1 Lillian Vance, the rising starlet, had been dominating the entertainment headlines for days. Just yesterday, news of her intimate antics with a co-star on set had gone viral. Today, however, a new spectacle unfolded: the city’s most coveted advertising space, the colossal screen atop the tallest downtown skyscraper, ceaselessly scrolled a declaration of love for her. A gigantic poster of Lillian graced the left side, while the right blared, “Lillian Vance, I Love You.” The priciest ad space, purchased for the simplest, most direct declaration of affection. That evening, Liam Harrison, a rare presence at home, dropped a bombshell. “Lillian’s upset with me, and she’s proving particularly difficult to pacify this time,” he said, his voice as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. “Clara, what if we just… got a divorce for now?” I paused, the banquet guest list I’d been drafting slipping from my grasp, and looked up at him, my eyes clouded with confusion. “Don’t worry, it’s just a formality,” he promised, his tone suddenly earnest. “We’ll remarry after things calm down. You’ll always be Mrs. Harrison.” I considered his words for a moment. “Alright,” I replied. Neither of us knew then that this ‘formality’ would be the first step in a diverging path, leading us further and further apart, a path from which we would never return to each other, never to remarry. My easy agreement to the divorce stemmed from a peculiar trust. I believed Liam wasn’t lying about remarrying. He saw our divorce as a mere trinket, a fleeting gift to appease his current mistress. It seemed Lillian Vance truly was different from his usual fleeting interests. Liam was a philanderer, but his infatuations typically flared and died with rapid succession. His companions rarely lasted beyond a month before he moved on to a new face. Yet, this time, the rising starlet, Lillian Vance, had held his attention for three months. Yesterday, her cozy news with a co-star went viral, and today Liam declared his devotion in such a public, extravagant display. He was actually jealous, a stark sign that his fascination with her hadn’t waned at all; if anything, he was behaving like a giddy teenager in the throes of first love. As for Liam wanting a divorce to placate another woman, my heart remained utterly unruffled. It wasn’t that we had never loved each other. But once that love had withered, Liam and I had, like so many high-society couples around us, settled into a façade of harmony. Our marriage had run the gamut: from initial blissful sweetness, through a gradual descent into monotony, followed by the inevitable arguments and histrionics, until finally, it had settled into this current state of profound silence and deathly calm. Ours wasn’t a strategic alliance; it began as a genuine romance. Liam and I met in high school. He was two years my senior, a shining star, a campus idol. I was just one of countless younger students who admired him from afar. I threw myself into my studies, determined to get into the same university he attended. Knowing he was involved in student council and the debate club, I diligently followed in his footsteps. Driven by a singular, audacious determination, I steadily closed the distance between us. And then, finally, he noticed me. During the annual student council showcase, my traditional dance performance captivated the entire audience, earning a thunderous ovation. As I took my bow, I distinctly saw him in the front row, his gaze alight with admiration, and indeed, a flicker of genuine interest. After the showcase, Liam began to pursue me. I feigned a touch of coy reluctance for a short while, but soon, we were officially an item. As a boyfriend, he was exceptional. He possessed vast knowledge and a broad intellect, yet he was never arrogant about it. Conversations with him were a delight. Back then, we had an endless stream of topics, chatting late into the night until the dorm lights flickered off, hanging up the phone with reluctant sighs. Despite being born into immense wealth – a true silver-spoon heir – he was surprisingly considerate. Though he’d never cooked a meal in his life, he would personally prepare a special birthday dish for me on my birthday. I considered my own family quite well-off, but compared to his, we were mere new money, practically parvenus. 2 Liam’s grandparents and great-grandparents had studied abroad years ago, returning to build their empire. Generations of his family elders were either titans of academia, industry moguls, or powerful corporate board members. My own family, on the other hand, hailed from humble rural roots. My father had left home in his youth to seek his fortune, catching the wave of the real estate boom to make his wealth. When he first proposed marriage, Liam had to put in a monumental effort, making countless promises before his parents finally gave their reluctant approval. Touched by his dedication, and determined to be worthy of him, I abandoned my chosen major during my graduate studies, switching directly to business. After graduation, I joined Liam’s family enterprise, working alongside him, hand-in-hand. I wanted his family to see that I was capable, that I could genuinely contribute, that I wasn’t just some decorative figure. Originally, his family had agreed he could spend a few years forging his own path after graduation. But to marry me, he promised to immediately shoulder the immense family responsibilities upon graduation. From then on, he worked tirelessly, day and night, without a moment’s respite. It took two arduous years before he fully took over all the group’s operations, finally finding his stride and becoming adept. On Valentine’s Day, he asked if I wanted to leave the company. He knew I didn’t enjoy business management, nor the cutthroat atmosphere of the corporate world. “You’ve worked too hard these past two years, Clara,” he said, his gaze warm and tender as he looked at me. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a handle on things now. I can manage on my own. Rest if you want to.” So, I left the company. But there was no ‘rest’ to be had. Even without direct business involvement, as the Chairman’s wife, the future matriarch of a prominent family, my plate was overflowing. To gain his family’s approval, I lived every day with meticulous care, weighing every word, every action. I had to actively help manage the charity organization his mother founded, personally overseeing every regular event. I needed to cultivate strong relationships with the wives of the group’s executives and partners. Invitations to other people’s galas required my polite attendance. And at home, we frequently hosted smaller soirées to foster connections with other high-society ladies. The Harrison family was vast, and deeply invested in its legacy. Every holiday necessitated a grand family dinner, with countless direct and extended relatives attending. After our marriage, Mrs. Harrison entrusted me with the responsibility of organizing these lavish gatherings. I remember the first one, for the Thanksgiving after our wedding. To ensure everything was flawless and to make a good impression on my mother-in-law, I began fretting about it a full two weeks beforehand. The two days of the dinner itself, I barely slept, my nerves strung taut. Thankfully, the dinner concluded perfectly. But after managing all the post-event details, I collapsed in the elevator. The doctor attributed it to extreme nervous tension and prolonged lack of sleep. I even made Liam promise not to tell either set of parents. I yearned for perfection, refusing to allow a single flaw. And through my tireless efforts, Liam’s parents, his sister, even his aunts, uncles, and other relatives slowly came to accept and embrace me. Yet, Liam cheated. 3 Perhaps I was too eager to prove myself, too desperate for his family’s approval. After we married, I poured all my energy into ‘management’ – first my career, then my relationship with his family. The marriage itself, the bond between us, genuinely received little of my focus. I could feel it myself: our encounters grew increasingly rare. Sometimes, we’d see each other only once or twice a month. The first time I discovered his infidelity, it felt as though my entire world was collapsing. That day, he’d made a rare trip back to the family estate. Liam’s parents had already retired after dinner, but I deliberately lingered over my meal, just to steal a few more moments with him. I was never sure if a phone call wouldn’t suddenly summon him back to the office after dessert – it had happened more times than I could count. When he excused himself to the restroom, his phone vibrated on the table. He’d always told me I could answer his calls anytime. For years, I had. So, instinctively, I picked it up and pressed ‘answer.’ A young woman’s soft, cooing voice purred from the other end: “When you come over tonight, darling, could you bring me a bag of roasted chestnuts? I’m craving them so badly.” Perhaps unable to fully process what I’d just heard, my mind seemed to freeze. I couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought, yet when I spoke, my voice was unnervingly calm: “Excuse me? Could you repeat that?” There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end, then the line went dead. It wasn’t until Liam returned that the reality of what had just happened truly crashed over me. I looked at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. When I finally spoke, my voice was a tremulous whisper, almost unrecognizable: “She… she said to bring her a bag of roasted chestnuts…” Liam rushed over, his arms wrapping around me in a frantic embrace. “I’m so sorry, Clara. I didn’t mean it. I just… I had a moment of weakness. Can you ever forgive me?” I sobbed, demanding, “Why, Liam? How could you betray our marriage?” It had never once crossed my mind that Liam would ever be unfaithful. The betrayal shattered me; I was ill for a long time. Liam came home every day, staying by my side, personally preparing my meals, caring for me with a tender attentiveness. He apologized to me countless times, begging for my forgiveness. Unable to let go of all the years we’d shared, my heart softened, and I forgave him. But it wasn’t long before he cheated again. This time, facing my desperate pleas and raw anguish, he merely watched with cold indifference. There was no longer any hint of guilt, no apologies offered. “Clara,” he’d said, his voice flat, “this is just how our circle operates. You need to get used to it. No matter what I do outside, your position as Mrs. Harrison will never be threatened.” During that period, I plummeted into an abyss of self-doubt and agonizing contradiction. I couldn’t fathom it: how could people who supposedly loved each other betray one another? Was I not good enough? I became consumed by anxiety, suffering from severe insomnia, losing handfuls of hair, and looking utterly haggard. Recognizing my spiraling condition, I sought a therapist. My capacity for self-preservation had always been strong. With the doctor’s guidance, I slowly began to untangle my thoughts, shedding the endless struggle and self-consumption. Through a nearly brutal method of emotional detoxification, I forcibly excised Liam from my heart. The day I could watch him walk into a restaurant hand-in-hand with another woman, my expression unmarred, I knew: I had successfully rescued myself. No, I had never considered divorce. Since my marriage to Liam, my family’s business had soared. The Harrison family didn’t directly collaborate with us; my family’s business scale simply wasn’t significant enough for Harrison Group to even notice. But with that connection, the shrewd operators in the business world were eager to curry favor. Plus, riding the wave of the real estate boom that erupted in those years, my family had indeed flourished. 4 My family’s business was one reason I hadn’t considered divorce. Another was that during the first two years of our marriage, while I was still at Harrison Group, I participated in and spearheaded a major project that earned Liam’s father’s commendation. He decided to grant me a small share of the group’s stock. The annual dividends I received were a colossal sum, and that amount continued to climb each year. Just last year alone, my dividends, combined with the monthly allowance Liam gave me – a million dollars – and the occasional jewelry and cash gifts from Mrs. Harrison, totaled nearly two hundred million. It might sound a bit disingenuous, but at that point, I had everything within the Harrison family except love. A wealthy husband who rarely comes home – isn’t that the dream life many women fantasize about online? What more could I possibly be discontent with? I rationalized to myself that life couldn’t be perfectly complete; I shouldn’t be so greedy, wanting to have my cake and eat it too. Over the past year, I had adapted and even grown accustomed to this existence. Liam and I maintained a façade of happiness. Privately, he led his life, and I led mine. Gradually, I even found a quiet contentment. Sometimes, when he unexpectedly appeared after a long absence, I felt a peculiar unease. Deep down, I’d silently wish he would leave soon, feeling his presence disrupted my peace. When Liam and his new favored companion hit the entertainment news, I felt nothing. This rising starlet, Lillian Vance, was indeed different for Liam. She had broken the record for how long a woman stayed by his side. Over three months, and Liam showed no signs of boredom; if anything, he doted on her even more intensely. He even grew jealous when she was seen with other men – a reaction he’d never exhibited before. And now, to appease her, he was divorcing me. Not only that, the divorce had to be publicly announced. No doubt, it was another grand gesture for the girl’s benefit. Such elaborate, painstaking efforts – I couldn’t help but tease him. “Are you actually serious about her?” Liam’s expression turned serious. “You don’t need to probe, Clara. I promised you, you will always be Mrs. Harrison.” I scoffed inwardly. He’d promised to love me forever when we married, too. How much good had that done? Still, I suspected he wasn’t bluffing about the remarriage. By now, I was far too deeply intertwined with the Harrison family. Through my painstaking efforts, Liam’s parents had come to genuinely accept me as their daughter-in-law, truly embracing me as one of their own. Beyond corporate matters, they often bypassed Liam entirely, consulting directly with me on countless family affairs and social obligations. I could also sense Mrs. Harrison’s increasing reliance on me. Her friends sometimes joked, “‘Our Clara’ has become your catchphrase, hasn’t it? Alright, alright, we know you have a wonderful daughter-in-law!” That’s why, with this divorce, Liam insisted we present a fait accompli to his parents. Only after the legal waiting period, after we had the divorce decree in hand, did we inform Liam’s parents. When Liam personally delivered the news, his father nearly fainted with rage. It was the first time I’d seen Mr. Harrison Sr. explode in such a fury; he actually hurled his teacup at Liam, his usually steady hands trembling with indignation. “Preposterous!” he thundered, “To do something so utterly absurd! Do you treat marriage as a child’s game?” Mrs. Harrison was equally incensed. “Is that little actress poisoning your mind? Liam, play your games, but know where to draw the line!” Liam clutched his bruised forehead, trying to explain calmly, “I told Clara, we’ll remarry later.” His father’s voice boomed, “What ‘later’? Before the news gets out, go remarry her now!” “Actually, it’s too late,” Liam mumbled, already turning to make his escape. “I’ve already released the divorce announcement to the media.”

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At the end of the year, I treated a business partner to dinner, spending a thousand dollars. When I went to claim the reimbursement, Bethany Hayes, Ethan Carter’s childhood friend, transferred fifty dollars to my Venmo. I messaged her, asking if it was a mistake. Bethany immediately shot back, launching into a furious tirade. “Have you no shame? Fifty dollars is more than enough for two people! You’re clearly just trying to fleece the company.” I tried to explain that this was a fifty-million-dollar project, and we couldn’t skimp on a client dinner. A cheap meal wouldn’t set the right tone for negotiations. But Bethany wouldn’t listen. Frustrated, I called Ethan, asking him to back me up. He glared at me, his face cold. “Negotiating deals is about competence, not about a single meal. You’ve been taking advantage of company funds under the guise of business deals for years, Emily. Don’t push your luck.” The next day, I took a major client from Prescott Holdings to a roadside diner. After the hundred-million-dollar deal fell through, Ethan lost his mind. … “Venmo payment received: Fifty dollars.” I stared at the notification on my phone, then looked at Bethany. “Bethany, did you make a mistake? I spent a thousand dollars on dinner with Mr. Davies yesterday. Here’s the receipt.” Bethany merely flicked her eyes at me, a look of utter impatience on her face. “Weren’t there just two of you for dinner?” I nodded. She scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then there’s no mistake. Fifty dollars is perfectly enough for two people to eat. How on earth did you spend a thousand? You’re clearly just trying to fleece the company.” I was speechless, struggling to keep my anger in check. “Bethany, the project I was discussing with Mr. Davies yesterday is worth over fifty million dollars. You can’t seriously expect to close a deal like that over a fifty-dollar meal.” She rolled her eyes at me, completely unfazed. “Excuses are just cover-ups. If you want to take advantage of the company, just say so. Don’t use business deals as an excuse. Don’t push your luck. You’re lucky I even gave you fifty dollars.” With that, she threw the receipt at my face and spat, “Get out! Don’t bother me while I’m working.” I was fuming. Trembling, I pulled out my phone and called Ethan Carter. Bethany sneered when she saw me dial his number. “Have some shame, Emily. Do you really think you can exploit the company just because you’re Ethan’s girlfriend?” I was beyond arguing with Bethany. Ethan was the company owner; he should understand. A few minutes later, Ethan stormed into the finance office, a scowl on his face. Seeing me, he snapped, “Emily, can you please stop stirring up trouble? Bethany is incredibly busy, and you’re just making things harder for her. Why are you so high-maintenance?” His words stunned me. I couldn’t believe Ethan would say that. I held out the receipt and the Venmo transfer to him. “How am I stirring up trouble? I spent a thousand dollars treating Mr. Davies to dinner, and she only reimbursed me fifty. That’s not even pocket change.” Ethan glanced at Bethany. Bethany’s eyes immediately welled up, and she began to sob. “Oh, Ethan, I don’t know what I did to offend Emily. She’s accusing me in front of everyone in the company. I was just trying to protect the company’s interests! If even that makes me wrong, then I’ll just resign!” Ethan instantly pulled Bethany into a comforting embrace, his voice gentle and soothing. “Bethany, you’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t be upset.” Then, he hurled his phone straight at my face. My cheek instantly swelled, throbbing. He followed by tearing the receipt into shreds and flinging the pieces at me. “Emily, it’s just a bit of money! Do you really have to be so petty about it? Fifty dollars is enough for two people, but you insisted on spending a thousand. Taking advantage of the company is one thing, but then threatening Bethany? Have you no shame?” “And stop bringing up the client deal! Mr. Davies would partner with our company because of our capabilities, not because of one dinner! Stop trying to take credit for yourself!” I clutched my stinging cheek, my heart pounding with rage. I forced myself to speak through clenched teeth. “Fifty dollars for two people, that’s twenty-five dollars per person. So, from now on, the company’s entertainment budget is twenty-five dollars per person?” Ethan frowned, realizing something was off, and was about to speak. But Bethany cut him off. “What’s wrong with twenty-five dollars per person? You usually only spend about fifteen dollars on your own cafeteria meals, don’t you? Why are you suddenly so keen on fleecing the company now? Besides, if one meal could decide a partnership, why don’t we just open a restaurant instead of a company?” Ethan nodded, deep in thought. “Bethany’s right. I won’t dwell on the past, Emily. But from now on, the entertainment standard is twenty-five dollars per person. Don’t even think about taking another cent from the company.” My heart turned to ice. I managed a cold, bitter laugh and nodded. “Alright. If that’s how it is, then I’ll follow company policy from now on. I promise not to spend a single cent more.” Ethan looked pleased. “Emily, even though you’re my girlfriend, business is business. Bethany works hard, don’t cause trouble for her all the time.” I simply hummed in agreement, signaling I’d understood. Bethany shot me a smug, triumphant look, then settled back with an air of superior satisfaction. I turned and left. That afternoon, Ethan suddenly called me. He said Prescott Holdings was looking to invest a hundred million dollars in our company’s new project. Since I had previously liaised with Prescott Holdings, he wanted me to arrange a dinner, emphasizing that securing the investment was paramount. I agreed, paused for a moment, then asked, “How many people for this dinner?” Ethan thought for a moment. “Mr. Prescott, you, and me. Three people total.” I said, “Got it,” and hung up. Three people. Seventy-five dollars. What to eat? I remembered the barbecue place in the food market next door. They had both food and drinks. Seventy-five dollars wouldn’t get us a full meal, but it would be barely enough. That evening, I led Ethan and Mr. Prescott to a roadside barbecue joint on the main street. I found the owner, asked for two rickety stools, and motioned for them to sit down. “Mr. Prescott, please, have a seat! What would you like to drink? How about some cheap whiskey?” Mr. Prescott stood motionless, his face etched with disgust. Ethan nervously pulled me aside. “Emily, what is going on? I told you to arrange a proper dinner! What kind of arrangement is this?” I feigned innocence. Just then, the owner brought out three complimentary side dishes. I thanked him cheerfully, then slowly replied to Ethan. “Ethan, the meal standard is twenty-five dollars per person. For three of us, that’s seventy-five, right? This is the most cost-effective place. The owner even gave us three free side dishes!” Mr. Prescott scoffed. “A hundred-million-dollar project, and in your eyes, it’s only worth discussing at a roadside stall?” Ethan frantically tried to explain that wasn’t it at all. But I quickly cut in. “Mr. Prescott, our boss doesn’t mean that. He simply believes that securing a project depends on the capabilities of both companies, not on one meal. As long as you can fill your stomach, that’s what matters. Or are you implying you wanted to take advantage of our company through this meal?” Ethan shoved me. “Emily, stop spouting nonsense!” Mr. Prescott’s face was cold as he uttered, “You’re both quite something. Rest assured, I won’t take a single cent from your company. This partnership is off.” With that, Mr. Prescott turned and walked away. Ethan frantically tried to explain, but Mr. Prescott simply got into his car and drove off. Ethan turned to me, so furious he kicked over the table. “Emily, were you doing this on purpose? Do you have any idea how important that deal was to the company?” I widened my eyes, feigning utter innocence. “But Ethan, I was just following company policy! Didn’t you and Bethany say it was twenty-five dollars per person? Spending more would be taking advantage of the company. Last time, I paid nine hundred and fifty dollars out of my own pocket; this time, I learned my lesson.” Ethan pointed at me, speechless with rage, and stormed away. The next day, as I arrived at the company, I ran into Bethany. She glanced at me, her tone superior. “Emily, how can you still show your face at the company after ruining such a huge project?” I remained unfazed. “How did I ruin it? I was simply following company policy, wasn’t I? Besides, didn’t you say the entertainment budget was twenty-five dollars per person?” Ethan emerged from his office, and Bethany immediately ran to hide behind him, her face a picture of wronged innocence. “Oh, Ethan, I just said a few things to Emily, and she’s blaming everything on me!” Ethan, full of concern, hugged Bethany. Then he threw a termination letter at my face. “Emily, you’re fired. Don’t bother coming back to the company anymore. Bethany will be taking over your position as General Manager.” I let out a soft laugh. “Alright. But according to my contract, you owe me three times my salary as compensation.” Ethan readily agreed, looking down at me with an air of smug superiority. “Emily, did you really think I wouldn’t dare fire you?” I was genuinely surprised, as most of the company’s projects were still under my management. Bethany clung to Ethan’s arm, a triumphant smirk on her face. “I happened to meet the CEO of Sterling Corp. They’re offering us a partnership for their billion-dollar Westside project. That one project is worth more than all the hundreds you brought in combined.” So, that was it. They thought I was no longer useful, that’s why they fired me. I thought for a moment. Sterling Corp… If I wasn’t mistaken, that was my grandfather’s company. Just a few days ago, my grandfather had asked me to come work for them, hinting that he wanted me to inherit the company someday. After transferring my severance pay, Ethan impatiently urged me to leave. “Emily, as of today, we’re over. You and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.” “Alright,” I said calmly. Ethan, seeing that I wasn’t crying or pleading, didn’t look entirely pleased. After leaving the company, I called my grandfather. “Grandpa, I got fired. I’d like to come work for your company.” My grandfather sounded ecstatic, barely able to contain his joy. “Wonderful! The company just happens to have an opening for a Junior VP. Come straight in.” The next day, I packed my things and headed directly to Sterling Corp. At the entrance, I ran into Ethan and Bethany.

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After I was brutally murdered by the Queen Consort, I found myself unexpectedly reborn into the body of another woman. To my astonishment, this person was intersex! Without hesitation, I pinned the haughty Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont firmly beneath me. “You’re so desperate to conceive, aren’t you? Perhaps I can help you with that?” Watching the disheveled yet powerless Queen Consort struggle beneath me, I felt a surge of unadulterated pleasure. But that wasn’t all. My gaze soon turned to King Lysander, rumored to have a fondness for men. Leaning close, I pinched Charlotte’s chin and laid out my demand: “Queen Consort, take me to the palace. Bring me before His Majesty.” … In my previous life, I was but a lowly scullery maid, assigned to the chambers of Queen Consort Charlotte. She was a woman of narrow mind and volatile temperament, treating human lives as less than nothing. Merely because I was cracking walnuts by her side when she heard news of another consort’s pregnancy, she had me beaten to death with a staff on a baseless charge. The hatred that surged through me was visceral; my very organs twisted in agony as I bled out, unwilling to accept my fate. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a pitch-black, suffocating room. The air was damp and foul, thick with the stench of decay. I coughed violently, then turned to a dusty, tarnished bronze mirror in the corner, where I saw a face strikingly similar to Charlotte’s! Sensual eyes, a pert nose, delicate lips… a naturally intoxicating charm, indeed. It was six or seven parts Charlotte, but a tear mole beneath my left eye added a touch of alluring mystery that even she lacked. As I inhabited this new body, a flood of memories cascared into my mind. Once they settled, I understood: this body belonged to the true Lady Beaumont. However, due to a peculiar birth defect—being born intersex—the Beaumont family, desperate to preserve their reputation, had adopted Charlotte, who bore a close resemblance to me, to masquerade as their daughter. Under the family’s tutelage, Charlotte had blossomed into a remarkable young woman, while I, the true blood heir, was slowly forgotten, left to languish and rot in this desolate annex. But as Charlotte’s position solidified, she grew increasingly arrogant and cruel. To fuel her vanity, she would often visit me, her tone condescending, delighting in my misery. Even worse, she secretly orchestrated insidious attacks against me, using her loyal retainers. To be absolutely certain I wouldn’t pose a threat, she even drugged me, hoping to render me simple-minded and imbecilic. Recalling this, a fierce resolve hardened within me. Typical of the venomous Queen Consort; just as cruel in the family mansion as she was in the palace. My thoughts spun, and my hand instinctively reached down, confirming the presence of anatomy that shouldn’t be there. So, this was what being intersex truly meant! Appearing outwardly female, yet possessing both male and female reproductive capabilities! It was little wonder the Beaumonts had kept Celeste, the body I now inhabited, confined to such a damp, gloomy room. But at this thought, a sudden, mirthless laugh escaped me. Perhaps the world would deem an intersex person a monster, but to me, it was an unprecedented advantage. Rumors whispered that before his ascension, the King was a notorious rake, known for frequenting dens of illicit pleasures catering to peculiar tastes. They said he was infatuated with men, only taking concubines after becoming King to ensure an heir. Whether these rumors held any truth, I, having already died once, cared little. My only desire was revenge, no matter the cost. A grand plan for vengeance began to form in my mind! At that moment, I heard footsteps outside and a familiar, arrogant voice, laced with mockery: “Let’s see if my unsightly sister is still breathing.” As light streamed in from the doorway, I saw her, exactly as she was in my past life’s memories: the dazzling Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont. She held a perfumed handkerchief to her nose, her face contorted in disgust. “Are you living and relieving yourself in this room now? You reek!” I stared at her, unwavering, and then a slow smile spread across my face. My voice, unused for so long, came out raspy and unpleasant: “Sister Charlotte, come closer. Come closer, I have a secret to tell you.” She fixed her gaze on me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What secret could you possibly have? I already know your biggest one.” I merely smiled wider. “But don’t you want to know why you haven’t conceived a child after all this time? I have a method that can help you.” Conception was Charlotte’s greatest anxiety in my past life. Predictably, the moment I uttered those words, Charlotte’s interest was piqued. She dismissed the maids who had accompanied her. “You all may withdraw. Lady Celeste and I have a few private matters to discuss.” Then, alone, she stepped into my squalid little room. “What method? Tell me quickly… Ah!” Charlotte demanded impatiently, but her last word was abruptly cut short. Catching her off guard, I lunged, seizing her wrists and binding her hands and feet. Just as I’d anticipated, this body possessed the strength of a young man. Charlotte’s eyes widened in terror. “What are you doing?!” I gave a menacing chuckle, then, in the most innocent tone, I whispered, “Sister Charlotte, you want to be with child, don’t you? I can get you pregnant. Have you forgotten… I also possess that?” Charlotte’s composure completely shattered. Fear and terror erased all traces of her usual grace. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Ah! Help! Someone… Mmph! Don’t… Help!” But no matter how she cried out, I clamped my hand over her mouth, my eyes burning with pure hatred. “Scream all you want, dear sister. I have nothing to lose, so I’m not afraid of you who has everything! At worst, we both go down together.” If fate had granted me this rebirth, I swore I would exact every ounce of revenge for myself and for the real Celeste—all the bitterness, all the humiliation. I would make her suffer beyond measure. With that thought, I put my full strength into it, and the sudden sound of tearing fabric ripped through the stale air. Charlotte seemed to guess my intention; her face went ashen, and she shrieked, “Get away! Get away… Ah!” I paid no heed, consumed by a furious resolve. Listening to her heart-wrenching screams, I felt nothing but grim satisfaction. In my previous life, when I was executed, I had pleaded and begged her, but she had turned a deaf ear, ordering me gagged and kicking me aside. Now, I was simply repaying the debt. I would not relent. I tormented Charlotte for a long, long time. So long that she wept and begged for mercy, so long that her tears ran dry, so long that the proud light vanished from her eyes. I had truly ground her into the dirt, watching the once haughty Queen Consort descend into a state of disheveled, dazed despair. In that moment, I understood the profound sense of dominance a man felt over a woman; now, I was dominating Charlotte. Leaning close, I pinched her face and issued my demand: “Charlotte Beaumont, take me to the palace. Bring me before the King.” I couldn’t simply let her go. I had to enter the palace. I wanted to be in her presence every single day; a simple act of revenge wouldn’t be enough to quell the hatred of both myself and the true Celeste. Charlotte’s eyes were unfocused, yet at the mention of “the King,” she instinctively looked at me. “No, impossible! I will never let a freak like you appear before His Majesty! You’re unworthy! You’re a monster!” Her true nature, unchanged. I narrowed my eyes, observing her reaction. It seems her affection for the King is indeed profound. All the more reason for me to enter the palace. Her threats and insults meant nothing to me. I grabbed her hair. Every extra word she uttered was met with a stronger tug on her scalp. “If you don’t bring me to the palace, I will tell the whole world what we did today! I’ll tell them how you begged and cried. And don’t think of killing me to silence me. Even if the Beaumonts abandoned me, they won’t simply ignore my death.” At my words, Charlotte’s face contorted in fear. She dissolved into tears, cursing me: “You maniac! You’ll rot in hell!” I thought she was a pot calling the kettle black. “Charlotte Beaumont, have you forgotten your past cruelties against me? Who was it that scorned my body from childhood, calling me a monster, driving me to self-loathing and despair? Who drugged me to make me simple-minded, and encouraged our parents to lock me away in this dark room? Wasn’t it all you? Have you not wronged me enough?” I flung these accusations at her, relentless. Charlotte recoiled, trembling, unable to utter a single word, merely staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. Seeing her disheveled and bruised, I finally felt a measure of vindication. “Take me to the palace, or we will both be destroyed. You choose.” In the royal carriage on the way back to the palace, Charlotte huddled beside me, trembling, softly pleading. “I’ve agreed to take you back to the palace. You mustn’t betray me and speak of those… unpleasant things. Please, I beg you.” My expression remained impassive. “Depends on your performance.” One sentence silenced Charlotte completely. Upon entering the palace, I smoothly met King Lysander in her chambers. The moment our eyes met, his were filled with a mixture of awe and delight. “Queen Consort, who is this? How can someone rival your breathtaking beauty?” I feigned a gentle, demure demeanor and lied that I was her distant cousin. All the while, King Lysander’s gaze remained fixed on me, completely disregarding Charlotte. Soon, Charlotte sensed the shift in attention and secretly warned me to behave. But I paid her no mind, immediately setting about charming King Lysander. “Your Majesty, perhaps you would grace the Clouded Pavilion tonight? Your humble servant promises you a delightful surprise.” Upon hearing this, King Lysander’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. That evening, I donned the most exquisitely crafted gown from Charlotte’s chambers and made my way to the Clouded Pavilion. Before long, a slightly tipsy King Lysander arrived. The moment he saw me, he wrapped his arms around my waist without a word, pulling me close. I leaned into him, feigning a gentle resistance. “Your Majesty, will you stay here tonight?” His kiss, smelling faintly of wine, descended upon me. His low voice rumbled, “My darling Celeste, since I’ve come tonight, I have no intention of leaving. But… where is this surprise you promised?” His tone was laced with seductive suggestion, and I, in turn, fixed him with an even more alluring gaze. “That, Your Majesty, you must uncover yourself in my chambers. Otherwise, where would the surprise be?” No sooner had the words left my lips than King Lysander swept me into his arms. He carried me swiftly to the bed, his movements eager. In the dim lamplight, I revealed myself completely, holding nothing back. When King Lysander saw what lay before him, his hands visibly trembled. “You… you are a man?” I smiled, pinching his chin playfully, and teased, “Your Majesty, you didn’t look closely enough. Take another look. I am, of course, a woman. But I can also be a man.” King Lysander’s eyes widened in disbelief, his gaze fixed on my unique anatomy. Soon, he visibly swallowed, his eyes now holding a hint of longing and even envy. I smiled, knowing the fish had taken the bait. It seemed the whispers about the King’s preference for men were indeed true. So I leaned close to his ear, whispering softly to provoke him: “Does Your Majesty approve?” His eager movements and a torrent of kisses were his only reply. That night, the bed curtains swayed gently, and the red candles flickered in the dancing shadows. But by the latter half of the night, his stamina clearly waned, bringing an end to the night’s debauchery. As I was about to close my eyes for sleep, I suddenly heard him lean in close, his voice a low, panting whisper: “Celeste, would you… would you like to be on top?” The air stilled for a moment. Hearing his words, my eyes snapped open, fixed unblinkingly on him. On the surface, he was asking if I wanted to take the dominant position, but implicitly, it revealed King Lysander’s desire to be the submissive one. He actually wanted to be the one beneath? My heart jolted with shock, yet I maintained a calm facade. “Does Your Majesty wish for it?” I countered.

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When I went home for the holidays, my parents told me they wanted to introduce me to a foreign millionaire. But the moment we landed in Dubai, their faces changed. My brother, Mark, ripped up my passport. They forced me into a car, driving deep into the desert. I watched the familiar landscape flash by, begging them to turn back, to take me home, not to go any further. Mark just laughed, telling me to stop struggling, that if I behaved, I might just keep my life. My eyes were wide with terror, but not for myself. It was them who were going to die. They had no idea. Just last month, I’d escaped this very place. My performance had been so exceptional, my boss had specially granted me leave to go home for the holidays. I never imagined I’d barely escaped, only to be sent right back. 1 Looking out at the vast stretches of yellow sand through the car window, to an ordinary person, it would look like any other desert. But I knew. We were getting closer and closer to The Oasis —— Scam Compounds. Once you entered that place, it took immense effort to get out. I’d barely managed to escape last month, and now I was going back. Who knew if I’d get out again for years? The thought sent a jolt through me, and I immediately began to struggle violently. “Let me out! Are you insane? This is the desert! Where’s this foreign millionaire?!” My mother pinched the soft flesh of my waist with a vicious twist, making me cry out instantly. “You little bitch, behave yourself!” My brother, Mark, swung his arm, slapping me hard across the face. My vision swam, and my cheek stung with a fiery pain. “You haven’t been back in eight years. If you hadn’t suddenly shown up at our door, we would’ve forgotten you even existed.” He scoffed. “You’ve been living the high life out there, while I haven’t even scraped together enough for my wedding expenses. It’s perfect, the compound needs people. You go in, and my expenses will finally be covered.” My head reeled, but hearing his words, a mocking smile twisted my lips. The notorious Oasis. Anyone who entered, either complied and became a money-making machine, or they were left to rot in the desert, an unidentifiable mummified corpse. From the moment they stepped foot in this desert, going back was no longer an option. Seeing my smile, Mark burst into laughter. “Scared speechless, aren’t you, you fool?” My father, in the front seat, nervously twisted his head to look at me when he heard this, then cautioned Mark, “Go easy on her. She won’t be worth anything if you knock her senseless!” “Don’t worry,” Mark chuckled. “Women are incredibly useful. With her physique, she can pop out ten, maybe eight kids, no problem. If she can’t, we’ll just strip her for parts. That’s another fortune.” I remembered a woman who entered the compound at the same time as me. She’d constantly screamed about wanting out, tried to escape several times, and each time, she was dragged back. The last time, all her organs were harvested, and she came out as nothing but a thin husk of a person. To warn us new recruits, the boss had thrown her remains at our feet, telling us that if anyone else tried to run, that would be their fate. I stared at those empty eye sockets and made a decision. The next day, I threw myself into the work. It took me eight years, working nonstop, to finally become the compound’s top earner, gradually becoming the boss’s right-hand person, the respected Tina to everyone in The Oasis. “You’d best let me go now. Otherwise, you’ll all regret it.” I warned them again. 2 “You filthy bitch, still daring to threaten us? Got some guts, do you?” Mark exploded, grabbing my hair and repeatedly slamming my head against the car window. My head was bleeding, but the glass remained unharmed. I struggled violently, my hands flailing wildly, my feet kicking everywhere. The car instantly erupted into chaos. My eyes were blurred with blood; I couldn’t see anything, only heard my mother yelp in pain, then start cursing me. Mark grabbed my hands, trying to restrain me. “Quick, tie her up! Now!” My father handed him a leather belt from the front. The three of them bore down on me, finally managing to bind me. Mark spat a thick gob of phlegm on my face, then landed a few more punches. “Try moving again! I dare you! I’ll kill you, you hear me?!” “Alright, don’t hit her face. Hit other places. Grim needs to see her face later,” my father interjected. I knew the ‘Grim’ he spoke of. Just yesterday, he and I had been chatting on the phone. I immediately blurted out, “Let me go now! When Grim sees how you’re treating me, he’ll kill you, believe me!” “I know you want to sell me to The Oasis for a finder’s fee. I can give you money. I have a few million in my account, I’ll give it all to you. Turn the car around now!” I’d always known this family was rotten, which was why I’d cut ties with them early on. But the methods used in the compound were truly horrifying. Still, blood was thicker than water, and I couldn’t bear to see them suffer such unspeakable torment. Hearing about several million dollars, Mark’s eyes lit up. He had only torn up my passport and taken my phone. As for the bank cards in my bag, they hadn’t paid them any mind. Now, knowing I had money, my mother immediately retrieved the forgotten bag from the car’s corner, rummaged through it, and indeed found my bank cards. “Son, I found them! Quick, ask her for the PIN!” Mark scoffed dismissively. “Are you stupid? You believe her just because she says she has money? Did she rob a bank? How could she earn millions in eight years?!” At his words, my mother’s initially joyous expression instantly fell. The next second, she gritted her teeth and kicked me. “You little bitch, still daring to lie to me.” “Check it then! There’s really money in there! At this point, why would I lie to you? You won’t lose anything by checking!” I roared at these fools. Mark, hearing me, looked slightly less skeptical. He immediately pulled out his phone, ready to check the account. Mark tapped on his phone, his expression frozen for a few seconds, then his eyes widened, and he burst out laughing. “What’s so funny, you brat? Lost your mind?” Mark lit a cigarette, still laughing, and handed the phone to my father in the front. Everyone saw the string of numbers on the screen, and the car instantly filled with an air of joyful greed. But I was in no mood to listen to them laugh, because I could feel it: we were very close to The Oasis now. “Turn around now! When we get back to the country, I’ll take you to withdraw the money. It’ll all be yours!” My father chuckled. “Alright, alright, turn around. We’re going back, no compound.” I breathed a sigh of relief, but the next second, Mark’s words sent my heart plummeting again. “Turn around for what? Are you stupid? We already agreed with Grim. How many lives do you have to stand him up?” He looked at me. “Just tell me the PIN, and I might put in a good word for you with Grim.” I glared at him, my eyes burning. “Go to hell! Want the PIN? Dream on!” I spat out a mouthful of blood. “When I get in there, you’ll all be dead!” I understood now. This family was a nest of vipers. The Oasis was their best, final destination! 3 Mark, seeing I still dared to defy him, grabbed my hair, forced my mouth open, and shoved the still-lit cigarette butt inside. “Won’t talk, huh? Then you’ll never talk again!” He clamped his hand over my mouth, preventing me from spitting out the cigarette. The scorching butt seared my mouth before slowly extinguishing. My mother worried, “Son, how will we get the money without the PIN?” “What’s there to fear? We have her family registration documents. We’re her next of kin. We can withdraw the money without a PIN.” At this, everyone relaxed. Not only would they get my money, but they’d also get the finder’s fee for delivering me. My father proudly gave a thumbs-up, and the group began planning how to spend their new fortune. There was nothing more to say now. Just my bad luck; my holiday was ruined. The car soon slowed down. I knew this meant we were entering The Oasis. Mark pulled out his phone, ready to call the contact person. “Grim, we’ve arrived. We’ve brought the person. Don’t worry.” “Good, good. We’ll wait in the car for you. Take your time, take your time.” I lay in the car, unable to see outside, relying only on my hearing. Soon, hurried footsteps approached. The car door was yanked open, and two men climbed in, pulling me out. It was then I realized there were several other vehicles entering the compound with us. A dozen or so people, men and women, were being led out. Some hadn’t grasped the gravity of the situation and immediately started yelling. I was used to this scene. Grim looked impatient. He drew a loaded pistol from his waist and walked towards the loudest protester. “Grim, you bastard! Let me go now!” I yelled at him. Grim was the captain in charge of transporting the “piglets,” essentially the Chief Enforcer of The Oasis. Anyone disobedient who went through his hands, no matter how stubborn, would eventually fall in line. No sooner had I spoken than Mark kicked me down. “Sarah Stone, you’ve grown guts, haven’t you? Daring to insult Grim? I’ll cut out your tongue, you hear me?!” Punches rained down on me. I curled up on the ground, gritting my teeth, making no sound. Grim had been walking towards me, but seeing Mark lay a hand on me, he stopped. After a moment, he slowly spoke: “Stop.” After the beating, my face was covered in blood and dirt; my features were completely indistinguishable. I was getting desperate. I knew this man’s capabilities. I tried to speak quickly, but the cigarette had burned large blisters in my mouth, making my voice hoarse. “It’s me, Tina! Look closely!” My mother slapped my mouth. “Sarah Stone, that’s my name for you! Try acting up again, I dare you!” Her sharp, long fingernails tore at my lips, and soon, blood trickled out. When I first entered The Oasis, to facilitate management, everyone had to adopt an English name. I chose Tina. Everyone here called me Tina, no one knew my real name was actually Sarah Stone. 4 Grim’s expression tightened when he heard the name ‘Tina.’ Mark at that moment pulled out a cigarette and offered it to him. “Grim, my sister here is disobedient. I’d appreciate it if you could teach her a good lesson.” “What’s your sister’s real name?” “Just Sarah Stone.” My mouth was too swollen to speak. Grim waved his hand, and someone immediately led us away. Mark and my parents were left outside. I only heard Mark cautiously ask Grim, “Grim, when can we get the money?” “What’s the rush? She still needs a medical exam. What if she has an infectious disease? Don’t worry, I’m not short a few bucks for your cut.” Mark, who had just been acting tough in front of me, was now bowing and scraping to Grim like a lapdog. I was locked into a makeshift cell with the dozen or so people who had arrived with me. As the name implied, this enclosure had once held dogs. Everyone inside was forced to curl up, squeezed together like canines. The stench of sweat mixed with the metallic smell of blood assaulted my nostrils. Somewhere, someone was sobbing quietly. This was just the first step: draining all their energy this way made them easier to control later. I don’t know how long passed. I could no longer feel my limbs. The sounds of the others around me gradually faded. Finally, the outer door opened. Grim walked in, and a few of his henchmen stepped forward to unlock the cell. Clearly, a dog cage wasn’t enough to extinguish a human’s will to survive. A few people, once released, immediately shoved those around them and bolted for the main gate. Grim pulled out his pistol and shot one of them in the thigh. At that, everyone else froze, too terrified to move. “Why run? I’m not some villain. As long as you listen, our boss will help you all make a fortune.” He pointed his gun to the sky. “But if you don’t listen… I have plenty of ways to handle you.” These people had never seen a gun up close. They were all scared stiff, afraid to move, only able to comply. We were divided into two groups, men and women, and taken to separate rooms. Men and women had different uses here. All the women were stripped of their clothes, and naked photos were taken. I’d already been through this; it didn’t faze me anymore. Next was a series of medical examinations. After confirming that none of us had infectious diseases, we finally reached the last step: meeting the boss. We were led to a spacious area. Derek Thorne emerged, surrounded by his men. I seized my chance and immediately rushed forward, but my body was covered in injuries, and I couldn’t run fast. One of his men immediately swung a baseball bat, striking me across the leg. A hoarse scream ripped from my throat. Derek Thorne glanced at me, then asked Grim, “What’s going on here?” “My fault, my fault. I didn’t train her well enough.” Grim walked towards me with a stun baton. The current surged through my body, and for a moment, I thought I smelled burning flesh. “Don’t expect any bonus this month,” Derek Thorne said coolly. Grim looked as if he wanted to tear me limb from limb. “Damn it, drag her down and break her!” Grim was terrified of being implicated and ordered his men to act quickly. At that moment, Derek Thorne raised his hand, stopping the others. “Wait!”

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Seven years of marriage, seven times I was dragged into that alley. The seventh time, my body broken, blood pooling beneath me, they dumped me in a dumpster like refuse. It wasn’t until he saw the scene, a chilling replica of that night so long ago, that Ryan Harris, my husband, finally emerged from the alley’s mouth. He ordered his men to seize the thugs who had ruined his sister’s life all those years ago. He glanced at my dying form, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but it quickly congealed into icy mockery. “Enjoy yourself this time, Maya?” he sneered. “You owe me, Maya Thorne!” His men, witnessing my horrific state, panicked. One immediately fumbled for his phone, dialing 911. Ryan, however, slapped the phone away with a dismissive wave, his voice a low, furious growl. “Don’t just stand there! Take her to identify the assailants!” I silently closed my eyes, allowing them to haul me away, but tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. The endless nightmares of the past seven years finally made sense today. Ryan Harris, what I owed you, I have now repaid in full. … I jolted awake from the dream, my legs aflame with a searing, agonizing pain. When I opened my eyes, a parade of grotesque, leering faces still swirled behind my eyelids, refusing to fade. “What’s wrong? Not satisfied? Still dreaming about it?” Ryan’s voice dripped with scorn from the chair beside my bed. Seraphina Blackwood, his childhood friend, nestled comfortably in his arms, chimed in, her tone equally venomous. “Maya Thorne, you truly are despicable! If Ryan ignores you, you just run off to those thugs for a thrill? Could it be you’re addicted? You actually enjoy that kind of… attention?” She paused, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Otherwise, after six times, why would you pretend to be so innocent, only to doll yourself up and rush to meet Ryan every time he called?” Yes, I was such a fool. How could I have ever believed he was finally opening his heart to me again? Last night, Ryan had called me to that same dreaded alley. Despite a growing unease, I went, clinging to a sliver of hope. And just as before, endless torment awaited me. I screamed his name, desperate for him to hear, to save me. But instead, through blurred eyes, I saw him and Seraphina locked in a passionate embrace at the alley’s entrance. An entire hour passed. Only when the thugs were done and preparing to leave did he finally appear with his men. By then, blood stained my lower body, and my abdomen was wracked with violent cramps. Realizing I hadn’t had my period in two months, I struggled, reaching out a trembling hand to Ryan, pleading for help. “Ryan… the hospital… I think… I’m having a miscarriage…” Ryan’s brows furrowed, but Seraphina quickly wrapped her arm around his, her gaze raking over me with disdain. “Sister, you must have been having too much fun just now! Your face practically screams how much you enjoyed it!” She laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “And heaven truly is kind to you. Good riddance, honestly. It would just be a bastard child anyway! Isn’t one illegitimate brat enough already?” The pain in my stomach was too overwhelming to fight back. I could only look at Ryan, my eyes pleading. But he turned away, leaving me with a cold, cutting remark: “Maya Thorne, when did you become so utterly depraved?” Yet, he seemed to forget that the last time I’d been dragged into that alley was a year ago. How could this possibly be someone else’s child? The hospital room door creaked open, pulling my thoughts back to the present. The doctor entered to examine me. The sheet was pulled back, and a wave of ice slammed into me. My mind went blank, a void of horror, as tears, hot and fat, streamed down my face. Lying there, on the stark white hospital bed, were only the stumps of what used to be my legs. I lunged for the doctor, my arms flailing, screaming hysterically. “Doctor, my legs? Where are my legs?” The doctor looked at me with a pained expression. “Your legs… they were shattered yesterday.” She hesitated, then continued, her voice soft. “You were unconscious. Your husband, perhaps fearing complications, chose… amputation.” Amputation? Ryan knew, better than anyone, that I was a dancer. Amputation meant the end of my life. I tried to lunge towards Ryan, only to collapse to the floor. He didn’t move, just watched me, his eyes blazing with a horrifying, bloodshot intensity. “You’ve only lost your legs, Maya. But what about my sister? My mother? Trading your useless limbs for two lives… you got off easy!” My heart felt as though it had been stabbed with a bayonet. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my flesh, drawing blood. “Ryan Harris, what I owed you, I have repaid.” The day I was discharged, I went straight back to the Harris mansion to pack my belongings. Six-year-old Leo stood by my side, his clothes tattered, his small body covered in bruises, yet his eyes burned with a defiant fire. I said nothing, only took his hand and started to walk out. Just then, Seraphina walked in, arm in arm with Ryan. Seeing us holding hands, Seraphina’s lips curled into a sneer. “Well, well, look at the loving mother and son act. Such deep maternal bonds, aren’t they? And to think, my dear ‘sister,’ you just had to keep this bastard child.” The word “bastard” ignited a spark in Leo. He transformed into a tiny, furious beast, lunging at Seraphina. But his small frame was no match for Ryan, who slapped him across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. “Maya Thorne, this is the bastard you’ve raised!” Ryan snarled. “Like father, like son, indeed!” This son… Ryan had forced me to have him. Shortly after the first time I was dragged into that alley, I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to terminate the pregnancy, but Ryan wouldn’t allow it. He assigned bodyguards to watch me twenty-four hours a day, forcing me to carry the child to term. I knew, of course, that this was his punishment. A punishment for me to remember my ‘sins’ for the rest of my life. But I never imagined his punishment would be so relentless. Especially after he started his affair with Seraphina, he tormented me ceaselessly, pushing me deeper and deeper into the abyss. “What are you doing with that suitcase?” Ryan finally noticed my luggage by my side, kicking it over with a furious boot. “You think you can just leave before you’ve atoned for your sins?” Clothes spilled across the floor, and a small, ornate box flew out, striking the wall with a sharp CRACK. Inside, what I knew to be Kate’s favorite silver locket, the one she’d given me before… before everything, lay shattered into a dozen pieces. Ryan’s eyes went bloodshot as he instantly recognized the locket. “Maya Thorne, you even stoop to stealing? That was my sister’s most cherished locket!” SLAP! A stinging blow across my face. I stared at him, my gaze unwavering, my voice defiant. “I didn’t steal it. She gave it to me.” Ryan’s rage only intensified. “You’re still lying?” he roared. “You were jealous her dancing was better than yours, so you orchestrated her assault, had her legs broken, and now you steal her locket! Do you want everything she had?” He turned to the servants. “Someone! Remove her prosthetics! Make her kneel before my sister’s memorial and confess her sins!” Several servants rushed forward, seizing my arms. They yanked off my artificial limbs, forcing me to the ground. The unhealed incisions on my stumps rubbed against the floor, instantly oozing blood. The excruciating pain made me writhe and twist, but without my prosthetics, I lost my balance, swaying uncontrollably. Seraphina watched, laughing hysterically. “Brother, look at her! Doesn’t she look like a roly-poly doll?” She mocked, “Sister, you may not be able to dance anymore, but you could always join the circus as a clown!” The servants snickered along with her. Leo stood nearby, his eyes colder than ice. Seraphina, still not satisfied, stepped forward and shoved me. I swayed again, then toppled over, falling flat. My arm struck Kate’s memorial plaque, and in an instant, her urn tumbled down, shattering on the floor. Her ashes scattered into the air like a ghostly mist. Seeing Kate’s remains desecrated, Seraphina looked momentarily flustered, then quickly pointed a finger. “Maya Thorne, you killed my sister, and now you can’t even leave her ashes in peace! You want to obliterate every last trace of her!” Ryan seized my collar, hoisting me into the air, his teeth grinding together. “Maya Thorne! My sister treated you so kindly! Why? Why would you do this to her? What deep-seated hatred did you harbor against her?” He stared at me, the fury in his eyes threatening to consume me whole. I looked back at the man before me, now utterly consumed by his rage, and shook my head repeatedly, tears blurring my vision. After a long, agonizing silence, Ryan abruptly slammed me back down to the ground. “Let her kneel here all night,” he snarled. “Tomorrow, on my sister’s memorial, she’ll atone for her sins personally!” I was held down, the shattered pieces of the urn digging into my raw stumps, instantly staining the pristine white carpet crimson. My consciousness began to blur. After hours of agonizing kneeling, I finally succumbed to the pain and passed out. Seven years ago, Ryan and I were the golden couple, the envy of everyone. His sister, Kate, and I were particularly close, both members of the same dance troupe. That day, Kate and I were heading to a long-awaited dance competition, our golden ticket into the prestigious National Dance Company. Everything was going smoothly until the evening ended. In a hurry, I led her down a shortcut, where we encountered a group of drunk, burly men. We screamed for help, but our mouths were quickly gagged with cloths. Dark, menacing hands began to invade. When we were discovered the next morning, Kate’s back and legs were completely broken. She had been folded in half and thrown into a dumpster, barely clinging to life. I, too, was covered in bruises, unconscious on the ground. The doctors said Kate’s legs were shattered; she would never dance again. Unable to bear the shock, she jumped from a building, taking her own life. Ryan’s mother, heartbroken, suffered a fatal heart attack shortly after. Overnight, Ryan lost two of his closest family members. And the only spot in Veridia City’s National Dance Company, ironically, fell to me. Suddenly, rumors spread like wildfire. Everyone whispered that I had orchestrated the tragedy to secure my place. After all, she was the only one whose legs were broken. From that day on, Ryan became a different man. And I chose to deceive myself, to silently bear the burden. After all, if I hadn’t chosen that shortcut, his sister wouldn’t have died. A jolt of icy water splashed onto my face, snapping me awake from my unconsciousness. “Brother, look at her! You told her to kneel and confess, and she’s just taking a nap! And she’s made such a mess on the floor! What will the guests think when they come for the memorial? They’ll think we always treat Kate like this!” Ryan was about to unleash his fury when a servant rushed in from outside, breathless. “Mr. Harris, Mr. Harris! It’s terrible! A mob of reporters outside, making a huge fuss! They say they’re here to report on Mrs. Harris!” Ryan’s gaze snapped to me, his eyes shooting daggers of ice. Seraphina, quick to interject, said, “Brother, she probably called the reporters herself, hoping to clear her name! She wants to play the victim!” Ryan glanced at me, a cruel smirk curving his lips. “Maya Thorne, my sister was the victim, and yet you want to play martyr? Fine! I’ll let everyone know who really caused my sister’s death!” He paused, a chilling glint in his eye. “And those video clips from the past few years, with you and those petty thugs? I’ve kept every single one!” He pointed a finger, his voice rising to a furious command. “Now! Project them onto the main screen!” Instantly, the massive screen in the memorial hall lit up, displaying video clips of me and those thugs. Whether it was due to editing or camera angles, my expressions in the videos were… unsettling. The entire room erupted into whispers and murmurs. “Look at her, that slutty expression! It’s true what they say, she wanted to be violated!” “What? How could anyone be so sick? She enjoys being forced?” “Haven’t you heard? Mr. Harris barely touches her. She must have been so desperate, it drove her insane!” “Considering all this, maybe she was the one who arranged what happened to Mr. Harris’s sister! Otherwise, why is she perfectly fine while his sister is gone?” I watched the looping footage, seven years of painful memories flooding my mind. I buried my face in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut, desperate to escape. When I finally dared to look up, I met Ryan’s icy gaze. “What’s wrong? Ashamed now?” he taunted. “Where was that shame when you were ‘enjoying’ yourself?” Unexpectedly, Seraphina, in front of everyone, seemed to defend me. “Brother, don’t be too angry. Today is Kate’s memorial, and she wouldn’t be happy seeing such a commotion. Perhaps I should take ‘Sister’ to change her clothes first, then she can properly apologize to Kate. After all, she’s wearing a red dress, which isn’t really appropriate.”

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Tim Winslow, the notorious scion of Veridia City, found amusement in live-streaming his conquests. After publicly marking our intimacy on a live stream, his affections veered. He brazenly cast his new girl as the lead in my movie, demoting me, an award-winning actress, to a mere prop. To add insult to injury, he even wrote in a scene where I was to be physically assaulted. “You’re a veteran, Miya. It’s only right you guide the young lady, isn’t it?” And so, under the scrutiny of countless eyes, I endured over twenty open-handed slaps. When the young woman feigned illness, claiming my aura was too dark, Tim called in a mystic who pierced me with 999 silver needles to “cleanse” my spirit. Tim’s friends tried to warn him against taking things too far. The man merely chuckled. “So what? She begged me on her knees to be with me.” “Without me, her brother would have been dead long ago!” But what he didn’t know was that I had already packed my brother Caleb’s urn, along with my plane ticket to France, into my suitcase. 1. Before leaving for France, I had one last scene to film. Because of that scene, Tim’s new darling, Seraphina Blackwood, slapped me over twenty times. I faced the dressing room mirror, dabbing my raw, stinging cheek with a cotton swab soaked in saline solution. A fiery pain spread across my skin. I couldn’t use antiseptic; I still had another scene. The marks of over twenty slaps blossomed on my face. Gritting my teeth, I applied another layer of foundation. “Ms. Thorne… are you alright?” The makeup artist asked cautiously, her voice laced with confusion. How could Miya Thorne, an Oscar-winning actress, be so consumed by love that she allowed her boyfriend’s kept mistress to walk all over her? I shook my head, reassuring her. But how could I have ever imagined that one day I’d be repeatedly slapped by a newcomer, barely out of acting school? And my boyfriend sat behind the monitor, watching it all unfold, without even a flicker of concern. Back on set, Seraphina Blackwood was perched on Tim’s lap, giggling coyly, a grape dangling from her lips, poised to feed him. Tim caught my eye, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, then leaned down and captured Seraphina’s red lips in a kiss. The crew immediately averted their gazes, knowing better than to challenge the scion of the powerful Winslow family, who held sway over half the entertainment industry. “Miss Blackwood says real slaps make it feel more authentic…” The assistant director offered a simpering smile. “Ms. Thorne, your acting is superb, you’ll surely handle it. Miss Blackwood says she’s found her rhythm now, this scene will be over quickly, no retakes!” “Why would Ms. Thorne mind?” Seraphina batted her innocent eyes, stepping in front of me. Tim remained seated, a faint, unreadable smile on his face. He said nothing, which meant he approved. “Action!” The first slap landed with full force, my head snapped to the side, my eardrums rang, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Thorne! I got too into character! Please, just one more chance! I learn so quickly!” she cooed, her apology sickeningly sweet. The second slap followed, then the third… Seraphina’s strikes grew more fluid, more confident with each blow. Sometimes her nails grazed my eyelids, stinging so badly I couldn’t open my eyes. The set was silent, everyone holding their breath, their gazes darting between us and Tim. His eyes were as cold and distant as if he were watching a performance that had nothing to do with him. I don’t know how many more slaps I endured, but soon I could barely stand. The pain was excruciating, and I instinctively flinched away. “Ah!” Seraphina suddenly shrieked dramatically, throwing herself to my side. Her elbow hit the ground, immediately blooming with a faint red mark. The set erupted into a commotion. “Miya!” Tim shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor with a deafening screech. He roughly shoved me aside, kneeling to tend to Seraphina. “Are you alright?” I stumbled back several steps, my back slamming into a camera tripod, making me gasp in pain. But no one noticed me. All eyes were on Seraphina. “Mr. Winslow, it hurts so much…” Seraphina’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She held up her elbow, displaying the almost invisible “injury.” “Ms. Thorne suddenly moved, and I lost my balance…” Tim turned his head, glaring at me, his eyes sharp as daggers. “Miya, did you do that on purpose?” I opened my mouth, but my throat was so dry no sound emerged. My cheek was swollen, blood trickling from the corner of my lips, while the faint red mark on Seraphina’s elbow would likely vanish within five minutes. “I…” I began to explain, but Tim impatiently waved his hand, cutting me off. “Enough!” He swept Seraphina into his arms, his movements as gentle as if she were made of glass. “That’s enough for today. Director Davies, reschedule Miya’s scenes. Film the others first.” He strode out, and as he passed me, he delivered a chilling parting shot: “You’d better think carefully about how you’re going to apologize.” Everyone bowed their heads, avoiding eye contact with me. I stood there, feeling the stinging pain in my cheek and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, suddenly finding it all ridiculously absurd. 2. Half an hour later, I sat alone in the dressing room, an ice pack pressed against my swollen, throbbing face. Footsteps and hushed voices drifted from outside the door. “Mr. Winslow specifically called his family doctor for Seraphina’s elbow. I heard he even personally fed her painkillers,” a woman gossiped. “Tsk, tsk, Ms. Thorne truly fell hard this time,” another voice chimed in, tinged with schadenfreude. “She’s an Oscar winner, a three-time Aurelian Award recipient, how did she end up like this?” “This entertainment world is just a playground for the rich,” someone sighed, lowering their voice. “What good is Miya Thorne’s talent? At the end of the day, she’s just an actress. Can all her effort compare to a single word from Mr. Winslow?” I took a deep breath, pulled my phone from my bag, and dialed an international number. After hanging up, confirming that he would pick me up tomorrow night, I finally felt a sense of peace. I then returned to the Winslow estate to pack my bags. My fingers still trembled slightly as I pushed open the villa’s front door. I would be leaving tomorrow night. This return was only to secretly retrieve Caleb’s photograph. In the entryway, Seraphina’s high heels lay haphazardly, as if the two of them had been too eager to waste a moment. I stepped over them, my face expressionless, and headed towards the study on the second floor. Every corner of this villa bore the mark of my own hands, my own careful touches. I had once truly considered this place my home. But ever since Seraphina entered our lives, Tim had transformed. Three months ago, I was rushed to the hospital, hovering between life and death after an acute pancreatitis attack, triggered by drinking with investors on his behalf. And Tim? He was with Seraphina, setting off fireworks on the beach. When the nurse delivered this news, I lay curled on my hospital bed, a feeding tube in my stomach, writhing in pain. “Mr. Winslow said the fireworks were pre-ordered and non-refundable,” my assistant mumbled, barely daring to meet my eyes. Last month, on Caleb’s memorial day, I prepared to burn offerings in the yard as usual, but Tim ordered everyone to clear it out. “Seraphina is easily frightened; she can’t stand such things,” he frowned, snatching the bouquet from my hand and tossing it into the trash. “Mourning the dead inside the house? Aren’t you worried it will bring bad luck?” Pushing open the study door, my heart plummeted. The photograph on the bookshelf was gone. I frantically searched every drawer, then Tim’s light chuckle drifted to me. “Looking for this?” Tim leaned casually against the doorframe, holding a photograph torn in half – it was Caleb, taken at his college graduation, wearing his cap and gown, his smile as bright as sunshine. And now, that cherished photo was cruelly ripped, Caleb’s smiling face split in two. “Tim!” I lunged to snatch it back, but he easily evaded me. “I told you, no such things are allowed in this house,” he said coldly, scattering the remaining pieces onto the floor. “Seraphina started having nightmares the moment she came back. I knew you must be hiding something inauspicious like this.” I knelt on the floor, helplessly trying to piece the fragments together. Through all the humiliation, through Seraphina’s slaps, I hadn’t cried. I tried to hold it in, but tears spilled down my face, defiant and unstoppable. “Why… why would you do this…” All these years, to help Tim expand his network, I’d drunk myself into stomach bleeds more times than I could count on both hands. At Tim’s word, I allowed Seraphina to slap me senseless in public! Tim impatiently stood up. “Enough! You always get so dramatic when your brother is mentioned. Don’t put on a sob show here. Seraphina will wake up soon, you need to quickly get rid of these cursed things—” “Who the hell is Seraphina Blackwood?” I interrupted him, my voice suddenly rising. “A barely known celebrity who slept her way to the top. Does she really deserve to touch my brother’s photo?” 3. Tim’s pupils constricted, his face instantly darkening. He snatched the photo fragments I had just gathered from my hand, tearing them into even smaller pieces right in front of me. “Who the hell do you think you are, speaking about Seraphina like that?” I lunged to retrieve the pieces, but he violently pushed me away. He then pulled open my locked drawer. He had known where I hid the key all along. Tim pulled out every single photograph of Caleb I had painstakingly preserved. Caleb in his graduation cap and gown, Caleb sweating on the basketball court, Caleb’s profile as he made his last birthday wish over a cake… One by one, they disintegrated into fragments in his hands. “You’re insane! These are the originals!” I knelt on the floor, uselessly trying to piece them together, my vision blurred by tears. “Ill-omened,” he spat, two chilling words, scattering the last handful of fragments out the window. I trembled all over, then suddenly remembered something and lunged for the hidden compartment behind the bookcase. There, I kept the hard drive containing all of Caleb’s digital photos. But Tim was faster. He snatched the hard drive, gripping it tightly in his hand. “Give it back! That’s all that’s left…” My voice was hoarse with desperation. Tim stared at me, then a cruel smile spread across his face. Right in front of me, he bent the hard drive with both hands – it snapped with a sharp CRACK, its casing splitting open, the delicate disk exposed to the air. He walked to the balcony, held the damaged hard drive high, and then released it. I heard a soft “plop” as it hit the artificial lake below. “Clean now.” I collapsed to the floor, feeling as though all the blood in my body had turned to ice. It felt like that day all over again, the day I received the news of Caleb’s death. My vision blurred. The last thing I saw was Tim’s face, suddenly etched with panic. “Miya! Mi—” Darkness consumed me. … The pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils as I slowly opened my eyes, gazing at the sterile white ceiling. An IV needle was embedded in the back of my hand, cold liquid steadily flowing into my veins, making me tremble uncontrollably. “Awake?” I turned my head. He sat beside the hospital bed, his tailored suit jacket draped over the chair, his tie loosened. Dark circles were pronounced beneath his eyes. He looked as if he had been keeping vigil all night. “The doctor said it was a temporary blackout caused by extreme emotional distress,” he said, pouring a glass of water and offering it to me. “All that for a few worthless photos? Is it really worth it?” I didn’t take the glass, only gazed at him silently. The glass hovered awkwardly in mid-air before he finally set it down heavily on the table. “What day is it?” I asked softly. Tim frowned. “Thursday. Why?” Thursday. Four more days until my flight to France. I silently calculated the time in my mind. “I asked you a question!” Tim suddenly raised his voice. “Why are you playing mute? Getting so worked up over a few photos of a dead person, when there’s a living one right here?” I turned my head to look out the window. The sunlight was bright, illuminating the hospital lawn where a few patients strolled. One young man in a hospital gown, his back to me, reminded me so much of Caleb. “Seraphina is easily scared. As a senior, can’t you be more understanding?” Tim continued to prattle on. “Those photos brought bad luck; I’ve wanted to get rid of them for ages. You—” “I want to rest,” I cut him off. “Could you please leave?” Tim’s words caught in his throat. He stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold chuckle. “Fine. You’ve got guts.” He grabbed his suit jacket. “I have a dinner engagement tonight. Won’t be back. Think things over carefully!” The door slammed shut. I slowly curled up, hugging my knees tightly. Caleb’s last photos were gone, the hard drive destroyed. But it didn’t matter. I remembered his face. I would always remember. … As dusk fell, I completed the discharge procedures. When I returned to the villa, it was dark inside. Tim was indeed gone. I walked straight to the bedroom, beginning to pack only the essentials—my passport, bank cards, a few changes of clothes. Nothing else mattered. I was halfway through packing when I heard the front door open downstairs, followed by laughter. “Mr. Winslow~ Slow down, darling~” “Little temptress, you’ve been seducing me all night at the dinner table…” It was Tim and Seraphina. I froze. Their footsteps ascended the stairs, stopping at the room next to mine. Soon, the creaking of bedsprings, a woman’s gasps, and a man’s low groans filled the air from the adjoining room. The sounds grew louder, Seraphina’s cries exaggerated. “Tim, you’re amazing!” “Little hussy, scream louder, let the neighbors hear…” The sounds continued for a long time, eventually fading into silence. I glanced at my phone. Three in the morning. I gently slid open a drawer, took out the sleeping pills I had prepared long ago, and poured two into my palm. When I woke up, I would be gone.

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When the true heir returned, I was already married with twins. Yet everyone despised me, showering all their love on him. “You were never meant to be the Hawthorne heir—just a fraud.” “We don’t want you! We want Uncle Jerry—strong, not weak like you!” “Son, you’ve stolen Jerry’s place long enough. Give it back.” So I divorced Eleanor Vance and left even my children behind. Later, I ran an orphanage, raising dozens who became brilliant successes—CEOs, surgeons, luminaries. They begged to care for me in old age, but I stayed, sweeping leaves at the gate. Then my daughter Scarlett appeared, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Look at you—pathetic. No wonder it stinks here.” “Grandma only sent me because of Art’s engagement. Otherwise, you’d never see us again.” … 1 Scarlett Vance stared at me, her eyes fixed on my face as if searching for a flicker of remorse or regret. But I disappointed her. Far from weeping and begging for forgiveness, I merely raised an eyebrow in confusion. “The CEO of Stone Corporation’s daughter is getting married? How could I not know?” The daughter of the Stone Corporation’s CEO was Seraphina Stone, wasn’t she? She and I had just had tea yesterday; she didn’t seem like a woman on the verge of getting married. Moreover, for such a significant life event, how could she possibly not inform me, her father? I looked at Scarlett, genuine concern creasing my brow. “Is your brother being conned?” My concern, however, was misinterpreted by Scarlett as suspicion. She quickly sneered, “Don’t bother pretending. I know you don’t actually know the Stone Corporation heiress. You’re only saying that because you’ve always been jealous of Dad, jealous that after you left us, our family of four has only thrived.” The “Dad” she referred to was clearly not me, but Jerry Hawthorne, the true heir. “Grandma fell seriously ill this year and kept talking about you. She asked me to bring you back, and incidentally, for Art’s engagement party.” Scarlett’s voice sharpened, her eyes flashing with a familiar indignation. “But only Mom and Dad will be allowed on stage. A man who abandoned his wife and children like you shouldn’t even dream of it.” Her eyes were crimson, her chest heaving with barely suppressed fury. I mused for a moment, the memories of my mother’s kindness when I was a child vivid in my mind. Even after our estrangement, she had always secretly sent me money. Now that she was ill, it was only right that I returned to see her. Besides, I needed to personally get to the bottom of Seraphina Stone’s supposed engagement. Seeing me nod in agreement, a flicker of something, barely discernible, crossed Scarlett’s face—disgust. “Figures,” she muttered. “All these years, and you’re still the same vain, materialistic woman.” “But the more one chases something,” she added, her voice laced with venom, “the less they’ll ever get it.” I simply curved my lips into a slight smile. “That sentiment, Scarlett, I send right back to you, undiminished.” Scarlett choked, her face flushing crimson with anger. That puffed-up, seething expression, I realized, had never truly changed. Back when the true heir returned, my wife, Eleanor, began spending frequent nights away from home. Coincidentally, our five-year-old daughter, Scarlett, developed a fever. Eleanor, however, stubbornly insisted I was using the child to gain favor, and locked us, father and children, inside the villa. Feeling Scarlett’s body grow hotter and hotter, I hardened my heart. I jumped from the third-floor balcony, scrambling to a neighbor’s house to call an ambulance, saving Scarlett’s life. When Eleanor finally arrived, belatedly, I slapped her hard. But before the storm of my suppressed emotions could truly break, my daughter, just awake in her hospital bed, uttered her first words: “Mommy, I wasn’t sick. Daddy gave me a cold bath on purpose to make me feverish. He just wanted to use me to get you back from Uncle Jerry.” That day, Eleanor slapped me a dozen times, but the searing pain on my face was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. How could my daughter, whom I had raised and meticulously cared for, become like this? Because of that incident, my parents disowned me. Jerry, feigning dejection before my parents, hypocritically rebuked me. “Brother, if you hate me, I’ll leave. But you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t hurt your own child. Scarlett is only five; she’s at a crucial stage of development. If anything serious happened, wouldn’t you, as her biological father, be heartbroken?” It was precisely because I was her biological father that my heart felt so utterly cold, so completely devoid of hope. Now, looking at the hostile Scarlett, I curved my lips into a gentle smile. “Let’s go. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can return to sweeping and tending to the orphanage.” 2 Scarlett immediately got into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes. As I reached for the passenger door, she pulled out a cloth. “Put this down,” she instructed, her voice flat. “Don’t get my car dirty.” I raised an eyebrow in surprise. What could possibly soil her “Mercedes”? It was just an overpriced car. During the drive, Scarlett remained stone-faced and silent. I had no desire to speak with her either, so I opened our family group chat and sent a message: “I’m heading to Westbrook to visit your Grandma. I’ll need you all to manage the orphanage in my absence.” Immediately, a flurry of “Understood, Dad!” messages flooded the chat. Seraphina Stone hadn’t replied, but then I remembered she was on a flight to a UN conference today. She must be airborne. A faint smile touched my lips. Over the years, the first group of children from the orphanage had grown up, becoming pillars of society. Yet, they genuinely regarded me as their father, loving and respecting me deeply. The car soon pulled up to Vance Manor. Servants were arranging fresh flowers at the entrance, and a steady stream of luxury cars arrived and departed. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Jerry. Nearly two decades had passed, but his demeanor was a stark contrast to the timid, cowering man I first met. Today, he wore a black turtleneck beneath a perfectly tailored suit, exuding an air of understated nobility and impeccable taste. His eyes lit up when he saw me, yet his welcome was as insincere as ever. Despite his obvious dislike, he immediately walked over to me. “Brother, you’ve finally decided to come back,” he said, and then, feigning tears, he added, “Mother was so gravely ill before, and you never returned. She almost…” He trailed off, wiping a non-existent tear. “But thankfully, you decided to come back for Art and Miss Stone’s engagement party today.” A flicker of calculation, barely perceptible, crossed his eyes. The surrounding guests immediately erupted in whispers. “Is that the man who cheated and abandoned his own children?” “How dare he show his face here? He must have heard his son is marrying into the Stone Corporation and now he’s shamelessly trying to worm his way back in.” The murmurs were far from kind, and Jerry smirked, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Scarlett, who had entered with me, was clearly displeased. She shoved me aside, striding towards Jerry to declare her loyalty. “Dad, don’t worry. You’re the only father I’ll ever have. I’ll never acknowledge some ambiguous person as my dad.” “Good girl…” Jerry glanced at me, a smug expression on his face. I had no interest in their charade and interrupted them directly. “I came back to see my mother. Where is she?” Scarlett scoffed. “I see you know you don’t fit in with Dad and me, so you’re trying to find an excuse. But do you really think Grandma will give you a warm welcome?” Before she could finish, I saw my mother, seated in a wheelchair. Upon seeing me, her eyes reddened, threatening to spill tears. I hadn’t returned to see her all these years, not because I didn’t want to, but because she had always refused, citing Jerry’s displeasure. She felt pity for the “true heir” who had supposedly suffered for nearly thirty years outside, and consequently, grew increasingly distant from me. But she had forgotten. When our company was just starting, and we couldn’t recruit anyone, it was I who drank myself sick night after night to secure deals. As the company slowly gained traction, my health steadily deteriorated. My father then used the excuse of “letting me recuperate” to force me out of the company. Simply because Jerry had returned. My bedroom was demanded for Jerry, the position of company general manager was to be relinquished to Jerry, and finally, my parents and children even begged me to hand Eleanor over to Jerry. “William Thorne, you’ve already had so much in the first half of your life. It’s time to return it all to Jerry.” “Daddy, you’re bad. You’re stealing Uncle Jerry’s things. Mommy clearly prefers Uncle Jerry.” Every single person I held dear had, at one point, unequivocally stood by Jerry. Until Jerry looked at me, a challenging glint in his eyes: “Brother, your wife is pregnant with my child. What do you say we do?” 3 Suddenly, he dropped to his knees before me, weeping uncontrollably. “I beg you! I don’t want to ruin your family. I just… can you please be merciful and let Eleanor keep my baby?” When my parents and Eleanor entered the room, they found Jerry on his knees, acting subservient and pleading with me. As I merely lifted my hand, Jerry dramatically tumbled down the stairs. Eleanor, without a moment’s thought, rushed to him, tripped over something, and also fell down the staircase, blood staining the plush carpet. My parents’ faces immediately contorted in horror. Jerry, limping, scooped up my wife and rushed her to the hospital. My two children stood at the doorway, arms outstretched, glaring at me like protective sentinels. My father raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “I don’t have a son as malicious as you.” “You’ve monopolized your brother’s wealth and glory for over twenty years, and now you’re trying to kill him? That was a life you threatened!” I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, saying nothing. I simply packed my bags and left my family, with whom I had spent decades. That cold winter night, as snow fell heavily, I, dragging a small suitcase, unknowingly found myself at the gates of an orphanage. And so, I found a new home. I invested every penny from my divorce settlement into the orphanage. Later, while foraging for herbs in the mountains, I found and rescued an unconscious Seraphina Stone. It was only months later, when the CEO of Stone Corporation arrived at the orphanage, that I realized she was the kidnapped heiress who had gone missing. During her time with us, Seraphina developed a deep affection for me, calling me “Dad” like all the other children. Her mother, whose husband had passed away young, had always felt she hadn’t been there enough for her daughter. Seeing her daughter finally connecting with someone, she let Seraphina continue calling me Dad. Later, in the deepest part of an alley, I rescued a dying Ethan Reed from a dumpster. I gave him a new name, supported his education, and to my surprise, he turned out to be a genius. He skipped grades, becoming the youngest Traditional Medicine Professor. And there were countless other orphans I pulled from the mire. Thinking of them, a soft smile unconsciously spread across my lips. My mother clasped my hand, repeating several times, “It’s good you’re back. It’s good you’re back.” “Your father, before he passed, he actually spoke of you too, but…” Just then, my son, Arthur Vance, and Eleanor walked in, laughing and chatting. Their expressions immediately soured when they saw me. “What are you doing here?” I looked at the tall, handsome Arthur, a dark, melancholic shade clouding my eyes. It seemed the kidney I had donated to him was serving him well. When Arthur was just six years old, he was suddenly diagnosed with kidney failure. The family business was at a low point then, and everyone wanted to give up on his treatment. It was I who stubbornly insisted, borrowing money from everywhere. And after a successful match, I donated my kidney to Arthur. Lying in that hospital bed back then, I never could have imagined that the son I cherished so deeply would one day disdain me as a “sickly wretch.” He had hidden behind Jerry, his eyes filled with revulsion. “I don’t want you. I want Uncle Jerry.” The disapproving face of young Arthur slowly overlapped with the hatred in his eyes now. “Who allowed you to come? How dare a wicked man who abandoned his wife and children return to claim credit?” “I bet you heard I’m marrying the CEO of Stone Corporation’s daughter and you want to leech off us. Let me tell you, don’t even think about it!” Arthur’s barrage of words gave the guests plenty of gossip to chew on. “Is that the fake heir who usurped his place back then?” “If I were him, I wouldn’t even have the face to come back.” Arthur ignored the whispers, intimately embracing Jerry. “Dad, today, I promise no one will steal your thunder.” He looked at me with a malevolent glint in his eye. And my mother, at this moment, remained utterly silent. A cold chuckle escaped my lips. She was always like this: between Jerry and me, she would always choose Jerry without hesitation. Seeing the atmosphere turn awkward, my ex-wife stepped in, attempting to smooth things over. “Alright, alright, it’s a joyous day. Since you’re here, why don’t you have a seat?” Eleanor pointed to a very secluded table, one occupied entirely by photographers and other staff. “Such a fancy banquet, you probably want to pack up leftovers. How embarrassing,” Arthur sneered. Just as I was about to walk over, the main doors swung open. “The Stone Corporation heiress has arrived!” The familiar roar of a Lamborghini engine echoed through the hall.

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“Liam said I had a rare condition called Transient Global Amnesia, or TGA. Every Monday, I’d wake up as the 25-year-old Audrey Vance, my memory forever stuck in the past. On a flash drive, there were videos of Liam taking me on trips, getting me treatment, even our engagement. They looked full of happiness, yet not a single moment had left a trace in my mind. ‘Audrey’s still here, can’t you be a little more discreet?’ ‘What’s there to be afraid of? Tomorrow’s Monday; she’ll wake up and won’t remember a thing,’ Liam’s reply sent a chill through me, sinking my heart into an ice-cold abyss. ‘Doesn’t that make it even more exciting?’ Liam held my best friend, Sylvia, as they indulged in a brazen display of affection in front of me, utterly unconcerned. For two years, countless such scenes had unfolded. I ran desperately, tears blurring my vision, until I passed a tattoo parlor. Like clutching a last straw, I tremblingly had three words etched onto my arm. ‘Leave him.’ … ‘You’re awake?’ The pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils, and my head felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer, the pain nearly making me faint. I looked helplessly at Liam, who stood by my side. ‘I know your mind is a mess right now. Just calm down and watch this USB drive.’ My memory was stuck on the day of the car accident. On the freeway, the car ahead slammed on its brakes. Liam instinctively swerved, not to save himself, but to protect me in the passenger seat. He crashed directly into the guardrail, barely surviving, while I had only a few scrapes, my head being the sole injury. The first thing Liam did when he woke up was propose to me, still in his hospital gown. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer, burying my face in his chest. When I looked up, I caught a fleeting glimpse of pain in his eyes, barely discernible. In that instant, a massive wave of unease, like a thorny vine, tightly gripped my heart. Why this peculiar illness? Was an unchanging lover truly what he wanted? Would he… grow tired of me? ‘Why did we switch rooms?’ A nurse led in a familiar face, my best friend, Sylvia. She had even filmed our proposal video. I thought Sylvia was rushing to see me first. But the moment she entered, she bypassed me, naturally draping an arm over Liam’s shoulder. Her bright red nails stood out starkly against Liam’s dark suit jacket. ‘Liam, there’s an urgent company matter you need to handle.’ ‘I can take care of Audrey.’ Liam subtly detached Sylvia’s hand, his expression apologetic. ‘Audrey, Sylvia will take you home later.’ When did their relationship get so close? She was always at odds with Liam. Every time Liam and I argued, she was the one who encouraged me to break up, saying Liam wasn’t good enough for me. Now, why was she working at his company? I frowned. Liam quickly kissed my forehead, instructing Sylvia to make sure I watched the entire video. ‘Got it. You go,’ Sylvia replied with a smile. These two, one my future husband, the other my longtime friend, yet I felt like a complete outsider. Inside the hospital room, only the sound of the video remained. I dared not miss a single detail, desperately trying to engrave every happy moment into my mind, to reclaim the connection with Liam. For a moment, I forgot I was still on an IV. Blood flowed backward, staining the IV line crimson. ‘Sylvia.’ ‘Could you ask the nurse to change my IV?’ I called her several times before she finally looked up, letting out an impatient ‘Tsk!’ ‘So much trouble!’ Until Sylvia glanced at her phone and said she had to leave, I still couldn’t understand why her attitude towards me had changed so drastically. I took a taxi alone to the ‘home’ Liam had mentioned. The room was utterly unfamiliar, decorated like a show house. It was hard to imagine I had lived here for two years. I took a deep breath and pulled back the curtains. The moment I lifted my arm, the freshly scabbed tattoo on my forearm caught my eye. It boldly read: ‘Leave him.’ The skin around it was still slightly red, clearly indicating it was a recent tattoo. When did I develop such a hobby? I dialed Liam’s number, puzzled, but there was no answer. I called his office, and the call was picked up quickly, but the person on the other end just cursed impatiently before hanging up immediately. ‘Are you ever going to stop? Every Monday, you come running to ask questions. I have a job too, can’t you just settle down?!’ ‘I…’ Unjustly subjected to a scolding, and still no answer from Liam’s personal phone, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. The reflection in the mirror showed a face with dull skin and prominent eye bags, a stranger to the woman I remembered. It shouldn’t be like this… I dug out a long-forgotten makeup box from under the bed and started to primp. By nightfall, Liam still hadn’t returned. Tears streamed down my carefully applied makeup, and looking at my dejected reflection, I swept the cosmetics off the table, suddenly feeling ridiculous. What was I doing? Couldn’t I live without Liam? Bottles and jars scattered across the floor, revealing the bottom of the makeup box. And there, starkly revealed, were the words: ‘Leave him.’ My mind exploded. This was the second time today I’d seen that phrase. I pulled up my sleeve to compare the handwriting; it was identical, unmistakably my own. What did it mean? And who was ‘him’? A sound from the living room. I instinctively rushed out. It was Liam, indeed, but there was also an unexpected person: Sylvia. Unlike the daytime, she was wearing a form-fitting evening gown, looking radiant. ‘Oh, is someone crying?’ She glanced at me, tossing her expensive handbag onto the sofa, and headed straight for the master bedroom. ‘So tired, I’m going to take a shower.’ The amount of information was overwhelming. For a moment, I didn’t know how to react, instinctively turning to Liam for help. He hadn’t changed much from two years ago; in fact, he’d gained a certain mature charm. Yet, looking at his composed face, I found him terribly unfamiliar, unable to feel any closeness. He sighed, reaching out to me. The moment his hand almost touched my arm, for some reason, I instinctively recoiled, leaving his hand suspended in mid-air. ‘Sylvia moved in to take care of you.’ ‘Don’t overthink it.’ I might have lost my memory, but I hadn’t lost my mind. Did I really need her to move in just to care for me? Lying in bed, I couldn’t make sense of it. Sylvia knocked, her attitude completely changed from before, placing a glass of water beside me. ‘Audrey, it’s time for your medicine.’ She looked at me expectantly, as if she wouldn’t leave until I drank it. Liam sat on the sofa, glancing from Sylvia to me, finally nodding. ‘The doctor prescribed it. Take it.’ That night, I slept profoundly. When I woke again, the space beside me was cold; Liam had already left. Sylvia was at the doorway, checking her makeup in the mirror. More striking than her red lipstick were the love marks on her neck, barely concealed by her low neckline. If I remembered correctly, her neck had been pristine white last night. How could it be… in just one night? I narrowed my eyes, raising a hand to gesture. ‘Your neck…’ ‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ She found a scarf and tied it on. ‘Liam’s hurrying me. I need to be quick.’ She offered a saccharine smile. ‘Don’t misunderstand. We’re going to see a client.’ Sylvia smiled at me, but even in the midday sun, I felt a chill run down my spine. That afternoon, Sylvia messaged me, saying she and Liam would be home for dinner. But it was well past midnight when they finally arrived, the door opening to the distinct smell of alcohol. Liam looked at the untouched dishes on the table, his brow slightly furrowed. ‘You didn’t eat?’ ‘Oh, my memory!’ Sylvia batted her eyelashes, simpering at Liam. ‘I forgot to tell Audrey we wouldn’t be back for dinner.’ ‘It’s fine. She’s just foolish.’ Not long after, Sylvia brought me water again, reminding me to take my medicine. Liam, as usual, tacitly approved of Sylvia’s actions. ‘Do I have to take it?’ I asked Liam. He sat in the shadows, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. I might be foolish, but I wouldn’t be fooled a second time. I knew something was off about how profoundly I’d slept last night. In front of both of them, I put the pill in my mouth. As soon as Sylvia left, satisfied, I quickly spat the tablet out from under my tongue. This time, I clearly noticed it. Sylvia’s fingertips subtly grazed the love marks on her neck, then she provocatively glanced at Liam. I closed my eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs. A moment later, I heard Liam get up, his footsteps growing closer, then gradually receding, out of the room. I dragged my heavy feet after him, feeling like the whole world was a colossal lie. Yesterday, I still had a fairytale-like, devoted lover. Today, I’d been struck by a crushing blow, everything reduced to ashes. Liam pressed Sylvia harshly against the sofa, taking what he wanted without restraint, like a couple in a movie, unable to control their passionate embrace. I finally understood where Sylvia’s marks had come from. The moment Liam caught sight of me in his peripheral vision, the fervent flame in his eyes instantly extinguished. He reached out, casually smoothing Sylvia’s collar. My blood surged with anger. I lunged forward, slapping Liam across the face, trembling with rage. ‘Why?’ ‘What did I do to you to deserve such degradation?’ The tattoo on my arm, the message at the bottom of the makeup box, the marks on Sylvia’s neck… everything clicked into place. No filial son remains by a sickbed for long. How much less so for a man with no blood ties! ‘I told you to go to the bedroom, but you insisted on the living room.’ Sylvia lovingly stroked Liam’s cheek. ‘Now look what happened. It’s only Tuesday, and you’ve already lost control.’ I couldn’t believe my ears. It felt absurd, and I found it hard to believe how many times I had gone through such a scene in these two years. Liam strode towards me, his gaze unreadable. ‘Please, let me go…’ My body reacted first. I recoiled as if shocked by electricity, dodging Liam, but I couldn’t make it to the door. He yanked me back, pulling me into a tight embrace from behind. ‘Don’t go.’ I was practically shaking like a leaf. He gently stroked my back, his expression tender. In a daze, the Liam I once knew seemed to return. ‘I’ve been in so much pain all these years…’ He tightened his arms, as if afraid he would completely lose me the next second. ‘In these two years, I’ve taken you to Disney World 20 times, seen the Northern Lights 5 times…’ He chuckled self-deprecatingly. ‘Though you don’t remember any of it.’ ‘What you just saw wasn’t what it seemed. Please, give me one more chance, okay?’ Liam’s voice cracked, a rare moment of vulnerability, and my heart gave a violent, sympathetic pang. The deeper his apparent affection, the more repulsive it became. Sylvia appropriately interrupted. ‘Let me talk to Audrey.’ She called my name in her specially modulated tone, giving Liam a knowing look. He returned to his room, tacitly leaving us alone. Sylvia sighed, sitting beside me. She remained silent for a long time, then hesitantly pulled out a medical report with her name on it. After she left, my emotions remained unsettled for a long time. How could Sylvia have stomach cancer?

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I was chosen as a Thorne family daughter-in-law from childhood. At twenty, I married Asher Thorne, a man with autism. For five years, Asher consistently disliked me. He recoiled from my touch, let alone shared a bed with me. Then, he met a girl. In front of her, he reined in all his quirks, awkwardly striving to be agreeable. He would write songs for her, and give her gifts. Even his study, a sanctuary I was forbidden to enter, was flung open to her without reservation. I knew Asher had found someone he liked. And I knew I no longer wanted to care for him. So, I sought out Grandfather Thorne. I told him I wanted a divorce. 1 Before I met Asher, my life had been far from easy. My mother, an aesthetics devotee, was captivated by my father’s striking looks. She fell head over heels, diving into a whirlwind romance and sharing a bed with him before doing any proper background check. And then, there was me. It was only after I was born that my mother discovered my father was from a prominent, wealthy family. The kind who could wave a hand and ensure she’d never worry about money again. But the bad news was, my father was a live-in son-in-law, a man who married into wealth, taking his wife’s name. In other words, he was a social climber, relying on his wife to enter high society. And my mother? She was his mistress. When his legitimate wife came to catch him in the act, she found my mother. Usually, my father acted quite grand around my mother, but in front of his wife, he was as subservient as a beaten dog. My father immediately cut all ties with my mother, disowning me in the process. My mother raised me alone, and our lives were difficult. She drove a pedicab, set up small street stalls, and was once chased by city inspectors for miles, losing a shoe along the way. Eventually, she grew tired of that life. She told me she would find me a better path. I don’t know what methods my mother used, but she somehow obtained a paternity test proving my father was indeed my biological parent. Then, she stormed to my father’s mansion, creating a scene and demanding he take responsibility for me. Concerned about a scandal, the wealthy family agreed. From that day, my mother and I were separated. The day I was sent to Sinclair Manor, my mother’s smile was tear-streaked. “Aurora,” she said, “you’ll never go hungry again.” But my mother was too naive. My father saw me as a stain on his reputation, and Mrs. Sinclair detested me. Those below them were quick to shift loyalties, naturally treating me with disdain. As for my half-sisters, they devised new ways to torment me every single day. My mother would never know any of this. That encounter at the gates of Sinclair Manor was the last time I ever saw her. She had terminal cancer and couldn’t afford the medical bills. After sending me to my father, she took her own life by jumping into the river. I grew up in Sinclair Manor as an adopted daughter, living cautiously. When I was fifteen, I met a boy at the Sinclair estate. He had cut his arm on rose thorns, and the wound was still bleeding. Yet, he seemed completely oblivious, listening to music in the garden with headphones on. I thought for a moment, then brought him antiseptic to clean the wound and a bandage to cover it. Later, I learned his name was Asher Thorne. His grandfather had brought him to visit the Sinclairs. For reasons unknown to me, Grandfather Thorne took a liking to me and wanted me as his grandson’s wife. Being an old, established family, my father naturally agreed without hesitation. My sisters, upon hearing the news, scoffed and ridiculed me. “Do you really think you’ve landed a good catch? If it were a truly good match, why would it be your turn?” “That Asher Thorne, he’s had autism and bipolar disorder since childhood. He’s not normal.” But because of the engagement to Asher, Mrs. Sinclair finally treated me with some semblance of kindness. My life at Sinclair Manor became much more bearable; at least they stopped bullying me. I often thought back to that first meeting, the slender boy quietly listening to music in the garden. He didn’t know he had unknowingly helped me so much. I was genuinely grateful to him. I began to learn about his condition, studying how to interact with him in the future. Then, at twenty, arranged by both families, I married Asher Thorne. 2 I didn’t realize how much Asher resisted marrying me. After I moved in, he never gave me a kind glance. He wouldn’t allow me to touch him, let alone share a bed with me. On our wedding night, he threw a terrible tantrum in the bridal suite. “Go away.” “Don’t be in my room.” “Get out. Get out now.” I hung my head in shame, a wave of humiliation washing over me. That day, Grandfather Thorne sought me out. He explained that Asher had always been solitary and disliked interacting with people. The caretaker who looked after Asher had recently passed away, and Asher’s condition had been particularly bad lately. He asked me to be patient and give Asher some time. I nodded in agreement. From then on, I took on the responsibility of caring for Asher. I juggled my time between school and Thorne Manor. I had to remind Asher to take his medication on time, take him for regular hospital check-ups, and meticulously plan his meals and choose his clothes. Thankfully, Asher wasn’t a block of wood. He gradually began to respond to me. For instance, he stopped saying “Get out” to me. For instance, when he saw me asleep on the sofa, he would awkwardly cover me with a blanket. And for instance, when I had terrible period cramps, he would brew me a cup of warm ginger tea. But he never shared a bed with me. The Thorne family had a single male heir in each generation, and Asher was the only one of his generation. Grandfather Thorne was eager for great-grandchildren and pressured me many times. But if Asher wasn’t willing, there was nothing I could do. Finally, in our fifth year of marriage, Grandfather Thorne completely lost his patience. Without my knowledge, he drugged Asher. Then he put Asher in my bed, locked the door, and trapped us inside. That night is still vivid in my memory. The pain. It was excruciating. Driven by the drug, his eyes were glazed over, his body acting purely on instinct. But he had no experience, and his movements were rough. I felt a tearing pain, and tears streamed down my face. As dawn approached, I couldn’t bear it anymore and passed out. The next afternoon, I was awakened by the sound of things being smashed. 3 Asher was in a terrible rage. He smashed my phone, shattered the flat-screen TV on the wall, and tables and chairs crashed to the floor. When he saw me awake, he walked over to me, holding a mirror. The mirror reflected my image. I hadn’t even had time to put on clothes, my body covered in red marks and bruises. He pointed at my reflection in the mirror, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. “You’re so dirty, so disgusting.” “I hate you.” “I never want to see you again.” That day, my body felt terrible; I stumbled when I walked. But when Asher had one of his episodes, he’d disappear. I had no choice but to go look for him. I didn’t bother eating, searching from noon until after midnight. I searched almost every place he usually went, until my calves trembled uncontrollably. But I still couldn’t find him. As I stood exhausted and desperate at the front door, gasping for breath, Asher finally returned at one in the morning. A girl stood beside him. She had a dimple when she smiled, and it was incredibly sweet. The girl looked up at him. “It’s my first time meeting someone with such similar interests as you.” Her voice was soft and admiring. “Meeting you was the greatest gain from this concert.” It was then I realized Asher had gone to a concert alone. His phone had died, and he couldn’t remember his way home, so the girl had brought him back. Asher walked very slowly; the way home was short, but he took a long time. They talked about music, about composers and performers I didn’t know. Asher had loved music since he was a child. He had studied under famous masters and opened his own studio after graduating, composing many renowned pieces. I stood silently by the front door, listening. They talked for thirty minutes, but Asher never noticed I was there. It was the butler who couldn’t bear it any longer and spoke up. “Master Asher, it’s very late. You should go to bed.” He paused, then added, “Mrs. Thorne has been waiting for you.” The girl looked over, pausing slightly, then asked Asher, “Is this your wife?” Asher’s face flushed with discomfort. After a moment of silence, he nodded. Then he immediately added: “Under duress.” “Don’t like her.” “Hate her.” In that moment, I stood rooted to the spot. A surge of shame inexplicably rose, making me feel utterly mortified. The girl’s name was Ivy. Ivy tugged on his sleeve, her eyes curving into a sweet smile. “It is getting late. We’ll see each other next time.” From that day on, my relationship with Asher plummeted back to freezing point. He refused to speak a single word to me. On his birthday, I gave him a new pair of over-ear headphones. I had heard the sound quality was excellent, and they had sold out many times, so I had specifically pre-ordered them six months in advance. But Asher simply took a lighter and, in front of me, burned the headphones into shattered pieces. “Don’t like you.” “Don’t like what you give me either.” “Trash. Don’t want it.” That birthday, he went out and spent it with Ivy. Ever since that first meeting, he and Ivy had kept in touch. Recently, Ivy had even interned at his studio. When he came home that evening, he was wearing a silver ring. It was a birthday gift from Ivy. I looked at the scattered remains of the headphones on the floor, an immense weariness rising from the depths of my heart. The next day, Grandfather Thorne suddenly called, asking me to come to his study. He wanted me to retrieve a document and give it to his secretary. But I remembered Asher had always forbidden me from entering his study. I hesitated. Grandfather Thorne urged me, saying the document was urgent and his secretary was already waiting at the door. After a moment’s thought, I went to retrieve the document. Before leaving, I restored everything in the study to its original state. But Asher still found out I had entered his study. His phone was linked to the study’s surveillance camera. He rushed back from his studio, his brow furrowed with irritation and gloom. “You can’t go in, you can’t!” His emotions, like an invisible storm, raged through the room. Because I had entered his study to retrieve a document, he even had the entire room thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom. I stared at him blankly, voicing the confusion in my heart. “Why can’t I go in?” During this time, Asher often invited Ivy to visit our home. They would discuss music in the study, spending the entire day there. Why could Ivy enter, but not me? “Also, I’m not dirty. Why did you have people clean the study?” His face grew even colder. “She’s different from you.” “She understands music. She’s a kindred spirit.” “You don’t. Going in just makes it dirty.” After all these years, I was accustomed to his terse expressions, and I instantly understood his meaning. When his emotions flared, I usually tried to calm him. But that day, knowing he was furious, I couldn’t bring myself to soothe him as usual. I closed my eyes. “Asher, speaking like that is truly hurtful.” At that moment, my blood sugar dropped, and I stumbled, taking a step back. But I was standing right in front of the study door. The door wasn’t closed, and that step backward inadvertently took me inside the study. Asher misinterpreted it as me challenging him. His eyes turned chilling, veins bulging on his forehead. He pointed at me and said many terrible things, which ultimately distilled into three sentences: “Get away from me!” “This is my home, not yours! Get out!” “Don’t ever appear in my house again!” These words weren’t new to me. When I first entered Sinclair Manor, my half-sisters had said the same thing. Back then, I’d quietly cried into my pillow, feeling utterly worthless. I thought, one day, I must have a home of my own, a home no one can ever kick me out of. After marrying Asher, I mistakenly believed this villa with him was my home. Although it couldn’t shield me from every storm, it was my refuge. But today, he screamed at me, telling me the house was in his name, his family paid for it, and this wasn’t my home. He told me to get out. Emotions surged, a sense of helplessness threatening to swallow me whole. I hung my head, calculating the days. It had been ten years since I met Asher at fifteen. At fifteen, thanks to our engagement, I had five years of comfortable living. At twenty, I married Asher and meticulously cared for him for five years. Five years for five years; I had repaid the Thorne family’s kindness. I was weary of this life. I wanted a divorce. 4 Once the thought of divorce took root, it grew like a seed bursting through soil, rapidly spiraling out of control. A week later, I met with Grandfather Thorne. I told him I wanted a divorce. Grandfather Thorne sat on the sofa in the old manor, tapping the table with his index finger. “Why?” he asked. I told him Asher had someone he liked. In front of her, he would rein in his temper, awkwardly trying to be agreeable. He would write songs for her, give her gifts, stubbornly trying to please her. With Ivy around, Asher’s mood would significantly improve. Whether objectively or subjectively, she was a better fit for Asher than I was. Grandfather Thorne listened, saying nothing. After a long silence, he cleared his throat and asked me seriously, “Aurora, do you know why I chose you as my grandson’s wife?” “Because I brought Asher a bandage?” I asked him. He shook his head. “No. I investigated you. I knew you were kind-hearted, and I knew your awkward status, how you were disliked at Sinclair Manor.” His gaze was steady. “You needed this engagement. With the engagement, your life would be much easier, out of respect for the Thorne family.” He paused, his voice softening slightly. “And precisely because of that, you would see Asher as a lifeline, grateful to him, tolerant of him, even indulgent.” He sighed. “When I learned you chose psychology as your major in college, I knew I hadn’t been wrong; you truly were that way.” He sighed again. “A child from Asher’s background, if he hadn’t fallen ill, would naturally be highly sought after. But he, unfortunately, developed this condition. I only have this one grandson, so naturally, I had to plan for him, to find him an absolutely loyal wife who would care for him for life.” He looked at me directly. “The Ivy you speak of, I don’t know what kind of girl she is. I don’t feel comfortable entrusting Asher to her.” He continued, laying bare his reasoning. “Aurora, you grew up in Sinclair Manor; you know what wealthy men are like. It’s not unusual for them to have one woman outside, let alone ten. Compared to them, Asher is inherently simple, not given to that kind of recklessness. He’s already quite good.” His gaze sharpened. “Besides, as long as I’m alive, no woman can challenge your position as his wife. What more could you be dissatisfied with?” I understood his meaning, but I no longer wanted to live a life with a fixed horizon, confined to caring for an autistic man. “Asher drove me away,” I told Grandfather Thorne earnestly. “Now, my presence only irritates him. Lately, his episodes have become more frequent too.” Hearing this, Grandfather Thorne’s expression gradually grew serious, and he began to reconsider my relationship with Asher. After a long while, he finally relented. “Aurora, let me think about the divorce. You should go home for now.” He added, “And Asher is your husband, after all. His opinion must also be sought in this matter.” I nodded, standing to leave. Asher would surely agree. He would probably be eager to sign the divorce papers. A gentle spring rain was falling today, and the wind outside was strong. As I left the old manor, I saw Asher. He stood by the partially open door, wearing a white shirt and holding an umbrella. A large puddle had formed at the tip of the umbrella. I wondered how long he had been standing there, and how much he had heard. The moment he saw me, his lips tightened, and his face turned pale. “You said you want to divorce me?”

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I had been in a secret relationship with my best friend Chloe’s CEO uncle, David, for seven long years. One day, Chloe invited me to dinner, excitedly telling me: “My uncle is bringing his girlfriend tonight—the one he’s been hiding for seven years. We’re all going out for dinner.” “You should bring your CEO too! You’ve been together for seven years, and I’ve never even met him. This time, let me finally see the real deal.” I felt a sudden rush of awkwardness. I quickly feigned a stomachache and excused myself to the restroom, pulling out my phone to call David. To my surprise, he simply hung up, then sent a text saying he was in a meeting. Stepping out of the restroom, I saw him: David, his arm linked with a young college student, chatting amiably with Chloe. The moment his eyes met mine, David froze. His smile turned stiff as he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice, “Audrey, what are you doing here?” 1 “I invited her! Just because you can bring your girlfriend, does that mean I can’t invite my best friend?” Chloe’s retort instantly made David’s face fall. Seeing me, Chloe pulled me into a seat beside her, directly opposite David, who was still subtly linked with his young companion. Once all four of us were settled, David began to repeatedly signal me with his eyes, urging me to check my phone. I opened my phone with a touch of impatience, finding a single message from him: Play along. Staring at his commanding tone, a wave of indignation made my breath catch, but I forced a calm smile and played my part in his little charade. Throughout the dinner, the other three chatted merrily. David, without missing a beat, casually ate the food his young girlfriend, Daisy, offered him, and shared cutlery with her, ignoring me completely. I suppressed the fury simmering within, distractedly picking at my food. I even added Daisy on social media. The moment dinner concluded, I immediately stood up and turned to Chloe. “Chloe, my stomach is really bothering me today. I think I’ll head home to rest. Can we go shopping tomorrow instead?” Chloe agreed, and I hurried out, hailing a taxi home. All the way back, I clutched my phone tightly, desperately hoping David would call with a plausible explanation. But by the time I reached home and even finished showering, my phone remained silent. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my phone and dialed David. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. “Are you going to offer me a reasonable explanation?” I demanded, my voice tight with anger. But there was only silence on the other end. Just as I was about to explode, David finally spoke, his voice hushed. “It was wrong of me to deceive you, but there’s a reason for all of this. I hope you can understand.” Hmph. The way he instinctively lowered his voice… he was probably still with his young girlfriend. My heart plummeted. “Fine. I’ll give you a chance to explain. But I also expect an explanation that satisfies me.” I desperately hoped he would tell me it was all an act, or that he was coerced. But again, there was a prolonged silence, lasting for nearly ten minutes. A feeling of helplessness washed over me. He was always like this. Whenever we faced a conflict, he would simply fall silent, trying to gloss things over. But the more he did that, the angrier I became, and the deeper the rift between us grew. After what felt like an eternity, David finally spoke. “I still have work to finish here. I’m hanging up now.” With that, he didn’t give me a chance to argue, simply disconnecting the call. Listening to the dial tone, I felt like my throat was constricted, unable to breathe. Seven years. Seven entire years of dating. My meticulous care, my absolute devotion to his every whim, all for nothing but a hidden affair, never to be openly acknowledged. For seven years, he never took me to any event that required a couple’s presence, let alone out to gatherings with friends or family dinners. Even for our dates, he would choose a place where no one knew us. Perhaps it was because of Chloe, or perhaps he had other reasons. Lost in thought, my phone suddenly vibrated. I checked it. It was Daisy, David’s young girlfriend, messaging me. She sent me a location for a bridal boutique. I felt a flicker of confusion. Daisy’s message came again. “Audrey, David said for you to pick up the custom wedding dress from the shop tomorrow.” Daisy’s words made a glimmer of hope re-ignite within me. Without a second thought, I pulled on my coat and rushed out. Soon, I arrived at the bridal boutique. The sales associate greeted me and quickly brought out a beautifully customized wedding dress. “You must be Daisy, right? Mr. Thorne just instructed us to give this wedding dress to you when you arrived.” The sales associate’s voice was full of admiration. “Miss, Mr. Thorne truly loves you. This wedding dress is made with pearl-embroidered tulle, and even the veil is embroidered with ten roses, each with a seven-carat pearl sewn into its center.” Staring at the wedding dress, a symbol of “angels,” I froze again. I meticulously examined every stitch, tracing the pearls on the veil, each one a symbol of pure love. At that moment, a sharp, needle-like pain pierced my heart. 2 I stood in silence for a long time. In the past, facing something like this, I might have erupted in anger, despair, or a hysterical outburst. But now, utterly disappointed, I felt only a profound weariness, completely devoid of any temper. I calmly asked the sales associate to pack the wedding dress and thanked her. Leaving the bridal boutique, I didn’t go home. Instead, I hailed a taxi directly to David’s company. David was a workaholic; he spent almost every day working late, sometimes even keeping his entire team in the office until the wee hours. It was almost 10 PM now, but the company floor was still bustling with employees working overtime. As I approached, I overheard a few female colleagues gossiping at their desks. “I bet Mr. Thorne is definitely with that new intern, Daisy.” “Well, duh! I left late last night and saw Daisy going into his office.” “That Daisy sure has some moves. How long has it been, and she’s already hooked Mr. Thorne?” I stood there, listening for a long time, completely oblivious to the elevator opening behind me. David stepped out. He looked surprised to see me among the chatting employees. Realizing they were gossiping about him, a surge of anger flashed in his eyes. “Don’t you all have anything better to do? Get back to work! This company isn’t your personal gossip lounge!” The female employees were startled. They quickly returned to their desks, burying their heads in their work. Then, David turned to me. “Follow me.” With that, he led me into his office. “Audrey, don’t listen to their rumors. Daisy just came to bring me a late-night snack; there’s nothing between us.” David explained, but I had no interest in his excuses. “I believe you. You don’t need to explain.” David visibly relaxed, about to ask why I was at the company, when he suddenly noticed the bridal boutique’s shopping bag in my hand. “You know everything.” I ignored him, instead extending the wedding dress bag towards him. Seeing the custom-made wedding dress inside, he looked up abruptly, like a child caught in the act. “How did you get this?” He stammered, “No, let me explain.” I offered a mocking smile. “No, don’t bother. Your silence would only waste my time.” I forced a bright tone. “Daisy messaged me, asking me to pick it up for you. So I went. This wedding dress is beautiful. Which lucky woman are you planning to give it to?” David was silent for a long time, then slowly took the wedding dress bag. He nodded gently, his eyes filled with a possessive affection, and he smiled meaningfully. “Yes, she’s not just the woman I adore; she’s someone incredibly important to me.” Even though I had mentally prepared myself, hearing those words still sent a sharp, painful jolt through my heart. I didn’t want to stay there any longer; I was afraid I’d lose control and slap David’s face. So, my voice trembling slightly, I spoke. “It’s getting late. I’m leaving.” But David seemed not to hear me. He was too engrossed in the wedding dress in his hands, completely ignoring me. Hearing my intention to leave, he merely waved his hand, a dismissive gesture. The distance from the company to my home wasn’t far, yet it felt like I was walking through an entire lifetime. From the moment I stepped out of David’s office, I kept hoping he would suddenly rush up behind me, pull me into an embrace, and whisper in my ear, “Audrey, I did all this to secretly prepare a grand wedding for you. Let’s get married.” For that hope, I deliberately chose to walk, just to give him enough time to catch up. But by the time I reached my apartment building, David was nowhere in sight. I took a deep breath, telling myself with firm resolve: It’s over, Audrey. 3 Back home, my parents had already retired for the night. I went to my room, intending to get some rest and then put a definitive end to things with David tomorrow. But just as I was about to lie down, David sent me a picture. I clicked it open. It was a concert ticket for the famous singer, Leo. Six months ago, I had mentioned to David that I wanted to go to a Leo concert with him. I even hinted that he could give me the tickets as a birthday gift. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford them myself; I just wanted to use this to confirm if he truly loved me, otherwise, I constantly felt insecure. But at the time, David was too preoccupied with his work. He impatiently told me, “You’re always chasing celebrities! Can’t you focus on important things instead of being obsessed with pop stars all day?” His words had truly stung, but back then, I didn’t want to give up on our relationship. So, after that, I never brought up the concert again. I never expected him to send me a screenshot of concert tickets now. I sent a question mark back. He replied almost instantly. “Which seating area do you think would be better for the concert?” Perhaps it was because he touched on a familiar topic, or perhaps I was still harboring some faint hope, but I replied quickly. I meticulously explained the differences between various prices and seating arrangements. David listened intently. It wasn’t until 3 AM that he reluctantly told me he was going home to rest and would talk more tomorrow. My heart surged with joy. I instinctively believed he was using the concert tickets as an apology gift, which was why he was so serious about understanding everything from me. However, I must have been too tired, my mind not quite sharp. I somehow stumbled upon Daisy’s social media. It was better not to have clicked it at all. The moment I did, my heart was instantly doused with cold water. “Someone who truly loves you will diligently learn all your preferences.” This was Daisy’s latest post. The accompanying picture showed the two Leo concert tickets David had just purchased. I smiled, and at the same time, tears streamed from my eyes. It turned out I was the biggest fool of all. It was already so obvious, yet I had foolishly kept hoping he would apologize and regret. After a long while, I wiped away my tears and left a comment on Daisy’s post: “Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness and many children soon.” Just as I was about to put my phone down after commenting, David called me directly. “Audrey, are you out of your mind?! It’s just a concert ticket! Why are you being so passive-aggressive?!” He raged. “If you wanted one, you could have just told me, and I would have sent you one. Was it really necessary to be so sarcastic?” This was the first time David had ever lost his temper with me, and the first time he had ever cursed at me. But the angrier he became, the calmer I felt. “Don’t misunderstand. I genuinely wish you both well.” On the other end of the line, David seemed to choke again, his voice instantly catching. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Come to the company tomorrow. I’ll explain everything clearly!” 4 The night passed peacefully. The next morning, I arrived early at David’s company building. Just as I was about to go inside, I saw David and Daisy exit the building, get into a car, and drive away. I was about to call out to them, but the words caught in my throat. I watched his car disappear around the corner. Just as I turned to leave, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from David. “Go to my office and get the gift box, then take it to my place. I have something important to do today. I’ll explain later.” Then, he sent me a location—a villa complex. This was the birthday gift David had given me when we first started dating. He had told me then that when we got married, he wanted it to be our new home. Since it was his birthday gift to me and the place of our first date, it certainly held special meaning for me. At the time, the naive me was completely swept off my feet. I even decided then and there that I would never marry anyone but David in this life. But now, thinking back, that house didn’t seem to hold much significance for me, certainly not enough to stake my entire life on it. I entered the company and retrieved the gift box from David’s desk in his office. Just as I was about to leave, I heard employees whispering amongst themselves. “Hey, did you guys know it’s Daisy’s birthday today? I just saw her leave with Mr. Thorne in his car!” “Yeah, I also heard Mr. Thorne prepared a birthday gift for her, apparently a villa worth millions!” “Holy cow! A villa right off the bat! Daisy’s really got something going for her!” “Oh, and last week at the party, Mr. Thorne and Daisy were so lovey-dovey! I even have a video here! Look, Mr. Thorne even kissed Daisy!” I froze, then quickly chuckled self-deprecatingly. Audrey, what are you even hoping for? You already know it’s irreversible. Why do you keep letting yourself hope again and again? I shook my head with a bitter smile, then left with the box. I took a taxi to the villa. After ringing the doorbell, Chloe opened the door shortly after. Seeing me, Chloe pulled me inside without a word. David was on the spacious balcony, having tea and chatting with his friends. Seeing me being led in by Chloe, they all looked at me with disdain, not bothering to acknowledge me. It was as if I were nothing more than a clingy, attention-seeking mistress, unworthy of their notice. Seeing me, David spoke coldly. “Give me the box.” I stared at his cold expression, momentarily lost in thought. Seeing I wasn’t reacting, David simply reached out and snatched the box from my hand. Chloe saw this and frowned. “Uncle, be nicer! Audrey is my best friend, after all!” David merely pursed his lips, uttering a simple “Hm,” and offered no further explanation. The box opened, revealing the property deed for the villa. Seeing the deed, he finally relaxed, closing the box and calmly addressing me. “Audrey, thank you.” I didn’t say a word, just lowered my head and waved my hand, feigning nonchalance. Seeing my reluctance to speak, David immediately frowned. “What? Still angry?” “You promised me an explanation yesterday.” I stated my demand, devoid of any emotion. But David reacted as if I had stepped on a landmine, angrily saying, “Audrey, it’s Daisy’s birthday today! Do you have to make me miserable?” Seeing David’s anger, I didn’t immediately try to appease him as I usually would. Instead, I gave a calm smile. “No, I’m not. I just came to break up with you.”

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