomed, but without the male lead’s protection, she’ll be tormented half to death by his obsessed admirer!] A shiver ran down my spine. My refusal caught in my throat, then twisted into a reluctant agreement: “Alright. Just this once, I’ll indulge you.” The comments exploded: [Wait, what? How did the female lead agree?!] Ethan seemed to let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. Normally, I wouldn’t have noticed. But now, with the comments incessantly reminding me that “a dragon’s Adam’s apple is a sensitive spot,” I braved a second, closer look. And that’s when I noticed it. His eyes were subtly reddened at the corners, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor, and a suspicious dampness seemed to cling to him. Impulsively, I reached out and gently brushed his Adam’s apple. Ethan flinched violently, his breathing suddenly ragged, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a muffled sound. “You, you…” Frightened, I pulled my hand back. “I’m sorry! You don’t like it, I won’t touch you again!” His reaction was nothing like the “begging for rubs” the comments had described! 2 The comments erupted in a furious barrage: [Female lead, do you even know how to touch him? If you don’t, let me! This isn’t ‘dislike,’ Chloe, this is pure excitement from Ethan Beckett!] [Ethan Beckett’s inner monologue: My wife touched my Adam’s apple! She touched me! Do I have a chance to be a father?!] I looked suspiciously at the comments, then back at Ethan. The next second, he suddenly grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly against his neck, his voice muffled. “I… I like it.” My titanium-reinforced eyesight nearly popped out of my head. At my core, I was a total simp for good looks. The moment I first saw Ethan Beckett three years ago, my heart had completely fluttered. A year ago, I’d heard the Beckett family was arranging a marriage. I had fought my way through a host of wealthy socialites, determined to marry into the Beckett family. Who would have thought? We got married, but I ended up a de facto widow. This man either slept in the study or the guest room. On the rare occasions he returned to our bedroom, he still maintained a distance as vast as the Milky Way. If it were just that, I might have endured it. After all, seeing Ethan Beckett’s handsome face every day was a small consolation. But these past few days! In the middle of the night, he’d started pulling me into his arms, then he’d groan and mumble someone else’s name. He’d just keep repeating “Babe, Babe.” My name, damn it, is Chloe, not ‘Babe’! I’d had enough. This morning, I was absolutely determined to file for divorce. But now… I looked at the man before me, his face flushed crimson from my touch. I rubbed my chin with my free hand, thinking, maybe a few more days wouldn’t hurt. Based on the comments, who knew, maybe we’d finally get to share a bed soon. At such a critical moment, let Ethan Beckett go to some other “true” female lead? Never! Ethan’s body stiffened, a flicker of embarrassment and irritation crossing his usually cool face. “Don’t do that…” He lowered his eyes, which seemed to glisten, like a wet puppy’s. “Touching my chin like that, it’s like petting a dog. It’s… it’s undignified.” Startled, I pulled my hand back, forcing a sheepish laugh. “Oh, sorry, I just zoned out for a second. Would you believe me if I said I meant to touch my own chin?” Ethan’s face darkened, and he scowled. “Zoning out? Were you thinking about another man in front of me again?” His gaze was stubborn. “I saw you touch someone else last time. Why don’t you want to touch me?” He mumbled, almost to himself, “Even though I don’t like it, you can’t not touch…” He pressed his lips together, swallowing the rest of his sentence. I was surprised by how much he was talking today, and a little exasperated. “You say you don’t like it, but then you insist I touch you?” “What on earth do you want?!” Comments: [The female lead is so stubborn, she’s practically pushing the male lead straight into the true female lead’s arms.] Ethan, offended by my crude language, turned and walked away. The comments sighed: [Now that he’s gone, things won’t be the same when they meet again.] 3 [I’m rooting for them so hard. If only the female lead could read minds, they wouldn’t have so many misunderstandings.] [Female lead, you’re so confused! No matter how good a male escort is, can he be as good as Ethan Beckett? As handsome? As… lasting?] Lasting or not, how would I know? I haven’t tried. And who said I was looking for a male escort? I’m going to make Ethan Beckett a loving wife’s lunch right now. Once it’s ready, I’ll take it to his office. I want to see if this guy truly becomes as passionate as the comments claim, just from a touch. While cooking, my dad suddenly called. “Sweetheart, I heard Ethan Beckett is taking you to a gala tonight?” I hummed in agreement, arranging boiled corn kernels into a heart shape. Dad, ever the concerned parent, lectured me earnestly: “Honey, don’t go messing around tonight, okay? And delete those numbers on your phone, don’t keep too many of those guys.” I paused, realizing he was referring to the contacts I’d added from a party with friends a few days ago. “Okay, Dad, got it. Can’t talk now, I’m making Ethan Beckett a lunchbox. Gotta deliver it soon.” Perhaps because my long-held crush finally had a chance to see the light of day, my hands were trembling with excitement by the time I reached the lobby of Beckett Industries. The comments suddenly flooded the screen: [Why is the female lead here at the office now? If I remember correctly, the true female lead is here today to interview for a secretary position, probably in Ethan Beckett’s office right now!] [This is some kind of alternative dumpster fire… I’m almost afraid to watch…] This wouldn’t do! I immediately quickened my pace, heading into the building. As I tried to enter the elevator, the front desk receptionist stopped me. “Hello, do you have an appointment?” An appointment? “No, but I…” The receptionist, Ms. Rogers, cut me off before I could finish. “If you don’t have an appointment, you’ll need to wait in the lobby. I can schedule one for you.” Another receptionist, younger, sniffed dismissively. “Ms. Rogers, don’t be so soft-hearted. Aren’t there enough women throwing themselves at Mr. Beckett? Why help her make an appointment? If you ask me, anyone trying to get ahead with their looks should be kicked out.” Ms. Rogers frowned at her. “Don’t talk nonsense.” I sighed, pulling out my phone and calling Ethan Beckett’s executive assistant, Mr. Davies. “I’m at the front desk. Could you please come get me?” Two minutes later, under the stunned gaze of the receptionists, I followed Mr. Davies into the private elevator reserved for the CEO. When we reached the office door, before even stepping inside, I heard voices. A soft, feminine voice exclaimed: “Mr. Beckett, what’s wrong?” “Oh my goodness, you’re burning up! Do you need help?” 4 Ethan Beckett’s cool voice followed, tinged with exhaustion. “No, I don’t. Don’t touch me. Please leave.” The sound of shattering glass followed, and the woman’s voice rose. “How can I leave you alone like this? Don’t worry, I’ll take you to the hospital.” Ethan Beckett’s voice held a hint of anger. “I said don’t touch me. Stay away from me.” Mr. Davies glanced at me, a somewhat awkward expression on his face, but he still pushed the door open for me. The office was a mess. A woman with flushed cheeks was supporting Ethan Beckett’s arm. Her pretty, doe-like eyes met mine, filled with a hint of timidity, and she spoke blushingly. “Mr. Beckett is ill. As a secretary candidate, it’s my duty to take care of him.” Mr. Davies’ face hardened. He stepped forward himself and took over supporting Ethan Beckett. “You haven’t passed your interview yet. You’re not needed here at the moment. Please leave.” Ethan Beckett looked terrible; the hair at his temples was drenched with sweat. He looked at me, wanting to speak, but only managed a pained groan. Mr. Davies prompted me. “Mrs. Beckett, please come closer.” He added, his voice soft, “Mr. Beckett… he really needs you right now.” I hesitated, a bit afraid to step forward, feeling like something momentous would happen if I did. But then I reconsidered. At worst, we’d end up in bed right then and there. Isn’t that what I married him for? What was there to be afraid of? I braced myself, walked over, took Mr. Davies’ place, and supported Ethan Beckett. He was burning hot. The moment I touched him, he immediately pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on my shoulder, his breathing ragged and chaotic. Mr. Davies closed the door and left. Ethan Beckett, unsettled, rubbed against me, like a lost, disheveled dog. [What’s going on? The male lead kicked the true female lead out?] [Isn’t it the true female lead’s job to help the male lead through this? How’d it switch to the female lead (me)?] [Female lead (me) is fine too! Is this car about to hit the highway? Female lead, don’t let Ethan Beckett, that dragon, get away!] I stiffened, not daring to move. “Um, I came to bring you lunch. Are you hungry? Want some?” [Ugh, no! The Dragon Lord only wants to eat you, you stupid female lead!] [Don’t ask him if he’s hungry! Kiss him right now! Only intense… activity… will satisfy him!] [Are you all crazy? If the female lead satisfies the male lead, what about the true female lead? The official pair is true love!] [Who cares about true love? I just want to see some action, otherwise, my VIP subscription will be wasted! Female lead, go for it!] The comments made my heart pound with a mix of excitement and lust. I was just about to cup Ethan Beckett’s face and force a kiss when he pushed me away, looking as if I’d offended him. “Apologies. I need to compose myself. I won’t hug you like that again.” I saw red. He’d hugged me, he’d rubbed against me, and now he was saying he wouldn’t hug me again? What did he mean? Was I uncomfortable to hold? “So,” I challenged, narrowing my eyes, “should I go call that secretary back in?” I waited for his answer. Suddenly, a cold, scaly pressure coiled around my calf. I looked down, and nearly fainted. 5 A thick, dark dragon tail, its scales gleaming under the sunlight. I trembled, raising a shaking hand. “You, you, you…” Do monsters not hide anymore? In broad daylight, he’s wrapping his tail around me? Ethan Beckett’s body stiffened for a second, and he reached down to pull his tail away. “I’m sorry, I…” I wasn’t listening. It was too terrifying. The tail was horrifying, and Ethan Beckett’s eyes had transformed into inky green vertical slits. For a moment, I felt like I was looking at Godzilla from Ultraman. I turned to run, but he yanked me back. The dragon tail coiled around my ankle again, and Ethan Beckett’s burning hot body pressed against my back. His hoarse voice, like a wet, pleading puppy, whimpered: “Don’t be afraid of me, please.” [Isn’t the male lead supposed to reveal his beast form tonight? How is he already…?] [His soft, sweet wife is right in front of him, he just couldn’t hold it in, could he?] [That’s what you get for being so reserved and secretive! Now it’s exposed directly, and you almost scared your wife to death.] [Doesn’t this mean it’s office play unlocked? Waiting eagerly!] I didn’t dare move, trying to sound calm. “I didn’t see anything. I won’t say anything, just don’t…” Before I could finish, sharp teeth lightly grazed the skin on my neck. It didn’t hurt, but it tickled, and I felt even more terrified. “Don’t scare me. Put your teeth away.” I pleaded, my voice thin. “I’m just a normal person; I can’t survive a bite from you.” Ethan Beckett was truly ruthless. I just wanted to sleep with him, but he seemed to want my life! His ragged breathing hitched, and the pressure on my neck vanished. Ethan Beckett released me, steadied his breathing, and said softly, “You can go. I won’t force you.” I bolted. I’d been terrified of Godzilla from Ultraman ever since I was a kid. I’d thought, based on the comments, that my lust might outweigh my fear. Ethan Beckett was so devilishly handsome, I was willing to accept him even if he was a dragon. But after today, I completely gave up. The moment his tail appeared, I started trembling. How was I supposed to handle this? I couldn’t! [No? Female lead, you just left the male lead like that?] [He couldn’t even hold back his beast form! Leaving him like that, aren’t you basically signing his death warrant?] [It seems that if beastmen don’t… relieve themselves… during mating season, it’s very dangerous. They can get high fevers and convulsions.] My steps faltered. My heart began to churn with conflict again. Ethan Beckett… would he be in danger? Maybe I should go back and check? I turned and walked back towards Ethan Beckett’s office. The comments instantly boiled over: [Here it comes, here it comes, the famous scene is about to happen!] [I just pray the female lead sees this famous scene and doesn’t blame the male lead.]

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The moment King Alaric announced his intention to crown Charlotte, his ‘fated one,’ as Queen, the System declared my mission a failure. Nearly a decade I’d spent trapped in this realm, enduring untold hardships, all to win the hearts of three men. Yet, the Prophesied Maiden merely had to appear, and effortlessly, she shattered every ounce of my effort. The System informed me that despite my failure, meaning no reward awaited me in the real world, it could, however, send me home. And so, with a singular burning desire to return, I embarked on a series of elaborate attempts to end my life. But just as my consciousness began to fray, fading into oblivion, a desperate cry echoed in my ears. 1 The news of King Alaric’s impending marriage to Charlotte spread like wildfire, painting the entire Royal Palace with a veneer of joyous anticipation. In stark contrast, my own chambers – not officially a prison, but certainly feeling more desolate than any—the Shadow Wing, became a tomb of profound sorrow. This realm, I knew, was a fractured tapestry, a ‘fated world’ where the core narrative had utterly unraveled. I, Elara, had been chosen by the System to mend its broken script, to guide three pivotal men and restore the cosmic balance. Succeed, and a hundred million crowns awaited me in the real world. Day after painstaking day, I had toiled, meticulously building their affections. The affection meters were agonizingly close to reaching one hundred percent when Charlotte, the ‘Prophesied Maiden’ who should never have existed, materialized. For her sake, the three men turned against me, their former devotion twisted into bitter animosity. They confined me to these secluded chambers, leaving me to languish like a forgotten spirit, half-dead, merely existing. Today, as King Alaric proclaimed Charlotte his Queen, the System finally succumbed to despair. “Host,” it sighed, its voice laced with regret, “I regret to inform you that your mission has failed.” “Though the hundred million crowns are lost to you, know this: once your physical form perishes, I can transport you back to your true world.” Though wealth was tempting, the call of life—my true life—was infinitely louder. As I desperately cast about for a means to escape this living death, a cruel realization dawned: there wasn’t even a single silken cord for a quick, decisive end! Gazing at the swirling snow outside, I gritted my teeth. Still clad in my thin nightgown, I dragged myself out into the frigid air and lay down in the deepening drifts. To freeze to death might not be a dignified end, but compared to the sweet promise of home, it was a trifle. As my body temperature plummeted, my limbs grew stiff, then rigid. When that strange, deceptive warmth began to spread through me in the icy embrace, I knew death was imminent. But in the final flicker of consciousness, a furious roar shattered the encroaching silence: “Elara—!” A searing heat assaulted me, and I struggled to pry open my eyes. Before I could even make sense of my surroundings, a deluge of scalding water crashed over me. The man standing over me wore robes of deep imperial purple, adorned with shimmering gold embroidery. Rage radiated from him in palpable waves. Lord Corbin—the last of the men I was tasked to ‘charm,’ and currently the powerful Lord Regent of the Solaran Kingdom. I remembered our first meeting, years ago, on another day of heavy snowfall. Back then, he was merely a junior scribe, unjustly imprisoned in the Royal Dungeons by King Alaric due to the machinations of a jealous colleague. I had knelt for three grueling hours outside King Alaric’s throne room, begging for his mercy, until the King finally relented and cleared Corbin’s name. I knew Corbin was a man of deep, guarded thoughts. For years, I had been his ‘little sun,’ slowly melting away the hardened shell around his heart. I had truly believed I would win him over completely one day. But then, a year ago, the Spring Royal Hunt shattered all my illusions. During the hunt, Charlotte’s horse bolted, and she fell, seemingly left crippled. Her personal attendant immediately accused me of sabotaging her saddle. King Alaric, without so much as a proper inquiry, banished me to these secluded palace chambers. Master Eldrin, the Grand Seer, whom I had once saved at the risk of my own life, declared me a ‘Harbinger of Doom,’ condemning me to be paraded through the streets for three days, reviled by the populace. And Lord Corbin? He sent his guards daily to slap me for an entire hour. Seeing my eyes flutter open, Corbin’s lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. “The Palace has just announced Charlotte’s elevation to Queen, and you pull this desperate little play, Elara? Do you truly believe His Majesty will suddenly soften his heart?” “Such cheap theatrics! A common streetwalker’s act!” It had been a year since I last saw him. The man who now stood at the pinnacle of power bore no resemblance to the one who once looked at me with tenderness. Now, only contempt filled his gaze. He seemed to relish flinging every vile accusation he could conjure at me. To rouse me, Corbin hadn’t bothered with a Royal Physician. He had simply ordered his guards to douse me with buckets of scalding water. “Today is a day of joy for Charlotte. Summoning a physician now would only bring ill omens upon her!” “Besides, your life is worthless, isn’t it? And look, you’re awake now.” The searing pain in my knees, a constant torment, rendered me speechless. My silence only deepened the oppressive aura around Corbin. Then, with another cold sneer, he drew the ornate sword from his hip and tossed it carelessly a few feet away. “If you want to die,” he spat, “then do it cleanly. Don’t disturb Charlotte or cause her any undue sorrow!” Corbin watched me with a mocking gaze, utterly convinced I wouldn’t dare take my own life. But a flicker of hope ignited within me. Before he could react, I dragged my agonizingly painful legs, seized the sword, and aimed it at my throat. Corbin was right. Freezing to death was a slow, miserable end. A blade to the throat? That was swift. As the sharp steel sliced through my skin, a genuine smile touched my lips. Finally, I could go home. See Mom and Dad again… 2 The gruesome sound of flesh being rent echoed in the frigid air, and a sharp, involuntary gasp of pain escaped me. Just as I was about to drive the blade deeper, an unexpected resistance stopped it, preventing it from piercing further. Warm blood splattered onto my face, and I opened my eyes in disbelief. Corbin had seized the blade with his bare hand, blood gushing from his palm like a winding river. I caught a fleeting glimpse of panic in his eyes, but before I could truly register it, he wrenched the sword from my grasp. “Elara, haven’t you put on enough of a show?! To burden Charlotte with ill omens, you’d even disregard your own life? You truly are beyond ruthless!” Though Corbin had intervened in time, the blade had still grazed my neck. I clutched my bleeding wound, a bitter sneer lacing my voice. “Ruthless, am I? Then why, Lord Corbin, did you stop me? Why didn’t you just let me die?!” At my challenge, Corbin’s lips pressed into a tight line, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. But quickly, contempt returned to his gaze. “Your movements were clumsy just now, weren’t they? Were you not waiting for me to intervene? If you truly wished to die, Elara, no one could have stopped you!” His words ignited a furious, derisive laugh within me. “Clumsy movements? My knees are shattered, Lord Corbin! And for whom did I shatter them?!” Those three agonizing hours kneeling in the snow had left my knees with an irreversible affliction. Back then, Corbin had stood by my sickbed, promising me, word for word: “My Elara, from this day forward, I will be your legs.” Years had passed, and now, he had clearly forgotten that vow. As if a forgotten memory stirred within him, Corbin’s hand clenched into a tight fist. “If you know the agony of crippled legs,” he retorted, his voice strained, “then why did you cripple Charlotte?!” Hearing him still convinced of my guilt, still clinging to the narrative that I was the orchestrator of Charlotte’s misfortune, I closed my eyes in weary resignation. Noticing the blood still trickling from my neck, Corbin roughly pulled me into his arms. “Charlotte’s coronation is almost upon us. If you die, you’ll only bring ill luck upon her celebrations.” He spoke with brutal pragmatism, then, disregarding my struggles, dragged me directly to a grand hall in the southernmost part of the Royal Palace. The path grew increasingly familiar, and a grim realization dawned: Corbin was taking me to Master Eldrin, the Grand Seer of Solara. Inside the Seer’s Sanctum, Master Eldrin stood, robed in flowing white, an ethereal figure reminiscent of a celestial being. He was meticulously grinding herbs in a mortar. Hearing footsteps, he assumed it was a palace attendant, and his voice held a gentle, almost tender quality. “Take the balm I’ve just prepared to Charlotte. Do not tarry.” However, the moment his eyes landed on me, Master Eldrin’s gentle expression vanished, replaced by stark fury. “You wretched blight! Who permitted you to escape the Shadow Wing?!” Hearing Master Eldrin repeatedly brand me a ‘blight,’ my mind drifted back eight years. The Solaran Kingdom was weakened then, and in a bid for peace, they sent their Crown Prince, Alaric, to my homeland, Veridia, as a hostage. With him came Master Eldrin, the sole heir of the renowned Eldrin family, famed throughout the lands for their prophecies and healing arts. Due to Solara’s diminished standing, both Alaric and Eldrin had endured harsh lives within the Veridian royal court. Master Eldrin, in particular, was often tormented by other princes for his constant fascination with herbs and poultices. One day, Eldrin was lured into an isolated manor where fierce, exotic beasts were kept. I, heedless of my own safety, had drawn my bow and, without hesitation, shot down the wild wolf just as it was about to tear into him. That day, after I helped him to his feet, Eldrin stared at me blankly for a long moment before finally whispering: “Princess, are you the divine being sent from the heavens just for me?” But with Charlotte’s arrival, everything changed. Charlotte, who hailed from the southwestern territories, insisted on keeping venomous insects and serpents within the Seer’s Sanctum, leading to numerous attacks on the palace staff. When I suggested eradicating those dangerous creatures, Charlotte’s eyes welled up, and Eldrin, his brow furrowed, immediately confronted me on her behalf. “Charlotte merely seeks a sense of home within this vast Solaran Palace,” he had snapped. “Why must you be so relentlessly aggressive?!” Later, when Charlotte framed me, Master Eldrin brazenly fabricated a divination, branding me a ‘blight’ and leaving me to be scorned by all. Hearing Corbin’s accusation that I was attempting suicide, Master Eldrin merely cast a cold glance at the wound on my neck. “You would resort to any means to contend with Charlotte,” he sneered. “A woman like you? How could you ever willingly embrace death?” “Corbin, do not be deceived by her…” But before he could finish, I thrust my hand directly into the cage where he kept his venomous pythons. The moment he registered my action, the pestle in Master Eldrin’s hand clattered to the stone floor. 3 True to its nature, the python’s venom was potent. The instant its fangs pierced my wrist, a searing numbness shot through half my arm. Master Eldrin, usually so impassive, for once had a face alight with uncharacteristic panic. He rushed forward, shouting frantically: “Elara, are you mad?! To compete for favor, you’d throw your life away?! Your actions are utterly despicable!” But his curses no longer held any power over me. As breathing became an agonizing struggle, I saw them—Mom and Dad—waiting for me at the end of a long tunnel of pure white light. Seeing my lips turn a deep, ominous purple, Master Eldrin’s eyes hardened with a fierce resolve. With a single, swift stroke, he severed the venomous snake that clung to my arm. “Elara, don’t imagine that dying will absolve you of your supposed debt to Charlotte!” He then swiftly made an incision on my arm and began to suck out the poisoned blood, spitting it onto the floor. At his urgent command, a palace attendant retrieved the ‘Elixir of Nine Revolutions’—a potent draught Eldrin had originally prepared for Charlotte. The ethereal white light receded, and the ornate, carved beams of the Seer’s Sanctum slowly sharpened into focus. Bloody hell, the System never told me killing myself would be this hard! Just as I wallowed in the bitter frustration of yet another failed attempt at death, a booming announcement echoed from outside the hall: “His Majesty, the King, approaches—!” King Alaric stormed in, his eyes blazing. But the moment he saw me lying pale and still on the floor, the fury on his face faltered for a brief, almost imperceptible instant. The next moment, however, he seized my throat with brutal disregard, his voice low and menacing as he spat each word: “Where have you hidden Charlotte?! Why was her handkerchief found in the well near the Shadow Wing?!” At the mention of Charlotte’s disappearance, both Lord Corbin and Master Eldrin blanched simultaneously. Alaric’s grip choked me, and my eyes rolled back, but I refused to utter a single word. If he could truly strangle me to death with his bare hands, I’d be grateful to him for sending me home! Just as the last vestiges of air were squeezed from my lungs, King Alaric abruptly released me, letting me tumble unceremoniously to the floor. His voice was laced with dark malice: “Do you think playing mute will stop me, Elara? If you refuse to speak, I have countless ways to make you suffer!” Gazing at the King, a man consumed by shadows, my mind drifted back to our first meeting, a decade ago. Alaric was the first ‘challenge’ I faced. Back then, he had no inkling he would one day return to Solara, let alone elevate it to the foremost power among the three kingdoms. I had stayed by his side through four years of his life as a hostage in Veridia, teaching him many skills from my own twenty-first-century world. Later, he brought me with him back to Solara. Within the kingdom, we battled the treacherous court together. Externally, I aided him in countering the other two kingdoms. He had once promised me that both his kingdom and his heart were mine. But then Charlotte appeared, and I was subjected to his suspicion, even imprisonment. After his guards roughly bound me to a wooden cross, King Alaric retrieved a long, slender knife from a nearby rack of torture implements. “The Grim Cells hold three hundred and sixty forms of torment,” he murmured, his voice chillingly calm. “One is known as the Thousand Cuts.” “If you refuse to confess, I will use this blade to slice away your flesh, piece by agonizing piece!” The revelation that King Alaric intended to subject me to the Thousand Cuts made my eyes widen in sheer terror. I wanted to die, yes, but swiftly, cleanly. This was a torture reserved for heinous criminals—no human being could endure such agony! Ultimately, the primal fear in my heart utterly overwhelmed my pride. I turned, pleading, to Lord Corbin and Master Eldrin, who stood impassively nearby. “No, please… save me… I can’t bear the Thousand Cuts… Please, save me…” Yet, faced with my desperate plea, neither man moved. Corbin’s voice was sharp with impatience: “If you want us to spare you, then tell us where Charlotte is, now!” “I don’t know!” I shrieked, my voice cracking. “I don’t know, I don’t know! Are you deaf?!” Seeing my continued defiance, King Alaric brought the slender knife down, drawing a decisive cut across my skin. As he made cut after cut, my plain white nightgown slowly became saturated with crimson. The excruciating, tearing pain across my body tormented every nerve ending. “Alaric, if you’re a man, then kill me…” “I will never tell you… where Charlotte is…” To hear me provoke him even as my breath faltered, barely a whisper, sent King Alaric into a blinding rage. His eyes turned bloodshot. With a furious roar, he plunged the small knife deep into my palm. The agonizing, soul-deep pain sent spasms wracking my entire body. Just before darkness swallowed me completely, I saw Charlotte being wheeled into the hall by a palace maid, a vibrant bouquet of crimson winter roses clutched in her arms, her voice light with delight: “Why is everyone gathered here? Look at the beautiful roses I just picked!”

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1 On a long holiday weekend, my twin boy, Lucas, and girl, Luna, innocently asked to go to an amusement park. That simple request derailed my husband, Jude’s, carefully laid plans to accompany his mistress to her prenatal appointment. In what he cruelly termed ‘discipline,’ he abandoned our children in the desolate, unforgiving desert. When I learned of this monstrous act, I immediately fell to my knees outside Jude Vance’s towering corporate headquarters, pleading for mercy. “Please, I beg you, spare our children! The desert is so dangerous, they could die out there at any moment. I promise, I’ll manage them better from now on, we won’t ever trouble you again!” But through the thin walls of his office, I heard it—the low moans of a man engaging in an illicit rendezvous, intertwined with his chillingly indifferent voice. “Get out! They’ve attended elite private academies since birth. If they can’t even handle simple survival, they’re not fit to be my children!” A week later, in the cold stillness of the city morgue, I identified my son and daughter. They had died of dehydration, their tiny bodies ravaged by scavengers, barely recognizable. That very night, the sky over Northwood City erupted in a dazzling display of fireworks, celebrating the impending arrival of his new child. “I can have more obedient children whenever I wish. Did those two disobedient brats finally learn their lesson?!” I forced a desolate, bitter laugh. “They’re… they’re dead.” Seeing the horrific state of my son and daughter, I felt as though the very heavens had caved in. My raw, heart-wrenching wails of agony echoed through the sterile silence of the morgue. “Lucas! Luna! My precious children!” The gut-wrenching agony of losing them felt like a thousand knives twisting in my heart. A sudden, coppery taste filled my mouth, and I collapsed, losing consciousness then and there. When I awoke, a breathtaking cascade of fireworks illuminated the hospital window. Nearby, nurses whispered excitedly. “They say the CEO of Vance Enterprises personally arranged this display to celebrate his beloved’s pregnancy. Such love is truly enviable.” “Spoiled rotten even before birth. It’s like they’ve stepped straight into a fairytale, the children of a novel’s heroes.” I merely managed a twisted, grotesque smile. Beneath the showering pyrotechnics, my heart slowly turned to ice, inch by agonizing inch. The image of my children’s lifeless, accusing faces, their eyes still open, flashed before me. Silently, I wiped the faint trace of blood from my lips and reached for my phone. I dialed Jude’s number. The cold, empty ringtone stretched on, an eternity of unanswered hope, before his impatient voice finally cut through. “Clara Hayes, I’m working.” “Didn’t I send someone to bring the children home today? At this hour, instead of soothing them to sleep, what new game are you playing?” But I knew. This lifetime, I would never again tell my Lucas and Luna a bedtime story. The thought choked me, words dissolving into incoherent sobs. “Jude, the children… they’re never coming home.” At my words, Jude’s voice instantly turned frigid. “Genna’s people have already reported back to me. Both children are perfectly fine. Stop trying to stir up drama!” “A doting mother spoils her children. If I didn’t harden my heart and send them away for a bit of training, what kind of future would they have? Don’t let your own spineless nature rub off on them!” “Alright, I don’t have time for your theatrics. Go home and reflect on yourself!” With that, he ruthlessly hung up. His scathing words fell, by sheer misfortune, into the ears of Grandma Vance, who had just arrived. She gasped, nearly fainting from rage, her face contorted in fury. “That monster! How dare he commit such a heinous, unspeakable act! I swear, he’s courting death!” “Clara, wait. I’m going to confront him right now!” I merely clutched the tiny charms I had made for Lucas and Luna, trembling uncontrollably from the depth of my grief. “There’s no need.” All Lucas and Luna had wanted was their father’s company, yet they were tortured and left to die! I finally saw it clearly: in Jude’s heart, Genevieve came first. Any attempts at reconciliation now were utterly futile. At the crematorium, watching my Lucas and Luna being pushed into the incinerator, I didn’t shed a single tear. Perhaps when a person reaches the absolute extreme of pain, only numbness remains. It was Grandma Vance who collapsed, clutching her chest, suffering a seizure on the spot. Finally, I tightly embraced the two small urns of ash. My voice was a barely audible whisper. “Let’s wander together, my darlings. We’ll never come back here again.” That night, the entire Vance family estate was draped in white mourning cloths. Portraits of my two children, their innocent and sweet smiles adorning the frames, stood at the very center of the grand hall. I knelt there in silence for six days and six nights, accompanying my Lucas and Luna on their final journey. This world was too cruel. Next life, my little ones, be reborn as kittens and puppies, and come find your mother, alright? Throughout those six days, Jude never even showed his face. The people sent to find him returned meekly, reporting, “Madam, Mr. Vance’s whereabouts are unknown.” “The company says he’s with Ms. Beaumont abroad, consulting a renowned gynecologist about her pregnancy.” Grandma Vance shot me a glance, her face burning with shame. She made countless calls, but none were answered. In a fit of rage, she smashed her phone. “Utterly lawless! For the sake of that woman, he even missed his own children’s funeral! My family does not breed such a beast!” Then, with tears streaming down her face, she apologized to me. “Clara, our Vance family has wronged you. We couldn’t control Jude, and he’s become this disgraceful mess.” But I remained, from start to finish, perfectly calm. 2 Only a heart that had withered and died could describe my feelings at that moment. When I spoke, my voice was dry, hoarse. “Grandma, it’s not your fault. Now, I only wish to leave with Lucas and Luna.” “From this day forward, I will have no ties whatsoever with the Vance family.” At my words, Grandma Vance’s aged eyes swam with tears, brimming with both pity and guilt. After a long silence, she agreed. “As you wish, my dear child. After all, the debt our Vance family owes you can never be repaid in this lifetime.” It wasn’t until the seventh night that Jude finally appeared. He sauntered intimately into the solemn quiet of the mourning hall, his arm around Genevieve’s slender waist, neither of them noticing me in the corner. Genevieve’s painted lips brushed his Adam’s apple, her voice a sickly sweet purr. “Darling, I’ve never tried it in a mourning hall before. I’m a little… excited, what should we do?” Jude pulled her close, thrusting against her, his voice tender. “Anything my darling wants, I’ll give you right now.” Lust shone openly in both their eyes as they passionately embraced, the portraits of my two children standing directly before them. I bit down so hard on the inside of my cheek, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I wanted nothing more than to tear them limb from limb. Soon, Genevieve spotted me, gasping in alarm and hiding her face in Jude’s chest. But Jude showed no sign of being caught off guard. Instead, he launched into a furious tirade, showering me with accusations. “Clara Hayes, have you gone mad with your theatrics?!” “Lying to me on the phone wasn’t enough, now you’ve dragged Grandma into this charade at the estate? It seems I’ve been far too lenient with you!” He then surveyed the room with a disgusted sneer. “To think you’d stoop so low! Deliberately setting up a mourning hall and putting the children’s black-and-white portraits here, just to bring ill fortune upon the family, right?!” “If you frighten Genna’s baby, I’ll make you pay with your life!” For the man before me, only pure hatred remained. My voice was utterly devoid of emotion. “Jude Vance, I’m not acting. Believe it or not, I don’t care.” Seeing me dare to talk back, his face turned ashen, and he kicked me hard in the chest. “Oh, Clara Hayes, you have the audacity to argue with me!” “Since you are so unrepentant, you’re not fit to be the children’s mother. Call Lucas and Luna out now and have them accept Genna as their new mother!” “If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll never learn!” A dull ache immediately spread through my chest. But I remained silent, unwilling to hear another word from him. Seeing my silence, Jude, still convinced I was acting, bristled with rage. “Bring the implements of family discipline!” Soon, several men approached with pliers, pinning me down mercilessly. With piercing, agonizing pain, two of my bloody teeth were brutally extracted. Struggling against them, my eyes blazed crimson. “The children are dead! Their coffins are in the backyard! Are you satisfied now?!” Jude visibly froze, then a mocking sneer twisted his lips. “Clara Hayes, you truly have no bottom to your depravity if you’ll stoop this low just to deceive me.” “First a mourning hall, then coffins… what, are you going to conjure up ashes next? I never realized you were so malicious before.” “Don’t think I don’t see your little game. You’re afraid Genna’s baby will threaten your status, so you’ve gone to all this trouble! But let me tell you, I no longer need your pathetic ‘support.’ Stop trying to pull that domineering act on me!” His handsome face twisted slightly as he turned and walked away, holding Genevieve. Watching their retreating figures, my thoughts drifted back to the past. My parents died young, leaving me, barely more than a girl, to shoulder the heavy burden of the Hayes family business alone. Haggling over drinks at dinner, closing deals with a fever… that was Clara Hayes at twenty. I fought to propel Hayes Industries higher, refusing to be a lamb targeted by hungry wolves. When it was time to marry, many arranged marriages were proposed. But amidst a throng of wealthy scions, I chose the struggling Jude Vance. Back then, he was humble, polite, and seemed to love me with every fiber of his being. After we married, I stepped back from the limelight for him, entrusting my entire fortune to him so he could revive Vance Enterprises. It wasn’t until his ‘fated one,’ Genevieve, returned from abroad that he first, secretly, placed her by his side. That was the first time. Then came the second, the third… The man who had once held me, promising repeatedly, “My love, I will always adore you,” felt like nothing more than a phantom of my imagination. Yet, every time I saw my adorable Lucas and Luna, I endured it. But I never imagined he would sacrifice our children for Genevieve. In just six short years, I became his first disposable accessory, enduring the unbearable pain of losing my children. In that moment, I had to admit that I had, after all, loved the wrong man. Just after the two walked out the door, Genevieve suddenly clutched her stomach, her face contorted in pain. “Jude, my stomach hurts so much.” “Is it… is it because this mourning hall has too much morbid energy, making our baby uncomfortable, causing these pains? It must have upset the baby…” 3 Jude’s face tightened with alarm. He quickly tried to soothe her. “Don’t worry, Genna, I’ll have this mourning hall torn down immediately.” My eyes shot open wide in disbelief. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Jude Vance! How dare you!” But he ignored me completely, turning to bellow orders to the outside. “Guards! Demolish this place at once!” As a group of men rushed in with tools, I shrieked in terror. “No! You can’t! You can’t smash it!” Lucas and Luna’s vigil wasn’t complete yet. They hadn’t even found their way home. With a deafening crash, half of the mourning hall was reduced to rubble in an instant. I cast aside all dignity, falling to my knees, weeping and begging them to stop. “Please don’t! I beg you, don’t smash it! I was wrong!” “Jude, stop them! I don’t want anything anymore, I’ll give up the position of Mrs. Vance, just please, spare my children!” My heart-wrenching sobs tore through me, yet they didn’t move Jude in the slightest. He sneered, then brutally smashed the children’s portraits to the ground. Then, he commanded, “And those coffins she spoke of in the backyard? Bring what’s inside!” Soon, several men brought in two small urns of ashes. I shook my head wildly, my voice a desperate, guttural scream. “No! Don’t!” I wanted to rush forward and snatch my children back, but I couldn’t move an inch. So I watched, helpless, as Genevieve casually took one of the urns, opened it, and peered inside. “Oh, it smells awful, darling. Who knows what kind of filthy things are in here.” “Clara, you’re truly vicious. Even if you hate me, you wouldn’t harm my baby like this, would you? I never even wanted to compete with you, not once.” With that, she deliberately loosened her grip, and the urn crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces. “Oh, I didn’t mean to! It’s all because the baby is disobedient; it just kicked me.” She feigned delicate innocence, while I, kneeling on the ground, felt my eyes bulge with unbridled fury. “Lucas… Luna!” At that moment, the hatred in my heart reached its peak. But then Jude’s hand lashed out, slapping me across the face as he rebuked, “What are you screaming about?!” “It’s just two useless urns of ash. If you scare my and Genna’s baby, you’ll be sorry!” The force of the slap made me spit blood. My face instantly swelled, disfigured beyond recognition. Genevieve watched me with a triumphant smirk, then turned and clung to Jude’s neck, purring. “Darling, do you think Clara will resent me for this? Will our baby be born safely?” “I’m worried he’ll bear the resentment of some people, and it will affect his health. If that happens, then I don’t want to live either.” Jude pondered for a moment, then immediately stroked her head, coaxing softly. “Don’t worry, Genna. I’ll throw her into the scorpion pit right now, let her suffer a hundredfold, so she’ll never dare to harbor such evil thoughts again. Our child will definitely be born healthy.” And so, I was dragged like a discarded rag into the scorpion-infested basement. A myriad of stinging pains instantly spread through my limbs, an agony that made life unbearable. Yet, even that pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. My Lucas and Luna must have suffered this much, or even more, before they died, and they were utterly helpless. Blood, mixed with tears, soon pooled beneath me. My agonizing screams clearly reached Jude’s ears. A flicker of reluctance crossed his eyes, and he almost gave the order to release me. Genevieve, nestled in his arms, sensed his wavering and squeezed out a few tears. “Jude, if I hadn’t been forced to leave you back then, wouldn’t we be married by now, with several adorable children?” “Instead of hiding like this, and still being bullied by Clara.” At her words, Jude’s last shred of pity for me vanished. He softly consoled her. “There, there, Genna, don’t be upset over that wretch. We’ll leave right now.” Before he left, he gave instructions to the servants. “Tomorrow, have Mrs. Hayes bring the two children personally to my company, and make them kneel and apologize to Genna!” It wasn’t until midnight that Grandma Vance rescued me from the scorpion pit. She cursed Jude as she tenderly called for a doctor to treat my wounds. After my wounds were bandaged, I didn’t linger for a second. Instead, I carefully gathered the children’s ashes, repackaged them, and left the Vance family estate without a backward glance. That night, I canceled all my identities, leaving behind only a divorce agreement. I boarded a private jet with a hidden destination. The next day, Jude, who was in his office massaging Genevieve’s feet, didn’t receive the apology from me and the children he expected. Instead, his assistant rushed in, frantic. “Mr. Vance, it’s terrible! Mrs. Hayes… she’s gone!” Jude’s hand froze. He snapped, “Nonsense! If she dared to leave, what about the children?!” At his words, the assistant lowered his head fearfully. “Mr. Vance, Lucas and Luna… they’re dead.”

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Our senior year homeroom teacher, Ms. Dixon, was notoriously unfair. If a boy came to her with a request for a day off, no matter how outlandish the reason, she’d sign off on it. But for girls? She’d subtly undermine you, imply you were overly sensitive or playing weak. She’d suggest you were just looking for an excuse to goof off. One time, I had a searing pain in my stomach. Appendicitis, it turned out. I approached her, doubled over. She didn’t even lift her head. “Just a stomachache, isn’t it?” “What’s the big deal? Drink some hot water, you’ll be fine. Do you really need to take time off for that?” “Besides, who’s to say you’re not just faking it?” 1 Ms. Dixon finished speaking, her voice light and dismissive. She crumpled my permission slip into a ball and tossed it directly into the trash can. “Out. Don’t put on a show in here.” With that, she picked up her phone and resumed scrolling through short videos. Clutching my stomach, I tried to straighten my aching back. “Teacher, I’m genuinely unwell. My family has already contacted a hospital for me.” The words had barely left my lips when Ms. Dixon slammed her hand on the desk, standing abruptly. “Amy Hayes, are you informing me? Or are you asking for permission? What do you think ‘asking for leave’ means? I haven’t even agreed yet, and you’ve already made hospital arrangements? What the hell do you need permission for then?” I stared, completely bewildered by her outburst. Going to the hospital when you’re sick—wasn’t that normal? Ms. Dixon sneered, giving me a sidelong glance. “I’ve seen countless girls like you. Always looking for an excuse to miss school, whether it’s a real issue or not. And the reasons? Always ‘it’s my period’ or ‘my stomach hurts.’ Next time, come up with something a little more original, something with actual effort.” At this, a memory clicked. My deskmate, Sarah, had warned me: if a girl complained of a stomachache, Ms. Dixon would never approve the absence. Sarah herself had once tried to get out of physical education due to severe menstrual cramps. After a few sarcastic remarks, Ms. Dixon had called her into the office. Sarah thought it was to sign the permission slip. Instead, Ms. Dixon had verbally abused her for an entire hour. Finally, she’d said, in that passive-aggressive tone, “I detest girls using stomach pain as an excuse. Each of you puts on quite a convincing act. Oh, it’s your period, is it? Well, come on, strip down and show me if you’re truly on your period.” Sarah had been so humiliated, tears streamed down her face. Ms. Dixon, still harping, sneered, “What are you crying for? Got exposed, did you? Look at the boys in this class. Not a single one of them is as dramatic as you girls.” That day, Sarah didn’t get her leave and had to run a grueling half-mile, clutching her stomach. I later asked her, “Why didn’t you just do it? Pull out your pad and fling it in her face! Maybe even get some blood on her. Let her see if you were faking it then.” But I knew Sarah’s timid nature. She was far too shy for such a defiant act. Stripping down and pulling out a pad? She’d never be able to do something like that. I still didn’t understand why getting a day off was so difficult for girls in our class. Couldn’t she tell if someone was genuinely ill? I gasped, a fresh wave of pain washing over me, and pleaded again. “Teacher, I really am unwell. If you don’t believe me, I’ll have my dad call you.” “Don’t think dragging your parents into this will make me compromise. Let me tell you, I don’t fall for that trick. I’m the homeroom teacher, responsible for so many students. If you take a day off today, and she takes one tomorrow, then no one will study, everyone will fail their exams, and I’ll be the one getting criticized and punished. Get out! No one gets a day off before the exams, not on my watch!” I persisted, swallowing my pride. “Ms. D., don’t worry, I’ll study hard while I’m in the hospital. I absolutely won’t drag the class down on the exams.” “Don’t call me ‘Ms. D.’, don’t try to be chummy! I can’t stand it when you girls try to play mind games, thinking a little bit of flattery will get you a day off. Let me tell you, no chance.” Ms. Dixon had just finished her tirade when a loud shout came from the doorway. “Coach D., permission to miss class!” 2 We both turned simultaneously. It was Jake, the sports representative. He leaned against the office doorframe, a cheeky grin on his face. “Coach D., can I get a pass? My ankle hurts; I want to go home and rest for a couple of days.” I expected Ms. Dixon to explode, to launch into a furious lecture. Instead, she giggled, a playful scolding in her voice. “You impudent monkey, is two days enough?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “How about three, then?” Ms. Dixon signed the slip quickly, without a moment’s hesitation, and even reminded him to eat well and recover at home. Jake grabbed the slip and hurried out of the office. Ms. Dixon called out to him again. “Silly boy, don’t walk so fast with a sprained ankle. Wait for me, Teacher will give you a ride on her scooter.” “No, no, I wouldn’t dream of troubling Ms. Dixon!” “Pfft,” Ms. Dixon let out a hearty chuckle, her mouth stretching into a wide grin. I was utterly dumbfounded! Why was it so easy for Jake to get time off? Didn’t he have exams? Why wasn’t she complaining about him dragging the class down now? I couldn’t hold back. “Why does he get a pass, and I don’t?!” Perhaps my voice was too loud; several other teachers in the office looked up. Ms. Dixon spun around, her face dark with fury. “What are you yelling about?! Are people all the same? He sprained his ankle and can’t walk, that’s why he’s taking time off. And you? You’re shouting so loudly, does your stomach not hurt anymore? I just can’t stand you girls, always looking for trouble. I’m not a man, so don’t try to play weak in front of me.” Another wave of pain shot through my abdomen. I was so angry and in so much pain that I sank to the floor, weeping. Ms. Dixon looked at me with disgust. “Still acting, are we? Do you think a few squeezed-out tears will make me soft? Don’t forget, I was a student once too. All your little tricks? I perfected them years ago.” Seeing that I hadn’t gotten up for a while, another teacher from the office came over to intervene. “Ms. Dixon, I think the child is truly unwell. Perhaps you should let her go to the hospital.” Ms. Dixon didn’t respond. She pulled a box of pills from her drawer and tossed them at my feet. “Here. Stomach ache, right? Just take a few pain relievers. Now, hurry back to class. Given your grades, Teacher is only thinking of your own good.” I picked up the box. It was ibuprofen, and it was expired. Ms. Dixon continued her incessant nagging, complaining that girls were always so high-maintenance, taking a day off for everything from periods to sneezes, and were simply not as tough as boys. I finally understood. Whether or not she signed the permission slip wasn’t about whether you were genuinely sick. It was entirely up to Ms. Dixon’s mood. If you were a boy, a scraped finger was enough to get you sent home to rest. But if you were a girl, even if you broke your leg, you’d still have to stay at school, confined to a wheelchair. All, supposedly, “for your studies.” But everyone knew the truth: some boys just took days off to play video games. Yet Ms. Dixon believed them unconditionally. Deep down, she saw girls as dramatic, overly sensitive, and untrustworthy. To put it nicely, Ms. Dixon favored boys. To put it crudely, she was a male-worshipping, woman-hating hag. I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. The surgery was happening regardless. Whether she signed the slip or not was entirely her problem. I struggled to my feet, pulled another permission slip from my pocket, and slapped it onto Ms. Dixon’s desk. “The slip’s here. Sign it or don’t. I don’t care.” Clutching my lower abdomen, I hurried out of the office. Behind me, Ms. Dixon’s furious curses echoed. “Insubordinate brat! How dare you slam something on my desk! What’s next, wiping your feet on me?! Little girls scheming to find excuses to get out of school, who knows which wild boy they’re trying to meet! I don’t believe it for a second. Without my signed slip, you won’t get past that school gate!” 3 At the school gate, I pleaded with Mr. Peterson, the old gatekeeper, to open the door for me. He looked at me, his face etched with worry. “Sweetheart, why are you so pale?” I gasped in pain, my words coming in ragged breaths. Before I could finish, Mr. Peterson began to curse under his breath. “That idiotic fool, what kind of simpleton has sh*t for brains? Sweetheart, call your family immediately. Get your folks to come pick you up.” The words had just left his mouth when the phone in the gatehouse rang. Mr. Peterson, hard of hearing, put it on speaker. Ms. Dixon’s voice blared through. “Old Man Peterson, I’ve got a defiant little girl from my class here who doesn’t have a signed slip. You absolutely cannot let her out of school. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you let her go and something happens, you’ll be in deep trouble.” Our school had a rule: art students could enter and exit with their special passes. All other students required a permission slip signed by their homeroom teacher to leave campus. There was a time when students would forge Ms. Dixon’s signature. On some evenings after study hall, ten or twenty students from each class would claim they had permission to leave. Someone reported it, and the school clamped down. Now, when a student needed to leave, the teacher had to immediately file a record at the gatehouse. Students could only leave with both the signed slip and a matching record. Both were indispensable. Mr. Peterson remained silent, rolling his eyes. Ms. Dixon continued to screech into the phone. “Old Man Peterson, I’m talking to you, did you hear me? If you dare let her out, I’ll go straight to the Principal. Then your job will be gone, and you’ll have nowhere to cry.” “What? What? What did you say? Speak up!” “Ugh, can’t hear, can’t hear…” Mr. Peterson hung up the phone and handed me a cup of hot water. “That woman’s crazy, isn’t she? We’re asking for a day off, not for her life. Look at her, acting like an absolute idiot. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll open the gate for you in a bit.” I called my dad several times, but no one answered. Just then, Ms. Dixon stormed over. She grabbed me roughly. “Still acting, are we? Where’s all that bravado from when you slammed the table? Come on, back to class with me.” Mr. Peterson stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Look at this girl, she’s so pale. What’s the harm in letting her go get checked out?” “You old gatekeeper, what do you know?! If she fakes illness for a day off today, then everyone else will tomorrow, and my class will turn into chaos! Are you the homeroom teacher or am I? Stand back, don’t interfere with me educating my student.” Mr. Peterson spat on the ground. “Pfft, I’m not the homeroom teacher, but I’m a human being.” Ms. Dixon put her hands on her hips, ready to launch into another tirade. Then her phone rang. It was Dad. 4 I quickly handed the phone to Ms. Dixon. “Teacher, let my dad talk to you.” Ms. Dixon refused to take it. I put it on speaker. Dad spoke respectfully. “Hello, Ms. Dixon. I’m Amy’s father. The situation with the child is quite urgent. We’ve already booked a hospital bed, so could you please approve her leave? She needs surgery, and it will likely require five days.” “Parent, you really have the nerve to ask! Five days! A whole five days! Can you even imagine how much knowledge she’ll miss in five days? Besides, I can’t approve that many days. You’ll have to find the grade-level head, or the Principal. We have to report it step-by-step, with approvals at every level.” My dad chuckled apologetically. “I’m truly sorry. Could you perhaps put in a good word for us? We’d like to take the leave first, and then we’ll follow up with the full process and all the signatures. Amy’s condition truly cannot be delayed.” Ms. Dixon’s face remained stern, unyielding. My dad continued to apologize. “I should have met with you in person, but Amy’s mother is also currently hospitalized, and I’m busy with her at the moment. Once Amy is discharged, I’d like to treat you to a meal, and we can chat face-to-face.” Ms. Dixon squinted, letting out a cold snort. “Oh, how convenient!” My dad didn’t pick up on her sarcasm, continuing. “Yes, yes, everything happened at once. Please let the child out; I’ll be there to pick her up shortly.” Ms. Dixon looked annoyed. She neither agreed nor disagreed. From the other end of the line, a doctor’s voice could be heard. My dad quickly gave a few instructions, telling me to wait by the school gate and not wander off, then hung up. Mr. Peterson pulled me aside. “Sweetheart, sit inside the gatehouse and wait. I’ll call you when your folks get here.” I was about to stand up when Ms. Dixon sneered. “Hmph, so many tricks, aren’t there? How much did you pay these actors?” I stared, baffled. Ms. Dixon continued to ramble on. “I don’t believe it for a second. You in the hospital, your mom in the hospital? Why don’t you just say your whole family is in the hospital?! You can just find anyone to pretend to be your parent and call me. Do you take me for a three-year-old?!” A person truly does laugh when utterly speechless. I asked her, “What exactly will it take for you to believe me?” “Go on, prove it. Prove your dad is your dad!” Oh, for God’s sake, this woman has a screw loose. What you’re asking, I can’t prove. But I can prove that you’re an absolute idiot. I trembled with rage. Spotting the large megaphone on the table, I snatched it up. Running, I shouted: “Help! I’m sick, I’m dying!” “But Ms. Dixon won’t approve my leave!” “Why do boys get days off, but girls don’t?!” “Why?! Why?!” “Don’t stop me! Nobody stop me! I’m going to the lake, I’m going to the rooftop! I don’t want to live!” I ran, and she chased. My voice echoed wildly. Before I even reached the Principal’s office, a searing cramp tore through my abdomen, and I blacked out.

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