I had a secret. A chilling, impossible secret. After I killed someone, I could steal their memories from the past three years. Before my college entrance exams, I killed my academic prodigy boyfriend. And I got into a good university. 1 When did I first discover this… ability? It was when I was nine. My parents got divorced, and custody was awarded to my mother. I loved Mom, but deep down, I loved Dad more. I often snuck off to see him, to play. But one day, when I went to find him, I walked in on him kissing a woman I didn’t know. My parents had always kept me shielded from such things; it was the first time I’d seen a man and a woman kiss. The woman’s lips were painted a vivid, predatory crimson, so red they looked ready to devour. A surge of anger coiled in my gut. Even at that tender age, I understood. It was my father who had done something wrong, which was why they’d divorced. My father was a bad man. Furious, I stormed into his car and scattered a handful of marbles. They’d surely jab his backside, and maybe make that woman trip and fall. Instead, the marbles jammed the brake pads, causing the brakes to fail. The woman ended up in a coma, and my father died instantly at the scene. The police reviewed the surveillance footage and found I’d put marbles in the car. But a nine-year-old child, they reasoned, knew nothing and bore no criminal responsibility. Moreover, I was openly distraught, weeping uncontrollably over the loss of my father. No one blamed me. Everyone just pitied me. Yet, even as I wept, a torrent of new memories flooded my mind. Within those memories, I saw the woman’s face. So my father had been… “bad” long before that. I saw my mother and father arguing, saw my father secretly taking money from the household. I saw the woman and my father entwined, their repulsive entanglement nauseating me. I threw up. My mother and the police assumed I was simply overwhelmed by grief, my body giving out. Only I knew the truth: it was pure disgust. A child, still so small, I had witnessed two beasts entwined. 2 Unexpectedly, my sorrow vanished rather quickly. What lingered, however, was the disgust. And simultaneously, I realized something unique about myself. When I was little, I dared not speak of it; as I grew, I simply chose not to. It wasn’t until I was much older that I truly grasped the full implications of this ability. In middle school, Chloe, the girl from next door, and I were in the same class and incredibly close. We walked to and from school together, inseparable, even going to the restroom in tandem. Our teachers jokingly called us conjoined twins. Chloe wasn’t exactly kind, but she was beautiful, far prettier than me. Sometimes I’d overhear whispers: “There’s the princess and her little sidekick.” I didn’t really care, but Chloe always seemed to bask in it. I figured that was one of the reasons we were such good friends. No one likes to be outshone, especially by someone they’re close to. Chloe enjoyed feeling superior to me, and in a way, that proved she genuinely considered me a close friend. I was incredibly good to Chloe, so much so that she became quite dependent on me. Her grades were always better than mine, except for Math. So I always did her Math homework for her, meticulously neat. During regular quizzes, I, being the Math class monitor, would help Ms. Davis grade papers in the office. And whenever I did, I’d secretly correct a few of Chloe’s mistakes, bumping up her score. Until one day, Ms. Davis found out. Ms. Davis didn’t scold me for altering the grades; instead, she laid into Chloe. Ms. Davis had always disliked Chloe’s pretty, fashion-conscious demeanor, and her poor Math grades only fueled that disdain. “All day long, your mind is on anything but your studies, always plotting these sneaky little tricks!” she snapped. “Girls like you will never amount to anything more than a pretty face.” Chloe’s eyes immediately welled up. With a loud thump, she shoved her desk aside and bolted out of the classroom. Ms. Davis initially scoffed, but when Chloe didn’t return, a flicker of worry crossed her face, fearing something might have happened. After teaching for a bit, she couldn’t contain herself and asked me to go check on Chloe. I knew exactly where Chloe would be. She’d be in the janitor’s closet next to the third-floor staff lounge. Whenever Chloe was upset, she’d retreat into that tiny space. I quietly pushed open the closet door, squeezed inside, and huddled beside Chloe. Chloe didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at her. I knew her. She didn’t want me to see her looking so vulnerable. After a while, Chloe spoke. “I hate Ms. Davis,” she mumbled. “Neither do I,” I said, feeling a perverse satisfaction. My childish solidarity made her crack a small smile. “Let’s go back,” she said. “Okay.” Chloe and my friendship grew even stronger. But sometimes, you just had to admit it: academic ability truly was a matter of innate talent. I tried, I really did, but when it came to studies, I simply had no knack for it. Chloe and I spent every day together, dedicating almost the same amount of time to studying. Yet Chloe’s grades kept improving, steadily rising in every subject, even her Math was quickly catching up to mine. Sometimes she’d offer to tutor me, but I just couldn’t grasp it. My mother often compared me to Chloe, and I hated disappointing her. I only had my mother left. Watching my grades stagnate, I grew increasingly anxious. A vague, dark idea began to coalesce in my mind. What if I killed Chloe? If I killed Chloe, I would gain all her middle school memories – three years of them. Some thoughts are like persistent weeds; once they sprout in your mind, they refuse to be uprooted. I had a plan. Just last year, the school had installed new air conditioning units; they worked incredibly well. Many older students would joke bitterly that the school only installed AC after they’d graduated. Chloe was quite short, always sitting in the first or second row, while I sat in the fifth or sixth. As summer approached, the school gradually switched on the air conditioning. I’d often complain about the heat, then during breaks, I’d stroll over to Chloe’s desk. While chatting with her, I’d casually crank the AC to 16 degrees Celsius on full blast. The moment the bell rang, I’d leave. Sometimes Chloe would remember to turn it back, sometimes she wouldn’t. So Chloe often sat through an entire class session blasted by cold air. Just a few days prior, Chloe and I had gone shopping downtown. I mentioned my mother had told me to stock up on cold medicine and asked if she needed any. “Cold medicine in the middle of summer? What for?” she’d asked. “My mom says I’m constantly in air-conditioned rooms at home and school, but then I’m out in the heat sweating. The drastic temperature changes make it easy to catch a cold, so she told me to get some meds just in case.” Chloe hesitated, then agreed it made sense, and bought the same medicine as me. When I saw Chloe blowing her nose and complaining of a headache, I knew my chance had come. That afternoon after school, Chloe and I walked home together, as usual. “Let’s sit by the riverside park for a bit,” I suggested. We often stopped there after school to relax and chat, so it wasn’t unusual. I pulled Chloe along, deliberately guiding her to a spot within view of the nearby convenience store’s surveillance cameras. I told Chloe to open her backpack. She unzipped it to find two bottles of alcohol, and they looked pretty potent. She pulled the bottles out. “Ta-da! A surprise for you!” she exclaimed. “We’re almost high schoolers. Don’t you want to try it?” I turned slightly, letting my hair fall forward to obscure my mouth. I knew Chloe well. Beneath her compliant facade, she harbored a streak of rebellion. Chloe’s parents were always quite strict with her. She secretly yearned for something wild, something transgressive, but she’d never had the opportunity. Chloe held the bottles, then handed one to me. I turned, feigning sudden apprehension, a flicker of regret. I waved my hand. “Maybe we shouldn’t? Chloe, won’t your mom and dad be mad?” Hearing that, Chloe’s resolve only stiffened. “It’s fine! Just one sip!” I maintained my hesitant expression until Chloe forcefully pressed a bottle into my hand. We talked for hours. We discussed recent exams, our futures, our detested Math teacher, and the breathtaking sunset. She apologized to me. She said sometimes she couldn’t help but treat me like her little sidekick. She said I was her best friend, that I always would be. I said, “Yes.” Seeing that it was getting late, I patted Chloe’s shoulder and suggested we head home. I hadn’t actually drunk much; every time I raised the bottle, it was just a tiny sip. Chloe, however, seemed quite tipsy, struggling to get to her feet. I’d done my research: Chloe’s mother was working late shifts all week, and her father had the night shift. Chloe would be home alone. I looked at Chloe. “Bye, Chloe.” “See you tomorrow.” “Oh, and one more thing.” I smiled, meeting her eyes. “You’ve got a bit of a cold coming on. Remember to take your cold medicine when you get home.” Chloe smiled and nodded, her eyes, in the fading light of the sunset, held a gentle, flickering flame. I calmly returned home, ate dinner with my mother, and finished my homework as usual. Then I drifted peacefully into sleep. The next morning, a sharp pain shot through my head. I found my mind suddenly crowded with new memories. I knew. I had succeeded. 3 Chloe was dead. Chloe’s mother found her collapsed in the living room when she came home that night. By the time they got her to the hospital, it was too late. Police investigation concluded she had died from poisoning, a lethal reaction to consuming antibiotics and alcohol simultaneously. In an age before widespread internet access, as middle schoolers, we weren’t fully aware of such common knowledge. Except for me, armed with three years of my father’s memories. That’s right. The cold medicine Chloe and I had bought that day contained cephalosporin, a common antibiotic. It had all gone too smoothly, beyond my wildest expectations. I’d considered so many possibilities: Chloe might not have taken the medicine. Chloe might have taken medicine, but not the cephalosporin. Chloe might have felt unwell and called for help in time. Her mother might have come home early and stopped her. Could such seamless success mean that fate itself was on my side? As Chloe’s best friend, and the last person to see her alive, I was called to the police station for questioning. I was a minor, so a parent had to accompany me. Facing the police officers, I looked utterly terrified. My mother comforted me. “It’s okay, honey, the officers just want to ask you a few questions.” “Yes, don’t be scared, little one, we just have some questions for you,” the officer added kindly. They clearly didn’t suspect a young girl like me could be capable of anything nefarious. “According to the victim’s mother, Chloe didn’t usually drink alcohol, yet you two were drinking that day. Why was that?” I looked scared, turning to my mother. My mother gave my arm a reassuring pat, signaling that it was fine, just to tell the truth. “Chloe said she wanted to try drinking that day, just for a thrill. She suddenly pulled two bottles of alcohol out of her bag.” I paused, my voice trembling. “I really didn’t want to drink, and I tried to convince her not to, but who would have thought…” As I spoke, tears began to stream down my face, uncontrolled. The officer nodded. The surveillance footage indeed showed Chloe practically forcing the bottle into my hand. The police asked a few more innocuous questions, then let me leave. The case was ultimately classified as a tragic consequence of adolescent rebellion and a fatal lack of basic knowledge. Chloe’s death was even publicized within the school as a cautionary tale. I sorted through the torrent of new thoughts in my mind, like discovering a new continent. Chloe’s mind, it turned out, contained an astonishing wealth of knowledge. My grades skyrocketed, making my mother incredibly happy. I was thrilled. On the day of the middle school entrance exams, I performed flawlessly, earning my desired spot at Northwood Academy, the best high school in the city. My mother sold our house and bought a new one in a desirable school district near Northwood Academy. My new bedroom was spacious, with a large window. I even had my own study. During the summer, my mother enrolled me in a high school preparatory course. So when high school started, I wasn’t completely overwhelmed. But I knew this wasn’t a sustainable solution. I lacked any real academic talent; I simply wasn’t intelligent. Even with Chloe’s solid knowledge base, I would eventually fall behind. My last success had relied too heavily on luck. This time, I needed to meticulously plan my high school years.

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1 Two days before our planned wedding, Victoria left me stranded on a winding mountain road to pick up Blake, her male assistant, for a celebration dinner. When my car plummeted off the cliff during the crash, she was busy having a heated tryst with Blake in her own car. My desperate calls for help, dozens of them, met with a busy signal, drowned out by their ecstatic cries. When I was rushed to the ER, I begged the nurse to inform her. But on the other end of the line, Victoria raged, “Tell him to call me when he’s dead! If he’s not dead, leave me alone! Always causing trouble, day in and day out!” The moment I closed my eyes, my heart turned to ash. The first thing I did after waking from surgery was cancel our wedding registration. “Alex, where the hell are you?! I’ve been waiting at City Hall for ten minutes!” Victoria’s voice, blazing with fury, screamed through the phone. “I was in a car accident. I’m at the hospital.” “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I canceled our wedding.” Every breath tasted of antiseptic, and my entire body ached as if it had been put through a meat grinder. A long silence hung on the other end. “Well, then, let’s not register for now.” Her casual tone, delivering the most cutting words, instantly froze me. “Good timing, actually. I’m taking the staff on a trip this long weekend.” She hung up before I could even respond. I stared at the disconnected call, a chill spreading through me. Not a single word of concern, not a single apology. As if I were just some ordinary stranger. Ten years of devotion, poured down the drain. I had loved the wrong person. I was hospitalized for seven days. Seven days during which Victoria never once appeared, never even made a single call. Scrolling through Blake’s social media, I discovered that Victoria’s “employee trip” was just a solo vacation to Hawaii with him. Hawaii, the very place I had always dreamed of for our honeymoon. Now she was there with another man. Blake’s photo showed him in swim trunks by the glassy ocean, a matching ring gleaming on his hand. In the background, in a blurry corner, Victoria’s silhouette was unmistakable. 【Business perk from the boss lady!】 I’d seen those very rings in Victoria’s pocket once. I’d thought they were a surprise for our wedding registration. I even had a diamond ring, her favorite, ready for her. Just my foolish self-delusion, again. I scoffed and “liked” the post. Unexpectedly, my phone rang the very next second. It was Victoria. “Alex, are you looking for trouble?! What’s with the passive-aggressive ‘like’?! Blake’s threatening to come back now, you think round-trip tickets are free?!” Her accusatory tone sent a hot flush to my throat. “Apologize to Blake immediately! He just helped me close a massive contract last month. If he quits, I swear, I’m not done with you!” Faced with Victoria’s accusations, I couldn’t even be bothered to expose her lies. Rings worth hundreds of thousands for an employee at a celebration dinner, even matching couple’s rings, and then a private Hawaiian getaway with him? It was their wedding and honeymoon, practically. I hung up, unliking the post. Staring at the last number on my recent calls, I finally dialed. “Amelia, I want to come back to you. Do you still want me?” Her voice, laced with endless affection, came through the line. “I told you, my side is always open for you, no matter what.” At that moment, tears streamed down my face. “Then I’ll wait for you to come home.” Amelia, my stepsister, was an exceptional computer engineer who had moved abroad after graduating college. She had always taken great care of me, but after I insisted on being with Victoria, she had ruthlessly cut off contact. I hung up the phone, a bitter tide instantly surged through me. My last ten years had been wasted on a total scumbag. The day I was discharged from the hospital, Victoria returned too. It was late at night when she got home. I had just finished washing the accumulated laundry and was standing on the balcony, lost in thought. In my hand was a condom I’d found in her pocket. Victoria and Blake appeared downstairs, locked in an inseparable embrace. The sight was like a needle piercing my heart, so painful I couldn’t breathe. There was a time, not so long ago, when Victoria and I were like that, too. She was my senior in college. By my sophomore year, she was already starting her own business. Every time I returned to campus, she’d cling to me, kissing and hugging, begging me to stay just a little longer. I truly believed such intense affection would lead to a perfect ending, which was why I rejected Amelia’s plans to move abroad and chose to stay in the country, supporting Victoria’s startup. And yet, this was the devastating conclusion. The sound of a door opening echoed from behind me, followed by Victoria’s scolding. “What’s going on? Why is the house such a mess!” Victoria frowned the moment she walked in, surveying the room. She was a germaphobe. I always did the cleaning myself, meticulous about every corner, terrified she’d be uncomfortable if the cleaning lady missed something. Each time she broke out in a rash, I’d blame myself for not cleaning thoroughly enough. Now, I realize all my efforts had become her expectation, a reason to be taken for granted. Victoria’s phone vibrated incessantly in her hand, and she glanced down, smiling as she replied to messages. She nudged the suitcase at her feet with a kick, not even looking up. “Since you’re doing laundry anyway, wash the clothes in this suitcase. I can’t stay in this mess. I’m going to a hotel. Call me when you’ve cleaned everything.” Victoria put her phone away, a dismissive instruction, and turned to leave. Watching her back, I called out to stop her. “Wait.” I limped after her. Her eyes fell on my knee. “Were you actually hurt?” A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes, and she frowned. “I thought you were just making it up…” I didn’t explain. I simply pressed the condom into her hand. “Take this. You’ll need it.” Victoria and I hadn’t used those in a long time. She knew exactly who would need it. 2 Victoria stared at the item in her hand, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes, immediately replaced by a blaze of fury. “This was for us, from ages ago! I just put it aside for when we started trying for a baby. I don’t know what you’re being so paranoid about!” “If you kept the house spotless, why would I need to stay in a hotel?” Victoria’s face turned crimson, her features contorted. Her furious tirade, loud and direct, was laced with an undeniable undercurrent of guilt. Before I could even say a word, she hurled the condom at me. A sharp corner of the box sliced open my forehead. I stumbled, grabbing the edge of the dining table to steady myself. “I’m not being paranoid. I just thought, if this was in your pocket, then giving it back to you…” “Enough! Don’t try to argue!” she shrieked. “You’re in your thirties! Still acting like some jealous high-school kid? So, I guess I should just hire all women from now on, and put a ‘No Men Allowed’ sign on the office door!” “I’m truly sick of you!” Victoria kicked over her suitcase, slammed the door shut, and vanished. Among the scattered luggage, I noticed a pair of black boxer briefs, not the brand I usually bought, VK. I crouched down, picking up the boxers. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. When I proposed to Victoria, I spent every penny I had on the ring. But now, that ring was long gone. Replaced by a new pair of matching rings. I’d told her back then that I dreamed of a Hawaiian honeymoon, and she went to Hawaii. Replaced by a new man. I meticulously cleaned the house, again and again. When I was exhausted, I sat down, fighting back the tears. I didn’t stop until my hands were raw and waterlogged, almost translucent. I took a paper bag and gathered all of Blake’s belongings I found from Victoria’s pockets: two pairs of boxers, a lighter, and three condoms. The next day, I brought them to Blake’s desk at work. Blake opened the bag, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alex, my bad, my memory’s terrible. I’m always misplacing things…” I forced myself to ignore the blatant provocation in his eyes. “No worries,” I said. Victoria’s company had a partner, Chloe. Chloe’s husband, David, and I handled the company’s finances. I had just settled into my desk when I saw Blake saunter into Victoria’s office. A few minutes later, he came out chuckling. Victoria must have smoothed things over again. Closer to noon, Victoria came over to ask me about a financial matter, all the while subtly studying my expression. Seeing I showed no reaction, Victoria slammed a box onto my desk. “This is a gift I brought back from Hawaii for you. I forgot to give it to you yesterday when you were throwing a tantrum.” “And for our registration, I had Blake rebook the appointment for us.” My hand, on the mouse, faltered slightly. Blake booked it. Last time, he made a spectacle of our appointment, openly provoking me. What would the next one bring? I found myself strangely anticipating it. It was a Chanel box, but the ribbon was missing. I opened it to find a pair of cufflinks, but a few of the diamonds were missing. In the past, Victoria always brought me gifts from her business trips, whether exquisite or designer. But after Blake, I only received used, cheap things that he didn’t want. “Thanks,” I mumbled, not even bothering to look up. I closed the box and tossed it into the trash can. “What do you mean by that?!” Victoria’s patience was wearing thin. I met her gaze directly. “Victoria, I’m not so desperate that I need to use someone else’s discarded hand-me-downs.” 3 Victoria’s face darkened considerably. “Fine, whatever, Alex. Just don’t come crying and begging me later.” She marched straight back into her office. Blake followed her in, not forgetting to give me a smug look before he went. Victoria and I had always kept our relationship a secret. At the company, she was my superior, and I was her subordinate. Over time, it had become an open secret. But now, Victoria and Blake’s blatant disregard for professionalism in the office made my past self look utterly ridiculous. She had made me the laughingstock of the entire company. Everyone in the office avoided looking our way, fearing they’d stumble into the awkward tension of a love triangle. Instead, they congregated in the restroom, chattering about gossip. “Oh my God, did you see Blake just went into Victoria’s office, and then she went right in after him?” “Alex is so pathetic. My friend from business school told me they were together for ten years! Who gets ten years back?!” “You guys wouldn’t believe it, Blake was throwing a tantrum today, I don’t know what about. Victoria just directly transferred him half a million to buy that new electric car!” I crouched in the restroom, tears blurring my vision. Buying rings, buying cars, buying houses—Victoria truly intended to build a life with him. I tried hard to ignore the pain in my heart, reminding myself that I had to move on. Returning home alone after work, I started packing my bags. Victoria came home a little tipsy, sitting on the sofa, waiting for me to attend to her like I used to. But this time, I didn’t move. “Alex, where’s the hangover soup?” In the past, Victoria often came home completely drunk after closing deals. Every time, I’d have a special hangover soup ready, waiting to take care of her. I’d also wash her face, help her change, so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable falling asleep. “No time to make it. There’s some hangover medicine in the cupboard. Take one yourself.” I didn’t even look up, walking directly into the bathroom to pack. She stumbled over, watching my movements, her face falling. “That’s enough, Alex. How long are you going to keep this tantrum up?” Victoria slapped my hand away, her eyes bloodshot, concealing endless fury. But I didn’t utter a word to stop her as she stormed toward the front door. I clearly saw her silhouette freeze at the entrance. In all our past arguments, I was always the one to apologize and yield. But this time, I was tired. Truly too tired to compromise. The sound of the door closing echoed, and a heavy weight lifted from my heart. I actually felt a flicker of relief. Later that night, unable to sleep, I received Amelia’s flight details for her return. “Alex, my flight’s the day after tomorrow, afternoon. Arriving in the evening.” The next second, I received a video from Blake. In the video, Victoria was completely drunk, and Blake, shirtless, was holding her. 【Alex, just so you don’t misunderstand, I specially sent you this video to prove that Victoria and I really aren’t what you think. Why don’t you come pick her up?】 Misunderstand? They were practically naked, putting on a show for me. I felt both helpless and amused. 【You can take care of her just fine.】 The next morning, I was woken by commotion outside the door. The noisy voices made me frown. I heard Blake’s sharp, high-pitched voice. “Boss, Alex isn’t still asleep, is he?! Will he be annoyed by us making noise?” I stepped out into the living room, watching Victoria and Blake walk in, laden with food and drinks. Blake casually kicked off his shoes, and Victoria, without a word, bent down to pick them up and place them neatly in the shoe rack. This sight stabbed at my eyes. She was such a germaphobe, yet now she was willing to pick up a man’s shoes. But when I was sick, she wouldn’t even change my clothes. “Alex, you’re awake! The sun’s already high, and Victoria and I have been grocery shopping all morning!” I frowned, looking at Victoria. She looked away, a little uncomfortable. “It’s Blake’s birthday today. He insisted on having your stir-fried blue crab with rice cakes.” My hands, clasped behind my back, clenched into fists. Just one more day. Just one more day. I turned and walked into the kitchen to prepare the blue crab. I didn’t like the dish, but Victoria did. So it had become my signature dish. I watched them through the glass door, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, playing It Takes Two on a Switch. I loved that game, but Victoria had never had the patience to play it with me. She always said I was childish and boring, that girls hated video games. Yet now, she was having a blast playing with Blake. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but Victoria kept glancing my way, as if expecting me to react. But I pretended not to notice. With a loud “thump” from the game, Blake seemed to have done something exciting, and he pulled Victoria into a deep kiss. I stood there, holding a large platter of food, watching Victoria being kissed. “Alex, I just got carried away with the game, sorry about that, you don’t mind, do you?” Blake asked, his hand remaining firmly on Victoria’s shoulder. “Not at all.” I shook my head, placed the last dish on the table, and untied my apron. “You two enjoy. I have something to do; I’m heading out.” Victoria looked up and asked where I was going, but I ignored her. For some reason, her face was a stormy mess.

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I died in my wife’s courtyard, forced to give my lifeblood for her childhood love. Before my last breath, my five-year-old son Ethan begged Queen Eleanor three times to save me. First, Ethan rushed in, saying I was coughing blood. She sneered, “He’s teaching the boy to lie,” and had him removed. Second, Ethan pounded on her door, crying I was convulsing. She scoffed, “It’s just a little blood, not his heart,” and sent him away. Third, Ethan knelt, forehead to the ground, pleading I was unconscious. Enraged, Eleanor yanked him up, tore his clothes, and threw him out. “Your father won’t die! Disturb me again, and I’ll dump him in a pauper’s grave!” Desperate, Ethan traded his princely amulet to a beggar for a healer. But Marcus Thorne, Eleanor’s lover, intercepted the healer, smirking, “Your father sent all healers to my kennels for my dogs. He’ll have to wait.” 1 To stop the last healer, my son had cried and pleaded before Marcus Thorne. The boy who had once refused to acknowledge Marcus’s existence now called him “Uncle Marcus” with every breath. He cast aside all his pride, willingly kneeling before the man. “Uncle Marcus, I beg you, please let a healer tend to my father.” He spoke between agonizing thumps of his head against the ground. Blood stained the flagstones, only sweetening Marcus’s mood. He chuckled, stroking the small dog in his arms, a triumphant grin on his face. “Look at this. Our little Lord. Even more obedient than my own dog.” He paused, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Come on, bark for me.” My son stiffened, tears mixing with fresh blood as they hit the dirt. “Woof.” The servants present burst into laughter, their scornful gazes raking over my son’s small, trembling body. “Calling himself a Lord? He’s worse than a street urchin!” “Shh! Don’t be foolish! If the Queen hears you, do you want to lose your head?” “What does it matter? Everyone in the capital knows the Queen only cares for Lord Marcus. Haven’t you noticed the Lord Heir is five years old and still doesn’t even have a proper name?” Hearing the servants’ whispers, Marcus’s smugness grew. He sneered, then turned and walked away, leaving my son kneeling in despair, his body trembling uncontrollably. I lay in my sickbed, as if sensing something, and convulsed, spitting out a mouthful of blood. The door creaked open. “I’m sorry, Father. Your son is useless. I couldn’t find a healer.” Ethan came to my bedside, clumsily trying to wipe the blood from my lips, his eyes frighteningly swollen. But I could no longer see clearly. Through my blurring vision, I knew: I was dying. I wouldn’t live to see my child grow up. To spare him my dying sight, I summoned my last ounce of strength, forcing a smile, and sent him away. “Father wants some almond pastries from the bakery down the street. Will you go buy some for him, please?” My son froze for a few seconds, as if realizing something, and shook his head violently. “No, I won’t go. I’ll stay with you, Father. Please don’t make me leave.” He gripped my hand tightly, as if he intended to shed every tear he possessed in that moment. Swallowing the bloody foam in my mouth, I feigned anger. “Are you disobeying your father? Buy the almond pastries, and Father will eat them with you.” Seeing my feigned anger, my son no longer insisted. He quickly wiped away his tears and agreed. “Okay, I’ll go buy them right now. Father, wait for me. You must wait for me.” As he stepped out of the room, I used my last breath to shout. “Ethan!” Meeting his confused gaze, I explained. “Father has given you a name.” “From now on, you shall be called Ethan. It means bright and upright.” “Father hopes you will be righteous, healthy, and… forever joyful.” My son turned, his expression panicked. “Father…” My consciousness began to blur. I bit hard on my lip, a bloody smile touching my lips. “Go now. Father will wait for your return.” My son seemed relieved and ran off with hurried steps. As his figure vanished, I closed my eyes. “Ethan, I’m sorry, Father lied to you.” 2 When I opened my eyes again, I found myself a spirit, following my son out of the Royal Palace. “Waiter! Waiter! I want some almond pastries!” My son clutched the server’s sleeve, calling out anxiously. Seeing my son’s disheveled face, the server irritably waved him off, shooing him away. “Go on, scram, you little street urchin! Is this any place for the likes of you?” Other customers in the shop covered their noses, looking at him as if he were a pile of refuse. “Exactly. Look where you are. What kind of person dares to waltz in here?” “Filthy!” The server, hearing the customers, quickly offered a few appeasing smiles, then brutally twisted my son’s ear. “You little rascal! Get out!” My son cried out in pain. “I’m the Royal Heir! My father is sick, and I need to buy him almond pastries!” Everyone froze, then burst into laughter. The server put his hands on his hips and spat directly at my son’s face. “You? Ha! I spit on you!” “Go on, take a look in a puddle. See if anything on your body resembles a noble child! If you’re the Royal Heir, then I’m your great-grandfather! Now get out, out, out!” He then forcibly ejected my son from the shop. My son wiped the grime from his face, trying to go back inside, but the server kicked him hard in the stomach. The pain made him unable to rise. Just as despair washed over him, a hand suddenly reached out. “Child, are you alright?” A young woman carefully brushed the dust from my son’s clothes, her voice full of concern. “Mother…” My son instinctively called out, seeing the woman’s tall figure. Then, realizing his mistake, he mumbled a thank you. The woman waved her hand, then pulled out a packet of almond pastries and offered them to my son. Perhaps having endured too many indignities that day, faced with a stranger’s kindness, my son’s eyes suddenly welled up. Clutching the oiled paper bag, he bowed repeatedly. “Thank you, madam.” The woman, a little embarrassed, replied, “No need to thank me. This packet of almond pastries isn’t even mine.” “It’s from Queen Eleanor. To celebrate the Prince Consort’s recovery, she’s been distributing food and pastries outside the city. I just happened to get one.” “If you truly wish to thank someone, then wish Queen Eleanor and the Prince Consort a long and loving life together.” My son stiffened, the memory of Eleanor dragging him from the main hall flashing in his mind. Then, the images he’d witnessed: Eleanor forcing Father to offer his vital essence. His eyes gradually dimmed. “I understand. Thank you… Queen Eleanor.” My heart felt a hundred times more painful than the moment it had been pierced. I watched my son’s desolate expression and remembered the past. In truth, Eleanor once loved me and our son dearly. On the day of his birth, she risked both our lives to bear a child of my bloodline. When I was cornered by the Crown Prince, she fearlessly stormed into the East Palace, her eyes blazing, and brought me back to our home. She even whispered to me on her birthday that her wish was for our family to never be separated. But all of that ended the day Marcus Thorne returned to the capital. He leveraged his childhood bond with Eleanor, repeatedly feigning helplessness and innocence to gain her sympathy. Then, he deliberately poisoned himself, framing me and our son, causing Eleanor to completely turn her back on us. From that moment on, everything changed. On the street, the young woman nodded approvingly and asked, “By the way, where is your mother? How could she let you run off alone?” My son froze, about to speak, when a gentle male voice sounded from behind them. “My dear.” A tall, young man, holding a boy about my son’s age, smiled and called out. “It’s getting late. We should head home.” “Mom, let’s go home,” the boy said, clutching a candied hawthorn stick, his smile innocent and lively. The woman hummed in acknowledgment and hurried to walk between the two, one hand holding the man’s, the other the child’s, gradually receding into the distance. It wasn’t until their figures completely vanished that my son slowly withdrew his envious gaze. He looked at the almond pastries in his hand and finished the sentence he couldn’t before. “My mother… she died.” 3 After bidding farewell to the kind stranger, my son hurried back to the Royal Palace, clutching the almond pastries. But just as he entered the gate, he collided with a casually strolling Marcus Thorne. Marcus recoiled, a look of instant disgust flashing across his defined features, and raised his hand, delivering a harsh slap to my son’s face. “You filthy mongrel! Who gave you the right to touch me?” My son, caught off guard, stumbled and fell. Blood quickly welled up at the corner of his mouth, and the oiled paper bag in his arms flew from his grasp. Ignoring the pain, my son scrambled to retrieve it. But Marcus wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed my son’s hair, forcing his eyes open. “Just as I thought, a bastard like your useless father, always playing the victim.” “I’m warning you, stop putting on that pathetic act. If the Queen sees it, I won’t spare you, understand?” His eyes were cruel, as if he wished my son would simply vanish. I was driven to a frenzy of my own, frantically trying to pull his hand away, but it was all useless. Self-reproach and powerlessness choked me, yet Marcus only smiled wider, a look of triumph on his face. He motioned for a servant to open the spilled paper bag on the ground. Seeing this, my son immediately began to struggle. “Those are for Father! You can’t touch them! Give them back!” At the word “Father,” Marcus’s face darkened. He raised his foot and kicked my son directly in the stomach, making him cough up a mouthful of blood. “What ‘father’? From now on, I’m your father!” With that, he poured all the almond pastries onto the ground and ground them underfoot, repeatedly. Witnessing this, my son’s eyes instantly reddened. He bit Marcus hard, thinking he could make him stop. Marcus cried out in pain and ordered the servants to lift my son. He unfastened the jade pendant from his waist, shoved it into my son’s mouth, and repeatedly stabbed at it. “You filthy mongrel, I’ll teach you to bite!” Blood quickly stained my son’s clothes. He thrashed in agony, like a fish dying on land. “Mmmph… Father… save me…” My heart shattered. I furiously clawed at Marcus, like a madman, wanting him to let go. Let go of my Ethan! It was no use. I then knelt on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly to Marcus. You want my lifeblood? Take it! You want the Prince Consort’s title? It’s yours! I’ll give you anything, just please, don’t hurt my child! Marcus couldn’t hear me. He only admired the growing wounds around my son’s mouth, laughing heartily. As he basked in his triumph, a gentle female voice suddenly sounded from behind him. “Marcus?” Eleanor’s disbelieving voice startled everyone present. My son’s unfocused eyes suddenly brightened, his lips moving. “Mother…” Eleanor’s expression tightened. She started to walk over, but Marcus, turning, drew her into his embrace, stopping her. “Eleanor, why did you take so long?” He subtly motioned for the servants to block my son from view, then expertly held Eleanor close. Eleanor sensed something was wrong and frowned. “What are you doing?” Marcus’s eyes flickered, and he put on a vulnerable expression. “You weren’t here just now. The Heir, I don’t know who provoked him, but he kept insulting me, and… he even deliberately tripped me. You know, my body is just recovering from the poison. The healers said…” Eleanor’s face darkened, and the confusion in her eyes instantly morphed into furious disappointment. “Arthur Blackwood truly knows less and less how to raise a child!” “With a father like him, it’s no wonder the Heir is so unruly.” With that, she turned and swept out. I stood in front of Eleanor, explaining frantically. No, it’s not like that. Ethan is very well-behaved. Marcus is lying to you! Don’t abandon my Ethan, don’t abandon him! My son heard her words too, and, despite the pain, called out, “Mother!” But as soon as the word left his lips, a servant clapped a hand over his mouth. Eleanor paused, her back to us, wanting to turn around. “Did the Heir call for me?” A flash of malice crossed Marcus’s eyes, then he feigned letting go of Eleanor’s hand. “Then go be with the Heir. I’m fine. Even if he did poison me and almost kept me from seeing you again, he’s still a child. I forgive him.” “Eleanor, go to him. Don’t worry about me.” Hearing that, Eleanor’s momentary hesitation instantly solidified into resolve. “An unpolished gem is useless. Since Arthur Blackwood can’t teach him manners, Marcus, you help me teach him well.” “Save him from being lawless and bringing shame upon me.” “I’ll wait for you in the annex.” Watching her retreating back, the light in my son’s eyes gradually faded, until only a dead silence remained. Marcus smugly curled his lips, walked over to my son, and looked at him with feigned pity. “See? Your mother doesn’t even want you.” “How pathetic.”

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The night before my wedding, I stumbled on the stairs and lost the child I carried. Jeff Thorne rushed me to the operating room, frantic. As I slowly emerged from the general anesthesia, I faintly heard the doctor whispering to him: “It’s truly regrettable. Five months along, the fetus was perfectly formed, incredibly healthy.” “Regrettable? It’s just an unformed embryo,” Jeff’s voice was cold as frost. “Ms. Lindbergh’s body suffered severe trauma. It’s unlikely she’ll be able to conceive again…” “She can be a stepmother to Daisy’s and my child. Without the ability to bear her own, perhaps she’ll love our child even more.” I was wheeled out of the operating room, silent tears tracing paths down my cheeks. The man I had trusted with my entire heart was, it turned out, a monster. My long-awaited wedding was nothing more than a death warrant for my child. If that’s the case, I’ll grant his wish. 1 “Mr. Thorne, the baby is very healthy. It’s a perfectly formed boy. Would you like to see him?” “Just dispose of him as medical waste. And don’t bother preserving her uterus or ovaries; just make sure she doesn’t find out.” “Once she recovers, I’ll take her to the orphanage to adopt Annie. Without the ability to conceive, she’ll surely treat Annie as her own,” Jeff’s cold, authoritative voice left no room for dissent. The doctor glanced at my weak form on the operating table, hesitating. “But the madam’s body has been severely traumatized. Her uterine wall is very thin, making future conception difficult. Forcing this… wouldn’t that put her life at risk?” “And your child with Ms. Duval is already quite grown. It might be hard to hide it from the madam. What if she discovers you personally pushed her down the stairs?” “She won’t know.” Jeff spoke calmly, then tenderly lifted my hand, sliding a ten-carat flawless diamond ring onto my ring finger as if I were a precious treasure. “Say no more. The rest, I will spend my life making up for.” … In the hospital room, Jeff gently wiped my forehead, then pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Clara, I had the doctors use the finest cosmetic sutures for you; there won’t be a scar.” “This anesthetic won’t wear off too quickly. You’re weak, so sleep a little longer.” He didn’t know I had regained consciousness, only barely managing to suppress my tears. Six years of devotion, the wedding I had longed for—it was all a monstrous illusion, a cruel conspiracy. He already had a child with another woman, yet he had lied, telling me Daisy Duval was just his adopted sister. The man I had loved for six years, the father of my unborn child, was also the very monster who had personally extinguished his life. I finally endured until dawn, hearing Jeff’s quiet footsteps as he rose and left. Unable to hold back any longer, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. The sharp, persistent ache in my lower abdomen was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. My trembling fingers traced the surgical incision. Inside, there was no longer the tiny life I had nurtured for five months. I turned on a live stream from a tabloid. It was the meticulously planned garden wedding I had spent half a year arranging. “Today marks the wedding of Mr. Thorne, CEO of Everest Group. The bride, previously hidden from the public eye, is finally being unveiled to the world. The moment has arrived…” The sprawling, manicured lawn and stone pathways unfolded like a scene from a movie. Jeff embraced Daisy from behind as a flock of white doves soared into the sky, a breathtaking display of pure white. “Daisy, a surprise I meticulously prepared for you. Do you like it?” “I know you dislike formalities. Today, our wedding is just for us, no need to honor parents or elders.” Daisy let out a silvery laugh, blushing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love it, Jeff. You’re so thoughtful.” The two kissed passionately, surrounded by a chorus of blessings and cheers. Tears fell, one by one, onto the screen, blurring the scene before my eyes. I had waited for so long, never imagining that I wouldn’t be the bride. For three years of marriage, I had tirelessly cared for his parents, willingly living as his secret wife. Yet, he bestowed all his romantic gestures upon another, leaving me only with the constraints and burdens of marriage. 2 Jeff didn’t return that night. The next day, before I fully awoke from my daze, I heard him on the phone. “…Have all news of yesterday’s wedding been suppressed? Clara must not find out.” When I opened my eyes, he was already seated by my bedside, gazing at me with a look of feigned concern. “Clara, you’re awake?” “Jeff, our baby… is gone.” The tears I had held back all night now flowed freely, forming a raging river. My eyes, numb and vacant, stared blankly at him. Jeff pulled me into a tight embrace. “Clara, don’t worry. Even if you can’t have children, you are still Mom and Dad’s most favored daughter-in-law, forever a part of the Thorne family.” “I love you. You can ask me to confirm that as many times as you need.” My fingers twitched slightly. If I hadn’t known the truth, I would have, as always, believed his sweet words. But now, all I felt was waves of nausea. I quickly pulled my cold hand from his, pushing him away. Jeff paused, momentarily taken aback, then swiftly resumed his usual tender demeanor. “I’ve already contacted the children’s home. Didn’t you always want a daughter? Let’s adopt a child.” He finally, impatiently, revealed his true motive. I regretted my past blindness, never seeing through his hypocrisy. If this was his game, I would play along. On the day of my discharge, Jeff personally carried me to the car, eliciting envious glances from onlookers. At the children’s home, a little girl skipped towards us, her face innocent, and spoke sweetly to Jeff. “Uncle Jeff, are you here to take me home this time? Is my new mommy willing to accept me? Annie will be very well-behaved, she’ll make new mommy happy.” “Clara, look how adorable Annie is,” Jeff said, his voice soft. “Should we adopt her? You’ll surely love her.” The little girl bore a striking resemblance to Jeff, and a hint of Daisy as well. “Of course,” I said, a faint smile playing on my lips. Jeff seemed to sigh with relief. He crouched down, taking my hand. “I knew you’d agree. From now on, you’re Annie’s mom.” I looked into his eyes—those eyes that once captivated me—now filled with a false, saccharine devotion. I suddenly remembered the conversation I’d overheard on the operating table, and my scalp prickled. I remembered Jeff and Daisy’s conspiracy, remembered the child they had personally extinguished. I excused myself, fleeing to the restroom in a desperate attempt to compose myself. Footsteps sounded from outside; it was the children’s home staff chatting. “Mr. Thorne truly went to great lengths. To bring his biological daughter into the family legitimately, he even came up with this scheme.” “Exactly! Who would’ve thought he’d sacrifice his own flesh and blood with the madam just to protect his mistress’s child?” “To pull off this act, we coached Annie so many times. Luckily, she didn’t give anything away…” I turned on the faucet, trying to drown out the sound of my spiraling emotions with the gushing water. Stepping out, I saw Daisy already standing beside Jeff. A picture of a happy family of three. Annie, beaming, bragged, “Daddy, how was my acting just now?” “If I can just fool Auntie Clara, then Daddy can spend more time with Mommy and me, right?” Jeff smiled, a helpless tenderness in his eyes, and ruffled her nose. “Annie, you’re a clever little imp, of course.” She then called out happily to Daisy, “Mommy, do you think Annie is amazing?” Catching sight of me from the corner of his eye, Jeff immediately stood up, flustered, and began to explain. “Clara, don’t misunderstand. Daisy often visits Annie here at the children’s home, so she’s gotten used to calling her Mommy. She hasn’t changed the habit yet.” Daisy, too, put on a wronged expression. “That’s right, sister-in-law. I was just helping my brother scout out options for you. Please, don’t misunderstand. This child is truly exceptional, and she’ll surely be filial to you both.” I suddenly found it all utterly ridiculous. To have their child accept me as a “godmother” and legitimately enter the Thorne family, they had conspired to kill my own child and render me infertile. These people, who had committed such wicked, heartless deeds, were now putting on a display of grievance before me? I gently shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m not that unreasonable. Let’s go through with the adoption paperwork. I agree to this child entering our home.” 3 It was late when we returned home. Jeff went to shower, and Annie was fast asleep. I saw his phone on the bedside table, unlocked, and couldn’t resist tapping into it. Inside, there was a photo album, filled entirely with memories of Jeff with Daisy and their child. He celebrated Annie’s birthdays with her, from age one to three, never missing a single one. He took Daisy and Annie to Disneyland together, making wishes under the fireworks. The three of them posed for photos in restaurants, Jeff’s arm around Daisy, a picture of a close-knit family. … The last video showed Annie and Daisy, one on each side, kissing Jeff’s cheeks. Annie said, “Happy birthday, Daddy!” Daisy said, “Happy birthday, darling.” I remembered. On his birthday this year, I had spent a month preparing recipes and test-cooking, personally making him a lavish meal. Jeff had claimed he was working overtime at the office, promising to return later to celebrate with me. But I waited until midnight, warming the dishes again and again, and he never came home. I hadn’t realized he was celebrating his birthday with Daisy and their daughter. When Jeff emerged from the shower, I had already turned my back to him, feigning sleep. He lay down and held me close, his heavy breath warm on the nape of my neck. But what he whispered made a chill rise from the soles of my feet. He murmured, “Clara, I’m sorry. You already have the title of Mrs. Thorne. Daisy has nothing. I’ll give her and Annie half of Everest Group’s shares.” “As for the pain you’ve endured, I will do my best to compensate you for the rest of my life.” My eyelids trembled violently, and I clenched my jaw, suppressing the hatred in my heart. This man, who had been my partner day in and day out, now felt utterly alien. Six years of love and time, overturned in an instant by a monumental betrayal. Love and hatred, both, had become terrifyingly indistinct. The next morning, the doorbell rang. Jeff’s parents rushed over, with Daisy trailing behind. “We heard you’re adopting a child, so we came to see,” his mother said. Daisy pursed her lips. “Yes, as Annie’s godmother, of course I couldn’t miss out on helping to look after her.” His mother spoke, her gaze already sweeping past my shoulder, falling on Annie playing in the living room. Seeing Annie, his father’s eyes instantly welled up. “So alike, truly alike…” His mother’s smile was wide and ecstatic. “My sweet granddaughter, I finally get to see you.” Watching their affectionate interactions, I realized with a jolt that they had known about Annie all along. From beginning to end, I had been the only fool, kept completely in the dark. I turned and walked indifferently back to the kitchen. At the dining table, Jeff’s parents continuously served Annie, completely ignoring my presence. Jeff seemed to sense something and softly called my name. “Clara, why aren’t you eating?” I looked up, offering a perfect smile. “I’m not very hungry.” I looked at the table filled with happy faces and felt only profound irony. This home, which I once believed would be my sanctuary, had long been filled with lies. Passing the study, I heard his mother say disdainfully to Jeff, “Look at her. She can’t even bear a child, always playing the victim. Such a damaged woman. If it weren’t for the Lindbergh family’s reputation, I would have thrown her out long ago.” She then pulled Daisy’s hand, a fawning look on her face. “Daisy, you’re so considerate. When you have a son later, I’ll divorce this daughter-in-law and put you in her place.” Daisy smiled shyly. “Mom, I can certainly have more children. As long as I’m under the same roof as Jeff and we work hard day and night, I’m sure I can bear a son.” I laughed at myself. It turned out, in this house, I had always been an outsider. After dinner, I excused myself due to feeling unwell and went back to my room. Sitting by the window, I watched Jeff’s parents playing with Annie in the yard. The sun was bright, but its warmth couldn’t penetrate my heart. My phone vibrated. It was a message from the private investigator I had hired. “Ms. Lindbergh, I have the results of your inquiry. Jeff Thorne and Daisy Duval were indeed lovers in college and had a child together. The timelines match up perfectly…” I silently scrolled through the photos, saving the evidence of their infidelity. Even though I had already decided to leave, seeing these pictures made my heart ache intensely. I knew it was time to end everything. This beautiful dream woven from lies had to awaken. 4 Yesterday, my aunt, who lives alone in Europe, called. “Clara, if you’re ever mistreated or unhappy there, come and stay with me.” My aunt had lived alone for many years and doted on me, her niece, intending to leave her vast estate to me. Previously, for Jeff, I had always politely declined her generosity. This time, I finally accepted. But before I left, there were still some things I needed to take care of. That day, while the whole family went camping, I didn’t join them. Instead, I gathered all the anniversary gifts Jeff had given me and took them to a pawn shop. I also packed up his clothes and our wedding photos and threw them all into a waste incinerator. Watching the images of two lovers in the photos turn to ash in the flames, I smiled, a sense of release washing over me. Perhaps, the man who had held my heart for so many years had also died with that fire. The day after their camping trip, they returned, full of enjoyment. Daisy entered the house and immediately picked up a glass of water I had left on the table, drinking it down. But unexpectedly, within ten minutes, her face turned scarlet, her breathing became rapid, and she collapsed to the ground. Jeff, rushing back, was frantic. Seeing the honey water on the table, he exploded in rage. “Clara Lindbergh, are you insane?! Don’t you know Daisy is allergic to honey? A severe allergic reaction can be fatal!” Daisy lay weakly against his chest. “I just told sister-in-law two days ago that I’m allergic to honey, but… but I didn’t know sister-in-law added honey to this water…” Annie cried, clutching Jeff’s leg. “Daddy! I don’t want this bad woman as my mommy anymore! She hurt Mommy!” “Daddy, kill this bad woman! Kill her!” I watched the spectacle with cold eyes. Jeff gritted his teeth. “Clara, I’ve told you countless times, my relationship with Daisy is only familial. Why can’t you tolerate her?” I looked up and said mockingly, “Whether it’s family affection or something else, you know best.” He was stunned, his face darkening. “Clara, I’m letting this slide because your body hasn’t fully recovered, but don’t push your luck!” With that, he frantically scooped up Daisy and rushed her to the hospital. After everyone had left the house in a chaotic scramble, I looked at the discreet pinhole camera I had installed in the corner beforehand. I saved the surveillance footage of Daisy intentionally giving herself honey, framing me, onto my computer. Then, I contacted the city’s advertising billboard center and sent a file to the staff. “Please, display the content in this file on all the city’s advertising screens, playing it on a loop.” The staff member was startled, but when she heard the exorbitant payment I offered, she had no reason to refuse. “Ms. Lindbergh, are you sure?” My expression was calm. “I’m very sure. And please add a line of text: ‘Clara Lindbergh wishes Jeff Thorne and Daisy Duval, as a family of three, eternal happiness and never-ending togetherness.’” After doing all this, I avoided the housekeeper and left through the back door. I got into the car and watched the villa recede in the rearview mirror, feeling as if I was saying goodbye to my youth. Goodbye, and forever farewell, to my six years.

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1 I am Ageless, bound to Isabella Stuart by a cosmic debt—fulfill her hundred wishes to go home. Her first wish? To be her man. For three years, I stayed nameless, guiding her through womanhood, sharing intimate nights. Every wish after was just for me to smile more. Then, under sky lanterns, she made her 96th wish: “Never be apart.” Days later, she erased me from Blackwood Manor. As I stood in the snow, she told her friends: “Don’t let Alistair know I ever loved another. I’ve loved him since childhood—if he hadn’t left as a royal ward, I’d never have needed a stand-in.” Her gaze hardened. “Now the emperor’s dead, Alistair returns. I’ll marry him, no regrets.” “But Raphael?” Lady Beatrice asked, draping her shawl over me. “After three years, you’ll just cast him out?” Isabella scoffed. “The true master returns; the stand-in disappears. Take him if you pity him.” Everyone knew Beatrice only befriended Isabella for me. Once, a glance from Beatrice drew Isabella’s wrath: “Stay away from him.” Now? She didn’t care. I was just a stand-in. The other ladies fell silent. Lady Beatrice turned to me, extending a hand. “Raphael, would you come with me?” Her gaze was filled with deep affection, and beside her, Isabella couldn’t resist a sneer. “Shall we make a wager?” she challenged. “I bet Raphael Clermont is so utterly devoted to me that he wouldn’t dream of leaving.” The woman’s eyes glittered with mockery, all warmth gone. I swallowed the acidic sorrow in my throat, returning the shawl. Understanding my unspoken meaning, Lady Beatrice lowered her gaze and departed, not forgetting to murmur, “My apologies for the presumption.” As the heavy snow fell, Isabella smiled. “I knew it, you can’t leave me.” Then, her tone sharp, “But Raphael Clermont, I’m quite tired of you now. Just disappear, and stay gone.” With that, she moved to board her carriage, her heart already with the beloved returning to the capital. But I had already caught her sleeve, looking up to ask, “Just days ago, you wished for me to stay with you forever.” I tightened my grip. “Now you tell me to leave. Does this count as your ninety-seventh wish?” Hearing this, Isabella spun around, her eyes glacial. “I’m bored with this! How could I possibly play along with your hundred-wish ‘debt repayment’ game?” Finishing her words, she yanked her sleeve from my grasp, her mouth twisted with undisguised disdain. “Besides, you just said it’s the ninety-seventh. If it’s not a full hundred, won’t you still come bothering me?” She scoffed. “I don’t have time for such an absurd game.” I stubbornly seized her sleeve again, my gaze utterly earnest. “This isn’t a game.” No one knew I was an Ageless. Originally, I was meant to mature within my clan for a century before venturing into the world. But an avalanche separated me from my kin. At sixteen, still uninitiated, I blindly clawed my way out of the deep snow. Days without food left me collapsing from hunger the moment I saw the first sliver of light. In my daze, I ate the bread roll Isabella offered me. Thus, I incurred a cosmic debt to her. Elder Clermont always warned that the Ageless reach full maturity at a hundred years, and before that, they must not entangle themselves with the outside world. Otherwise, I wouldn’t find my way back to the clan. In that very instant, my connection to my kin was severed. Only by fulfilling Isabella Stuart’s hundred wishes could I find the path back to my clan. So, I asked her, “Can you make one hundred wishes? I need to repay a debt.” That day, she gazed sadly at my face and made her first wish: “I want you to be my man.” I didn’t understand, yet to resolve the debt, I sought advice from her lady-in-waiting, staying by her side without title, guiding her from innocence. After she became a true woman, she lay with me nightly, showering me with countless affections. And for the next three years, every one of her wishes was for me to smile at her. Everyone said: she was madly in love with me. Later, she had a city filled with fireworks, wishing for us never to be apart. I agreed, but I knew that wish wasn’t truly from her heart. I didn’t understand human love, but I knew she had never loved me. 2 And so it was. Just a few days later, she erased every trace of my presence from Blackwood Manor, determined to cast me out. Now, meeting her gaze, my voice was steady. “If you agree, then this will be the ninety-seventh wish.” My grip tightened. “Grant me three more, and I will vanish from your sight forever.” Isabella’s eyes flickered with impatience, as if my stubbornness surprised her. “Then I grant you this ninety-seventh wish. Can you release me now?” she pressed. “Alistair is waiting for me.” Her two sentences, spoken with such different warmth. Her friends beside her sighed in sympathy, believing I would break down in tears. They had witnessed my unwavering devotion to Isabella, assuming I was utterly lost to her love. But I simply released her sleeve, not forgetting to smooth the wrinkled fabric. “I accept this wish,” I told her. “Go to your beloved. I’ll wait here at the manor gates for you to return and grant the last three wishes.” Seeing my uplifted smile and foolish words, they shook their heads in resignation. But Isabella seemed truly rushed; she boarded her carriage and didn’t spare a single glance back. As the carriage rolled away, a metallic tang of blood bloomed in my mouth. Just three days prior, Isabella had wished for us to be eternally together. Now, she wished for me to be gone forever. The conflicting wishes tore at me, and a searing pain erupted in my chest, a brutal backlash. Isabella, born to privilege, rarely made a wish lightly. I had stayed by her side for three years, yet I still needed four more wishes fulfilled. To complete another one now should have brought me joy. But when I curved my lips again, the smile felt bitter. The guards at the gate, seeing my daze, approached with caution. “Master Raphael, you’ve been away for three years. Your family must miss you dearly. Please, go home.” He paused. “You two belong to different worlds.” He wanted me to give up, to stop waiting. Down the street, a woman held a child’s hand, her face alight with laughter. Snowflakes settled on my lashes, and I shook my head, my voice choked with a raw ache. “I can’t leave.” I reiterated. “I have to wait for Isabella.” If I didn’t complete the last three wishes, I couldn’t find my way home. Unable to sway me, the guard returned to his post, resuming his watch over the manor. I huddled in the corner, clutching my thin garments, when Lady Beatrice returned. She attempted once more to drape her luxurious shawl over me, but I gently refused. Her attendant muttered something about my ingratitude. Lady Beatrice’s expression was earnest. “Master Raphael, Isabella is not worthy. You can trust me.” She gestured. “My mother, the Duchess, has commanded me to journey to the Emerald Coast. I will leave this shawl with you; wrap it around yourself if you get cold.” She reached into her purse. “Should you need any assistance, take this shawl to Montague Hall. I’ve made all the necessary arrangements.” With that, she turned and left. I remained in my crouched position, never once touching the thick, warm shawl. I was freezing, but I longed to go home. I couldn’t bear to owe anyone anything more. After she left, I stood vigil at the manor gates until nightfall. Many of the windows in the grand houses had already dimmed their lights. But Isabella still did not return. The page who had accompanied her rushed back to retrieve a purse of coins, not forgetting to mock me. “Some people ought to know their place.” He sneered. “Our mistress will be staying with Prince Alistair at an inn for the next few days; she won’t be returning at all.” He paused, his nose tilted arrogantly. “Oh, and the mistress wanted me to take this money to buy Prince Alistair a city full of fireworks and sky lanterns.” He added, “And river lanterns, too, by the way.” He chuckled. “See clearly now who holds more importance.” With that, he turned to leave. I looked up, and indeed, fireworks burst across the sky, countless sky lanterns rising gracefully among them. I stood, my head momentarily light, recalling Isabella’s magnified smile: ‘Raphael, I’ve arranged for a city full of fireworks for you; come quickly and see!’ I had followed her then. But snapping back to the present, I saw only Isabella on the bridge, leaning against a man, releasing river lanterns into the water. Her gaze was soft and entwined, holding nothing but tenderness, as if no one else existed. Perhaps my stare was too intense, for Isabella looked over. Our eyes met, and the warmth in hers vanished. After a whispered word to the man beside her, she stepped towards me. When her wrist was seized in a crushing grip, her eyes were cold as ice. “Didn’t I tell you to disappear and stay gone? Who gave you permission to be here?” A sharp pain flared as she shoved me away. She feared Alistair might see me and wanted to issue another warning, but someone else had already slipped an arm through hers, eyes brimming with tears. “Isabella, you don’t have to treat Master Raphael like this. When I arrived in the capital, I made inquiries.” Alistair’s voice was filled with a performative sorrow. “I’m told you kept Raphael by your side for three years because he bore a striking resemblance to me, using him as a mere substitute.” He sighed. “And I know you put off marriage for three years since your coming of age, never looking at another man.” His eyes were full of pity and reluctance. “I don’t blame you for finding a stand-in, but Master Raphael is truly blameless.” He paused, then continued, “I know Master Raphael is proud and unwilling to accept help from others; he hasn’t accepted a single coin from you in three years.” 3 “Isabella and I forgot to write our wishes on the river lanterns we just released. Master Raphael, you’re an excellent swimmer; perhaps you could retrieve them for us? We’d offer ten silver pieces as compensation, enough for a warm cloak, how does that sound?” His eyes were full of an innocent plea, as if he genuinely wished to help me. Yet, to offer aid to a rival, and still feign such poignant distress that his eyes welled up. Isabella immediately wiped away his tears, sighing with a helpless, doting air. “Alistair is so kind-hearted.” But if he were truly kind-hearted, why would he ask me to plunge into the lake when my face was pale with cold? It was the heart of winter, and the lake water was icy. I didn’t want to. But as I turned to leave, Isabella clutched my hand, her voice chilling. “Didn’t you say you wished to repay a debt?” She tightened her grip. “Then my ninety-eighth wish is for you to accept Alistair’s request and retrieve those river lanterns.” Leaning closer, she whispered, her voice laced with warning, “If you don’t go down, you’ll never complete the remaining three wishes.” She was convinced my ‘debt repayment’ was merely a ploy to cling to her, and she wielded that belief with chilling certainty. She didn’t want Alistair to suffer, yet I still remembered the day a year ago when I’d wanted to make her happy, diving into the scorching summer lake to pick lotus pods, only for her to scold me: “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Hearing the word ‘wish,’ Alistair’s eyes subtly shifted. “So Master Raphael really is doing this out of a sense of obligation?” he mused. “I heard Isabella’s many wishes were simply for Master Raphael to smile. Isabella truly holds such deep affection for Master Raphael.” He joked, yet tears still welled in his eyes. Isabella quickly released my hand, cooing softly with a mix of helplessness and indulgence. “If he didn’t smile so much like you, I wouldn’t have made such wishes.” She cast a doting glance at Alistair. “Alistair, you know, in my heart, there has only ever been you.” Her words caused Alistair’s face to flush. I stood my ground, showing little reaction. I had known for a long time that Isabella was seeing someone else through me. But the sudden shift in three years of unwavering favor left me feeling a subtle discomfort. The next instant, without hesitation, I plunged into the lake, enduring the bone-chilling cold to retrieve the river lanterns. Now, only two wishes remained. Once ashore, I took the coin purse from Alistair’s belt and counted out ten silver pieces. “Your ninety-eighth wish is fulfilled,” I stated. With that, I spared them no further glance, heading directly to a healer for medicine. The bitter liquid burned my throat, and I lay in the inn, drifting in and out of a feverish haze for a full day. I had planned to seek out Isabella as soon as I felt better to complete the last two wishes, but it was Blackwood Manor’s servants who found me first. “The mistress says her ninety-ninth wish is for you to perform a dance at the Scarlet Rose Salon.” Prince Alistair, entangled with Isabella, had taken her to the salon for a night of revelry. By ill luck, he had offended an eccentric master of the shadowy guilds. Royal authority didn’t hold as much sway as these hidden powers, and for the master to forget the slight, Alistair himself would have to don the attire of a male entertainer and perform a dance. Isabella couldn’t risk exposing Alistair’s true identity, nor could she bear to see him humiliated. “So, she wishes for me to take his place, is that it?” For a man to be forced into such a humiliating dance—what degradation! A wave of desolation washed over me, and even the page, knowing how dishonorable this was, looked somewhat ashamed. Yet, I agreed. Once this wish was done, I would only need one more, and then I could go home… Inside the Scarlet Rose Salon, I changed into the required attire. Ignoring the lewd whispers and taunts from the crowd, I performed the dance. When I stepped off the stage, Isabella showed a rare flicker of remorse. “I won’t cast you out again after this,” she said. “Since you love me so much, I’ll arrange a place for you to stay, you can be my personal guard.” She offered a shallow smile. “I promised Alistair that he alone would be my husband for life.” Her words dripped with condescension, as if she were making a grand concession. But I merely pushed her away, my voice flat. “No, thank you.” It was the first time I had ever refused her. Isabella’s face darkened. “Think carefully. If you refuse, I won’t give you another chance.” She clearly expected me to regret it, but my steps didn’t falter. All I ever wanted was to go home. … Isabella’s ninety-seventh wish was for me to stay far away, yet these past few days, in order to complete the remaining wishes, I had been close to her. Now, the backlash struck again, with renewed vengeance. I curled up in the inn, drinking the bitter medicine, not forgetting to send her a daily letter: One wish remains. But Isabella seemed oblivious, her entire focus on securing a new identity for Alistair and setting the stage for their marriage. Days passed, and I finally couldn’t bear it any longer, wanting to ask her directly, but Isabella consistently evaded me. I knew she was subtly forcing me to agree to become her personal guard. And so, a stalemate had settled between us. Until half a month later, when a delegation from the neighboring kingdom arrived in the capital, and she sought me out herself. “Alistair’s faked death has been exposed, and the Emperor is furious.” Her voice was low. “Now the foreign envoys have come to demand Alistair’s return.” She met my eyes. “And my final wish is for you to take Prince Alistair’s punishment in his stead, and then depart with the envoys.” 4 A long silence stretched after her words, but I made no move. Observing my indifferent gaze, a knot tightened in Isabella’s chest. A flicker of reluctant compassion crossed her brow. But the delicate hand, trembling slightly, that slipped into her arm, seemed to solidify her resolve, chasing away the flicker of compassion. “Isabella, I know this is unfair to you,” Alistair murmured, his voice soft and laced with feigned sorrow. “But I have suffered so much already. If you truly love me, you’ll extend that love to all I hold dear.” He met my gaze, feigning innocence, as if truly desperate for my aid. “You resemble Prince Alistair. They won’t suspect a thing. Just cooperate with the punishment. Once you’re outside the city, I’ll arrange for your rescue.” As if afraid I wouldn’t agree, Alistair immediately sank to his knees, eyes brimming with tears, grabbing my hand. “Master Raphael, I beg of you, please?” he pleaded. “I am a prince, yet I was held captive, humiliated, against my will. I want to live the rest of my life for myself.” His voice dropped to a confiding whisper. “I don’t wish for Isabella to have any man besides me, but your sincerity pains me.” He looked up, his tears seeming genuine. “Once this is over, I swear I will stand by you, sharing Isabella’s affections.” He spoke of concession, yet his eyes held a chilling undercurrent of malice and calculation. My wrist throbbed with a sharp ache. I raised my hand and flung his away. Meeting Isabella’s reproachful gaze, I offered a faint, bitter smile. “This wish, I accept.” With that, I turned and strode out of the inn. Before I could even ask how to enter the palace, a carriage, already waiting, came into view. I glanced back. Isabella stood shielding Alistair, her voice flat as she called out, “Prince Alistair.” Meeting Alistair’s triumphant gaze, I understood: Isabella, for his sake, had never truly allowed me to refuse. But it didn’t matter. This was the final wish. After this, our obligation would be severed, our ties broken forever. And I, too, would soon be home. Our eyes met, hers swirling with a storm of emotions. But I simply withdrew my gaze, lifted my foot, and boarded the carriage. With each beat of the horses’ hooves, the distance between us stretched further and further. … In the grand hall, I knelt below the dais, listening quietly to the envoys from Eldoria condemning Prince Alistair. My expression was utterly placid. The Emperor, his eyes blazing with fury, snatched a scroll from his side and hurled it at me. A sharp pain exploded across my forehead, but I made no sound. The Emperor raised a hand and ordered, “Take Prince Alistair to the Black Citadel Dungeons. Twenty lashes with the cat o’ nine tails each day, for three days, followed by a public parade of humiliation.” He paused, then addressed the envoys. “Will this suffice, honored guests?” His words seemed to appease their anger. Yet, Prince Alistair, before his departure, had been the Emperor’s most favored son. Had it not been for a devastating defeat, he would never have been sent as a royal ward. Even after three years, it was impossible not to recognize him. The Emperor knew everything, yet pretended ignorance, leaving no room for doubt or leniency. But I did not speak. He had every right to protect his son. It was just a transaction. What was there to be angry about? I allowed the guards to lead me away, never glancing back at the fleeting flicker of guilt in the Emperor’s eyes. That very night, the twenty lashes fell upon me. The Ageless, though immune to death and decay, felt pain with an intensity several times greater than mortals. The bone-deep agony blurred my vision. For three consecutive days, the gaoler Isabella had bribed would secretly bring me a pot of healing balm. He said: Isabella was afraid I was hurting, and specially sent it. Isabella’s devotion was truly boundless, beyond compare. I didn’t argue, nor did I touch the balm. Isabella’s devotion was indeed profound, but the object of that devotion was not me. As the winter sun began its slow ascent, I was confined to an iron cage, paraded through the streets amidst whispers and pointing fingers. Rotten vegetables splattered against my open wounds, and the pain forced my eyes open. Ahead, Alistair stood, a look of wicked glee on his face. Beside him, Isabella watched me, her lips trembling imperceptibly. She mouthed: wait for me. But the debt was repaid. Why should I wait for her? As the prisoner’s cart rolled past the city gates, the cosmic debt dissolved completely. Ten miles outside the city, Isabella, with her retinue, came to intercept the prisoner’s cart.

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My in-laws insisted we spend the New Year holidays at their ancestral home. Unable to secure flights, we decided to drive. But then, my wife Chloe’s childhood crush, Ethan Hayes, heard about our plans and declared he simply had to come along. He even audaciously claimed the passenger seat next to me, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “Leo, old man,” he drawled, “I get terrible motion sickness. The front seat is my only option.” Chloe shot me a look of pure contempt. “It’s just one seat, Leo. Why are you being so petty?” She scoffed. “If you could even drive, would this be such a hassle?” My in-laws chimed in, their voices dripping with disapproval. “You’re a grown man. Why are you so narrow-minded?” Outnumbered and out-argued, I found myself squeezed uncomfortably in the back seat with them. Who would have thought that as we passed through a toll plaza, Ethan would spot a stray dog and, in a sudden burst of performative generosity, exclaim: “Oh, that dog looks so pathetic! We simply must take it with us!” I immediately objected. “Our car is full. Adding a dog would make us over capacity, and we won’t be allowed on the road.” No sooner had the words left my lips than Chloe rounded on me, her eyes blazing. “Leo, if that’s the case, then you can give up your seat for the stray! Just take a cab home!” 1 As we drove through the toll plaza, Ethan, who’d insisted on squeezing in with us for the drive to the ancestral home, spotted a stray dog and demanded we take it with us. My protests were utterly ignored by Ethan. He simply turned his pleading gaze to Chloe. “Chloe, look how pitiful this little dog is. If we just leave it here, it’ll surely freeze to death.” His voice softened, taking on a theatrical tremor. “It’s so tiny, it hasn’t even seen the world yet. It shouldn’t die here like this.” With that, he scooped the dog into his arms. Chloe, her heart swelling with an apparent tenderness, pulled my coat from the back seat and wrapped it around the dog, murmuring to it as if no one else were present: “Don’t worry, little one. I won’t abandon you.” Then, turning to Ethan, she gently instructed, “Don’t get your own clothes dirty. Use this coat to keep it warm.” She then turned her displeasure on me, her eyes snapping. “Leo, how can you be so utterly devoid of compassion?” Her voice rose. “While in your eyes it might just be a stray, it’s still a living, breathing creature. How can you be so utterly indifferent, so cold-blooded?” I stared blankly at the two overflowing with self-righteous sentiment. I hadn’t once suggested abandoning the dog, yet they had painted me as some kind of unfeeling monster. And one of them was my wife, with whom I had shared a bed for years. Despite my rising anger, I patiently tried to explain. “If you truly want to save this dog, we could leave some food for it.” I offered a practical solution. “Or we could speak to the convenience store clerk here, leave some money, and ask them to care for it.” I gestured to the crammed interior of the car. “Our car is already full. Taking it along would put us over capacity, and we’d certainly be stopped by the traffic police.” I thought my explanation was clear enough. But no sooner had the words left my lips than Ethan scoffed. “Leo, I know you’re rolling in money, but how can you just leave this poor stray with some random store clerk? How can you be sure they’ll properly care for it?” He cradled the dog closer. “What if they take the money and do nothing? What about Shadow?” In less than five minutes, Ethan had already named the stray dog. “How is a little dog like this supposed to survive the bitter cold of winter?” He widened his eyes, his voice laced with manufactured indignation. “In the eyes of you rich folks, is a dog’s life really so worthless? Is it not a life at all?” He paused dramatically. “How can you be so heartless as to leave it here, all alone? Can’t you see it’s trembling with cold?” I found Ethan’s moral grandstanding quite amusing. “I think you make a good point,” I said, a slow, chilling smile touching my lips. My tone shifted. “So, how about you give up your seat for this little black dog, Shadow?” I watched his face. “After all, you’re the extra one in this car.” 2 Hearing my words, Ethan, who had just been so righteously indignant, froze. “You wouldn’t ask Chloe’s parents to get out of the car for your little dog, would you?” I pressed on. “They’re older, after all.” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Since you’re so concerned for this little dog, how about I take it with me, and you stay behind?” Now it was Ethan’s turn to panic. He nervously glanced at Chloe. Chloe’s brow furrowed, and she shot me an irritated glare. “Leo, that’s going too far.” Her voice was sharp. “Ethan is a guest I invited to come home with us. How can you just abandon him in a place like this? Is that how you treat a guest?” I used to think Chloe was incapable of caring for others. Now I realized she just wasn’t capable of caring for me. When it came to Ethan, she was meticulous, terrified of causing her beloved first love even the slightest inconvenience. I crossed my arms, watching Chloe with a calm, expectant air. “So, what exactly do you propose?” Without a moment’s hesitation, she gently lifted little Shadow into the car. Then, she turned to me, her gaze cold and dismissive. “Leo, you’ll just have to make a small sacrifice. Give your seat to this little dog.” She paused. “You can take a taxi. That way, you won’t be crammed in the back with my parents, and you’ll be more comfortable.” Just then, a cry of surprise came from the back seat, from Chloe’s parents. “Oh, where did this stray dog come from? It’s already cramped enough back here; there’s no room!” Chloe patiently reassured them. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. Leo won’t be riding with us, so it won’t be crowded.” With that single sentence, she directly stripped me of my rightful place, and not a single one of my supposed family members objected. “You want me to give up my seat for a stray dog?” I pointed to myself, disbelief hardening my voice, staring at Chloe. She looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Mom and Dad are old. Do you want to leave them stranded at this toll booth? Do you have no sense of responsibility as a son-in-law?” Her voice rose. “As for Ethan, he’s my guest. Have you ever seen a host abandon their guest and leave them alone?” She scoffed. “If anything happens to him, what’s the difference between you and a murderer?” Her face softened, almost condescendingly. “I’m doing this for your own good. Can you stop throwing your tantrums?” She then began to complain. “If you could drive, would this even be an issue?” Her voice rose again, tinged with self-pity. “I’m already exhausted from driving such a long distance, Leo. Can’t you show me a little consideration?” I stared at Chloe in stunned silence. It was true, I didn’t drive. My family had always provided a driver for me since I was a child. Later, my parents died in a car accident, and driving became a profound phobia for me. Chloe wasn’t unaware of the reason; she used to comfort me. “I’ll be your driver from now on, Leo. You just need to sit comfortably in the passenger seat.” Now, she not only gave my passenger seat to Ethan, but my inability to drive had become another excuse for her complaints. My heart felt as if it had been doused with ice water, turning instantly frigid. She worried about her parents’ age, worried about Ethan’s delicate constitution. Even a random stray dog received Chloe’s sympathetic attention. Only for me, was there not a shred of compassion. Yet, she felt perfectly justified in leaving me alone at this desolate toll booth, nowhere near a town. I looked at Chloe, my voice flat. “So, what about me?” Chloe didn’t hesitate for a moment. “You’re a grown man. Don’t you know how to find your way home?” She offered a dismissive wave of her hand. “Even if you are a pampered young master who expects everything handed to him, you can still call a taxi, can’t you?” With that, she calmly ushered Ethan into the passenger seat, closing the door for him with tender care. “It’s cold outside. Just stay warm in the car.” Ethan shot me a triumphant smirk. “Thanks, Leo, old man!” he called out, his voice dripping with false gratitude. “Saving a dog’s life is like building a seven-story pagoda. Little Shadow will be eternally grateful to you.” 3 He spoke of gratitude, but his eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. They sat comfortably in the heated car, while I stood alone outside, enduring the biting wind. A stark contrast indeed. “Chloe Miller,” I called out, my voice laced with venom, “do you even remember who your husband is?!” That single sentence successfully wiped the smile from Chloe’s face. “Even if you are my husband, you can’t be so unreasonable!” she snapped. “I’m not asking you to walk home. It’s just a cab ride, isn’t it? Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” She scowled. “Leo Sterling, when are you going to learn to be more generous?!” With that, she slammed the car door shut, starting the engine. “Instead of bickering with me, you should hurry up and call a taxi,” she yelled through the closed window. “Don’t delay everyone’s New Year’s Eve dinner!” Hearing ‘New Year’s Eve dinner,’ Chloe’s parents didn’t forget to call out their own demands. “Leo, remember to pick up some fresh vegetables when you get back!” her mother chirped. “The eggs at the old house might be expired, don’t forget to buy some new ones.” Her father added, “Oh, and your father-in-law hasn’t been feeling well lately; he can’t eat anything too greasy. Try to make the New Year’s Eve dinner light and healthy!” They seemed to have completely forgotten that I had been kicked out of the car and, at this point, had no idea how I was even supposed to get back. They still shamelessly treated me like a personal servant, barking orders. Even Ethan, watching the drama unfold, casually chimed in, “Leo, you’re impressive! You actually cook?” Chloe nodded in agreement, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Ethan eyed me with a teasing look. “Then I’ll put in a request for braised lion’s head meatballs. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?” With that, he casually rolled up the window. Chloe didn’t spare me another glance, hitting the gas and driving off. The car had barely driven off when Chloe’s call came through. But it wasn’t remorse, nor was it concern for my safety. It was just another assignment. “What are you doing? Why haven’t you hailed a cab yet?” Her voice was laced with impatience. “And listen, Ethan gets car sick, so I can’t drive fast. So, when you get a cab, tell the driver to speed up. Get back first and prepare the New Year’s Eve dinner we just ordered. We’re all tired from the long drive. Hurry up and do what you’re supposed to!” I used to be a pampered young master who didn’t know the first thing about cooking. I only learned to cook after I started dating Chloe. We always had household staff. But Chloe and her parents insisted on eating my cooking, claiming that only my personal efforts could prove my love. I had complained, of course, but Chloe always shut me down. “Mom and Dad have worked hard their whole lives; they just want to enjoy their son-in-law’s blessings. Just indulge them a little.” With one casual remark about ‘outsourcing filial piety,’ she successfully trapped me in a cage of servitude, catering to their every whim for three years. Every year, the New Year’s Eve dinner naturally fell to me. I couldn’t even get Chloe to help with the smallest task. Because my mother-in-law would say, “A man cooking is a sign of love for his woman,” and literally dragged Chloe out of the kitchen. In the eyes of my in-laws, and even Chloe herself, I wasn’t a husband, nor a son-in-law. I was merely their personal servant, handling their every need. Listening to her demands, the last shred of lingering affection I held for Chloe was personally shredded by her. In that moment, a sudden clarity washed over me. Since there was no love left, why would I keep this ungrateful woman for the New Year, inviting bad luck for the year to come? I immediately sent a message to my lawyer, instructing him to prepare all the necessary divorce papers. I looked in the direction they had left, and a chilling smile touched my lips. Then, I dialed 911. “I want to report a crime. My wife intentionally abandoned me on the highway.”

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My parents, rooted in their outdated traditions, cut off Liam’s medical funding again for the sake of their adopted son. At that moment, my heart finally died. The bullet comments were filled with sighs: 【Oh, Eric, your parents said they don’t really favor their adopted son. They just found him to temper you both, afraid they’d spoil you otherwise.】 【Last time, they made you sell blood for tuition. The time before that, they let thugs steal your meal money… Now it’s the 99th trial. They said if you two can just endure this one, they’ll finally be able to love you freely.】 Endure this one? But Liam was already dead. When I saw my parents illegally barge into my cramped rental apartment, I wasn’t surprised in the least. After all, ten minutes after I posted my desperate plea online, they used their immense financial clout to have my post deleted and my account banned. They had the money to silence me, but not a single penny to save my brother’s life. I clenched my fists, listening to my father’s voice, cold as a demon’s, as he announced: “Eric, your allowance for the entire year is gone.” Then, he launched into a furious tirade of accusations. “You and Liam are getting increasingly out of line! Resorting to faking medical bills and spreading rumors online just to get money!” He snarled. “Do you have any idea how much it cost me to take down your post?” He grew more agitated with each word, his eyes blazing as he surveyed the small apartment. “And where’s Liam? Get out here, you brat! Today, as your father, I’m going to teach you two a proper lesson!” His gaze fixed on me. “You first. Get on your knees!” My mother stepped forward, feigning protection. “Let’s talk this through calmly, no need for threats of violence.” Then, her voice hardening, “Eric, where’s your brother? Don’t just stand there, tell him to come out and apologize to your father with you.” She shook her head. “This time, your little prank went too far. If you remain so stubborn, even I can’t help you.” Help? When had she ever helped us? Every single time, she’d coldly stood by as a spectator, only to play the peacemaker once the dust settled. If their “trial” succeeded, she’d boast about her effective parenting. If it failed, she’d lightly push all the blame onto Liam and me. Even the comments, having witnessed this recurring drama so many times, couldn’t help but pity me. 【Ugh, Eric’s parents have really crossed the line this time. Eric was clearly posting for help, hoping some kind soul would assist him with Liam’s funeral arrangements. But in less than ten minutes, his parents had the post taken down.】 【My heart aches for Eric. This is just the fate of a supporting character, isn’t it?】 A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me. From the moment Adrian Sterling entered our lives, I gained the ability to see these bullet comments. I knew then that Liam and I were mere stepping stones for Adrian, the protagonist. We were destined to fail. Yet, I refused to give up. I tried to fight back, but each attempt ended in failure. Every time Adrian falsely accused us, I would try desperately to explain, to prove our innocence to my parents. But in their eyes, it was merely ‘cunning sophistry.’ Later, I learned from the comments that my parents intended to use Adrian to temper us, which was why they silently condoned his actions. Finally, I gave up, accepting this absurd trial. I even repeatedly urged my younger brother to dutifully endure our parents’ tests. I thought the trials would end quickly. But it had been seven years, and the tests came one after another, endlessly, with no end in sight. And my brother, my only companion, died in the hospital because of their 99th trial. Even now, he lay in the cold mortuary, because I had no money for his funeral. And my father? He had simply cut off my monthly allowance of $500. I took a deep breath, waiting for them to finish speaking. Then, I slowly began. “You can cut off my allowance.” My voice trembled slightly. “But please, just lend me $2,000. Please?” I swallowed hard. “Liam… he’s still waiting to be buried…” My father exploded in a fit of rage. He unbuckled his belt and lashed it across my back. “Well, well! Still lying to us even now! What kind of elder brother are you, wishing death upon your own brother?” A sharp, searing pain pulsed through me, but I persisted. “I’m not lying. Liam was in a car accident.” I choked back a sob. “When I called you, you refused to pay for Liam’s medical expenses.” My voice cracked. “He bled out and died! But for cremation and burial, the cheapest option is still $2,000…” Tears welled in my eyes. “I don’t have any money… that’s why I posted online for help… You can beat me as much as you want, but can you please just lend me $2,000 so Liam can be buried…?” My voice was barely a whisper, trembling uncontrollably. They had money. So much money. Yet my brother had died because we had none. It was absurd. My mother, hearing my words, froze. “Eric, what do you mean? Liam… he really…” My father furiously slapped my mother’s hand away, then struck me again with his belt. “You believe his lies?” He scoffed. “Those two brothers have been lying their entire lives! Faking illnesses as children, and now they’re even faking death!” His eyes burned with conviction. “Adrian was right. They’ve just been after our money from the start!” He glowered at me, his voice a menacing growl. “If only you two were as sensible as Adrian, your mother and I wouldn’t have to be so strict with you!” My heart shattered, and I finally broke. “Really? Wouldn’t you? Or is Adrian just a tool you found to torment Liam and me?” I screamed, my voice raw. “You knew all along that Adrian was framing and bullying Liam and me, but you turned a blind eye!” Tears streamed down my face. “Weren’t we ‘sensible’ enough? We earned our own tuition. When we ran out of money, we found part-time jobs. We got top grades in every subject and won scholarships every year! But what did you do? You heartlessly sent thugs to beat Liam and me black and blue, stealing all the money we’d worked so hard to earn for food!” My voice cracked with desperate anguish. “I only asked you for $2,000 to bury Liam. Is that too much to ask? He’s my own brother, and your son!” I sobbed. “Why won’t you just believe us, just this once?!” Both of them froze, a flicker of awkwardness crossing their faces. They clearly hadn’t expected me to know about their “trials.” My mother, flustered, nervously reached for my hand. “Eric, when did you find out…? Did Liam know too? Is that why you kept making up excuses to ask us for money?” So, this was the conclusion they reached after hearing my hysterical accusations? I laughed bitterly, a self-deprecating sound. “If you still don’t believe me, then use that $2,000 to sever our ties.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “From now on, I am no longer a son of the Sterling family. You won’t have to worry about me shaming the Sterling name. Is that satisfactory?” Two thousand dollars. I wondered if, after Liam’s cremation, it would be enough to cremate me too. With Liam gone, I had no reason to live. I didn’t expect to get their response before I heard a deep male voice sharply rebuke me. “Brother, aren’t you being incredibly hurtful to Mom and Dad?” I looked at Adrian Sterling, who stood impassively in the doorway. He was dressed in a custom-tailored suit, a million-dollar watch gleaming on his wrist. I glanced down at myself: a t-shirt my neighbor had thrown away, and shoes I’d salvaged from the village trash dump. These were my parents. Millions spent enriching an adopted son, yet they wouldn’t spare $2,000 for their own flesh and blood. The comments, too, were crying foul on my behalf. Adrian’s face was filled with feigned sincerity. “Brother,” he began, “I just saw you and Liam buying fake medical records at the hospital this morning. How can you now claim Liam is dead?” He sighed, a performance of profound disappointment. “Since you want to sever ties, Mom and Dad, just agree. After all… consider it another trial.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped me. How could Adrian lie so naturally about things that never happened? I felt utterly helpless, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying to explain again. “If you’re so capable, why don’t you go to the hospital yourselves and check if there’s a deceased person named Liam Sterling? The truth would be clear!” My voice cracked. “Then, it would be obvious who’s lying—Adrian or me, wouldn’t it?” But my mother’s trust in Adrian was absolute. “Adrian isn’t like you; would he lie to us? Liam is your own brother; how can you keep saying he’s dead? Are you cursing him, or us?” Her face hardened. “Now, you call Liam out here immediately to apologize, or else he’ll never see another penny of allowance!” I looked at the comments floating in the air. Without exception, they were furious on my behalf, comforting me, trying to brainstorm solutions. But I was utterly numb. Because I had long since given up expecting them to understand me. I had explained countless times, yet they still refused to believe. Liam had been in a car accident, and we needed to pay for his medical expenses. I called my parents, begging them to cover the bills. The most ridiculous part was that my parents used this as another “trial,” adamantly refusing to pay. Liam struggled for three days on a gurney in the hospital corridor, until he finally gave up and died from massive blood loss. I thought, everyone is free now. Once I sent Liam off, I would join him. But I never imagined I couldn’t even afford the funeral. As despair deepened, my father scoffed. “Since you already know about the ‘trials,’ then perfect. I’ll give you one last chance. If you pass this trial, I won’t just give you $2,000.” He paused, a cruel glint in his eye. “From now on, I’ll grant you whatever you wish for.” Adrian’s face changed dramatically. He clearly hadn’t expected my father to propose yet another trial for me. To be honest, neither had I. I looked up and saw the comments all urging me. 【Eric, you should agree. After all, they’re your and Liam’s birth parents; they probably won’t make it too hard for you.】 【Yeah, Liam’s body is still at the hospital. His funeral can’t wait. You’re still young; how long would it take you to save up enough money for Liam’s arrangements by working odd jobs? Liam can’t wait that long.】 Yes, Liam couldn’t wait. I had tried every method imaginable. Borrowing money, loans, finding jobs… I had exhausted every option. Each time I saw a flicker of hope, my parents would send someone to sabotage it. I was at my wit’s end, which was why I finally resorted to exposing my identity as the Sterling family’s eldest son online, hoping to stir public opinion and find a way out. But in the end? I was still cornered, step by step, by my own biological parents, forced to pass their “trials” just to arrange my brother’s funeral. It was utterly ironic. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “Alright, I agree.” For my brother, I had no choice but to agree. Adrian’s face was livid, his eyes fixed on me with intense resentment. I ignored him, silently extending my hand. “But I beg you, can you please transfer me the $2,000 first?” My voice was barely audible. “My brother’s burial truly can’t wait any longer.” Adrian burst out laughing. “Brother, aren’t you being too greedy?” He smirked. “Still lying about Liam being dead?” He paused, feigning a thoughtful look. “Speaking of which… Mom, Dad, I did accidentally see Brother buying something from a shady character recently. That $2,000… he wouldn’t be trying to…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. My parents’ faces instantly contorted with rage. My mother, furious, slapped me across the face. “Eric! How old are you, and you’re already stooping so low?! You actually dared to take those things?!” My father’s face was grim. “Since you’re so desperate for $2,000, fine. This last trial.” His eyes narrowed. “Earn $2,000 within one week.” He paused. “If you complete it, I’ll send you to rehab and make sure you kick this habit!” Adrian couldn’t hold back his laughter. I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice hole, my chest heaving rapidly. A ball of fury churned inside me, with nowhere to go. They left without hesitation. Adrian remained, surveying the rental apartment. “Honestly, I was quite worried just now, thought you almost won this one. Good thing Mom and Dad still don’t believe you.” He shook his head. “I think your last trial will be very difficult to pass. Why don’t you get on your knees and beg me? I could help you, you know.” He smirked. “It’s just $2,000. I could introduce you to a few wealthy women. If you take care of them, forget $2,000, you could get $200,000!” His eyes gleamed with malice. “After all, Mom and Dad already think you’ve fallen so low, don’t they?” The comments were furious, cursing Adrian, the protagonist, and urging me to quickly explain everything to my parents. But what was the point of explaining? They were always like this, pretending to care deeply for Liam and me, but never actually doing anything concrete. Just like before, when they endlessly called, pressuring me to pay tuition, insisting I had to go to school, or they wouldn’t acknowledge me as their son. But when I asked to borrow the tuition from them, they would say: “Eric, your education is your own responsibility. You have to figure out the tuition yourself. And your brother’s tuition too.” They’d added, “There are plenty of opportunities in this society. As long as you’re willing to work hard, you can easily earn your tuition, instead of expecting everything handed to you.” But when they said this, I was still a minor, and employing child labor was illegal. I could only go to remote places, pretend I was an adult, and earn tuition by selling my blood. If they truly cared about Liam and me as much as they claimed, they would have investigated the moment they heard about Liam’s death. But how could they, after I’d told them countless times, still insist I was lying? Adrian mocked me some more, then left. I collapsed weakly to the floor, lost in a daze. But I needed $2,000, not to pass a trial. I needed it to bury Liam. After a long hesitation, I finally made up my mind and headed to a bar. It’s just putting on a smile, isn’t it? As long as I could get Liam buried quickly, I would do anything. But that sketchy place was far beyond my capabilities as a novice. For an entire night, I gritted my teeth, enduring the discomfort, accepting one drink after another from strangers. I begged and pleaded, managing to convince only two gold-toothed bosses to open a bottle of expensive champagne. I endured, day after day.

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To surprise my best friend, Serena, I took an early morning flight, arriving at her apartment building by seven. Punching in the code, I let myself in. But Serena, who loved to sleep in, wasn’t there. The sound of running water filled the air, and then a man’s voice called from the bathroom: “Door’s unlocked. Come in.” That voice… it sounded eerily like my husband, Mike. 1 I startled at the sudden, unsettling thought, then quickly dismissed it with a self-deprecating laugh. Voices always sounded distorted in a bathroom, and besides, Mike and Serena had always been at odds. How could they possibly be together? Still, was Serena playing a game this big behind my back? I definitely needed to ask her when she got back. As I was pondering this, the water in the bathroom suddenly stopped. The person inside was turning the doorknob. I quickly turned my back, calling out, “I’m not Serena! It’s Josie, her best friend!” The person inside seemed to freeze. The turning of the doorknob stopped, and no further sound emerged. I felt incredibly awkward. Serena, you sly thing, getting a boyfriend and not telling me! I almost walked in on a live show. I practically bolted for the door. Before I could reach it, the door swung open on its own. Serena stood in the doorway, holding a bag of breakfast, her eyes wide with surprise. “Josie, you’re back early!” I winked at her. “Well, that’s because I’ve already figured out your little secret.” Serena was about to reply when she was interrupted by a man’s voice from the bathroom. “Serena, come here!” This voice sounded slightly different from before. Okay, I definitely misheard. My best friend responded and walked towards the bathroom. I, too, instinctively turned my head for a quick glance. A figure wrapped in a bath towel, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted – a perfectly sculpted physique – flashed past. It actually bore a striking resemblance to my husband. What was going on today? Why did Mike keep popping into my head? Was it because I’d been away on a business trip for two months and missed him terribly? Mike was usually quite clingy. Serena often joked that he was my “human shadow,” always by my side. This time, when I had to leave for two months, Mike’s face immediately fell into a long, grumpy pout. We had never been apart for so long since we got married, but his company was at a critical stage, so he couldn’t come with me. I had to cajole and persuade him, but I finally managed to cheer him up, though it came with conditions: daily video calls were a must. If he knew I’d returned early and gone to Serena’s apartment first, he would definitely throw a jealous fit. I remembered when Mike and I first got together and I introduced him to Serena. Those two were like oil and water, instantly disliking each other. Serena thought Mike was cold and aloof, lacking any warmth. Mike complained that Serena was noisy and gave him a headache, saying being with her was like being in a bustling fish market. I was constantly caught in the middle, feeling utterly helpless. Later, as they got to know each other better, they started competing for my attention, acting jealous of each other, which always left me amused and exasperated. But now, Serena had a boyfriend, so surely they wouldn’t be like that anymore. The four of us could even go out together. As I blissfully plotted, a sudden muffled thud echoed from Serena’s bedroom. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly went to knock on the door. “Serena, what’s going on?” 2 The sound of the argument ceased, but my hand was aching from knocking, and the door remained stubbornly shut. Fearing something had happened to Serena inside, I was about to kick the door in when it finally opened. Serena stood in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed. I rushed in to steady her. “What’s wrong? Did you argue with your boyfriend?” I glanced around, not seeing the man. “Where is he? Tell me what happened, I’ll help you teach him a lesson!” Serena lowered her head. “Yes, if only you’d come in sooner.” Suddenly, a soft beep – the sound of an electronic code lock disengaging. I was about to go check when Serena grabbed my arm. “My boyfriend had an urgent matter, he had to leave.” Her bedroom had two doors. It seemed the man had deliberately left through the other door to avoid me. I felt a little displeased. “Serena, are you treating me like an outsider now? You got a boyfriend and didn’t tell me, and I almost walked in on the two of you! Who is he, anyway? Do I know him?” Serena leaned against the window, the light casting shadows on her face, making her expression unreadable. “Because of his work, it’s not convenient for us to go public yet.” My curiosity deepened. “Work? Is he an actor? Don’t tell me… it’s Liam Hayes?!” I put on a fan-girl act, and Serena burst out laughing. She pounced on me, covering my mouth. “You gossip queen! Why are you asking so many questions?” After a while, Serena’s mood visibly improved. She said she needed to go to the bathroom to freshen up. I walked to the sofa and had just sat down when I heard a knock at the door. But before I could get up to answer, the door simply opened. “What’s going on? Was the door unlocked?” The delivery driver’s voice held a note of confusion. Had Serena’s boyfriend left the door open when he exited? I quickly got up and went over, signing for the package for Serena. My gaze inadvertently swept across the shipping label: a men’s sleeping bag? Mike always liked to use a sleeping bag when he slept, cocooning himself like a silkworm. I used to tease him about it, and he’d just rub my head helplessly. “I can’t sleep without a sleeping bag,” he’d say. But why would Serena buy a men’s sleeping bag? A mysterious boyfriend, a similar build, the same kind of sleeping bag. Everything that happened today felt a little unusual. Even with my generally laid-back nature, I started to feel that something wasn’t right. Serena emerged from the bathroom and took the package from my hand. I asked, feigning casualness, “Serena, are you and your boyfriend living together now?” “Sort of,” she replied, shaking the package in her hand, her tone utterly candid. “He has trouble sleeping in new places. Your Mike always says a sleeping bag helps him sleep soundly, so I thought I’d buy one for him to try.” I inwardly scoffed at myself. What was I thinking? I then teased her. “So good to your boyfriend? But you’re keeping secrets from your best friend, me. Don’t tell me…” Serena paused. “Tell you what?” “Don’t tell me you’re putting him before me now? I’m warning you, I don’t agree!” She laughed, linking her arm through mine. “How could I? You’ll always be my best friend!” “That’s more like it.” I pulled a gift box from my suitcase and handed it to her. “I ended my business trip early for this. Open it and see.” Serena opened the box and froze. 3 Inside was a designer handbag. Serena’s expression became distant, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips trembling slightly. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” I asked, a hint of trepidation in my voice. “Of course I like it! How did you know?” Serena threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. Before my trip, I’d overheard her on the phone, mentioning how much she wanted that particular bag. But it was out of stock in Portland. I searched every boutique in neighboring cities and actually found one. To surprise Serena, I’d pulled three all-nighters, pushing myself to return early. When I paid, the sales assistant told me I was incredibly lucky; it was a limited edition, with only two in the world, and the last one had just been purchased. Yes, I am truly lucky to have Serena as a friend. Serena was my elementary school classmate. Back then, I was introverted and often bullied by other kids. She always stepped in front of me, protecting me. Later, she transferred schools, but years passed, and we reconnected in high school. In my senior year, my older brother was getting married and needed money. Our parents, eyeing the exorbitant dowry, wanted me to drop out and marry someone. Again, it was Serena who helped me escape. We both got into universities in Portland. I had good grades and always shared half of my scholarship money with her. After graduation, my career quickly took off. I immediately recommended Serena to a top company with even greater potential. We supported each other; we weren’t family by blood, but closer than family. Suddenly, a dull thud echoed from the room. “What was that sound?” I asked, about to get up and check. Serena quickly grabbed my arm. “My room’s too cluttered; something must have fallen. Don’t go in! You’ll just laugh at me again.” She said, getting up and walking towards the bedroom. I sat back down. “Fine, I won’t go. I’m afraid you’ll ask me to help you clean up! I really can’t handle that mess of yours.” Serena always looked impeccable outside, but her home was perpetually chaotic. If I didn’t arrange for someone to clean her place every week, I couldn’t imagine what a disaster it would be. I don’t know how much time passed, but then I heard the sound of a door opening, and realized I had drifted off to sleep. I had woken up at three in the morning today to catch my flight; I was utterly exhausted. Suddenly, I remembered Mike, my jealous husband. If he knew I’d returned early and gone to Serena’s apartment first, there was no telling what kind of scene he’d make. I quickly got up. “Serena, I need to go home.” Serena emerged from the bedroom, dressed in pajamas. “Want me to see you off?” I rolled my eyes at her. “You’re in your pajamas, and you want me to let you see me off? What kind of person would I be?” She pulled my hand, playfully whining, “I stayed up late last night and got up early today, you know. My sweet Josie, I knew you cared about me the most.” Her scent… why did it feel so familiar? She pulled away, and before I could think too much about it, my gaze fell on a dark green object on the sofa. I reached for it and pulled it out. It was a tie. The pattern was one I had personally designed for Mike when we got married – unique and one-of-a-kind. I stopped, looking at Serena with confusion. She chuckled. “Did you forget? The night before you left for your trip, we had dinner together, and Mike left his tie here.” Only then did I recall that yes, that had happened. I complained about Mike. “Why hasn’t he come to pick it up all this time? Does he expect someone to deliver it to him?” “You know how he is, always disliking me. Best for us to have minimal contact. Since you’re here, you can just take it with you.” Bidding Serena farewell, I rushed home, filled with excitement. As soon as I opened the door, I called out, “Surprise! Honey, I missed you!” But it wasn’t Mike who greeted me, only an empty house. 4 The house was cold, as if no one had lived in it for days. Where was Mike? My heart sank, and my mind began to race with all sorts of alarming thoughts. I pushed down the rising panic and dialed Mike’s video call. As the long rings echoed, my heart steadily plummeted. Just a second before it automatically disconnected, Mike’s sweat-streaked face appeared on the screen. I clutched my phone, my hand trembling. “Honey, where have you been?” “I’m on a business trip,” Mike said, his voice calm and gentle. “Something urgent came up at the company. I figured I’d be back before you, so I didn’t specifically tell you.” “Why are you so sweaty?” I tried to keep my voice even. “Just finished a meeting, forgot my phone. Heard your special ringtone from the hallway and ran all the way back.” Mike said, turning the phone camera to show the hotel background. I secretly exhaled, relieved. “It’s okay if you miss a call. You could have just called back when you had time. No need to rush.” “I never want to disappoint my wife.” My heart warmed slightly. “When are you coming back?” “Tomorrow.” Then I remembered Serena’s boyfriend and couldn’t resist gossiping. “Oh, by the way, do you know that Serena has a boyfriend now? I was at her place this morning and almost bumped into him, but I didn’t get a clear look at his face.” “Aren’t you two as close as two peas in a pod? If she wouldn’t tell you, why would she tell me?” Mike’s tone sounded casual. Good point, I thought, and didn’t press the issue further. Not long after hanging up, Mike’s colleague called. “Mrs. Sterling, Mike is away on business. He said he’s worried about you being alone at home, so if you need anything at all, just let me know.” “Oh, no, no, it’s fine. I just took an early flight back today. I’m planning to catch up on sleep this afternoon. Nothing important. Unless it’s the end of the world, no need to come help. But thanks!” “Don’t mention it, Mrs. Sterling! Everyone at the company knows Mike – sharp and detached, decisive in business – but in private, he’s a total doting husband! Mrs. Sterling always comes first!” I chuckled and hung up. Just as I was about to fall asleep, the company called, telling me I had a presentation tomorrow. I rummaged through my bag and realized I’d left my important file at Serena’s apartment! I had no choice but to go back to Serena’s. She wasn’t home again, and her phone was unreachable. I had to use the code to get in again. I grabbed the file and was about to leave when I noticed a half-eaten container of Southside Seafood Diner clam chowder on the dining table—Mike’s favorite dish. My gaze drifted to the entryway, where a pair of men’s slippers sat on the shoe rack. They were size 11, the same as Mike’s. Staring at those slippers, I froze. I didn’t know what I was thinking. My mind was a tangled mess. I shook my head hard, trying to banish the chaotic suspicions. It must be sleep deprivation, making me overthink things. A good night’s sleep will fix everything. I had just closed the door when Serena’s next-door neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, approached me. “Dear, I seem to remember a package being delivered this morning, but now it’s gone? I’m old, my memory is failing, and my eyes aren’t what they used to be. Could you help me check the security footage?” It seemed Mrs. Jenkins had mistaken me for Serena, and I didn’t bother to correct her. I helped her check the surveillance; no package had been delivered. I was about to close the playback when, just as my fingertip touched the off button, a fleeting image flashed across the screen. It was like a bolt of lightning striking me, freezing me in place.

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In my past life, Claire took all our guards to stage a meteor shower for her lover Julian in the countryside. Enemies seized the chance to attack our estate. Mother Eleanor shielded me but was mortally wounded. My desperate calls finally brought Claire back reluctantly. Though we captured the intruders, tragic news arrived – Julian had disappeared, leaving a suicide note blaming me for “luring Claire away.” Claire burned it dismissively: “Just drama.” Father reprimanded her and surprisingly named me heir. That victory night, Claire strangled me in my bedroom. “You deserved this,” she hissed. “The inheritance was always mine.” I died resentful. When I reopened my eyes, enemies were breaking down our gates. 1. The deafening crash of the heavy iron gates of our estate being ripped open dragged me back from the suffocating grasp of near-death. I clung desperately to my mother, who was panicking, trying to rush out and see what was happening. Instead, I pulled her back, dragging her into my bedroom. Slamming the door shut and locking it, I gasped for breath. “Mom, help me!” I choked out, gesturing wildly for her to help me shove the massive mahogany wardrobe against the door. “Fred, what are you doing? We have security guards, what are you afraid of?” Eleanor looked at me, her eyes wide with a fear she couldn’t hide. She didn’t know yet. She didn’t know Claire, my sister, had taken every single security guard with her for her sugar baby Julian. “Mom, Claire took all the guards! It’s just us!” I gritted my teeth, straining every muscle to push the wardrobe. The heavy mahogany scraped across the polished floorboards with a teeth-gnashing shriek, leaving deep gouges in its wake. Eleanor froze, disbelief warring with terror in her eyes. Our family, the Montgomeries, stood at the pinnacle of influence. Security was always paramount. How could all the guards be gone? But then she saw my ashen face, and the truth, raw and horrifying, began to sink in. “Quick! Call your sister! Tell her to come back now!” Eleanor urged, her voice trembling. I didn’t answer. My gaze was fixed on the door, barely held in place by the wardrobe. My trembling fingers dialed 911, giving a terse, urgent explanation of our situation and address. I couldn’t rely on Claire for immediate rescue; in my past life, she had returned too late. Mom had succumbed to her injuries, missing the critical window for treatment. Hanging up, a leaden dread settled in my chest. Heavy snowfall had blocked the roads for days. Our estate was nestled on a hillside, a considerable distance from the nearest police precinct. I couldn’t bear to imagine what might happen before they arrived… “CRACK!” The door shuddered violently. I instinctively braced myself against the wardrobe, a wave of primal fear washing over me. Just then, Eleanor’s call to Claire connected. “Claire, you have to come back! Intruders… there are intruders!” Eleanor’s voice was laced with a desperate sob. From the other end, Claire’s impatient voice crackled through. “Alright, Mom, stop making things up. I’m still celebrating Julian’s birthday. I’ll be back tomorrow.” “I’m not lying! There really are intruders! Please, come back, or you’ll be collecting our corpses!” Eleanor practically screamed. Claire’s tone turned even colder. “I know you don’t like Julian, but you don’t need to invent such outrageous lies to scare me. And tell Fred to stop with his pathetic little games. I won’t fall for them again.” At her words, my heart plummeted into an icy abyss. Claire had also been reborn! But why did she believe this was a fabricated lie concocted by me? In the last life, she had witnessed firsthand the brutal torment we endured at the hands of those thugs. Why, in this life, was she so utterly indifferent? All because of Julian, that pathetic excuse for a man? All because of her flimsy accusation, “Fred did this on purpose”? The rhythmic thud of approaching footsteps grew louder, halting just outside our door. Then, a more violent CRASH against the door, and the wardrobe began to shriek, dragging across the floor. We watched, horrified, as our makeshift barrier slowly gave way, until—“SNAP!” A chunk of wood splintered from the wardrobe’s corner, revealing a gaping crack. Through it, a sliver of the hallway’s dim light cut through. The man outside chuckled, a low, guttural sound. “Thought you could hide, did you? You’re in here, just as I expected.” I instinctively stepped in front of Eleanor, retreating slowly toward the bed. My eyes fixed on that widening crack, the growing sliver of light revealing the horror lurking beyond. A crushing sense of powerlessness washed over me, cold sweat slicking my forehead. Then, the door was violently ripped open, the screech of the wardrobe’s broken base scraping against the floor piercing my ears. A pair of grimy boots stepped inside. “You thought bracing the door would save you? I don’t have the patience for a long game.” The man smirked, his eyes, yellowed and predatory, swept over the room. I froze, my gaze riveted on the glinting dagger in his hand, its cold steel reflecting off his dirty knuckles. His gaze settled on Eleanor, a greedy, sickening leer, like a snake’s tongue flicking over prey. “Well, well. Tonight, I get to have some sport with both mother and son.” Eleanor let out a piercing shriek. “Don’t you dare touch me!” I clenched my jaw, suppressing the surging despair in my chest. I turned to Eleanor, my voice low and urgent. “Mom, no matter what happens, don’t interfere.” “Step back. The trampoline is right outside the window. Jump. It should break your fall.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Then, run to the Thorne estate next door. Find Vivian. Tell her to bring people to save me.” The man with the dagger was closing in. We were out of time. I had endured their torment in the last life; this time, I would die before I let anything happen to Mom. “Fred, I can’t leave you alone!” Eleanor cried, tears streaming down her face. I gripped her wrist, my fingers digging into her skin. “Listen to me. Just jump. Then, run to the Thornes. As long as you’re alive, anything is possible.” Just then, the man shoved the shaking wardrobe aside and lunged toward us. “Mom, jump! Now!” I cried out, my voice laced with desperation. But instead, Eleanor lunged forward, throwing herself at the man. She clung to his arms, pulling and dragging, trying to hold him back. “Fred! Jump! Go! Mom won’t let them get you!” Her voice was choked with sobs, but it was resolute, final. “Mom!” I screamed, my heart tearing in two. I watched in horror as the dagger, in a swift, brutal arc, plunged into her back. That flash of crimson exploded in my mind, shattering every last shred of my stunned rationality. Eleanor gasped in pain, but she held on, clinging to the man’s waist, her voice still urgent, still resolute as she called to me: “Jump, Fred! Jump! Don’t you dare hesitate!” 2. My blood ran cold, yet the instinct to survive pulsed through my veins. A head-on fight was suicide. I sprinted to the window, throwing myself through it without a second thought. The impact, softened by the trampoline, sent a jolt of excruciating pain up my ankle and calf as I landed. But there was no time to lose. I bit down hard, struggling to my feet, and sprinted with every ounce of strength towards the Thorne estate next door. I ignored the agonizing cold in my feet, the snow turning red from the raw skin and frozen blood. All I knew was I had to run, to keep running. “Next door” was a relative term for these sprawling hillside properties. It was a good half-mile, maybe even a full mile, away. The icy air seared my throat, but I couldn’t slow down. I knew too well that in the last life, there hadn’t been just one intruder. When I finally collapsed against the Thorne estate’s formidable iron gates, I pounded on them, my voice hoarse. “Vivian! Open up! Help! Intruders at my house! My mom, please, save my mom!” The iron gate creaked open. Vivian stood there, a frown etched on her face. She wore a thick, luxurious cashmere coat, but her eyes held no warmth. She looked down at me, kneeling in the snow, and spoke, her voice slow and measured. “Fred, your acting has really improved lately.” Her tone was playful, laced with a hint of mockery. Blood pounded in my chest, and my head spun. “Vivian! I’m not playing around! This isn’t a joke! My mom is fighting for her life!” “Please, send someone with me to save her.” She surveyed my battered, snow-covered state, a faint look of amusement crossing her face. “If your sister hadn’t told me you were jealous of Julian, concocting some story about a home invasion, I might have actually believed you.” “Don’t listen to Claire! This is real!” I pleaded, desperation coloring my voice. “I already called the police, but they haven’t arrived yet. Please, my mom was stabbed, she doesn’t have much time!” In the previous life, I didn’t know if those three thugs had gone further. Mom and I fought tooth and nail, both of us brutally beaten. I was left with debilitating injuries, and Mom… Mom was gone. This time, I wouldn’t let her die for me! I fumbled for my phone, trying to show Vivian my call log to 911. She glanced at it, but her face showed no sign of belief. Instead, she scoffed. “Playing a really big game this time, huh? You actually called the police?” “A self-inflicted home invasion? This ‘pity play’ is so convincing, I almost believed it. I have to admire your persistence.” “Vivian! Are you insane?! It’s real!” I roared, my eyes burning, tears blurring my vision. But my desperate cry failed to sway her. She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arm. “Please! My mom needs help! If you don’t go now, she could die! She really could die!” She looked down at me, her gaze chillingly indifferent. “Fred, your sister specifically told me to ignore you, to let you throw your tantrum.” Her coldness pierced me. Before Julian, Vivian had been my childhood sweetheart, gentle and considerate. After our engagement, she had been unfailingly devoted. But everything changed when Julian entered the picture. Vivian grew distant, and even Claire began to alienate me. Both of them, in their efforts to please Julian, had done utterly foolish things. My sister, simply because another company shared the same name as Julian’s beloved dog, had maliciously driven them to ruin. That was what had brought this disaster upon our family! I knelt in the snow, utterly despairing, my pleas echoing in the cold air. “Vivian, I beg you! Just send someone to check on my house, please! Even if you want to break off the engagement, just help me!” I was on the brink of despair. I prayed, over and over, that Vivian would show a flicker of humanity, that she would remember our past and help save my mother. The butler, who had watched me grow up, couldn’t bear it any longer. “Miss, perhaps you should send someone to look. Master Fred wouldn’t lie about something like this.” Vivian hesitated for a moment. I seized the opportunity, bowing my head and repeatedly knocking my forehead against the icy ground. Each dull thud echoed in the stillness. “Please! Please, save my mother!” Finally, Vivian spoke, her voice still detached. “I’ll send someone to check.” “However, Fred, if this turns out to be another one of your self-directed schemes, you will pay for it.” I snapped my head up, a sliver of hope igniting in my chest. Whatever it took, as long as she went! She called for a few of her guards, but just as they began to gather, her phone rang, jarringly. It was Claire. Vivian glanced at me, then put the call on speaker. My sister’s languid, indifferent voice drifted from the receiver. “Fred hasn’t gone to you, has he? Don’t listen to her. Someone just called me from Mom’s phone, threatening to kill her. It’s absolutely hilarious.” I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice bath, my blood turning to slush. I hadn’t imagined that the sister who once vowed to protect me my entire life could be so heartless. For a man, she ignored our mother’s peril, turning a deaf ear to my desperate pleas. Rage and fear intertwined within me. I screamed into the phone, “Claire! Are you insane?! Do we have to die before you believe us?! You saw what Mom and I went through last time!” She scoffed. “That was just your pathetic attempt to seize control! I asked Mrs. Davis, our housekeeper, and she said everything at home is fine.” “You’re a cruel, wicked person, Fred. I won’t believe you this time! If anything happens to Mom, it’s your own fault!” My heart completely shattered. Mrs. Davis had been on leave, visiting her hometown for a week! How could she possibly know what was happening at home?! I was about to retort, but a cold “beep… beep” from the phone signalized that Claire had hung up. Vivian’s face had darkened considerably. She looked at me with open disgust. “You really are lying! Guards, break his leg! Teach him a lesson!” The guards shifted, moving to grab me. I gritted my teeth, enduring the searing pain in my leg, and roared, “Don’t you dare! When my father returns, I will make you pay!” The guards exchanged uncertain glances. Vivian sneered, picked up a baseball bat leaning nearby, and walked over to me. She stood over me, looking down, her eyes filled with cruel amusement and mockery. “They might not dare, but I do.” I stared at her, despair rising in my throat. Her past gentleness felt like a fleeting dream. I couldn’t believe she would do this to me. I tried to scramble backward, but she kicked me, sending me sprawling in the snow. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. Before I could even recover, she brought the bat down, hard, on my already injured left leg. “Agh!” I cried out, my body trembling violently. The agonizing pain nearly sent me into unconsciousness. But she just stood there, cold and unfeeling. “That’s what you get for lying to me.” Just then, my phone rang. She bent down, picked it up, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Let’s hear who this is.” “Hello, is this Mr. Montgomery, the one who called 911?” “We’ve arrived at your estate. The intruders fled during the struggle, but your mother is in very bad condition and needs immediate medical attention.”

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My husband’s childhood sweetheart was back. Cassidy White. And she was the definition of a bro-girl – all smiles and ‘just one of the guys,’ while her eyes were always on my Ethan and his friends. One day, it was poker night. The next, an all-night drinking session. And always, always, she’d extend her completely boundless ‘friendship’ to Ethan and his buddies. I’d endured it, bitten my tongue, and swallowed my anger, time and again. Until tonight. She swayed, ostensibly ‘tipsy,’ and leaned into Ethan’s embrace, pouting playfully. “Ethan, we practically shared a diaper growing up. After all these years, can’t a brother get a hug?” I watched Ethan’s face flush, an embarrassed, almost shy expression blooming there. That was it. I raised my hand and mentally activated the Allure System, dormant for seven long years. I hadn’t anticipated that restarting the system would take time. And as Cassidy’s actions grew even more brazen, five-year-old Leo, my son, stepped forward. “Mom,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Let me handle this.” “I’ve read the original story.” 1. Cassidy was draped against Ethan, laughing. She sensed my cold stare and playfully punched Ethan’s arm. “Oh, Elara, don’t mind me. Ethan and I are like brothers. We grew up together, and I’ve seen him completely exposed. You can just pretend I’m one of the guys.” Ethan reacted even faster than I did. “Cassidy, what are you saying? Elara, please don’t misunderstand, that was just when we were kids. I never let her see anything.” He said the words, but his arm remained wrapped around her. Cassidy, emboldened, pressed her advantage. “You forgot? In college, when you got drunk, I took you home. I didn’t just see you, I even touched!” She slapped her own mouth, feigning a clumsy slip. “Oops, my bad! Elara, don’t take it the wrong way, okay? I’m practically a guy. It’s normal for bros to see each other.” As she prepared to continue, Ethan quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. The movement pulled them even closer, making me feel like an utter stranger in my own home. I swallowed my anger, again and again, but finally, I couldn’t hold it in. I whispered to myself. [System.] [Are you there?] The system responded: [Online.] I gave it a direct command. [Reboot.] After seven long years, I never imagined I’d reactivate the system. But it seemed the seven-year itch was real, even for a woman like me. Could I really not hold a man’s heart? I scoffed, waiting for the reboot to complete. Yet, the progress bar showed a meager [1%]. It would take time. In the interim, I’d have to take matters into my own hands and put this bro-girl in her place. Cassidy, still leaning against Ethan, sensed my rising irritation. She shifted, angling her body even more precariously, as if about to tumble. Just then, my five-year-old son, Leo, who had been standing quietly behind me, walked forward. He placed his small hand on my knee. “Mom,” he whispered, his voice low enough only for me to hear. “Let me handle this.” Leo glanced back at me, mouthing silently, “I’ve read the original story.” Before I could react, he spread his small hand wide and suddenly shrieked, “Aaaah! A cockroach!” A brownish object flew towards Cassidy. Though she claimed to be ‘one of the guys,’ she was clearly terrified of insects. She yelped, dodging frantically, but her precarious posture sent her tumbling to the floor. The brownish object landed squarely beneath her, pinned. Cassidy felt a sticky sensation, a look of revulsion twisting her face. She screamed, “Ethan, control your kid! Why is he playing with cockroaches? He made me scrape my knee!” She reached for Ethan’s arm. “Get me up right now! Take me to the hospital, and you’re footing the bill!” Ethan reacted quickly, turning to scold Leo. But I stepped in front of my son, shielding him. “Only I get to scold my son.” Ethan faltered, but Cassidy wasn’t having it. “Elara, I understand you love your child, but you can’t spoil him too much. He made me bleed! He needs a good talking-to, maybe a smack or two!” Ethan chimed in, “She’s right, Elara. Leo is being too wild.” I scoffed, ready to retort. But Leo, quick as a flash, darted to Cassidy’s side. Before she could regain her composure, he deftly lifted her long white dress. The dress flipped up, covering Cassidy’s face and exposing her bare legs. Leo pointed at her thigh. “It’s a lie! She’s not even hurt!” Then, he turned to Ethan. “Dad, Mom hates it when you touch dirty, inappropriate women.” 2. Childhood innocence. Ethan’s face turned scarlet. Under Cassidy’s gaze, he steeled himself, raised a hand, and slapped Leo. “Don’t be ridiculous!” I couldn’t react fast enough. My small son stumbled and fell. “What are you doing?!” I shoved Ethan, rushing to shield Leo. Ethan, however, turned his face away, saying nothing. Cassidy, seizing the opportunity, interjected, “Elara, don’t blame Ethan. Kids don’t understand, but there’s a limit. I think you need to discipline him properly.” Ethan echoed her. “Elara, Leo needs to know what he can and cannot say. Anyway, I’ll take Cassidy to the hospital first. You go teach him a lesson.” With that, Ethan, unwilling to confront me, hurried out, pulling Cassidy with him. In moments, the vast living room held only Leo and me. I immediately checked Leo’s injuries. Ethan hadn’t held back; half of Leo’s small face was already swollen. “It’s all Mom’s fault.” Guilt instantly washed over me. I resented myself for not activating the system the first time Cassidy showed up. Then, who would dare touch me? But Leo shook his head. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, whispering in my ear, “Mom, remember what I said? I know the original story.” “I did it on purpose. Otherwise, Dad would have hit you.” – On the way to the hospital, Leo meticulously recounted the original story to me. In short, it was a tale of how Cassidy, after having her fun abroad, returned home to seduce four male classmates from college, ultimately causing their families to be ruined. And Leo was determined to save me because, among the four, Cassidy loved Ethan the most, and at the story’s end, she forced me to jump into a river and commit suicide. “Mom, I love you, and I love Dad. So I don’t want either of you to get hurt.” My little son hugged me, insisting he would drive Cassidy away and protect our family. I silently stroked his head, resolving to have a serious talk with Ethan that night. But I waited until midnight, and Ethan never came home. Instead, I scrolled past Cassidy’s new post on social media. Cassidy White: A true brother feeds you your favorite grilled skewers when you’re sick. Attached was a photo: her leaning against Ethan, a sweet smile on her face. I ‘liked’ the post. Soon after, she posted another. Cassidy White: As a reward, giving my good brother a little treat. The image showed her guiding Ethan’s hand to her chest, her smile overtly provocative. Without a doubt, it was meant for me. I hadn’t realized Ethan had become so… tainted. Just then, Leo stirred. I quickly covered his eyes with one hand. “Time for bed.” [System activation progress: 35%] – Ethan didn’t come home until the next morning, a vivid hickey visible on his neck. I had waited on the sofa all night. As he walked in, I went straight to the point. “What’s on your neck?” Without Cassidy present, Ethan reverted to his ‘good husband’ persona. He instinctively covered the mark. “A mosquito bite.” “That must have been one hell of a mosquito!” Ethan gave a sheepish smile and quickly knelt in front of me, his voice soft. “Elara, don’t be mad. Look what I brought you. I specially ran to the Southern District for your favorite small cake. Cheer up. Leo really was out of line yesterday.” “My son did nothing wrong!” Ethan’s face hardened, about to argue, but I grabbed his ear, telling him to go shower. A shower wasn’t enough. I demanded he scrub himself ten times over with body wash. While he was gone, I followed Leo’s earlier instruction and went through Ethan’s phone. And sure enough, there was a newly created group chat named “Queen Cassidy’s Harem.” I clicked into it. The group owner had just sent the first message. Queen Cassidy: @everyone. As a patient, I’m going to the hot springs resort tomorrow! You guys are coming with me. No refusing a patient’s request. Below, Ethan’s friends had all replied. Only Ethan hadn’t. Seeing this, I opened my camera, exposing my alluring slip dress, and snuggled into the blankets. I snapped a photo and sent it to the group. Ethan: My apologies. I need to spend time with my wife. You all have fun. Immediately, several messages exploded. In the dead of night, Ethan’s friends rapidly spammed the chat. “Ethan, enjoying yourself there.” “Elara, as beautiful as ever.” “Family men are just different.” Their words were already blunt, but I hadn’t anticipated Cassidy’s brazenness. Queen Cassidy: Ethan, got a wife and forgot your bros, huh? And what your wife can give you, I can give you too. Or have seven years passed, and you’ve forgotten my taste? With that, Cassidy sent a photo of herself, barely clothed, to the group. Queen Cassidy: Look at you, acting like you’ve never seen anything before. Ethan forgot, have you all forgotten too? Looks like we need to have a proper reunion. At her words, the men in the group clamored in agreement, seemingly eager to throw themselves at Cassidy. I felt a wave of nausea. Just then, Cassidy texted me privately. Cassidy White: Elara, even if you don’t want him, you should ask Ethan if he wants me. I clenched my phone and blocked her. [System activation progress: 65%] 3. But I hadn’t expected Ethan to be even angrier than Cassidy. He slammed his phone down, shattering it. Shards flew, grazing my face. Blood welled, but he didn’t even look. He roared, “Elara Vance, who told you to touch my phone?” He looked ready to strike. Leo immediately darted in front of me, his small body shielding mine. “Dad, don’t blame Mom.” I covered Leo’s mouth, my voice dripping with cold sarcasm. “Ethan, you’re not even pretending anymore, are you?” For a shamelessly flirtatious childhood sweetheart, he was willing to throw away our seven years of marriage and our son. Ethan sneered. “I’ll ask one more time: who told you to touch my phone?” “I’ll touch whatever I want!” For seven years, Ethan had never hidden anything from me, allowing me to check his phone whenever I pleased. Now, he had secrets. I gritted my teeth. Before Ethan could say another word, I told him to get out. He turned and left. Just then, the villa’s front door opened. Cassidy and Ethan’s three friends, who should have been at the hot springs resort, suddenly appeared. Cassidy was wearing a revealing swimsuit. Sensing the tension in the living room, she feigned charm and dramatically lunged into Ethan’s arms. “My dear brother, had a fight?” She asked, feigning ignorance, her hands and legs wrapping around Ethan, rubbing against him provocatively. My blood boiled. I covered Leo’s eyes with one hand, ready to unleash a torrent of curses. But Cassidy was quicker. “Elara, I told you to ask Ethan’s opinion first. After all, it’s a brothers’ get-together, women shouldn’t interfere. See? You’ve made my brother unhappy.” Her words struck a nerve with Ethan. He gripped her hips, kneading them. “Cassidy, what are you doing here?” His tone was completely different from the one he’d used to scold me moments ago. Cassidy’s face lit up with triumph. “I was afraid you’d only refused me out of politeness, so I changed the plan. We’re going to learn how to swim in your big pool at home.” “Aren’t you touched? Aren’t you going to thank your good friend?” At her words, Ethan’s three friends stepped forward, their voices filled with competitive jealousy. “Cassidy, come swim at my place too.” “Yeah, Cassidy, give me a hug too.” Hearing this, Ethan clutched Cassidy tighter, his possessiveness on full display. He announced, “I’m teaching Cassidy how to swim,” and strode out, his three friends trailing close behind. The living room was suddenly silent, save for the shattered phone, me, and my son in my arms. Leo, I realized, was crying. He sadly climbed onto the sofa, wiping the blood from my cheek, sobbing as he said, “Mom, it wasn’t like this in the original story.” I held him tight, silently checking the system’s progress. [System activation progress: 85%]

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