On the day the settlement money from the buyout of our parents’ old house arrived, my brother secretly transferred three million dollars to my account. He explicitly warned me not to let my sister-in-law know. He told her that, according to “tradition,” I was only entitled to sixty thousand dollars. My sister-in-law still complained about that sixty thousand for a long time. Later, when my brother’s business went under, she came to me in a panic, begging. “Chloe, your brother can’t hold on much longer. Look…” I cut her off, pulling out my phone. “Give me your account number, Sarah. I’ll transfer thirty thousand.” The day the buyout money hit the accounts, my phone pinged with a text from the bank. Almost simultaneously, my brother, Mark, called. His voice was low. “Did you get it?” “I got it.” I stared at the long string of zeros on my screen, feeling a little hollow. “Three million. You hold onto it for now.” “Mark, this is too much.” “It’s not. It was Mom and Dad’s house. Half of it rightfully belongs to you.” From the background of the call, I heard Sarah’s muffled voice yelling, “Who are you talking to? Sneaking around.” Mark immediately said, “I gotta go. Remember, don’t tell anyone. Especially Sarah.” “Why?” “You know how she is. Just trust me.” The call disconnected. Before I could even process the shock of that massive sum, a message popped up in the family group chat. It was from Mark. “Chloe’s sixty thousand has been transferred.” Sarah replied instantly: “Finally. Now that’s settled.” A second later, she sent another message: “If you ask me, a married daughter is like spilled water. Giving her that sixty thousand was too much. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s struggling on her own, she shouldn’t have gotten a dime.” The group chat fell dead silent. I gripped my phone, staring at the words, and said nothing. That evening at dinner, Sarah brought it up again. “Mark, did Chloe even say thank you for that sixty thousand?” Mark kept his head down, shoveling rice into his mouth, and mumbled, “Yeah, she did.” “Hmph. At least she has some conscience.” Sarah picked up a piece of rib and dropped it into her son’s bowl. “That money was supposed to be for Leo’s college fund. Giving it away to an outsider just rubs me the wrong way.” “What outsider? She’s my blood sister,” Mark said, irritation creeping into his voice. “So what if she’s your sister? Even brothers have to keep their finances straight. She’s going to marry into another family eventually. Why are you being so good to her?” “Enough. Let’s just eat.” Mark clearly didn’t want to fight. But Sarah had no intention of stopping. She looked at Mark pointedly and said, “I just worry that some people are too eager to give our family’s money away to outsiders. Mark, let me remind you, our family is counting on this buyout money now. Don’t do anything stupid.” Mark slammed his chopsticks down. The bowl hit the table with a sharp clack. “What exactly are you trying to say?” “I didn’t mean anything by it.” Sarah shrank back slightly, but her mouth kept running. “I just think people need to have a conscience. Our family took the lion’s share, giving her sixty thousand was already extremely generous. If she knew what was good for her, she would have returned it.” “In your dreams!” Mark roared. Their five-year-old son, Leo, jumped at the shout and burst into tears. Sarah quickly hugged him and started crying herself. “Fine! Mark Davis, you’re yelling at me now? You’re yelling at me and your son for your sister? I’m only thinking about this family! Do you know how many tutoring classes that sixty thousand could have paid for?!” The atmosphere in the house plummeted to freezing. Mark looked at her, his eyes filled with exhaustion. I knew this was only the beginning. For the next month, Sarah complained about that sixty thousand dollars almost every single day. “The neighbor’s daughter didn’t get a cent, and she’s perfectly happy.” “Karen from our subdivision—her sister-in-law actually gave her brother thirty thousand to help buy a car.” “Sigh. Comparing people just makes you mad. Why did I get stuck with a sister-in-law like this?” She would say these things in the family group chat, or post them on Facebook, specifically blocking me from seeing them—but I always heard about it from other relatives. I never replied. Not once. I just quietly moved that three million into a high-yield CD and set a very complex password. Mark would occasionally message me privately. “Don’t take what your sister-in-law says to heart.” “I know.” “Keep that money safe. That’s my safety net for you.” “You too, Mark.” I didn’t know if he understood what I meant. I hoped he did. After getting the buyout money, Mark was incredibly motivated. He had always wanted to start his own business but never had the capital. Now, with cash in hand, he aggressively leased a storefront and started a construction materials supply business. Sarah was entirely on board at first. She posted pictures of the new store on Facebook every day, calling Mark a business genius who was about to strike it rich. I went to the grand opening. As soon as Sarah saw me, she grabbed my hands, smiling so widely her face scrunched up. “Chloe, look how capable your brother is. When our family gets rich, we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” It was as if she had completely forgotten how she had obsessed over that sixty thousand dollars. I just smiled faintly. “It’s good that Mark is doing well.” “Of course.” she puffed out her chest, pulled me aside, and lowered her voice. “Chloe, look, the store just opened, and we need money for everything right now. That sixty thousand isn’t doing much just sitting in your hands. Why don’t you… lend it to your brother for cash flow for a bit?” I looked at her, my heart turning ice cold. “Sarah, that’s my living expense money.” “Oh, come on, how much can one person spend? Besides, that money belonged to our family in the first place. Isn’t it only right that you lend it to your brother now?” Her tone was so entitled, as if the money inherently belonged to her. I pulled my hand away and didn’t speak. Her face changed instantly. She pulled a long face and muttered, “Ungrateful brat.” It wasn’t loud, but I heard it clearly. For the first few months, the business really was booming. Mark was full of energy, looking ten years younger. Sarah was even more insufferable. She posted eight times a day about new designer bags, manicures, and check-ins at high-end restaurants. 她 started organizing frequent family dinners, always rushing to pick up the check. At the dinner table, she constantly made passive-aggressive comments directed at me. “Chloe, how is the single life treating you? Work going okay?” “It’s fine,” I said, keeping my head down. “Sigh. Why do girls need to work so hard? Look at your brother. His business is taking off; he can easily support our whole extended family.” She paused, pivoting sharply. “Speaking of which, that sixty thousand isn’t earning much interest in the bank. Why not listen to me and invest it in your brother’s store? We’ll give you dividends at the end of the year. Isn’t that better than a dead savings account?” Mark kicked me under the table, giving me a look. I pretended not to notice and just said, “I don’t understand business. I’ll pass.” Sarah’s face fell again. “Why are you so stubborn? I’m only offering you this chance to make money because we’re family. Other people beg for this kind of opportunity.” The atmosphere became awkward. A distant relative chimed in to smooth things over: “The younger generation has their own ideas, don’t worry so much about it.” Sarah dropped it, but she didn’t give me a pleasant look for the rest of the meal. On the way home, Mark called me. “Ignore her. She’s just obsessed with money.” “I know.” “If she brings it up again, just tell me.” “Okay.” I hung up, watching the city lights blur past the window. Honestly, I had seen the warning signs in Mark’s business for a while. He expanded too fast, hired too many people, and unnecessary overhead was crushing him. Every time he saw me, he claimed everything was fine, but the bloodshot eyes and exhaustion he couldn’t hide told a different story. But he didn’t say anything, and it wasn’t my place to ask. He was the man of the house, the provider. He had his pride. Sure enough, the good times didn’t last. The market shifted unpredictably. The developers downstream ran out of capital, leaving Mark with a massive pile of unpaid invoices. The store’s cash flow collapsed overnight. First came the layoffs, then selling off the delivery trucks. The tone of Sarah’s Facebook posts changed too. Instead of bragging, she started sharing “inspirational” quotes and articles about “never giving up.” She stopped organizing family dinners and barely spoke in the group chat. The atmosphere in their home grew increasingly suffocating. One day, I bought some fruit and went to visit them. When the door opened, a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke hit my face. Mark was sitting on the couch, the ashtray by his feet overflowing. He had lost a significant amount of weight, his beard was scruffy, and his eyes were hollow. Sarah sat on the other side, her eyes red and swollen. She glared at me with pure resentment. “Why are you here?” she asked icily. “I came to see Mark.” “See him? You came to laugh at him?” Sarah suddenly stood up, pointing at Mark. “Look at him! This is all because of you! You jinx!” I froze. “If he had listened to me and just put the money in the bank, none of this would have happened! But no, he had to start a business! And now the money is gone!” She turned her fury on me. “And you! If you had a shred of conscience, if you had just given him that sixty thousand when he needed it, he wouldn’t be in this mess! You’re cold-blooded! Ungrateful!” She was screaming hysterically. Mark suddenly stood up and slapped her hard across the face. “Shut your mouth!” The living room fell dead silent, save for Sarah’s shocked gasp. She held her cheek, massive tears rolling down her face. “Mark Davis, you hit me? You hit me for her?” “I hit you for running your toxic mouth!” Mark was shaking with rage. “The business failing is my fault. It has nothing to do with Chloe! Try saying one more crazy word, I dare you!” Sarah collapsed onto the floor and started wailing. The sound was shrill, ear-piercing, full of despair and grievance. Standing at the door, watching this absolute disaster, my chest felt incredibly tight. I placed the fruit on the shoe rack and said softly, “Mark, I’m going to head out.” I turned and walked downstairs. The crying and arguing faded behind me. I knew the real storm was yet to come. After that, Mark didn’t contact me again. I knew he was trying to endure it alone. He didn’t want me to see him look any more pathetic. Until one afternoon, an unknown number called my phone. It was Sarah. Her voice was hoarse and exhausted, completely lacking her usual arrogance. “Chloe, where are you?” “At home.” “Can you… come out for a bit? I’m at the coffee shop downstairs from your apartment.” My stomach dropped. I knew the inevitable had arrived. I changed and went downstairs. I spotted her from a distance, sitting by the window. She looked incredibly haggard, wearing a faded old jacket, her hair a mess. Her former polished look was completely gone. Seeing me, she forced a smile that looked worse than crying. “Chloe, you’re here.” I sat across from her and didn’t speak. She stirred her black coffee for a long time before struggling to speak. “Your brother… he can’t hold on much longer.” Her eyes instantly reddened. “He’s drowning in debt. People are coming to the house every day demanding money. The store is closed, we sold everything we could, and there’s still a massive hole we can’t fill.” She looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Chloe, I know I was wrong before. I apologize. But right now, you are the only one who can help us.” She pulled a crumpled debit card from her purse and pushed it toward me. “I know you still have that money. Your brother told me everything. He gave you… he gave you a lot.” Looking at her, I finally understood. Mark couldn’t handle the pressure and confessed. I just didn’t know how much he had confessed. “Chloe, please, I’m begging you. Take the money out and save your brother’s life! If this continues, those debt collectors will drive him to his grave!” She looked like she was about to get on her knees. I held her arms, looked her dead in the eye, and asked slowly, deliberately. “How much did Mark say he gave me?” Sarah froze. Her eyes darted away, and she stammered, “He… he said… he gave you a few extra tens of thousands to round it up…” I sneered internally. Even now, at the absolute edge, he was still preserving his final shred of dignity—or rather, he was still guarding against her. He hadn’t told her the truth. Seeing my silence, Sarah grew more frantic. “Chloe, your brother can’t hold on much longer. Look…” I cut her off, pulling out my phone and opening my banking app. “Give me your account number, Sarah.” Her eyes lit up instantly, like she had grabbed a lifeline. She hurriedly rattled off the account number. I entered it, then moved to the amount field. I typed a ‘3’. Followed by four zeros. “I’ll transfer thirty thousand.” Sarah’s expression froze. The light in her eyes visibly died. “How much?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Thirty thousand.” I turned the screen toward her so she could see the number clearly. “That’s all I can give.” “Thirty thousand?” Her voice spiked, sharp as nails on a chalkboard. “Chloe Davis! What is thirty thousand going to do? Are you tossing change to a beggar?” People in the coffee shop turned to look at us. She bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Your brother needs money to save his life! And you? You pull out thirty thousand to humiliate us? Do you have any conscience at all? After everything your brother did for you?!” I looked at her calmly and pulled my phone back. “Sarah, Mark gave me sixty thousand initially. The whole family knows that. I haven’t touched a dime of it. I’ve been working for a few years and saved twenty thousand myself. That’s eighty thousand total. I’m giving you thirty, keeping fifty for my own living expenses. Is there a problem with that?”

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Right before the wedding ceremony was supposed to start, my mom found me, her face dark with anger. “Chloe, did you arrange the catering for the reception?” I nodded, confused. I had personally handled all the catering details. We even went to several different hotels for tastings before settling on this one. My mom froze for a second, then glared at me. “Are you out of your mind?! I gave you thirty thousand dollars, and this is the garbage you serve at your wedding?!” “Your husband’s family gets top-shelf whiskey, premium steak, and lobster!” “And you serve our relatives cheap beer and generic chicken?!” “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is going to be for your father in front of our entire extended family?!” I was completely stunned. We paid for the exact same premium catering package for every single table. How could there be such a massive discrepancy? Just as I was about to storm out of the bridal suite to find the hotel manager, my husband, Liam, grabbed my arm. “The ceremony is about to start. If you go now, you’ll delay the schedule and ruin the timing.” Then, he muttered under his breath: “Besides, I’m the one who told them to change it. Why would you go yell at the hotel?” 1 Even though Liam muttered it under his breath, I heard him perfectly clearly. My brain stalled for a second before the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. The two-tiered catering—the blatant disrespect toward my family—was Liam’s doing! I forced down the raging fire in my chest and tried to keep my voice level. “Why? I paid the hotel in full for the premium package. Why did you change it?” “You downgraded the food and drinks for my side of the family. How are my relatives supposed to look at my parents now?” “Did you even consider for a second that after this wedding, my parents won’t be able to show their faces in front of our family and friends?” Despite my best efforts to stay calm, my voice unconsciously rose into a shout. Liam looked away, too guilty to meet my eyes. My mom’s face was livid. She was breathing heavily, on the absolute verge of an explosion. But maintaining the elegant, composed image she had cultivated for years, she held it in and said to me in a low, tight voice: “The ceremony starts in thirty minutes. I am giving you exactly ten minutes to find a reasonable solution to this mess.” After she finished, my mom shot Liam an icy, lethal glare, turned on her heel, and walked out. The bridal suite fell dead silent. The only sound was our breathing. “Honey, please, just listen to me explain…” After a long, uncomfortable silence, Liam took a deep breath and reached out to take my hand. I took a step back, pulled up a chair, sat down, and stared at him silently. Liam awkwardly withdrew his hand and scratched his head, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. “Look, honey. The premium catering package is eight hundred dollars a table. We booked twenty-eight tables, plus three reserves.” “If we used the premium package for everyone, the money your mom gave you wouldn’t be enough.” “Plus, your family alone takes up twenty-one tables! If we kept the premium package, we’d end up having to pay the difference out of our own pockets!” Liam counted on his fingers, eagerly breaking down the math for me. “But changing the package changes everything!” A look of calculated greed flashed in his eyes—a look I had never seen before. My heart grew colder by the second. This hidden side of Liam was completely rewriting my understanding of the man I was about to marry. “I talked to the hotel manager and downgraded the catering for your family’s tables to the basic hundred-and-fifty-dollar package.” “By doing that, we’ll actually have money left over from your mom’s budget after the wedding! We can use that extra cash to take my parents on a nice vacation with us!” When Liam mentioned the vacation, his eyes lit up with excitement. It was as if he was already sitting on a beach with his parents. I, on the other hand, was completely dumbfounded. I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined he would go behind my back like this. Sneaking off to the hotel manager to downgrade the food, without even bothering to consult the person who was actually paying the bill. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear my own wedding to the ground! 2 But then I thought about our three-year relationship, and all the relatives waiting outside. I was trapped. This was the man I had fought my parents so hard for, blinding myself to all his red flags. We were already at the venue. The guests were seated. Backing out now would be a catastrophic, humiliating scandal. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying my absolute hardest not to lose my mind. “Go find the manager right now and change the catering back to the premium package.” “My parents paid for this reception. You know exactly what was agreed upon.” “More importantly, today isn’t just about my extended family. My dad’s business partners and clients are out there.” “Did you even think about the consequences of insulting them like this?” The excited, daydreaming look on Liam’s face instantly vanished, replaced by a sullen scowl. “I can’t change it back… I told the manager to downgrade the order the very next day after you finalized the menu.” “The kitchen definitely prepped all the food in advance!” “Besides, they’re just here to celebrate our marriage. Who actually cares if the food is a little cheap?” It felt like a ball of fire was lodged in my throat. I was literally shaking with rage. “Then go out there and tell your relatives they’re sitting at the wrong tables! Tell them to switch!” “Let my dad’s business partners sit at the tables with the top-shelf liquor and steak! All the relatives get the basic package!” The moment I suggested moving his family, Liam stiffened defensively. He stuck his neck out and argued back: “We can’t do that! How humiliating would it be to serve my family cheap food?!” I let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. Oh, so now he understands it’s humiliating. But he was perfectly fine serving that exact same garbage to my family? “Besides, they’re already seated! If I make them move now, how am I supposed to look them in the eye?!” “Are you trying to ruin me?!” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I slammed my hand down hard on the vanity table. CRASH! Everything on the table swept onto the floor. I stood up and screamed at him: “And what exactly are YOU doing to ME?!” “Did you forget that when we were negotiating this wedding, your family cried poverty over and over again?!” “I felt bad for you! I didn’t ask you to pay a single cent! I let your family eat and drink for free on my dime, under the strict condition that everyone received the exact same premium treatment!” “And what happens? I pay the bill, and I end up being the one humiliated?!” “That is not how the world works! Liam, do you still want to get married or not?!” I roared at Liam, and the suffocating pressure in my chest finally eased a fraction. I took a deep breath of air. Liam was completely stunned that I would threaten to call off the wedding. He stared at me, his eyes wide in disbelief, looking like a chicken being choked. Before Liam could even utter a word, the door to the bridal suite was violently kicked open. “How dare you speak to my son like that?!” 3 “You aren’t even officially married yet, and you’re already screaming at your man? You think you run this house?!” My mother-in-law, Martha, stormed into the room and slapped me hard across the face. Feeling the burning, stinging pain on my cheek, my mind went completely blank. I stared at this wicked, vicious old woman in utter shock. Martha’s face was twisted in pure malice. There was absolutely no trace of the sweet, loving future mother-in-law she had pretended to be. In that moment, I realized with chilling clarity that all her previous kindness had been an act. This was her true face! Liam was also shocked by his mother bursting in and slapping me. Snapping out of it, he hurried over to check my face. “Mom! What are you doing?! The ceremony hasn’t even started, and you just slapped her face swollen!” “When we go out there, what are the guests going to think?!” Martha yanked Liam behind her, shielding him, and glared at me with absolute venom. “The wedding is about to start, and you two are in here screaming like animals! What is wrong with you?!” “And I heard you actually had the nerve to demand my family switch tables?!” “Do you still want to marry into this family or not?!” Holding my stinging, swelling cheek, a wave of profound regret washed over me. If I had known his family was like this, I never would have fought my parents so bitterly to marry Liam. When our families first sat down to discuss the wedding, I, trying to be understanding of Liam’s financial situation, directly told my parents we didn’t need a dowry, an engagement ring, or any of the traditional expensive gifts. I told them if I saw something I liked, I would just buy it myself. I didn’t need his family to pay for it. My parents strongly disagreed, but because I was so incredibly stubborn, they eventually caved. They even bought me a brand-new car as a wedding gift out of their own pockets. When it came time to discuss the reception, my in-laws looked visibly disgusted when my parents mentioned we had a large extended family and would need around twenty tables. “Look, it’s not that I’m being cheap, but I just don’t agree with bringing that many people to a wedding reception.” “Twenty tables? That is ridiculous!” “Are you just inviting every random person you’ve ever met? Do you have any idea how much that’s going to cost?!” “Besides, if you invite all those people, they’re going to give cash gifts. Who gets to keep that money?” My mom instantly lost her temper. “That is exactly how large our extended family is! And I’m actually giving you a conservative estimate!” “Who keeps the cash gifts from our side of the family is none of your business!” “Even if I give every single cent of it to my daughter, that is her personal asset, and it has absolutely nothing to do with your family!” After being chewed out by my mom, Martha muttered something under her breath in defense. I forget the exact words. But the gist of it was that my mom was a greedy, calculating woman who was trying to pack the reception with freeloaders just to recoup all the wedding gifts she had given out over the years, all without spending a dime of her own money. Meanwhile, even if every single one of Liam’s relatives showed up, they wouldn’t fill ten tables. Thirty tables for a reception was simply too expensive. They claimed that after giving Liam the money for a down payment on a house, they had absolutely nothing left for the wedding. Hearing Martha say that, my mom was ready to grab me and walk out right then and there. But I, being young, naive, and completely blinded by love, physically blocked my parents from leaving. I stubbornly defended Martha, insisting there must be a misunderstanding, that she couldn’t possibly mean it like that. My parents were exhausted by my stubbornness. My mom looked at me with deep disappointment. She raised her hand as if to slap some sense into me, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she gave me another thirty thousand dollars specifically to cover the cost of the reception. The moment Martha heard she didn’t have to pay a single cent for the wedding, her face instantly lit up. She grabbed my hand, acting as if the entire ugly argument had never happened. “Oh, Chloe is truly the best daughter-in-law a mother could ask for!” “Don’t you worry, once you marry into our family, I promise I will treat you like my own flesh and blood!” 4 She even promised my parents that once I married Liam, she would never let me suffer. Back then, I was stupid enough to believe that Martha had only insulted my parents because she was genuinely stressed about money. But seeing her now, looking like she wanted to eat me alive… I finally saw her for what she truly was. “Then let’s call it off!” “You refuse every option I give you to fix this, so there’s absolutely no point in continuing this wedding.” “Liam, take your mother and your relatives, and get the hell out of here!” “I’ll just treat today as a private dinner party for my family and friends!” I screamed at Liam, completely ignoring Martha’s existence. “We can’t do that! The guests are already here! We have to get married!” “Mom, if we have to, let’s just listen to Chloe and have our family switch tables.” Liam tugged at his mother’s sleeve, whispering nervously. Martha glared at me darkly. She pulled Liam aside and hissed: “Are you an idiot? She practically begged to marry you, paying her own way. There is no way she’s going to call off the wedding!” “If you cave to her demands now, she’s going to walk all over you for the rest of your life!” “Listen to me. She doesn’t have the guts to cancel the wedding. She’s just bluffing!” Martha finished her whisper and shot a cautious glance back at me. I found it hilarious. The bridal suite was tiny. Did she really think taking two steps back meant I couldn’t hear every word she said? “Chloe, it’s not that I’m trying to be difficult, but the guests are already seated. We can’t just make them move.” “Listen to me. You’re marrying Liam today. What’s wrong with letting his family eat a little better?” “Once you’re married and living your life, our relatives will remember your generosity.” Martha spoke with sickening sweetness, acting as if she and her son were doing this entirely for my benefit. If this were the past, when my brain was completely clouded by love, I might have actually fallen for it. But that sudden slap to the face had violently woken me up to exactly what kind of person she was. Seeing Liam cowering behind his mother, utterly devoid of a spine… I lost every last shred of hope I had for him. “I don’t need them to remember my generosity! I only know that I paid the bill!” Seeing that I wasn’t falling for her manipulation, Martha immediately dropped the act. “Ha! You little ungrateful bitch, you just refuse to listen to reason, don’t you?!” She looked up at her son and declared loudly: “Son, if we don’t get married, we don’t get married! With your looks, you can find any woman you want!” “She’s obsessing over a few plates of food like a psychotic cheapskate. I told you not to marry her from the start!” “Look at her now, showing her true colors!” “I told you to find a girl from a rich family, and we wouldn’t be dealing with this garbage!” I froze. His mother actively wanted him to marry a rich girl? So basically, Martha wanted her son to be a gold-digger. And I, the ultimate sucker, had just been completely blind to it all this time. Hearing his mother say she was fine with calling off the wedding, Liam panicked. He leaned in close to his mother’s ear and whispered: “Mom, we can’t call it off! Where am I going to find a rich girl?!” “With our background, being able to marry her…” Martha aggressively shook her head, patting Liam’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, son. Her dad manages a factory. She wouldn’t dare humiliate her family by calling off a wedding!” “She’s just bluffing! She can’t afford the embarrassment!”

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There was a whiteboard in our house. Written on it was my countdown. “Days until Lily’s estimated heart failure: 47.” Every morning, my mother would carefully erase yesterday’s number and write a new one. Like a grocery store counting down to a clearance sale. Precise, cold, and full of anticipation. My name is Lily Brooks. I am twelve years old. I have congenital heart disease. The doctors said without surgery, I wouldn’t live past six months. The surgery costs three million dollars. My father, Edward Brooks, is a real estate tycoon worth two billion dollars. But he said, “Three million. It’s not worth it.” Because there was another, perfectly healthy child in the house. My little brother, Noah. Eight years old, smart, beautiful, plays the piano, and knows exactly how to charm adults. He was the only one in this family considered “worth it.” … The first time I heard them discussing my death was on a Wednesday night. The study door wasn’t closed all the way. I was walking by, clutching my pill bottle, when I heard the conversation inside. My mother Victoria’s voice was calm, like she was discussing a stock investment. “The insurance company confirmed it. Lily’s policy is worth five million. In the event of her death, we are the sole beneficiaries.” Edward flipped through some documents. “Five million? The premium we paid back then was only eighty thousand. That’s a solid return on investment.” Victoria nodded. “And since it would be death by natural illness, there’s no waiting period for the investigation. They pay out directly. I’ve already had the lawyers confirm it.” “Then skip the surgery.” Edward put his pen down. “Three million for a surgery with only a sixty percent success rate. We might as well save the cash, wait for the insurance payout, and net five million.” “That five million will perfectly cover Noah’s European summer camp and that new penthouse in Manhattan.” Victoria hesitated for a moment. “But people will gossip.” “Saying what?” Edward sneered. “She has a congenital heart defect. The doctors already said it’s a difficult case. We are simply respecting medical reality.” “When the time comes, we tell the public we tried everything, but it was God’s will.” “We’ll throw a beautiful, high-profile funeral, invite the press. It’ll be great PR for the company.” The pill bottle slipped from my hand. It hit the floor with a loud clatter. The study instantly fell dead silent. I picked up the bottle and turned to walk away. Victoria’s voice called out from behind me: “Lily? Why are you out in the hall?” I didn’t turn around. “I was just getting my medication.” “Take your pills and go to bed early. We have your hospital checkup tomorrow.” “Okay.” I went back to my room and closed the door. I looked at the whiteboard on my nightstand. 47 days. It turned out this wasn’t my countdown. It was their “payout date.” That night, I made a decision. Since they were waiting for me to die. I would give them the show of a lifetime. But not the kind of death they were hoping for. Chapter 2 The next day, I didn’t go to the hospital for my checkup. I went to the insurance company. The receptionist was taken aback when she saw a twelve-year-old girl walk in alone. “Sweetie, who are you looking for?” “Miss, I want to check on my insurance policy. My name is Lily Brooks. The policyholder is Victoria Brooks.” The receptionist hesitated but looked it up for me anyway. “Your policy… the death benefit is five million dollars. The beneficiaries are your parents, Edward and Victoria Brooks.” “Miss, can the beneficiaries be changed?” “Yes, but it requires the policyholder’s consent. That would be your mother.” I nodded. “And if the policyholder doesn’t agree?” “Then it can’t be changed.” I thought for a moment. “What if I buy my own insurance policy? Can I name someone else as the beneficiary?” The receptionist looked stunned. “Sweetie… you’re only twelve. You can’t buy life insurance yourself. And… why are you asking these things?” I offered a small smile. “Nothing. I just wanted to know if, when I die, the money could go to someone other than my parents.” The receptionist’s face fell. She knelt down, looking me in the eye. “Sweetie, is something going on at home?” “No. Thank you, miss.” I turned and walked out of the insurance company. Standing on the street, the sun felt wonderful. But I knew I probably wouldn’t see many more sunny days like this. Not because of my heart. But because I had decided that before they could touch that five million, I was going to make sure they got nothing. I would make sure they didn’t see a single dime. When I got home, my brother Noah was in the living room practicing the piano. Seeing me walk in, he didn’t even look up. “Lily, Mom said you skipped your checkup. She’s really mad.” “Oh.” “She said if you don’t behave, she’s going to cut your medication.” I stopped in my tracks. “What does that mean?” Noah played a chord, speaking casually: “Exactly what it sounds like. Your pills are really expensive, right? Like twenty thousand a month. Mom said if you don’t cooperate, she’ll just stop buying them. Anyway—” He paused, seemingly realizing his next words were a bit harsh. “Anyway what?” I asked. “Anyway, you can’t be cured.” When my eight-year-old brother said those words, his tone was exactly like our father’s. Light, dismissive, treating it as a matter of fact. I looked at him. This boy who had been pampered since the day he was born. He wasn’t inherently evil. He just genuinely believed my life had no value. Because from the moment he entered this world, everyone in this house had taught him one thing: His sister was a burden, a financial drain, a defective product that could break down at any moment. “Noah.” “Yeah?” “You play beautifully.” Noah finally looked up, glancing at me in surprise. “…Thanks.” I went upstairs to my room. I opened the old iPad my dad had given me—the only electronic device in the house that belonged to me, and only because it was an outdated model Noah didn’t want anymore. Chapter 3 I started searching: “Can a minor write a will?” “How to stop parents from collecting a life insurance payout?” “Slayer rule in life insurance.” The search results gave me one crucial piece of information: If a beneficiary intentionally causes the death of the insured, the insurance company will deny the claim. I stared at that sentence for a long time. Then, I started keeping a diary. But not an ordinary diary. It was an evidence log. Using that old iPad, I began recording audio and video. Every time they discussed my insurance. Every time they reduced my medication. Every time they updated the countdown on the whiteboard. I recorded it all. Three days later. The number on the whiteboard changed to 44. And just as promised, Victoria cut my medication. I used to take three pills a day. Now, she only gave me two. “Mom, I’m missing a pill.” Victoria was peeling an apple for Noah, not bothering to look up. “The doctor said you can reduce your dosage at this stage.” “The doctor never said that.” Victoria’s knife paused. “I am your mother. If I say we reduce it, we reduce it.” I didn’t say anything else. I went back to my room and turned on my voice recorder. I saved the conversation I had just captured. File name: “Evidence_004_Med_Reduction”. That evening, Edward came home. He brought a stranger with him. A man in a sharp suit, carrying a briefcase, wearing a professional smile. “Lily, this is Mr. Sterling. He’s a claims advisor for the insurance company.” Edward’s tone was exceptionally gentle. Whenever he was gentle with me, it meant he needed my cooperation. “Mr. Sterling needs to do a quick health assessment for you. Be a good girl and cooperate, okay?” Mr. Sterling knelt down and smiled. “Hey there. I’m just going to ask you a few quick questions, alright?” “How are you feeling these days? Any discomfort?” I glanced at Edward. His eyes carried a distinct warning. I smiled back at the advisor. “I feel pretty good. Just a little chest tightness sometimes.” “Are you taking your medication? Right on schedule?” “Yes, on schedule. Three pills every day. I haven’t missed a single one.” The corners of Edward’s mouth twitched upward. Victoria visibly exhaled a sigh of relief. Mr. Sterling finished his notes and shook Edward’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Brooks. I’ll have the paperwork sorted immediately. If… God forbid… something unfortunate were to happen, I’ll make sure the payout is expedited.” “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” After seeing the advisor out, Edward patted me on the head. “You did great today. As a reward, you can watch an extra thirty minutes of TV tonight.” Thirty extra minutes of TV. That was my compensation for cooperating in the “rehearsal of my death.” Chapter 4 I went back to my room and exported the files from my recorder. File name: “Evidence_007_Insurance_Pre_Claim”. I backed up all the files in three places. One copy on the iPad. One copy on a USB flash drive hidden under my mattress. The third copy… I needed to give to someone I could trust. But I didn’t have anyone I could trust. Classmates? They only knew me as the rich, sick girl. None of them were close friends. Teachers? Once, a teacher asked about a bruise on my arm. Victoria made one phone call, and the teacher never brought it up again. Relatives? They all worked for Edward’s company. No one dared to cross him. I thought about it all night. The next morning, I saw a man by the gates of our gated community. A homeless man. He sat on the bench across the street every day, holding a dirty, scruffy cat. Security chased him away constantly, but he always came back. I walked over to him. “Sir, what’s your name?” He looked up, his cloudy eyes focusing on me. “…Henry.” “Henry, do you have a phone?” “No.” “Do you know how to read?” “…I used to be a teacher.” I was stunned. A homeless man who used to be a teacher? “Henry, can I come talk to you every day?” He didn’t speak, just gave a slow, gentle nod. From that day on, I visited Henry after school every day. I brought him a bottle of water and a sandwich. Food I had secretly saved from my own meals. Henry used to be a high school English teacher. After his wife died of cancer, medical debt bankrupted him, and he ended up on the streets. We gradually became friends. One day, I pulled the USB drive from my backpack. “Henry, if I die one day, can you take this to the police for me?” Henry’s hands began to shake. “What… what are you talking about?” “My parents bought a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on me. If I die, they get the money. So they aren’t treating my illness, and they are lowering my medication.” “This flash drive has all the evidence. As long as the police prove they intentionally denied me care, the insurance company won’t pay out.” “They’re waiting for me to die. But instead of five million dollars, they’re going to get a prison cell.” Tears streamed down Henry’s dirty, weathered face. “I can’t let you die. You’re only twelve years old!” I crouched beside him, gently patting his back. I was the one who was dying. Yet here I was, comforting a stranger who was crying for me. Chapter 5 The number on the whiteboard changed to 31. My body was failing faster now. Before, it was just occasional chest tightness. Now, I was gasping for air after walking just a few steps. Victoria looked at my pale face, but there was no heartbreak in her eyes. Only calculation. “One month left,” she whispered to Edward in the kitchen. “The insurance company is prepped. When the time comes, we just say her condition rapidly deteriorated and she passed naturally.” “What about the pills?” Edward asked. “I’ve cut it down to one a day. In a few days, I’ll stop them completely.” “Good. Make sure nobody outside the house notices.” I stood outside the kitchen door, the voice recorder silently spinning in my pocket. File name: “Evidence_015_Stopping_Meds”. That afternoon, I collapsed at school. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My attending physician was Dr. Emily Carter, a woman in her forties. She looked at my chart, her face grim. “Your medication levels are entirely wrong. Based on your condition, you should be taking Amiodarone three times a day. Why are you only taking one?” I didn’t say anything. Dr. Carter stayed silent for a moment, then sat on the edge of my bed. “Lily, tell me the truth. Is something going on at home?” I looked at her. Her gaze was earnest, not just going through the motions. “Dr. Carter, if I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?” “What is it?” “My parents want me to die.” Dr. Carter’s pupils dilated in shock. “They bought a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on me. They are the beneficiaries. They’re cutting my meds, waiting for my heart to fail so I die naturally, and then they’ll collect the money.” “I have proof. Audio recordings, videos, diaries. I have everything.” Dr. Carter’s hands began to tremble. She had practiced medicine for twenty years. She had seen countless life and death scenarios. But she had never seen a twelve-year-old child describe her own parents plotting her murder with such chilling calmness. “Why… why haven’t you called the police?” “My dad is Edward Brooks.” Dr. Carter froze. Edward Brooks. The biggest real estate developer in the city. The brand-new inpatient tower we were currently in was funded by his donations. His name was literally on the building—The Brooks Pavilion. “Lily, I’m going to keep you admitted for a few days. I’ll use observation as the medical justification.” “In these few days, I’m going to contact someone for you.” “Who?” I asked. “A friend from college. He’s a District Attorney at the state level. Your father’s hands are long, but they can’t reach the state.” Chapter 6 I looked at Dr. Carter. This was the second person willing to help me. The first was Henry, the homeless man. The second was this doctor. Both were complete strangers with no blood relation to me. “Dr. Carter.” “Yes?” “Thank you. But… if my dad finds out, will he do something to you?” Dr. Carter offered a small, fierce smile. “On my first day as a doctor, I took an oath to save lives and do no harm.” “Your father donated a building. That’s very impressive. But a building can’t buy my conscience.” Victoria came to the hospital to pick me up. She wore her picture-perfect “doting mother” expression. “Lily, Mommy’s here to take you home.” Dr. Carter blocked her path. “Mrs. Brooks, the child’s condition is highly unstable. I strongly recommend keeping her for further observation.” Victoria’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. “Dr. Carter, we can take perfectly good care of her at home.” “Then why are the child’s medication levels incorrect?” Dr. Carter stared directly into her eyes. “Given her condition, she should be taking three doses a day. But the drug concentration in her blood is only one-third of the normal level. Unless, of course, someone deliberately reduced her medication.” Victoria’s face drained of color. “What… what are you implying?” “I’m not implying anything. I am stating medical facts.” Dr. Carter closed the chart. “The child cannot be discharged right now. If you insist on taking her, you must sign an ‘Against Medical Advice Discharge Declaration.’ This document will be kept on record. If anything happens to this child, the hospital will submit it directly to the authorities.” Victoria stood there, her lips trembling. She knew that signing that declaration would leave a massive paper trail. “…Then she can stay for now.” She turned to leave. As she passed my bed, she leaned in and whispered: “Lily, don’t think for a second you can pull a fast one on us.” I didn’t look up. But beneath the blankets, I pressed the save button on my voice recorder. File name: “Evidence_019_Hospital_Confrontation”. It was enough. Without any hesitation, I zipped all the evidence files and hit send. I watched the progress bar complete. Mom, Dad, this is my final gift to you. I hope you’re ready to catch it.

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My boyfriend of three years, Liam, always looked down on my job as an Uber driver. He said it was a dead-end gig. That night, he told me he was hanging out with some guys from work. He said they’d probably be out late and he’d just grab a Lyft home, telling me not to wait up or pick him up. Around 10:30 PM, the app pinged with a new ride request. I accepted it out of habit, pulled up to the pickup spot, and waited in the driver’s seat. In the rearview mirror, I saw a man and a woman get in. The guy was hammered, slumping heavily against the woman. She had her head down, her hand casually slipping under the waistband of his pants. He tilted his head back, seeking a kiss, a deep flush spreading across his cheeks. He didn’t recognize me. As he moved, the necklace around his neck slipped sideways against his collarbone. It was the necklace I had personally clasped around his neck for our three-year anniversary. He had told me it was the best gift he had ever received in his entire life. 1 I pulled out my phone and deliberately dialed his number. A ringtone went off in the backseat. His body went rigid for a second. He turned his head slightly to squint at the glowing screen of his phone, then immediately flipped it face-down onto the leather seat. He buried his face back into the woman’s chest, not even bothering to look up. The phone rang six times before it went to voicemail. I called again. It rang out again. The third time, he reached down and hit “Decline” with swift, practiced efficiency, as if he were hanging up on a telemarketer. I slid my phone back into my pocket. Both my hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The woman in the backseat looked up and barked at me: “Hey, Uber! What the fuck are you staring at? Keep your eyes on the road!” “Three miles took you twenty minutes. Are you intentionally taking the long way to milk the meter?” I didn’t say a word. Liam chuckled softly, patting her chest playfully. “Come on, Sarah. You know how these gig apps are. They just give rides to anyone. She drives like a fucking snail.” He paused, not lowering his voice a single decibel. “And she keeps staring at my abs in the mirror. It’s disgusting.” He said it with a smile. It was a tone I had heard for three years. It was the exact same flippant, dismissive tone he used when complaining about delivery drivers or sneering at waiters. Like he was talking about a stray dog blocking his path. Sarah, apparently a senior exec at his firm, snapped at me again: “The AC. Set it to 72. Do you not know how to work a dial? Your hands are shaking. Did you buy your license off the internet?” I adjusted the temperature to 72 degrees. I didn’t say a word. “I asked you a question. Are you deaf? Where is your customer service?” Liam chimed in from the backseat, his voice lazy and drawling: “What kind of class do you expect from an Uber driver? Don’t let her ruin your mood, Sarah.” “These bottom-feeders… they just don’t know any better. Let her drive. Don’t expect her to understand what decency is.” Bottom-feeders. The word slipped out of his mouth so casually, as flatly as if he were commenting on the weather. Sarah smiled, clearly satisfied. Her arm tightened around his waist, her thumb slowly tracing circles against the skin under his dress shirt. He didn’t pull away. He leaned deeper into her embrace. I kept my eyes locked on the road ahead. Without uttering a single syllable, I pulled the car smoothly up to the entrance of their luxury hotel. Sarah stepped out first. She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and a handful of loose change, and tossed it casually through my open window, aiming right at my face. The paper bills hit my forehead and fluttered down. The coins slammed against the dashboard, bouncing loudly. One quarter rolled and wedged itself deep into the crevice of the passenger seat. “Take that and buy yourself a coffee. Maybe it’ll wake up those few brain cells you have left. Think about how pathetic you are.” She clapped her hands together, as if dusting off something filthy. “With your driving skills, you’re only fit to deliver DoorDash. Letting you drive actual people is an insult to the profession.” Liam slowly got out of the car. As he walked past my window, he stopped. He looked down and spat on me. The spit landed on the sleeve of my jacket, seeping into the fabric and leaving a dark, wet stain. Then, he linked his arm through Sarah’s. The two of them pushed through the heavy glass doors of the hotel and disappeared inside. I sat in the driver’s seat, completely motionless. I slowly bent down, picking up the crumpled bills from the floor mat, one by one. I dug my fingers into the seat crevice, prying out that single quarter, and clenched it tightly in my fist. I opened the dashcam app on my center console and replayed the interior footage from the very beginning. The video quality wasn’t cinematic, but it was more than enough. His face, her hands, that specific necklace catching the light—it was all crystal clear. I saved the video file directly to my phone. Then, I sent a text to my company’s legal department: [Run a full forensic audit on Sarah Jenkins’s accounts for the past two years. I want every single detail.] Three years. From the first time he told me my Uber job was a dead-end embarrassment, to tonight, calling me a “bottom-feeder” in my own rearview mirror. I had spent all this time waiting for him to say something different. To be someone different. I waited for nothing. The legal team replied the next day. Their tone was highly cautious. Sarah Jenkins had authorized a massive transfer of funds from the corporate petty cash and expense accounts. It was a substantial sum, signed off and wired directly into a private, external checking account. The name on the receiving account… I stared at the line of text three times to make sure I was reading it right. Liam Sterling. 2 I set my phone face-down on the counter and walked into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. The water was ice cold, but I didn’t feel it as it slid down my throat. I sat back down and pulled up my calendar. I cross-referenced every single “late-night team meeting,” every “staying at my buddy’s place,” and every “networking event” Liam had claimed to attend over the past three years. I opened Sarah’s corporate travel and expense logs and compared them line by line. Match. The second date, match. Third, fourth, fifth… almost every single date matched perfectly. The timestamps aligned within a fifteen-minute margin of error. It was choreographed. I pulled up the “selfies” he had sent me over the years. I had never bothered to scrutinize the backgrounds before. Zooming in on one photo taken in a hotel hallway, I saw a reflection in a decorative mirror behind him. A sliver of a silhouette, the collar of a blouse, the hem of a skirt. It was the exact outfit Sarah had posted on her Instagram that very same day. I saved every single screenshot and dumped them into a master folder on my desktop. My father had been calling me relentlessly for the past few days. Our luxury auto group was expanding into its third major metropolitan market. The West Coast division desperately needed an executive who could make the hard calls. He called me, skipping the pleasantries entirely: “How much longer are you going to play around driving Ubers?” “Do you have any idea how many critical decisions are bottlenecked right now waiting for you to come back?” I said, “Just give me a little more time.” He went silent for a moment. “Are you still hung up on that boy?” I didn’t answer. He sighed, his voice softening. “Your mother told you years ago that boy was shallow and short-sighted. We tried to stop you, but you insisted on slamming your head against a brick wall. Are you finally done?” I said, “Dad, as soon as I finish cleaning up the mess here, I’ll head back and take over the West Coast division. Send Chloe over to me first.” He was quiet for a while before finally saying, “Alright. I’ll have Chloe fly out to you tomorrow.” After hanging up, I got a text from Liam. He said he had to stay late at the office to finish a pitch deck. He asked if I had eaten, told me not to wait up, and said he’d be home very late. He ended the text with “Be a good girl and wait for me at home,” followed by a kissing emoji. I replied with a simple “Okay.” Then I grabbed my coat, walked out the door, and called an Uber. I gave the driver the address of Liam’s “office.” When I arrived, the corporate building was completely dark. The entire floor was deserted. I walked across the street, found a concrete planter to sit on, and waited. Ten minutes later. Sarah’s sleek Audi turned the corner and pulled to a stop on the side of the road. Liam approached from the opposite direction, walking quickly. He opened the passenger door and slid in. The windows rolled up. The car stayed parked. It didn’t drive away. I pulled out my phone, switched to video mode, and pointed the camera directly at the Audi. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. A full hour. The car just sat there under the amber glow of the streetlight, the engine idling. The chassis was shaking. The movement wasn’t violent, but it was rhythmic and continuous. I saved the video, stood up, dusted off the back of my jeans, and called a ride home. He walked through the front door at 1:00 AM. As he entered, he sighed heavily and said, “Working late is brutal.” He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa, kicked off his shoes, and went straight to the shower. When he came out, his hair was still damp. He leaned against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, a look of profound, lazy satisfaction on his face. It wasn’t the exhaustion of a long workday. It was the heavy, satiated relaxation of someone who had just gotten exactly what they wanted. He looked up and noticed I was still awake. “Why are you still up? Don’t you have to drive tomorrow?” I said, “Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a noncommittal “Hmm” and didn’t ask anything else. He turned off his lamp and lay down. Three minutes later, his breathing was deep and even. Over the past three years, how many of those “late nights at the office” were actually spent sweating in the passenger seat of that Audi? I sent Chloe a text: [Fly in tomorrow. We need to talk.] Chloe arrived the next afternoon. She sat down across from me, her first words being: “Boss, have you finally snapped out of it?” I slid my phone across the table to her. The screenshots of the forensic accounting, the hour-long video of the shaking Audi, the dashcam footage from the Uber ride. I showed her every single file, one by one. She watched it all in silence. A long silence. Then, she slid the phone back to me. “How do you want to play this?” I said, “The annual corporate gala. We’ll end it there.” 3 A week before the gala, Liam suddenly became incredibly, suffocatingly attentive. Before I even woke up in the morning, a hot matcha latte and fresh pastries from my favorite bakery were waiting on the nightstand. When I got home from “driving,” the apartment was spotless. My clothes were neatly folded on the bed, and my house slippers were perfectly aligned, pointing toward the door. At night, he would actively pull me against his shoulder while we watched TV, his fingers lightly tracing circles on my waist. He would look down at me and smile randomly, looking exactly like the sweet, devoted guy I met three years ago. I knew exactly what he was doing. He needed to bring me to the corporate gala. He needed my cooperation. He needed me to look stable, compliant, and supportive, so I wouldn’t cause any drama. He needed me to continue playing the role of the oblivious, devoted girlfriend, just like I had for the past three years. I played along perfectly. I smiled as I took the water he offered, asking him, “Why are you being so sweet lately?” He wrapped his arms around my neck, pressed his cheek against mine, and whispered, “Because I love you, obviously.” The necklace hung from his neck, catching the light and sparkling brightly. Over the weekend, he dragged me to a high-end mall. In a designer boutique, he picked out a silk blouse for me. It cost over eight hundred dollars. While paying at the register, he casually mentioned to the sales associate: “She doesn’t really care about fashion. If I don’t force her, she’ll just wear the same old faded t-shirts everywhere.” The sales associate offered a polite, professional smile but didn’t respond. Her eyes flicked over my casual clothes for a split second. I understood that look. It was the look of someone wondering why a guy like him was wasting his money on someone like me. On the drive home, he kept his eyes on the road and delivered a steady stream of instructions: “At the gala, just keep a low profile. Don’t mention the Uber driving. If anyone asks, just say you’re ‘transitioning careers’.” “Don’t try to make conversation with anyone at Sarah’s table. They operate on a different level; you won’t be able to keep up.” “Don’t go around offering toasts, don’t wander off. Just sit quietly and look nice.” He delivered these instructions with a casual, natural authority. It wasn’t a discussion; it was a mandate. Like he was instructing a slightly slow-witted child on how to behave in public so they wouldn’t embarrass the family. Patient, but overwhelmingly condescending. I sat in the passenger seat and nodded. “Understood.” He patted my hand approvingly, a satisfied smile on his lips. Then, he looked down to reply to a text. He tilted the screen slightly away from me so I couldn’t see it. But in the reflection of the passenger window, I caught a glimpse of the contact name. Sarah, followed by a red heart emoji. The night before the gala, he told me he had to go to the venue early to coordinate logistics. I didn’t follow him this time. I had enough evidence; I didn’t need any more. I called Chloe and told her to double-check the master file we had prepared: The dashcam footage, the hour-long Audi video, the forensic accounting breakdowns, and the petty cash transfer agreement bearing Liam’s signature. I told her to compress it all into a single file and have the broadcasting equipment ready to go. Chloe asked, “Boss, are you absolutely sure you want to drop this at the gala?” I said, “I’m sure.” She was quiet for two seconds. “Alright. Consider it done.” Liam came home past midnight. As usual, he walked through the door complaining, “I’m exhausted.” He took a shower, slid into bed, and just before falling asleep, rolled over to look at me. His tone was purely instructional: “Make sure you wear that blazer I bought you tomorrow. No sneakers. Stay close to me.” “I’ve already given Sarah a heads-up about you. Just don’t say anything stupid.” I said, “Okay.” He turned off the lamp and lay back down. His breathing leveled out almost instantly. The morning of the gala, he woke up early, styled his hair meticulously with pomade, and put on a brand-new, tailored casual suit. He stood by the door, waiting for me. I walked over. He picked up a delicate brooch and pinned it carefully to the lapel of my blazer. His fingers adjusted it a few times, pressing it flat. He looked at it, then adjusted it again. “Perfect.” He patted my chest lightly, smiling. “Don’t embarrass me today, okay?” I looked down at him. I wanted to say, “I won’t.” But instead, I just nodded. Because today, I wasn’t going to be the one getting embarrassed. As we walked into the grand ballroom, Liam linked his arm through mine and walked quickly, almost as if he were afraid of being seen. A female coworker walked toward us. Her gaze swept over me from head to toe. She didn’t bother lowering her voice as she said to Liam: “Is this your girlfriend? The Uber driver?” She wrinkled her nose, not even trying to hide her disdain. “She reeks of cheap gas station coffee.” Before Liam could respond, a guy next to her laughed and chimed in: “Liam, seriously man, Sarah thinks so highly of you. Bringing an Uber driver to a corporate event? You’re dragging your own brand through the mud. And here I thought you were a smart guy.” A few people standing nearby snickered quietly. Liam kept pulling me forward. He didn’t defend me. He didn’t say a word. He just walked faster, his fingers digging painfully into my arm. He wasn’t holding me tight because he felt protective; he was holding me tight because he was terrified I was going to open my mouth and ruin his image. 4 After delivering her keynote speech, Sarah stepped off the stage and began mingling with the crowd. She spotted me instantly and stopped. Right in front of a circle of executives and colleagues, she spoke loudly and clearly: “Well, well. So this is Liam’s girlfriend? The Uber driver?” She looked me up and down slowly, shaking her head. Smiling, she turned to the VP of Sales standing next to her: “Look at this. I guess Liam really does have terrible taste, bringing an Uber driver to a black-tie event.” “He’s our top luxury auto salesman. Isn’t this just humiliating himself? And to think, I actually believed he had some ambition.” The VP offered a sycophantic, awkward laugh, nodding in agreement. Sarah turned back to me. She patted my shoulder. Her touch wasn’t friendly; it was heavy, condescending, pressing down on me. “Little girl, what kind of future do you think you have driving a cab?” “Life is short. Don’t drag Liam down with you. If he stays with you, he’s going to be eating dirt for the rest of his life.” I didn’t say a word. Liam kept his head down, staring at the floor. Not a single syllable escaped his lips. Liam’s younger sister, Emily, squeezed through the crowd holding a champagne flute. She yelled out loudly: “Sister-in-law! Oh, wait, I guess we don’t know if you’ll actually make it that far yet!” She looked around the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention, then raised her glass with a mocking smile. “Everyone, my brother is the top salesman in this entire company. Does anyone else think he’s absolutely blind for dating an Uber driver?” The crowd erupted in laughter. Someone murmured, “Yeah, he could definitely do better.” Others shook their heads or sipped their drinks, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Emily turned to look at me. Her fake smile vanished, replaced by blunt, naked contempt. “Look, lady, I’ll just be honest. Are you worthy of him? In what universe do you deserve my brother?” “What do you actually have? Do you have money? Do you have connections? All you have is a driver’s license.” “Uber drivers are the absolute bottom-feeders of society. The kind of trash that will never, ever climb out of the gutter. Do you seriously lack that much self-awareness?” Another wave of laughter rolled through the crowd. This time, Liam finally spoke up. He muttered, “Emily, that’s enough.” But his tone was as flat and unemotional as if he were commenting on a mild breeze. Then, he raised his glass, turned his back to me, and went to clink glasses with a coworker. He didn’t look at me once. I sat in my chair, my hands resting quietly on my knees. I didn’t touch my drink. I thought about the past three years. Every single time he told me, “Can you please show a little ambition?” I thought about the smirk on his face when he sat in the backseat of my car and said, “Bottom-feeders belong at the bottom.” I thought about Sarah throwing crumpled dollar bills in my face. I thought about that Audi parked under the streetlight for an hour, the engine idling. I thought about the forensic accounting screenshot. Payee: Liam Sterling. His mother, Mrs. Sterling, suddenly stood up from a nearby table. Her voice was shrill and grating, loud enough for the entire section to hear: “What can a filthy Uber driver possibly offer my son?! Can she buy him a mansion?! Can she buy him a Porsche?!” “Her entire monthly salary is less than the commission my son makes selling one car!” Her finger was practically jabbing me in the eye. The people around us were laughing openly, pointing and sneering. Right at that exact moment, Chloe slipped into the ballroom through a side door. She didn’t look at anyone. She walked smoothly and silently to the AV booth in the corner. She bent down and plugged the HDMI cable directly into the main projector interface. The massive LED screen behind the stage flared to life. The first image: The official corporate business license for the National Luxury Auto Group. Under the “Legal Representative / CEO” section, it read clearly: Evelyn Vance. The second image: The corporate organizational chart. Sarah’s name was listed under the “Regional General Manager” bracket. My name was sitting directly at the very top. Above hers. The entire ballroom went dead silent. [The color drained from Sarah’s face in less than a second.]

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I have been married twice in my life. The first time was a shotgun wedding to my childhood sweetheart, Arthur Vance, the heir to a massive New York real estate empire. Back then, I was young, proud, and completely uncompromising. When I discovered he had started looking twice at his new, young assistant, I had an abortion and filed for divorce. The second time was a marriage that grew into love with Ethan Sterling, a self-made tech billionaire in Silicon Valley who claimed it was love at first sight. After I remarried, my ex-husband Arthur sent me a birthday gift every single year. I never signed for them, and I never replied. I was determined to prove that I could live a wonderful life without him. Until the third year of my marriage, when I accompanied Ethan to his college reunion. A drunk former classmate gave him a thumbs-up. “When it comes to devotion, out of all of us, you take the crown.” “Back then, Chloe dumped you because you were broke. She took all your savings and ran off to Europe.” “You said you were going to tear her limb from limb. And then what happened?” “The woman you ended up marrying… isn’t that still her?” I turned to look at Ethan beside me. He feigned composure and explained, “He’s drunk and talking nonsense. You actually believe him?” The classmate grumbled in protest. “How am I talking nonsense?” “I still remember the night you guys broke up. You cried the entire night…” Ethan abruptly stood up, his voice cracking like a whip. “Shut your mouth!” The classmate sobered up halfway, his gaze lingering on my face for a long time. From his bizarre expression, I pieced everything together. No wonder this rising Silicon Valley star fell in love at first sight with a divorced woman like me. No wonder he never let me curl my hair and always preferred me in long white dresses. No wonder he was infinitely tolerant of my occasional mood swings. It turned out that before me, he had an unforgettable college sweetheart. I grabbed my phone and stood up to leave. My wrist was suddenly grabbed. It didn’t hurt, but it felt sickening. I yanked my hand free and slapped Ethan hard across the face. The entire room gasped. Ethan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, but a faint smile touched his lips. Knowing him for three years, I was intimately familiar with this—it was the precursor to his fury. When I first moved to California to marry him, my ex-husband had followed. Arthur would show up at our mansion’s gates every day with a new stunt, begging for a reconciliation. When Ethan saw it, he smiled and asked if I wanted to go back to my ex. Before I could answer, he rolled up his sleeves and got into a physical brawl with Arthur. That very night, he launched a ruthless, scorched-earth corporate war against Vance Enterprises. That was what finally forced Arthur to retreat back to New York. But now, what right did he have to be furious? I was the one being used as a stand-in. Just as I was about to leave, a woman in a white dress walked into the private room with a radiant smile. One look was all it took for me to guess she was Ethan’s first love. The exact same white dress. The exact same long, straight black hair. Chloe noticed me as well. A glimmer of understanding slowly surfaced in her eyes. I bit my lip in humiliation, my nails digging hard into my palms. Chloe brushed past me and greeted Ethan with familiar ease. “New girlfriend?” “She looks so much like me. Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on me?” Ethan’s face turned even colder. “This is my wife. Show some respect!” She lowered her head, her voice beginning to tremble. “I didn’t know you were married. Why are you being so mean to me?” Ethan instinctively crouched down slightly, his tone becoming panicked. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry…” Before he could finish, Chloe covered her mouth and giggled. “Three or four years have passed, and you’re still so easy to fool.” Ethan ground his teeth. “Chloe!” He was annoyed, she was laughing. The others in the room went back to their drinks, accustomed to the display. I couldn’t take it anymore and stormed out the door. From behind, I heard Chloe’s malicious teasing. “Aren’t you going to chase her?” My footsteps paused. But I heard the man’s breezy reply. “Her temper isn’t as bad as yours. She’s easier to coax.” I don’t remember how I got home. As soon as I walked in, the wedding photo hanging in the living room looked blindingly painful. When Ethan told me it was love at first sight, I hadn’t believed him at all. After all, my childhood sweetheart of over twenty years had betrayed me. Let alone a stranger I had only met once. But after the messy divorce with Arthur, my parents blamed me and cut off my credit cards. And because I lacked hard evidence of Arthur’s infidelity, the tabloids tore me apart, labeling me a high-maintenance drama queen. The socialites in my circle were just waiting to watch me become a joke. Everyone said I would never find a better husband than Arthur. I refused to believe it. I was determined to prove them wrong. And luckily, I bet right on Ethan, a man with limitless potential. His devotion to me allowed me to make a stunning comeback. Those who mocked me for throwing away a diamond for a pebble were forced to shut their mouths. But it wasn’t until tonight that I realized his so-called “love at first sight” was built entirely on the lingering feelings for his first love. My stomach began to churn. I ran to the bathroom and threw up violently. When I came out, I walked into his home office—a room I had never set foot in. Among the rows of economics textbooks, a battered old journal stood out. With trembling hands, I opened it. A photograph fell out. Ethan, wearing his graduation gown, was looking with deep devotion at the girl beside him. The man I remembered as being incredibly calm—even in a fistfight—was, in this journal, just an ordinary guy who got jealous and heartbroken. [She said staying with me was a dead end. She wants to break up and move to Europe.] [I said no, but she left anyway. She took all my money with her.] [That heartless woman. When she comes back, I’m going to make her wish she was dead.] The ink on this page was smeared by water stains, the paper slightly crinkled. I turned the page. [I met a woman who looks exactly like her.] [The day we got our marriage license, I texted her.] [If she comes back, I’ll marry her.] [She didn’t show up. I’m not waiting for her anymore.] My vision blurred. So, while I was excitedly planning our wedding, Ethan was waiting for another woman to crash it. The sound of keys turning in the lock echoed from the front door. I didn’t move. Until Ethan rushed into the room. Seeing the journal in my hands, his voice dropped to freezing temperatures. “Who told you to touch my things? Give it back.” The day he proposed, Ethan did it to give me peace of mind. He voluntarily transferred half of his company shares to me as a gift. After we married, he was completely transparent with me. No passcodes on his phone, real-time updates on his whereabouts. But now, just because I touched something related to Chloe, he was furious. I offered a slight smile. “If your heart is already occupied, why are you afraid of me looking?” He didn’t answer, just reached out to snatch it. I gripped it tightly, refusing to let go. He started prying my fingers open, one by one. The sound of joints popping was clearly audible. I went pale from the pain and violently threw the journal at his chest. “If you love your first love so much, why did you marry me?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “That’s all in the past. Stop being unreasonable.” “Then look me in the eye and tell me you married me because you love me.” I didn’t look away, staring straight at him. Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes flickered away for a second. The next second, he let out a cold laugh born of humiliation and anger. “You want the truth?” “Fine. I’ll tell you.” “I married you because you look like her.” “But haven’t I treated you well enough these past three years?” It was precisely because he treated me too well. So well that I thought he indulged me because he loved me. But what was the reality? Arthur loved the new and threw away the old. Ethan was nostalgic. But the person he was nostalgic for, the person he loved, was always his first love. Watching him carefully put the journal away, I only felt a sickening sense of irony. “Ethan. Let’s get a divorce.” Ethan’s movements paused, his tone impatient. “Evelyn, can you stop throwing a tantrum?” “As the lady of the Sterling household, who in Silicon Valley doesn’t treat you with respect?” “Throwing a fit about divorce now will only make us a laughingstock.” Those words sounded incredibly familiar. When I was divorcing Arthur, he said the exact same things. He said he just had “a little crush” on that assistant. He said there was no physical cheating, told me to stop making a scene. But I refused to be with a man who had someone else in his heart. If I could leave Arthur back then, I could definitely leave Ethan now. “Tomorrow morning, 9 AM. At the courthouse.” After saying that, I turned to walk past him. Ethan grabbed my shoulder. “Evelyn, don’t be so childish.” “Nobody wants to marry a woman on her third marriage who’s had an abortion.” I suddenly couldn’t see the man in front of me clearly. When I cried and told him about my past with Arthur, he had held me tightly, saying he wished he had met me sooner. Perhaps the heartbreak in my eyes was too obvious. Ethan’s tone softened slightly. “I’m sorry, I was just…” Before he could finish, his phone rang. I glanced down. No caller ID saved. Ethan hesitated, but ultimately chose to answer. “Arrested for a DUI? I’m not coming to bail you out.” “When you took all my money and ran off to Europe, you didn’t care about my situation either!” Every word was laced with disdain, yet every syllable betrayed how much he cared. Even though I had just demanded a divorce a second ago, it wasn’t as important as a phone call from Chloe. Seeing how desperate he was to go bail her out, the corner of my mouth twitched. “In such a rush to see your old flame? At least let’s finalize the divorce details.” Ethan frowned deeply. “Stop overthinking things.” “She just got back to the States. She doesn’t know anyone here.” “I’m her ex-boyfriend, after all. I’m just doing her a small favor.” He grabbed his car keys and hurried out the door. After the door slammed shut, I was left alone in the study. I went back to the bedroom and started packing my things. Not long after, a friend request popped up on my phone. The profile picture was a simple doodle of a kitten. Ethan’s profile picture was a puppy. After all this time, he still couldn’t bear to change his matching couple profile picture. After accepting the request, Chloe didn’t send a single message. I clicked on her social media feed and saw a completely different Ethan. He would let a woman draw all over his face with lipstick; He would go to the amusement park with her and take those cheesy photo booth pictures; He would even cook for her, making hot cocoa when she had cramps. These posts were from three years ago. Before Ethan even met me. Just then, Chloe posted a new update. [The bad girl gets everything.] The location tag was the most famous boutique hotel in the city. The photo attached was of two hands with interlocked fingers, clearly taken post-coitus. The man wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But there was a pale indent on his ring finger. Ethan couldn’t even wait out the mandatory cooling-off period for the divorce. I bit my lip until it bled. In a moment of pure impulse, I called an Uber and headed straight to the hotel. The front desk refused to give me the room number. So I searched room by room. Apologizing over and over again. When I reached the very last door, I couldn’t bring myself to knock. What was the point of catching them in the act? Have a screaming match like a hysterical banshee? And become the laughingstock of the tabloids all over again? After a moment of hesitation, I didn’t knock on that door. I went home, dead inside. I consulted a divorce lawyer about the process, then fell into a heavy sleep. But early the next morning, I woke up to find myself trending: Evelyn Sterling Caught Sneaking into Hotel for Midnight Rendezvous with Ex-Husband. Before I was fully awake, an enraged Ethan yanked me out of bed. He shoved his phone in my face. The picture showed me standing outside the hotel, looking anxious. “Evelyn, running back to let your ex screw you—do you have no shame?!” My head was spinning, but I instinctively fired back. “I haven’t even seen Arthur.” “But what about you? Weren’t you also at the hotel last night?” A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes, quickly covered up by furious indignation. “Nothing happened between me and her!” “But what the hell is this midnight rendezvous with Arthur?” I let out a bitter laugh, deciding to just lean into his accusation. “Then just assume I went to see him.” Seeing his pupils shrink in shock brought a twisted sense of vindictive pleasure. “I didn’t just see him. I told him I regretted divorcing him.” “Because no matter how garbage he was, he never treated me as a stand-in.” Ethan’s breathing instantly grew heavy, his fingers digging into my shoulders turning white. “You think I don’t regret it?” “No matter what Chloe did to me, she was never touched by another man.” “I married used goods for my first marriage. Do you have any idea how many people mock me?” A sharp smack echoed in the room. My palm stung. Ethan’s head jerked to the side, violent red veins instantly flooding his eyes. He raised his hand to hit me back, but froze mid-air. I tilted my chin up. “Hit me!” “If you have the guts, hit me back!” Ethan stared at me for a long time. Suddenly, he reached out and dragged me all the way into the bathroom. He turned the tub on full blast with freezing cold water. Ignoring my struggles, he forced my head under the icy water. “Cough… Ethan! You’re crazy!” He scrubbed violently at my skin. “Evelyn, I don’t hit women, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a temper.” “This is your one and only warning. I never want to see you contact your ex-husband again.” The icy water cut to the bone, but it was a fraction of the chill in my heart. “Ethan, what gives you the right to be such a hypocrite?” “You and Chloe were alone in a hotel room last night. You expect me to believe nothing happened?” He held me down in the tub, his voice dark. “You don’t have the right to question my business!” Water rushed into my nose. Panic and suffocation set in instantly. Just as I thought I was actually going to die by his hands, the pressure on my head suddenly vanished. I shot up, gasping desperately for air. Ethan looked down at me from above. “You stay in here and think about what you’ve done.” I scrambled up, instinctively trying to run out. But I was locked inside the bathroom. “Ethan, you can’t do this to me! Let me out!” Through the door came his cold voice. “I’ll let you out when you realize you were wrong.” A sudden, violent cramp ripped through my lower abdomen. A warm stream of liquid slid down my inner thigh. With trembling hands, I reached down. My fingertips came back covered in a horrifying crimson. “Ethan… my stomach hurts. Let me out…” I weakly pounded on the door, my voice trembling uncontrollably. Footsteps approached. Just as I thought he was going to open the door, I heard a scoff. “Evelyn, the lengths you’ll go to just to get me to open this door.” “Faking sick this time. Are you going to fake your death next?” The red pooling beneath me grew darker. Scalding tears mixed with the bathwater on my face. I had never been so terrified in my life. Even when I had the abortion with Arthur, it happened under anesthesia. Now, I was watching my own child dissolve into a pool of blood with my own eyes. “Ethan, I’m not lying.” “I’m having a miscarriage. Please… take me to the hospital.” The silence outside the door lasted only a second. “Evelyn, do you think I’m an idiot?” “You’ve had an abortion before. The doctors said it would be nearly impossible for you to ever get pregnant again!” “And even if you are pregnant, I have no intention of keeping that bastard child.” It felt like a knife plunged straight into my heart. Even drawing breath brought a dull, agonizing pain. I couldn’t hold on any longer, and I slipped completely into darkness.

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Before my family went bankrupt, out of a plea from Mrs. Sterling and a bit of my own selfish desire… I chose Alexander Sterling, a man who vowed to stay single forever, as my partner for a strategic marriage. His face turned livid. He sneered, “I didn’t realize you were so desperate for a man. To think I actually treated you as a friend.” After our marriage, he completely dropped his usual aloof demeanor and started bringing girls home frequently. Whenever I tried to get angry, he would simply toss our marriage contract onto the floor. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who forced me into this ten-year arrangement. What made you think I’d play the loving husband?” “Being Mrs. Sterling is enough for you. Don’t wish for anything else.” My hands dropped weakly to my sides. Until the day my family went bankrupt and my father passed away. I couldn’t even scrape together enough money for his cremation. I had no choice but to beg Alex for help. He just replied lazily. “Your father died, why are you asking me for money? Though, out of respect for our marital ties, I suppose I can send over a cheap plastic tarp.” While Alex’s men delivered the tarp, the media was reporting that he had just bought a private island for his new flame. My heart died in my chest. I decided to sell my wedding ring. On the same day I laid my father to rest, I booked an appointment for an abortion. ………….. When I handed the wedding ring over to the auction house, I could hear the mocking whispers around me. “Look at her. The former Miss Hayes. How pathetic she is now. That’s what happens when you cross Mr. Sterling.” “Exactly. No one will even lend her a dime. She insisted on forcing a marriage with him back then. Bet she never expected the Hayes family to fall from grace while the Sterlings rose to the top.” “I heard she didn’t even have the cash to cremate her dead dad. Tsk tsk, talk about karma.” Listening to their undisguised malice, my heart felt entirely numb. After the Hayes family lost everything, with Alex’s tacit approval, everyone wanted to kick me while I was down. The auction began. I dragged my numb feet and stood at the side of the auction hall. As long as the diamond ring sold, I would have the money to pay for my father’s cremation, whose body was still resting in the funeral home’s holding room. Enduring a few sarcastic remarks from these people was nothing. But when it was my ring’s turn to go up, the whole room fell stunned, their eyes shifting to the center of the floor. I looked over in a daze. To my shock, I saw Alex and Chloe Davis. And Alex had clearly recognized the wedding ring. His face was ashen, his eyes locked intensely onto the diamond. No one else dared to place a bid. For the first time in the auction house’s history, not a single bid was made. The atmosphere was suffocating. If no one bid soon, the item would be passed. My father had been kept at the funeral home for too long; I desperately needed this money! I was on pins and needles, cold sweat seeping from my tightly clenched palms. Finally, someone raised a paddle. I looked over gratefully, only to freeze when I saw it was Chloe. She leaned coquettishly into Alex’s embrace. “Alex, honey, it’s still a gemstone worth a million dollars. Plus, it’s your wedding ring. Why don’t I buy it so we can wear it together?” The moment Alex looked at her, his expression softened instantly. “You like this? It’s old and used. Why don’t I just buy you a new one?” But Chloe shook her head. “No, I want this one!” Alex chuckled helplessly, his gaze full of indulgence. “Alright, then I’ll buy it for you.” Alex raised his paddle, but he only bid ten thousand dollars. The starting price was ninety thousand. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to spend money; he just felt that anything I had worn was utterly worthless. I felt like a bucket of freezing water had been poured over my head. And after Alex bid, no one else dared to compete. This ring, worth over a million dollars, the ring my mother had cherished so dearly, was sold at the rock-bottom price of ten thousand dollars. The ring was delivered straight to Chloe’s hands on the spot. She slipped it on smugly. “Doesn’t this ring look so much better on me than on her?” The crowd immediately chimed in to flatter her: “It looks absolutely perfect on you, Mrs. Sterling.” “It’s like it was custom-made for you.” “Some people have occupied a position that didn’t belong to them for years. It’s time things returned to their rightful owner.” Alex wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist, leaning down to whisper something in her ear, making her giggle endlessly. It was a tenderness I had never received. Clutching the ten thousand dollars, I numbly returned to the funeral home and smiled. “You can proceed with the cremation now.” After collecting my father’s ashes, I sat exhaustedly on the steps outside. Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. I clutched my stomach, my face turning deathly pale. I had found out about this baby two weeks ago. I smiled bitterly. What terrible timing. So, gripping my last thousand dollars, I went to the hospital alone. “Hi, I’d like to schedule an abortion.” “At your current stage, the abortion pill is seven hundred, and the surgical procedure is eighteen hundred.” I hugged my stomach tightly, feeling a wave of grim relief. Thank God I found out early. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even be able to afford to get rid of it. “The pill is fine.” “Go down to the department for a physical exam first.” The obstetrician confirmed my intrauterine condition and wrote me a prescription. Just then, a chaotic flurry of footsteps echoed from the hospital corridor. I stared blankly out the door. A group of men in black suits was escorting a man who was carrying a woman in his arms. A swarm of doctors and nurses urgently crowded around them. Just as I looked over, the man seemed to sense something and glanced back toward my exam room. One look was all it took. It was Alex. He seemed to notice me, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes. The next second, the woman in his arms let out a frail whimper. Alex immediately turned back, his voice tense but incredibly gentle: “Don’t be afraid. We’re at the hospital now. You and the baby are going to be perfectly fine.” The doctor in front of me hung up her phone. She casually mentioned to me, “That’s Mr. Sterling’s partner. She just found out she’s pregnant, and he ordered every OB-GYN in the building to attend to her.” Saying that, she handed me the prescription. “Take the pills according to the instructions. The pregnancy will pass by the third day.” On my way out of the hospital, I kept hearing passersby gossiping in awe. “Oh my god, it must be nice to be rich. He got every doctor to drop what they were doing just for a check-up.” “Mr. Sterling is so incredibly sweet to her. I heard they’ve been together for three years now.” Three and a half years, I answered silently. Besides me, she was the woman who had stayed by his side the longest. Alex used to treat me as a friend. To me, he was uniquely considerate and gentle. No matter where he traveled, because he knew I loved stones, he would carefully select local gemstones and bring them back for me. He once orchestrated a breathtakingly romantic fireworks display just to make up for the fact that I missed the Fourth of July show. Everyone, including myself, thought Alex harbored at least a tiny bit of affection for me. Yet, when the marriage was arranged, he roared that I was the type of woman he despised the most. And Chloe was exactly his type. He would never allow his friends—the ones who always marginalized and hated me—to gossip about Chloe’s poor background, always fiercely protecting her pride. Ever since Chloe appeared, there were no other women around him. He even moved her into our home. When I had questioned him hysterically about it… Alex thoughtfully sent Chloe back to her room first. Then he looked at me dismissively. “Sarah, I love her. What exactly are you throwing a tantrum for?” “Have you still not realized that our relationship is nothing but a ten-year contract? The minute the time is up, I will divorce you immediately.” Hearing his cruel words, my eyes turned red. With disheveled hair, I slumped onto the sofa. Alex looked down at me from above. Suddenly, he trapped me beneath him. His hand gripped my neck—not tight enough to choke, but enough that I couldn’t break free. His eyes were bloodshot, carrying a faint trace of agony. He murmured against my ear with lover-like intimacy: “Isn’t this what you wanted? Are you happy now, Mrs. Sterling?” After saying that, he stood up, wiped his hands in disgust, and walked into Chloe’s room. After leaving the hospital, to save money, I walked two miles home. The first snow of early winter began to fall. I looked up, the tears on my face already freezing to my cheeks. Snowflakes landed in my eyes, making them water. But as I pushed open the door to the mansion, a blast of warm heating hit my face. Seeing me standing in the doorway, Alex’s expression turned frigid. “Close the door. Chloe is pregnant. Do you want her to catch a cold?” Chloe looked at me provocatively. “Sarah, what do you think? Doesn’t your ring look lovely on me?” I pretended not to hear her. Alex blocked my path, and that’s when I saw a dazzling diamond ring on his finger. In all our years of marriage, I had never seen him wear it. He had dug it out specifically for today. “Chloe is talking to you. Are you deaf?” I swallowed the burning sensation in my nose and replied with a tremble, “It looks lovely.” Only then did Alex step aside to let me pass. I walked upstairs, only to find the door to my bedroom locked. Alex spoke with a slow, deliberate drawl: “I’m converting that room into a nursery.” “Then where am I supposed to sleep?” “You can have the basement.” I widened my eyes, staring at him in disbelief. “Alex, my family put money into this house when we bought it. Why should I have to sleep in the basement?” Alex sneered, looking at me with pure contempt. “Your family was drowning in debt. If I hadn’t bailed you out, this house would have been auctioned off long ago.” “Sarah, you still owe me over five million dollars. How exactly do you plan on paying that back?” I stumbled a half-step back, my body trembling uncontrollably. Seeing my pain seemed to give Alex a twisted sense of satisfaction. He gripped the banister next to me. “Chloe is pregnant. You serve her. Keep her happy. I’ll give you three thousand a month to pay off your debt. How about that?” Even a basic housekeeper made a decent salary, but he wanted me to be Chloe’s plaything, offering me pennies. He knew perfectly well that right now, I couldn’t find a job anywhere else. I bit my lip so hard I tasted the faint metallic tang of blood. “Fine. I will make sure Ms. Davis is happy.” Alex seemed caught off guard by my submission. The rest of his insults died in his throat. He narrowed his eyes. “Whatever. Go make some pregnancy-friendly food for her. Keep it mild. She doesn’t like ginger, so mince it finely and hide it in the dish.” I nodded shakily. As I turned around, I caught sight of Chloe’s venomous glare from downstairs. Suddenly, my legs gave out, and I pitched forward over the second-floor railing. In a split second, Alex lunged, wrapping his arms fiercely around my waist and yanking me back. We crashed hard against the wall. Alex’s arms were locked like a vice around my waist, his chest heaving violently. It wasn’t until Chloe ran upstairs that he snapped out of it and quickly stood up. Chloe threw herself into Alex’s arms, sobbing. “Alex, are you okay? You scared me to death!” Alex glanced down at me, still sitting on the floor. I happened to look up. As our eyes met, I could have sworn I saw a flash of genuine panic in his gaze. But he quickly hugged Chloe back and comforted her. “I’m fine.” Chloe looked up, sniffled twice, and then glared viciously at me. She marched over, and before I could even process what was happening, she viciously kicked me twice—right in my stomach. “You bitch! If you want to throw yourself off a balcony, go ahead, but don’t drag Alex down with you!” I clutched my agonizingly painful stomach, unable to stand. Alex gave me a cold, indifferent look before pulling Chloe away. “Let it go, I’m fine. Didn’t you say your heart was racing? I’ll have the family doctor come check your heart rate.” When the doctor arrived, he noticed me curled up in agony on the floor upstairs and asked out of concern. Alex didn’t even cast a glance my way. “She just took a couple of kicks. What could possibly be wrong with her?” Hearing those words, the last ember of hope in my heart turned to ash. My gaze slid down to the carpet. The carpet felt warm, but my hands and feet were freezing cold. The pain in my abdomen refused to fade, and dark patches began spotting my vision. My consciousness faded into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was wrapped in a blanket, lying on the living room sofa. A broad figure sat at the foot of the couch. Alex was hunched over, elbows on his knees, his fingertips rubbing a foil blister pack of pills. I didn’t make a sound. He was facing away from me, but he knew I was awake. “You’re pregnant.” He turned around, his gaze dark and dangerous. “And these are abortion pills.” I looked at him expressionlessly. “Yes. That’s right.” Alex closed his eyes, forcing down a sudden, inexplicable surge of rage, trying to keep his voice level. “You don’t want to have a baby? Why?” I smiled bitterly. “Let’s get a divorce, Alex.” Chapter 2 Alex stared at me intensely, then suddenly laughed. “Divorce? How is that possible? You racked your brains, even threatened my mother, just to marry me. Just so you could be Mrs. Sterling.” “It’s only been five years. Why on earth would you want a divorce now?” Back then, when the Sterling family was facing ruin, it was his mother who had pleaded with me, begging me to marry Alex for the sake of our past friendship to save their company. So Alex actually thought I had threatened his mother. I let out a miserable, hollow laugh. He casually tossed the blister pack of pills onto my chest. “You left this out for me to find on purpose, didn’t you? Trying to make me go soft on you?” I picked up the pills, clenching them so tightly in my hand that the sharp foil cut into my skin, but I didn’t let go. Alex didn’t notice. He chuckled softly. “Playing hard to get?” “I’m clearing out the position for Chloe. Isn’t that what you want?” “Do you think I need you to clear it for her?” he sneered mockingly. It finally dawned on me. He was right. Chloe already had everything of Alex’s except the marriage certificate. Alex tucked the blanket around me, but his voice was vicious: “Sarah, I’m not divorcing you until the ten years are up. As for this baby, do whatever you want with it.” “However,” he added smoothly, “if you have the kid, I can knock off some of your debt. Fifty thousand for a boy, twenty thousand for a girl. Not a bad deal for you, right?” He patted my cheek condescendingly. “If you want to pay off your debt, have the baby.” With that, he stood up and walked away. He thought I would use this child to cling to him desperately. But as soon as Alex left, I swallowed the first pill. No. A child without its parents’ love shouldn’t be brought into this world. It would never be happy. I would rather be a slave to Chloe Davis than force this child to suffer. The next day, Chloe threw a tantrum, demanding lobster bisque. “Sarah, I really want something special today.” She blinked and lowered her voice mockingly. “But you’re pregnant too. It must be so hard to go out in this freezing weather.” A heavy blizzard was raging outside. Alex chuckled softly. “Three thousand dollars, Sarah. Do you want to earn it or not?” I put down my bowl and met his teasing gaze with dead calm. “I’ll go.” Alex’s smirk vanished instantly. I braved the heavy snow, running to several different upscale grocers before I finally found the fresh seafood Chloe demanded. When I pushed the door open, my hands frozen around the icy plastic bags, I heard her casually mention she wanted red velvet cupcakes from a bakery all the way across town. Alex looked at my boots, which were packed with snow, and frowned. He opened his mouth to speak. But I didn’t wait to hear it. I turned right back around and walked out into the blinding snowstorm. By the time I returned with everything Chloe asked for, my feet were red and swollen from the cold. Alex kept his face blank, but his tone carried a hint of reproach. “You insist on doing this to yourself. You never listen.” He grabbed a tube of ointment, intending to apply it to my feet. I dodged his hand, my voice distant. “I don’t need it.” Alex’s hand froze in midair. Seeing this, Chloe purposely called out for his attention. Alex’s face darkened. “Ungrateful.” He turned his back on me and went to coddle Chloe. By the third day, Chloe couldn’t stand being cooped up anymore and insisted Alex take her out to a club. Alex couldn’t talk her out of it, so he grabbed his keys. I was just getting ready to head to the hospital for my follow-up check. As he draped a thick down jacket over Chloe’s shoulders, he glanced at my thin coat. “Hold on.” Alex blocked my way. “Where are you going?” I obviously wasn’t going to tell him the truth. “The grocery store.” “Get in the car. Keep Chloe company at the club, and I’ll drop you off after.” I stared at him evenly, refusing to move an inch. Alex quickly lost his patience. “It’s a blizzard out there. Do you seriously want to pass out in the snow just so people can say I abuse you?” He forcefully dragged me into the car. Chloe was visibly displeased, but once we got to the VIP lounge, she was in her element. The others at the table didn’t dare force her to drink, so whenever they lost a game, they shoved the shot glasses in front of me. “Sarah, you should be fine to drink this, right?” Chloe smiled at me. “Yeah, Sarah, take the penalty for me. I’m pregnant, you know.” I clenched my fists under the table, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. I was pregnant, too. I didn’t move. The atmosphere at the table grew cold. Chloe frowned, tugging on Alex’s arm and whining. “Alex, make her drink it.” Alex looked over in silence. I said, “I’m allergic to alcohol.” “There’s barely any alcohol in this. It’s just sweet mix.” When I still didn’t move, Chloe’s face darkened. “Not gonna drink? Fine, then I’m not playing anymore.”

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At 3 AM on Valentine’s Day, my husband’s little mistress bought a trending hashtag on X. “The great Victor Harding just got my nickname tattooed on his ‘manhood.’ Please take good care of him over the next few days, Mrs. Harding.” Social media blew up. The whole of New York City was taking bets. Would I pay a fortune to bury the scandal like I did the year before last? Or would I show up at the mistress’s door to tear her apart, just like last year? Almost everyone was placing bets. Only my husband, the one who loved the drama most, replied lightly under that trending hashtag. “Don’t be jealous, wifey. No matter what they tattoo, they’ll never be as beautiful as you were back then.” Page Six immediately dug up a photo of me at eighteen, arriving in Manhattan with Victor Harding. He carried me off the yacht, bathed in the flashes of cameras and the stares of the crowd. That scene overlapped with the massive headline in the tabloids: [Knocked-Up Mrs. Harding is SO Forgiving!] I looked at the gossip and rumors, but I didn’t get angry like I usually did. I calmly picked up my phone and posted a photo under that explosive hashtag—a picture of me resting against a muscular man’s chest. “Deeply in love. Do not disturb.” … The photo went out, but I didn’t see the expected wave of mockery. Less than three minutes later, my account was banned for “spreading false information.” My iMessage thread with Victor, which had been empty all year, was suddenly flooded with his texts. “Who is that guy?” “Where are you right now? Get your ass home!” “Not replying? Fine. Don’t let me catch you two, or I’ll make you pay!” After seven years of marriage, this was the first time I had to think about how to reply to him, rather than finding an excuse to bother him. But looking at his profile picture—the fifth matching couples’ avatar he had changed to this month just for Ashley—my fingers paused. Suddenly, I felt it was all so meaningless. I simply turned off my phone, rolled over, and went to sleep. Half an hour later, the door to my Four Seasons hotel suite was kicked open. Before I could even react, an iron grip seized my arm. Victor was breathing heavily, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s. “Where is the guy?” I tried to pull my arm away, but I couldn’t. “He just left.” The moment the words left my mouth, he roughly dragged me into the bathroom and shoved me into the bathtub. With a cold face, he held the showerhead and blasted my body with freezing water. Watching me shiver from the cold, he used his free hand to rip open my collar, searching for marks. Smack! I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Instantly, his cheek turned red, but it still wasn’t as red as the fresh hickeys on his neck. Victor laughed and threw the showerhead aside. Seeing the cold water mix with blood, I finally realized he had injured my wrist. “Wifey, I knew you were lying to me. You’re just jealous.” “What man would even want you? Everyone in New York knows you followed me here from the middle of nowhere when you were eighteen. Now, besides the title of ‘Mrs. Harding,’ what do you actually have?” He wrapped me in a bath towel and carried me to the sofa. The fruity cologne on his body mixed with the suite’s aromatherapy. It smelled absolutely nauseating. “I can allow you to be jealous, but you absolutely cannot hurt Ashley. You know full well who she is to me, aside from being my lover.” I lowered my eyes, watching his hand—the one wearing his family signet ring—press against my flat stomach. I said flatly, “Victor, how about I give the title of Mrs. Harding to…” “What?” Victor looked up, having just finished typing a text with a smirk. I shook my head. At that moment, both of our phones buzzed simultaneously. He had texted Ashley: “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Love you forever.” I had texted an unknown number: “I want to go home. As soon as possible.” Victor looked at me with my wet hair, staring down at my phone, and inexplicably felt uneasy. In the past, every Valentine’s Day ended with me tearing apart whatever mistress he had, making the whole city know he married a fierce, unhinged woman. So much so that when I came home from fighting his battles, he’d look at me with disgust, retreating to his phone to flirt passionately with his other side pieces. And I would just look at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would quietly sit and share a simple late-night meal with me. Victor cleared his throat. “At the family Thanksgiving dinner yesterday… did you finally get approved for the family trust?” I froze. Getting voted into the family trust was a strict Harding tradition. Only the daughters-in-law who passed the board’s vote were considered true members of the Harding family. But I was the only one. I had waited nearly ten years, and I still hadn’t passed. Even the club dancers Victor casually brought home could easily get an approval vote. He always joked that it was because I was too abrasive and unrefined to blend into New York high society. Thinking of this, I shook my head. “Didn’t get it this year either.” A trace of confusion flashed in Victor’s eyes. “That shouldn’t be right…” If I didn’t know the truth, hearing those words right now would have moved me. I would have thought he was frustrated on my behalf. But his confusion wasn’t out of pity for me. I still remembered the phone call he had with his mother three days ago. At first, I thought he was just telling Ashley a bedtime story like usual. But the more I listened, the more wrong it sounded. “She’s pregnant. Let her into the trust this year. Otherwise, it won’t look good for her to be walking around the social circle with a big belly.” “Mom, I know you don’t like Rain… and I definitely won’t just forgive her either. Her first year, when she was supposed to pass the vote, didn’t I secretly swap her ballot for a veto?” “We’ve punished her enough for what happened back then. It’s time to stop.” Lying in the soft bed, my blood ran ice cold. So, all these years, he had been blaming me for her death (Sarah’s death). Victor seemed like he wanted to say something comforting, but before the words could come out, there was a knock on the door. “Mr. Harding, Miss Ashley says the equipment is ready. She wants you to personally go and… give her a matching tattoo.” Hearing this, Victor stood up so abruptly I was nearly dragged off the sofa. Lust surged in his eyes, and he completely forgot about me. Leaving behind a brief “take care of the baby,” he opened the door and left. My phone’s calendar notification popped up: [Day after Valentine’s Day: Get a divorce.] At the City Clerk’s office, I handed over my marriage certificate. A few seconds later, the clerk frowned and pushed it back. “Ma’am, this certificate is fake. The notary seal is forged.” My breath hitched. “That’s impossible. Please check again…” “There really is no record in the system. You and Mr. Harding are actually both listed as legally single…” The clerk turned the monitor around to show me. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly dizzy. Memories flashed frantically in my mind. One moment, it was our wedding day, when Victor impulsively took me camping on a private island and asked his family to handle the marriage paperwork. The next moment, it was returning from the island, taking the certificate from my mother-in-law’s hands, and noticing the strange look on her face. And then, there was the time after that incident happened. Victor was a mess for days, crying every night. I had heard his drunken confession. He said he didn’t want to get married. Only now did I understand. Maybe it wasn’t that he was afraid of marriage; he just never wanted to marry me. I stood up unsteadily. When I finally came to my senses, I was sitting outside a clinic room in the hospital. A few nurses pushed a cart past me. “Some people just have all the luck. You know Victor Harding’s ‘adopted sister’?” “Which one?” “Oh, you know, his little mistress they claim is his god-sister. Ashley. She’s got it made. Gets a paper cut and comes to the hospital for a full physical.” “Then look at some other people. Like her.” One of the nurses covertly pointed her chin in my direction. “Brought in the middle of the night a while back with heavy bleeding. From admission to discharge, the embryo was disposed of and not a single person came to check on her. So pathetic…” I subconsciously placed my hand on my stomach. That baby… Victor and I had both eagerly awaited her arrival once. Even after Victor stopped caring, I still hoped. But maybe it’s better this way. She left, so I could leave cleanly, too. I planned to go back to the house to pack my passport and IDs to return to the West Coast. But the moment I walked through the door, I noticed the atmosphere was wrong. Ashley was wrapped around Victor like a water snake. Her eyes were red, like she had just been crying. Seeing me walk in, she pointed at me and yelled. “Rain! Do you think just because you live with Victor, you can challenge my sister Sarah’s place in his heart?!” “Where did you hide my sister’s photo? Give it back right now!” Ever since I “married” Victor, Ashley had been finding trouble with me every few days. Either she claimed I hired thugs to ambush her, or she said I was the one leaking her scandals to the tabloids. At first, Victor still believed my explanations. Later, he would just watch me cry coldly, then assign a dozen more bodyguards to protect Ashley. He would brush me off, saying, “Her sister Sarah took care of me in the past. Now that she’s dead, I have to take good care of her little sister.” Even when I caught them in bed together, I was naive enough to believe his excuses. Seeing me standing there, supposedly unable to defend myself, Ashley smirked triumphantly. But then I said, “Who knows? Maybe your sister found out in the afterlife that you’ve been seducing her ex-fiancé, and she got mad.” “What did you say?!” Ashley stomped over in her Christian Louboutin heels, raising her hand furiously. Before the slap could land, I grabbed her wrist and gave her a light push. Exactly as I expected. I didn’t even use any force, but Ashley collapsed into Victor’s arms, acting like she had sprained her ankle. Her eyes filled with tears. “Victor, my ankle hurts so much! What if I can never dance again?” “But Sarah loved watching me dance…” The name “Sarah” was the ultimate taboo in the Harding house. Victor’s eyes instantly turned icy, chilling me to the bone. “Ashley is still young. Why are you picking fights with her?” “If she didn’t take it, she didn’t take it. Do you think she’d frame you?” I suddenly really wanted to ask: Has she framed me a few times? Try constantly. But thinking of our wedding night, when he secretly looked at that woman’s portrait behind my back… Thinking of how he actually went to a psychic to ask if marrying me had cursed that woman to death… I lost all my strength. “Apologize to Ashley. If you don’t…” Before Victor could finish his threat, I bowed deeply at the waist. “I’m sorry.” He froze slightly. He must have forgotten that in this house, my pride had been broken a long time ago. The last time I refused to apologize, the consequence was being forced to stand in the estate’s freezing lake for thirty-six hours in December. Ashley personally supervised, smiling as she watched me. “A homeless country girl coming to New York has to follow the Harding family’s rules.” Honestly, I really hate the cold. My bowing made Ashley smirk. She tilted her chin up. “Take off those emerald earrings and give them to me.” I took off the emerald earrings my mother gave me before I left the West Coast. Victor, of course, knew what they were. He frowned, a rare expression for him, and said, “I’ll have Ashley return them to you in a few days.” Return them? Of course she will. I thought to myself. Not only will she return them, but in a few days, I’ll make sure you both pay it back with interest. I ignored the two of them being overly affectionate in the hallway and went upstairs. They had clearly just had a wild round in the master bedroom. The maids were using glass cleaner to wipe handprints off the glass frame of our wedding photo. Others were carrying out tied-up garbage bags that smelled questionable. When the maids saw me enter, they bowed in greeting, their faces full of indescribable pity. I avoided their gazes and opened the safe. As I stuffed my IDs into my bag, a blank piece of paper fell out. I glanced at it, and an idea formed in my mind. Then, I took the wedding ring off my ring finger and placed it in its velvet box. “Everything is fine, why are you taking the ring off?” Before I could turn around, I felt the cold touch of metal on my neck. Looking down, it was a stunning sapphire necklace. “I’m afraid of losing it, so I’m putting it in the box for now.” I made a weak excuse and dodged Victor’s attempt to embrace me. He didn’t get the joyful expression he expected from me after giving a gift. He looked displeased, and a strange sense of foreboding hit him. “Isn’t this the Tiffany sapphire you wanted most? You’ve been talking about it for a month.” “Yeah, right. Thanks.” I did want it two years ago. But after seeing Ashley wear the exact same one for the last six months, I didn’t think it looked that pretty anymore. I gently pushed away Victor’s hand as he tried to rest it on my stomach. Just in time to meet Ashley’s hateful, doe-like eyes at the door. She swayed her hips as she walked in, bumping me out of the way. “Victor, Mom wants us to go back to the Long Island estate for dinner tonight. Let’s get ready.” Saying this, she glared at me triumphantly. Victor nodded. Usually, I’d go to the estate alone for a miserable, thankless dinner. Then the next day, my mother-in-law would have Victor bring Ashley for the real family dinner. Knowing my place, I calmly looked away. But out of nowhere, Victor said, “Rain, you should come with us tonight.” Those words made Ashley look like she was about to grind her teeth into dust. I thought about the antique safe hidden behind the painting in the Harding estate and nodded. It’s time to take back what belongs to me. Ashley dressed up dripping in jewels. I, however, picked an outfit from my closet that looked exactly like what I wore the day I first arrived in New York. This time, I didn’t desperately try to sit next to Victor and force my way into their conversations. Instead, I chose a seat far away and sat quietly. When we arrived at the Harding estate, Mrs. Harding greeted Ashley warmly. Then, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye and scoffed. “What are you doing here?” Victor, however, proactively took my hand. “Mom, how could we have family Thanksgiving dinner without my wife?” I looked down at our intertwined hands, a bit dazed. For a second, I couldn’t tell what year it was. Was it the year I loved him the most, or the year I still didn’t know someone else was living in his heart? Mrs. Harding said sarcastically, “Fine. Of course.” “But before you sit at my table, you have to follow tradition.” Tradition. The hazing. Years ago, when Mrs. Harding tried to use this to humiliate me—forcing me to serve her tea on my knees—I flipped the table. Back then, Victor laughed and called me rebellious and edgy. He said it was exactly his type. Today, he hesitated for a moment, then waved his hand. A servant shoved a cup of scalding hot tea into my hands. I endured the numbing pain in my palms. “Mrs. Harding, this is the last time I will ever serve you. After this cup, I want my blessed amulet back from the family vault.” “So petty. It’s just a cheap trinket. Our family doesn’t care about it.” Mrs. Harding didn’t notice the shocked look on her son’s face. That amulet was something I had climbed hundreds of cathedral steps on my knees to pray for, just to ensure Victor would live a safe and prosperous life. But today, I finally realized… This man was unworthy. Just as a servant retrieved the amulet and was about to hand it to me, Ashley suddenly raised her voice. “Godmother! My sister Sarah was supposed to be the real Mrs. Harding. Even though she passed away, she is still part of this family. By the rules, shouldn’t Rain serve her tea, too?” “At the end of the day, the first to arrive is the wife, and the latecomer is just the mistress!” With that, Sarah’s black-and-white portrait was brought out and placed at the head of the table. Looking at Ashley’s face, a fire suddenly surged in my chest. I pushed away the boiling tea they tried to hand me again. The hot liquid splashed, perfectly scalding Ashley’s foot. “Your sister and you are exactly the same—nobodies with no titles. Even back in the day, mistresses had to be invited in. You’re the only one throwing yourself at him.” I sneered and turned to scold the servant. “Give me the amulet.” “Don’t give it to her!” Ashley took a step forward. “Who are you to insult me and my sister? I bet you were the one who killed her! Otherwise, why would Victor have ever married you?!” I glared at her. “Don’t you know exactly how your sister died?” Ashley instinctively looked back at Mrs. Harding. In her panic, Mrs. Harding grew furious. “You bitch, what kind of nonsense are you spouting?!” In the chaos, Ashley suddenly leaned back, grabbing my sleeve, and knocked over the black-and-white portrait. Glass shards sliced my arm. The photo Ashley had been screaming about me “losing” earlier that day landed right at my feet. Ashley threw herself into Victor’s arms, wailing. “See! I told you Rain stole my sister’s photo! I heard they practice witchcraft in the countryside—she was definitely trying to curse Sarah!” “And now the portrait is broken! Those people were right, Rain killed my sister, and now she wants to kill me and my godmother!” I looked up and met Victor’s deep, dark eyes. He enunciated every word clearly. “Make my wife kneel. Make her bow and serve the tea.”

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Chapter 1 I had just started peeling it. My cousin walked in and said she wanted a tangerine. My boyfriend followed right behind her. He looked at me, totally indifferent, and said: “Give it to her. You can just have an orange, it’s the same thing.” I looked at him—the guy who was supposed to always be on my side since we were kids—and compromised. “Fine. We’ll split it.” Mom’s smile vanished. She snapped at me: “It’s just one tiny tangerine, half isn’t enough to taste. “Is it going to kill you not to have a tangerine today?” Before I could answer, she grabbed my cousin’s hand and headed for the door to buy more. My boyfriend stayed behind, glaring at me with a cold face. “You are so selfish. “No wonder everyone likes her more than you.” The door slammed shut again. I stood there stunned for a long time. Then, I picked up my phone and called my dad, who was thousands of miles away. “I want to transfer schools.” Dad sounded confused. After a moment, he asked, “Is something wrong? Are they treating you badly?” I stared at that half-peeled tangerine on the table. My eyes stung fiercely. Since I didn’t answer immediately, Dad sighed. “When we got divorced, I said I’d take you with me. Your mom almost went crazy fighting it. “If you move here now, it’s going to be hard to see her again—” “I don’t care,” I said, my voice cracking. “Chloe is her daughter now. “If I leave, she’ll probably be happy.” There was a long silence on the other end. Then, I heard a woman’s voice in the background. She called out my dad’s name and asked, “Who are you talking to? Dinner’s getting cold.” I gripped the phone tightly, my knuckles white. “Dad… are you… married again?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I hung up. It didn’t matter. Senior year was almost over. When it came time to apply for college, I’d just pick one as far away from this house as possible. I tried to comfort myself, scrolling through social media to distract my brain. I opened Instagram. The first thing I saw was a post from my cousin, Chloe: [Photo of a bowl of perfectly peeled tangerine segments. Every piece of white pith had been meticulously removed, leaving only pure, flawless orange flesh.] Caption: When they love you, they make sure you have the best ~ ❤️ I recognized those hands in the photo immediately. Before Chloe showed up, those hands held mine every single day, walking me through every street and alley of this city. Looking at the comments filled with people hyping up how “blessed” she was, I slammed my phone face down. I snatched that half-peeled tangerine off the table, ripped the rest of the skin off, and shoved the whole thing into my mouth. Crunch. It was bitter as hell. They were coming back from a fancy steakhouse when I finished my instant ramen. As they walked in, my boyfriend, Tyler, noticed my face—probably pale with a slight yellow tint. He frowned. “You have a bad stomach, and you’re still eating that trash?” I ignored him, keeping my face blank. Mom tried to smooth things over. She giggled and grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Tyler, you’re so handsome, get such good grades, and you’re so thoughtful. There must be tons of girls chasing you at school.” Chloe seemed to know exactly what Mom was implying. Her face turned bright red. “Auntie, why are you asking him that?” “What? I’m just saying, the early bird gets the worm.” Mom winked suggestively. “I’ve watched Tyler grow up. If he could be my nephew-in-law, I’d die happy.” I looked at the pink hair tie on Tyler’s wrist and let out a cold laugh. For once, I decided to play along with my mom. “Yeah, Tyler. You’re number one in class, she’s number two. Even the teachers say you guys are a perfect match. “I think you two should get engaged right after graduation. “Get married in college and have kids. Maybe you’ll get extra credits for it—” “Maya!” Tyler’s expression snapped. Without another word, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the house. He didn’t stop until we reached a secluded spot. He stood there, looking down at me, interrogating me. “How could you try to pair your own boyfriend up with another girl?” I stared into his cold eyes. I lifted my bangs, revealing a forehead that was swollen and turning a nasty purple. “Oh, you still remember that you’re my boyfriend?” I watched his face cloud over. I knew exactly what he was thinking. This afternoon, Chloe was reading in the bleachers while Tyler was playing basketball. A rogue ball flew right toward her. Everyone in the bleachers was screaming, trying to warn her. But she was too immersed in “the ocean of knowledge” to notice. Just before it hit her, Tyler, who had been drinking water next to me, took a huge stride forward. At the very last second, he powerfully swatted the ball away. It hit my head with perfect precision. I stumbled, the world spinning. I almost blacked out. I barely managed to gasp out, “Tyler,” before I realized he hadn’t noticed my situation at all. Instead, Chloe was tugging at the bottom of his jersey. She was biting the end of her pen, looking at him cutely. “Tyler, could you look at this problem? Is there another way to solve it?” Tyler could never say no to Chloe. So, he didn’t know I got hurt and went home early. He didn’t know that since Chloe appeared, the scales in his heart had tilted so far they were broken. I looked up at him. “Tyler. Let’s break up.” Unfortunately, Tyler didn’t hear me. His phone rang, and his frown deepened as he listened. After hanging up, he looked at me, sounding exasperated. “Chloe doesn’t have a family, Maya. It’s been hard enough for her to grow up into the person she is today. “Why do you have to insist on pushing her away?” Watching his back as he turned and walked away decisively, my heart sank. Five minutes later, my unease was confirmed. Standing just outside the front door, I could hear Chloe sobbing inside. “I know Maya doesn’t like me. I know it. “It’s fine, Auntie. I can move into the school dorms.” “Absolutely not!” Mom’s voice rose sharply. “The dorms are terrible, and living in a group like that will ruin your focus on studying!” “She’s right,” Tyler’s voice added, sounding muffled. “Don’t rush into anything. Let me try to talk to Maya again, she—” Creak. I opened the door. I looked at the messy living room, still trying to process the timeline of events. Before I could, Mom rushed over and slapped me. Her hand was shaking afterward. She looked at me like I was a total disappointment. “How dare you call your father to complain? “If you think I’m kicking Chloe out, you have another thing coming. “How did I give birth to something so selfish and cruel as you?” My cheek stung like fire. My brain was buzzing. A long moment later, I heard Mom say: “Is this all because of that tangerine? Fine. I’ll make sure you eat your fill tonight.” She pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and shoved it at Tyler. “Tyler, sorry to ask, but could you run to the store? Buy a whole crate of tangerines.” I barely managed to stand steady. I looked at Chloe, standing next to her suitcase, her eyes mocking and triumphant. Instinctively, I looked at Tyler, hoping he would say something, anything, in my defense. He didn’t. He turned his head away, his face like stone. “Okay.” As he brushed past me to go to the store, Tyler said coldly: “I guess I spoiled you too much. It made you arrogant, entitled, and completely lacking empathy. “Maybe this will actually teach you a lesson.” After Mom tucked Chloe into bed, she sat in the living room, staring at me. “If you don’t eat them, I’m going to the school tomorrow and pulling you out. You can drop out for all I care.” I looked at the floor. A big, yellow crate full of tangerines. Surprisingly, my heart was eerily calm. I didn’t do what I usually did when I got alone time with Mom—I didn’t cry or explain how unfair it was. I didn’t say how Chloe was taller than me, yet since she arrived, I hadn’t gotten single new piece of clothing. I always had to wear her hand-me-downs. I didn’t say how the big, master bedroom went to her because her grades were better. I didn’t say how Mom, afraid Chloe would feel homesick, strictly forbade me from getting too close to her or showing affection. … The sun was almost up. I looked at the very last tangerine in the crate. I picked it up slowly. Mom snatched it out of my hand. She looked at me like she didn’t even recognize me. Then, she said calmly: “Wow. Look how greedy you are. “You couldn’t even save one for Chloe?” I obediently pulled my hand back. I walked to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and threw everything up. That was when Dad made a video call. Seeing my face—I probably looked half-dead—he started stuttering in panic. “What… what happened? What’s wrong? “I warned your mother last night, did she not listen?” I wiped my mouth, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “This is all thanks to you.” Just as I was about to hit delete and block his number, a pretty face appeared on the other end. The woman took one look at me and turned pale. It took her a moment to regain her composure. “Your father and I talked about it. There are only a few months left until graduation. Transferring now won’t do you any good. “It’s better if we rent you an apartment right next to school so you can focus on studying. “As soon as you graduate, you come here.” As she spoke, she flipped the camera to show me a bedroom. “In the meantime, your dad and I will get this room set up for you. “That way, when you come home, it’ll be comfortable.” Tears blurred my vision. I stared at the screen, unable to believe what I was seeing. I choked out one word. “Okay.” Considering that renting an apartment had too many uncertainties, I decided to move into the school dorms for the last two months instead. First thing I did when I got to school was explain the situation to my homeroom teacher. When the bell rang, I walked into the classroom with the teacher. Instantly, I caught Tyler’s eyes. His gaze darkened. “Chloe had some questions about studying, so she’s sitting in your spot temporarily. Do you really have to drag a teacher into something this small?” That was when I noticed. Chloe had taken my backpack and thrown it carelessly onto the floor. She had already arranged all her belongings neatly on my desk. Someone laughed in the back. “Come on, Maya. They’re a couple, they want to sit together. Just let them have it ~” “Yeah, seriously. Save Tyler the trouble of running back and forth between classes…” “You’ve monopolized Tyler for years. He has a girlfriend now. Have some boundaries!” Hearing this, Chloe blushed and whispered, “I really just needed help with studying… It’s not like your grades are as good as mine anyway, sitting next to Tyler is a waste for you… so…” “You two can stay locked together for all I care,” I interrupted coldly. I picked up my backpack from the floor and walked straight to the back row. For some reason, during the lecture, Tyler kept turning around to look at me. Even though I had induced vomiting, my stomach still felt awful. During the long break, I went to the nurse’s office to get some medicine. Walking past the entrance, I heard a familiar voice. “It’s Maya’s birthday today. Tyler, you should come over tonight to celebrate too.” Mom was standing in the sunlight, looking so gentle it was almost blinding. She pulled out her phone. “Chloe, sweetheart, come pick out a cake ~” Chloe smiled innocently, seemingly seeing nothing wrong with this. She took the phone and scrolled for a bit. “This one, Auntie! I’ve wanted to try this for ages. I heard the mango flavor is incredible ~” Mom laughed awkwardly. “Maybe… a different flavor? “Maya… she’s allergic to mangoes.” My feet stopped moving. I stepped back and hid around the corner. I hesitated. I was planning on moving into the dorms tonight… but I didn’t realize Mom was preparing a birthday surprise for me… “Oh, okay,” Chloe said, her eyes filling with tears, her voice trembling. “I’m just happy to have cake. “When I was little, my parents always fought on my birthday… I never got to eat cake, not even once…” “We’ll get this one,” Mom interrupted, her voice suddenly decisive. “It’s just for the ritual, anyway. Maya… she doesn’t even like cake that much. “Good girl, we’ll do what you want.” Tyler didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with that. He just smiled slightly. “I got Maya a gift, but I got one for you too, Chloe.” Watching this scene of a happy, harmonious family, I couldn’t help but mock myself. Why was I so delusional? Trying to dream a dream that didn’t belong to me? I didn’t stay to hear them discuss the details of the surprise. I turned and left. After swallowing the medicine, I went to a convenience store, bought some basic necessities, and set them up in my new dorm room. For the rest of the day, Tyler and Chloe were stuck together, chatting intimately. Every now and then, Tyler would glance back at me. When school let out, Tyler stood in front of my desk. He looked arrogant, his tone condescending, like he was doing me a favor. “Go home first. Remember to clear off your desk so there’s room for gifts. “I have to finish explaining these problems to Chloe.” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He went back to his seat. I just shrugged, grabbed my backpack, and left. Like any other boarding student, I got food from the cafeteria and went back to the dorm to eat while I studied. Until night fell. The dorm matron found me. “Maya, does your family not know you’re staying here? “Your mom and a tall, skinny boy are searching the whole school for you. “They look really worried… You should go see them.”

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My father arranged a marriage for me on his deathbed. The groom was Weston Cole. If you follow Wall Street, you know the name. He’s the coldest, most ruthless venture capitalist in New York. Before I moved into his penthouse, I set three strict rules for myself: Keep it business. Collect the dividends, forget the feelings. Total autonomy. He does his thing; I do mine. If a “True Love” ever appears at his door, I pack my bags immediately—provided I get double the severance pay. Weston seemed perfectly satisfied with how pragmatic I was. Until the day a teenage boy knocked on our door. He had Weston’s eyes and a striking resemblance around the jawline. He looked at me calmly and said: “Hi. I’m Weston’s son. I’m seventeen.” I froze for exactly two seconds. My first thought: Wow, Weston really plays the long game. Kept this a secret for seventeen years. My second thought: I need to mentally review my prenup. What was Rule Number Three again? Oh, right! If True Love shows up, I leave with double the money. A son counts as proof of True Love, right? I immediately stepped aside, opening the door wider. My tone was strictly professional. “Come on in. He’s not off work yet, so have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?” The boy clearly didn’t expect this reaction. He hesitated. “You’re… not angry?” Angry? Why would I be angry? I was practically praying for Weston to have an affair. Shove a few dozen million in severance my way, and I’m instantly living my best life as a rich, single divorcée! I looked down as he changed into indoor slippers. At seventeen, his frame was nearly that of a grown man. He had Weston’s features, but his vibe was much cleaner, less cynical. “What’s your name?” “Leo.” I grabbed a bottle of fiji water from the fridge and handed it to him, offering some comfort. “Look, Leo, your dad and I have a contract marriage. It’s mutually beneficial business. I have no standing to be angry about his private life.” He gripped the water bottle, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed hard. He fell silent. I sat on the single armchair opposite him, observing him across the coffee table. The resemblance really was uncanny. It took me back three years. To the moments before my father passed away, gripping Weston’s hand, entrusting me to him. The Coles owed my father a life debt. Weston repaid it with this marriage. The night before we signed the papers, he handed me a prenup. I skimmed it, then held up three fingers. “I have three conditions to add.” “One: No romance. Strictly profit-sharing.” “Two: You play your games; I play mine.” “Three: If you ever want to bring a True Love home, I pave the way immediately. But the severance pay doubles.” He looked down and signed the agreement without a moment’s hesitation. “Deal.” From start to finish, the word “love” was never spoken. After the wedding, we kept separate rooms and separate schedules. He spent twenty days a month flying internationally. During the other ten, I saw him less often than his secretary did. Three years ago, at City Hall, he walked in first. Signed, stamped. He didn’t look back at me once throughout the entire process. It didn’t feel like getting married. It felt like closing a business merger. Weston got home while I was curled up on the sofa watching a reality show. His footsteps passed the sofa, then stopped for two seconds. I turned the volume up two notches and kept watching. He didn’t go upstairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing there, his gaze heavy on me. “Who did you see today?” I paused the TV and sat up straight, putting on a serious face. “Your intel moves fast, Mr. Cole. A very good-looking kid. Says he’s your son. Nice job on the secrecy, by the way.” The air went dead for a few seconds. His face was expressionless. But he didn’t deny it. “I’ll handle this.” I nodded, got up from the sofa, and paused as I passed him. “Great. If you need me to cooperate with the divorce proceedings, just say the word.” I hesitated, but couldn’t help dropping a reminder. “You do still remember the double severance clause in the contract, right?” He looked down at me, his eyes incredibly dark and intense. I waited a few seconds, but the atmosphere was getting weird, so I turned and bolted upstairs. I shut my bedroom door and leaned back against it, staring up at the ceiling light. Since the wedding, he’d been so busy, always gone. I thought our marriage was a blank slate, clean as paper. Turns out, the man had his True Love locked down ages ago, and even produced an heir. I looked down at my phone. Opened my banking app. The pre-marital transfer was sitting brightly in my asset details. $10 million. Double that is $20 million. But he hid a son for seventeen years before letting it leak. That counts as fraud, right? Asking for another $5 million on top doesn’t seem unreasonable, does it? At 1:30 AM, I was still tossing and turning, unable to sleep. After vacillating for ages, I opened my contacts and scrolled to [Lawyer Daniels]. I’d added him three years ago when I signed the prenup. His profile picture was a Golden Retriever. I opened the chat. Type. Delete. Type. Delete. Finally, I just sent: [Mr. Daniels, I need a consultation. If it’s inconvenient, feel free to ignore this.] He replied instantly: [Go ahead.] Talk about professional dedication. I carefully phrased my words. [Hypothetically—and I mean hypothetically—I have a friend. Her husband had a child before they married and never told her.] [Okay.] [That counts as concealing a material fact, right? There’s a clause in their agreement about ‘True Love’ appearing requiring double severance. Can she apply that here?] [Regarding this friend, what does the specific wording of the agreement say?] I stared at the screen. I couldn’t say it was me. I couldn’t be too specific. If the words “Mrs. Cole” circulated through the NYC lawyer group chats, I’d die of embarrassment ten times over. I typed: [My friend didn’t sign a formal prenup. Her husband verbally agreed that if he cheated, he’d leave with nothing.] Even I thought that sounded fake as I sent it. The ‘user is typing…’ indicator appeared… and stayed there for a long time. [Your friend is very… trusting.] I choked. [Mr. Daniels, the point isn’t her trust.] [The point is what she can get right now.] My fingers hovered over the screen. $20 million… $25 million would work too. Weston Cole’s face isn’t currency, but money is. [Severance pay. Preferably doubled.] [Is there evidence proving the husband acknowledged the child?] I thought of Leo’s face. I thought of Weston saying, “I’ll handle this.” He didn’t deny it. Does that count as acknowledgement? I typed: [She said her husband didn’t deny it. Does that count?] [A verbal acknowledgement counts, but it’s best to have a recording, chat logs, or a witness.] [A witness… do I count?] I slammed the phone face-down on the bed. Five seconds later, the screen lit up again. Lawyer Daniels: [Mrs. Cole, it’s not convenient for me to take a case involving the Cole family. However, I can recommend a colleague who specializes in high-net-worth family law.] … I laughed at my own stupidity. While I spent the next two days contacting lawyers and consulting on divorce proceedings, Leo came back. When I heard movement at the entrance, I was decanting red wine at the dining table. Weston walked in first, with the boy half a step behind him. Weston pulled out a chair. “Leo transferred schools. Until the paperwork is finalized, he’ll be staying here.” Wow. Bringing the illegitimate son home in broad daylight. How long until the True Love shows up demanding her title? Divorce! Absolutely must divorce! While mentally calculating the alimony, I didn’t miss a beat calling out to the kitchen: “Marie, let’s add two more dishes tonight.” Six dishes and a soup were served. I plated a piece of sweet and sour rib into $25 million’s… excuse me, into Leo’s bowl, and asked solicitously: “Is the school sorted out?” He looked down. “Yeah.” “What grade?” “Junior year.” “Can you keep up with the coursework?” His chopsticks paused. “It’s okay.” I added another spoonful of greens to his bowl. “It’s getting cold out. There are thick comforters in the guest room closet.” He didn’t respond, nor did he look up. His entire focus was communicating solely with the rice in his bowl. Weston didn’t speak either. Like father, like son—both clams. After dinner, the dishes went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge to find some fruit. I sliced oranges into eight perfect wedges and arranged them on a white porcelain plate. Footsteps stopped behind me. “You aren’t going to ask about my situation? You don’t care that he was running around outside?” Leo’s voice was a bit raspy. I kept arranging the oranges. “That’s between you two. I’m only responsible for cooperating with whatever arrangements Mr. Cole makes.” “…You really don’t care at all?” I turned off the faucet. Turning around, I dried my hands on a towel, smiling flawlessly. “Kid, we have a contract marriage.” I hung the towel back on the rack, my smile becoming enigmatic. “Caring too much counts as a breach of contract.” He didn’t speak again. His gaze fell on my face, searching for confirmation. But just as I picked up the fruit plate to leave, I saw Weston standing at the kitchen doorway. After that day, Weston’s frequency of coming home dropped noticeably. When Marie asked how many places to set, I said two. With the master of the house absent, the wife and the secret son coexisted peacefully. Nobody seemed to find it strange. Friday afternoon, Lawyer Chen, whom I had contacted, sent over a file. [Mrs. Cole, here is the rough draft of the evidence checklist for the divorce petition. Please review.] I opened it. Item Seven: [The husband concealed fathering a child out of wedlock, constituting a material fault.] “Hey.” Hearing Leo’s voice, I casually closed the file. He was standing at the terrace door, looking at me intently. “What were you just looking at?” I set my phone face down. “Work stuff.” He didn’t move. “Liar. Since you married Weston, he’s supported you. You’ve never worked a day. Are you divorcing Weston because of me? You can’t divorce him.” I asked him, “Why?” His back was to me, his voice very low. “Because…” Hey, this brat! Talk about a cliffhanger! How could he just turn around and walk away without saying anything? The next day he got up early. I was sitting on the sofa flipping through documents; he watched me. I went to get water; he followed me to the kitchen door. I came back; he followed me and sat down again. Finally, I closed my laptop. “Leo, is there something wrong with your brain?” He didn’t deny it, but repeated yesterday’s line: “You can’t divorce him.” I stared at him. “Wasn’t your goal in showing up here to let me know he cheated and ruin our marriage?” He pursed his lips. “It was, but…” “Then why are you stopping me now?” He lowered his eyes, silent. I got up to go to the study, slamming the door to shut him out. Five minutes later, a piece of paper was slid under the door. Folded, torn from a notebook. The handwriting was heavy, tearing the paper in two places.

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On the first day we started dating, I confessed to my boyfriend that I had an ex-husband. He breathed a sigh of relief, looking like he wanted to say something but held back. It wasn’t until we signed our marriage license that he confessed he had been hiding two things from me. First, he had secretly investigated my past and knew all about my marriage history long before I told him. Second, he didn’t graduate from an average state college. Just like my ex-husband, he was a Harvard alum. He lied because he was terrified I would reject him if I knew the truth. I was so furious I kicked him out of the apartment that very day. But at midnight, a frantic call from his best friend jolted me awake: “Sister-in-law! Nathan is completely wasted! Hurry up and come to VIP Room 3201 to drag him home!” Swallowing my grogginess and irritation, I pushed open the gold-rimmed doors of the private lounge and pasted on my best professional, fake smile. “Sorry for the interruption. I’m just here to pick up my husband.” The next second, the chaotic noise in the room screeched to a dead halt. Dozens of the city’s brightest elites turned to look at me. Their eyes nailed me to the spot. Sitting dead center was a man in an immaculate suit, his features sharp and freezing cold. He was slowly running his thumb along the rim of his whiskey glass. “…Chloe Thorne?” Someone finally broke the suffocating silence. “This is a Harvard alumni mixer, not a community college shelter.” “Wait, is this the legendary ‘Chloe-ism’ girl? She doesn’t even look like much. Ezra actually tanked a Philosophy final for her, writing ‘Chloe-ism’ instead of ‘Objectivism’ for the entire exam. Almost gave the professor a heart attack.” A roar of mocking laughter erupted in the room. “She schemed her way into her stepbrother’s bed to force a marriage, and now Ezra’s new fiancée is a Yale PhD. How do you even have the nerve to show your face here?” They didn’t know. My ex-husband, Ezra Vance, used to be dead last in our high school class. He grinded his way to the top of the academic ladder, and he did it all for me. But none of that mattered anymore. The past was dead and buried. Facing the searing judgment of the room, I didn’t crumble like they expected. I just calmly said: “I’m not here to celebrate with you elites. I’m here to take my husband home.” Ezra finally lifted his eyes. They were dark and heavy. “Chloe, we divorced three years ago.” I let a genuine, soft smile touch my lips. “I know.” “That’s exactly why I didn’t say I was here to pick you up, Mr. Vance.” “So shameless. Still trying to ride Ezra’s coattails even after the divorce.” A few stifled giggles echoed through the lounge. Carter Hayes lit a cigarette and looked at me lazily. “Never seen someone try so hard to play the other woman.” Carter used to be Ezra’s and my best friend in high school. He used to be the person who treated me second-best in the whole world. But when my marriage with Ezra was falling apart, Carter didn’t hesitate to take Ezra’s side. Because the girl Carter was secretly in love with happened to be the third person in my marriage. And Carter had been helping Ezra hide their affair the entire time. I was the only one kept in the dark, playing the absolute fool from start to finish. “Carter, knock it off,” Ezra snapped coldly, his lips pressed into a tight line. Carter refused to back down, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray with an impatient scowl. “What’s wrong with saying it? An idiot like Chloe Thorne can’t even hold a candle to a brilliant scholar like Valerie.” “Only you would settle for a dummy like her. She dragged you down for years.” Ezra locked eyes with me, his voice dangerously low. “Chloe isn’t stupid.” Chloe isn’t stupid. Hearing that come out of the mouth of a certified genius like Ezra was actually quite comical. But sixteen-year-old Chloe used to believe it. The summer before high school, my mom married Ezra’s dad, blending our broken families. Ezra and I were the same age and ended up at the same public high school. We were even in the same homeroom. He was the worst student in the grade; I was somewhere in the middle. Ezra hated me, so he never spoke a word to me. I’d constantly see him getting into fistfights and ending up in the principal’s office. Then, my mom would have to come to school, bowing her head and absorbing the insults from the administration. One night, I went to the kitchen for water and saw my mom sitting on the couch in the dark, crying. “Clo, what do I have to do to make Ezra accept me?” I didn’t have an answer. I only knew that after that night, my quiet coexistence with Ezra turned into a full-blown war. I put hot sauce in his sodas, poured dirty mop water into his backpack, and spiked his lunches with laxatives. Ezra cornered me and laid down the law: “Got any more tricks? Let me tell you right now, Chloe—if you don’t kill me, I’m going to ruin your mother.” We stayed at each other’s throats for over half a year. I thought I would hate Ezra Vance for the rest of my life. But in the end, he became the only person in the world who truly loved me. Our war ended the night the domestic violence started. Ezra’s dad beat my mom so badly she had to be hospitalized. As the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, his dad was still screaming abuse at her. “I chased you for two years! You’re nothing but a pretty face! Completely useless!” My mom was nearly forty. She had been spoiled rotten by my biological father for the first half of her life, so she naturally didn’t have any real-world survival skills. When Ezra heard his dad shouting that, his cold, rebellious facade shattered. He stared at me in shock and muttered: “It wasn’t your mom who seduced my dad…” Ezra had hated my mom because he genuinely believed she was the homewrecker who drove his own mother away. It didn’t matter anymore, because after that day, I didn’t have a mother either. When I brought my mom’s favorite white freesias to the hospital, I found out she had run away. She took nothing with her. She didn’t take me, either. Chloe Thorne was homeless. I had nowhere to go. I was wandering the streets in the dead of night when Ezra found me. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked so furious I thought he was going to hit me, so I curled into a tight ball on the sidewalk. Trembling in fear, I suddenly felt his warm arms wrap tightly around me. It was the first time I ever heard him speak so gently. “Chloe, come home with me.” “From now on, I’ll be your whole world.” I took his outstretched hand and held on for dear life. And from that moment on, at sixteen years old, my entire universe consisted of Ezra Vance. After my mom vanished, Ezra’s dad grew even more violent. Afraid I’d get caught in the crossfire, Ezra moved us both out into a tiny, rundown apartment. Life went on, but everything had changed. I stopped causing trouble, and the sharp, angry edges of Ezra’s personality softened into something gentle. He started spending more and more time studying. I couldn’t help but ask him about it. “You used to hate reading. You skipped class all the time.” He looked at me with total seriousness, then helplessly pinched my cheek. “Chloe, I want to give you a better life.” I looked at the tips of his ears, which were blushing red, and nodded hard. I promised myself I would never drag Ezra down. I studied like my life depended on it, but while Ezra miraculously skyrocketed from the bottom of the class to Valedictorian, I was still stuck in the middle of the pack. Ezra would stay up until midnight tutoring me. I stared at the calculus problems and shook my head in despair. He sighed. “Chloe, you really are a dummy.” “But I love how clumsy you are. It’s too cute.” As sleep finally overtook me, my pen slipped from my hand. I mumbled into the desk, “Ezra… can you walk a little slower? I’m never going to catch up to you.” Ezra told me I would never have to chase him. He promised he would wait for me forever. He didn’t keep that promise. Later on, my clumsiness and average mind became the things he despised the most about me. I became a nuisance. “Still not stupid?” Carter toyed with his silver lighter, picking up the conversation in the VIP room. “You worked yourself to the bone tutoring her, and she still only managed to get into some safety-school state college.” I glanced around the room, still not seeing my husband, Nathan. Nathan actually did go to Harvard with Ezra, just in a different college program. They probably wouldn’t hang in the same circles anyway. I figured Nathan must have texted me the wrong room number. I had zero energy to rehash old drama. “Sorry to bother you all,” I said, turning on my heel to leave. I had texted Nathan, but he hadn’t replied, and his phone was going straight to voicemail. I decided to just head home first. Before I could reach the door handle, a hand clamped down on my wrist. “Little sister, forgive me, okay?” Ezra kept his eyes lowered, hiding an emotion I couldn’t read. Little sister. That nickname used to make my face burn. It used to be our favorite forbidden, flirtatious joke, especially since Ezra was usually so rigid and proper. But eventually, that exact “stepbrother/stepsister” dynamic was the weapon used to destroy me. “Ezra, are you addicted to playing the victim?” I shook his hand off, my face blank. “I don’t have a brother.” As the tension in the room thickened, a light scoff shattered the awkwardness. “Chloe, I never expected to see you here.” Valerie clicked over in her designer heels, as haughty and arrogant as ever. In the past, her mere presence would have intimidated me. I used to envy her, look up to her, and feel an uncontrollable wave of inferiority around her. But now, after that wretched history had burned me out entirely, all that was left was total indifference. “Chloe, why don’t you come home with Ezra and me? Your mother misses you so much,” Valerie said sweetly. Even I was surprised by how calmly I replied after three years. “I don’t have a mother.” My stepbrother. My mother. They both chose Valerie. And I threw them away a long time ago, too. Valerie grabbed my wrist, “accidentally” letting her sleeve slip to reveal a vintage emerald bracelet. It was the heirloom Ezra’s mother had left him. I wore that bracelet for ten years. My entire relationship with Ezra only lasted ten years. Carter was right. I really was an idiot. Even with Ezra tutoring me with everything he had, I only barely made it into a state school. Meanwhile, Ezra aced his SATs, became the top scorer in the state, and went to Harvard. We were both in Massachusetts, not too far apart. Even though we couldn’t be together every single day, our lives were tightly woven together. It was the simplest kind of happiness, and a memory I will never be able to fully erase. Ezra was handsome and brilliant. Everyone wanted him. But he gave me absolute security. During college, I visited him on campus all the time. He was so famous that anything he did caused a stir. Eventually, the online campus forums started gossiping that I wasn’t good enough for him. They said I was nothing but a pretty face—no talent, no background, just a beautiful idiot trying to cling to a god. Ezra had already made our relationship public. When he saw those threads, he was furious. He said no one understood how wonderful I was. So, during a massive Philosophy final, he replaced every mention of “Objectivism” with “Chloe-ism.” He nearly failed the class and was publicly reprimanded by the dean for being lovesick. The incident made waves across the entire university. Back then, Ezra wanted the whole world to know I was his girlfriend. But when it came time to actually get married, he said: “Chloe, let’s keep the marriage a secret for now.” “Give me a few years. When I make a real name for myself, I’ll give you the wedding of the century.” I agreed. By our fourth anniversary, Ezra was wildly successful. I never got the dream wedding I was waiting for. Instead, I got his infidelity. On the day of our fourth anniversary, Ezra exploded in a terrifying rage. Because I had “lost” the emerald bracelet he gave me. He stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door. It was the first time in his life he had ever spoken to me with such venom. It was pouring rain outside. I searched every single place I had been to. I eventually remembered the tiny, rundown apartment we lived in during high school. Ezra had actually bought that apartment years later, because the walls were covered with thousands of polaroids from our three years there. The moment I pushed the door open. I saw Ezra pinning another woman to the bed. My scalp went numb. I lost my voice instantly. I knew who she was. Valerie. Ezra had mentioned her before, but barely. At first, he told me her dad essentially forced her into his tech startup, and he thought she was going to be a spoiled nuisance. But later, he started mentioning how capable she was. How brilliant she was. And it was right around that time that Ezra started calling me stupid. Our shared topics dried up. Ezra would always sigh and say: “Can you stop asking? Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand.” “Chloe, you’re so dense.” I had genuinely been happy that he found a business partner who clicked with him. But in that apartment, Valerie was wearing my emerald bracelet, staring at me with a triumphant smirk. I had been tortured by guilt, crawling on my hands and knees like a dog looking for that bracelet. I didn’t lose it. Ezra had taken it and handed it to someone else. My ears were ringing. My body lost all its strength. Operating purely on instinct, I grabbed a heavy picture frame off the nightstand and hurled it at them. Ezra shielded Valerie in his arms, his eyes blazing red. “Chloe, you’re out of your mind!” The man who once promised to be my whole world. He shoved me violently to the floor. My hands were covered in bloody glass shards. The photo inside the shattered frame was the first picture Ezra and I ever took together. He had his arms wrapped around me, looking so proud, like he was showing off a prize. But now, the frame was broken, and the eyes of the man standing in front of me were filled with nothing but disgust. Before I could even process the heartbreak, another bomb dropped. “Chloe, can you stop throwing a tantrum? You are suffocating. It’s no wonder your own mother didn’t want you!” It turned out my mother had remarried. She married Valerie’s father. She had spent the last ten years doting on Valerie like her own flesh and blood. My ten years of holding out hope for a family had officially morphed into a nightmare. Later, Ezra demanded a divorce. I refused to give them what they wanted, but I couldn’t fight them. Everyone I loved had turned their weapons on me. My husband. My best friend. And my mother. Ezra locked me inside our Boston house. For nearly a week, he unleashed all his pent-up frustration on me. “I’m not signing. You want to marry her? Keep dreaming,” I spat. At that point, the marriage certificate felt like the only card I had left to play. I was as stubborn as a lunatic. A week later, a blurred, pixelated video leaked online. The audio was crystal clear. “Big brother, I love you the most. Love your Clo a little more, okay?” It was an intimate video from years ago, back when he traveled for work constantly. He had begged me for it, saying he needed something to comfort him when I wasn’t there. Ezra was usually so terrifyingly straight-laced, so when he asked for a dirty video, I was both embarrassed and shocked. I only did it for him. But Ezra and Valerie were master manipulators of PR. That single leaked audio clip pushed me into the crosshairs of public outrage, framing me as a psychotic, obsessed step-sister who seduced him. And the final blow was dealt by Ezra himself, who let the narrative run wild. As I lay numbly in bed, watching the entire world—including my family and friends—condemn me, Valerie came to visit. She told me she had confessed her feelings to Ezra back in college. He had rejected her then. His reason? He said he wasn’t good enough for her yet. He asked if she would be willing to wait a few years for him. Wait until he was powerful enough to stand beside her in the light. That very night, I gave up. I agreed to the divorce. As I signed the papers, I thought about the past. Sixteen-year-old Ezra, full of fire, promising to give me a better life. But twenty-six-year-old Ezra’s future never had Chloe Thorne in it to begin with. I wiped my tears and forced myself to ask him one last question. “What was I, then? Just someone to settle for?” “Or was I just a placeholder to keep you warm until you were ready for the woman you actually loved?”

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