I had my phone on silent all day for a business trip, escorting clients for a fifty-million-dollar company bid, not wanting to be disturbed. Who knew I’d return only to be stopped by my fiancée’s male assistant? “You didn’t reply ‘received’ in the work chat today. Five thousand dollar fine!” I merely assumed he was unaware of my work schedule and ignored him. The next day, my fiancée, Sally, kicked me and my luggage out of the company. The male assistant fanned the flames nearby. “Company policy clearly states you must reply ‘received’ within two minutes. You’re abusing your position, setting a bad example! Other project managers reply instantly; is your hand too precious to type?” Sally actually spoke up for him. “A Vice President brazenly defying regulations and arguing fallaciously! If you don’t pay the fine within a day, you’re suspended for a day!” I looked at the diligently prepared bidding documents in my hand and smiled. Then I called my eldest sister. “I have a fifty-million-dollar winning bid to hand over to you. Also, I accept your previous offer; I’ll start at your company in three days.” 1 “What, finally came to your senses? Didn’t you refuse to come back before, even for a million-dollar annual salary?” My sister’s tone was full of teasing. Thinking of Sally kicking me out of the company because of a male assistant, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “Don’t even get me started. As long as your company doesn’t have some rule about being fined for not replying ‘received’ in the main work group within five minutes, I’ll be there in three days to start.” “Then it’s settled! No backing out this time!” Soon after talking to my sister, Sally called me. “I left the bid documents in the car. Bring them up.” I heard Ben’s deliberately amplified voice. “Ms. Vance, these tasks are for me, your assistant. How can you ask the Vice President to do them? Mr. Will already has a grudge against me after being fined today. I’ll go instead…” Sally’s stern voice, without a second thought, immediately soothed him. “It’s so hot. Your constitution is too weak for running around. Besides, he defied company regulations; you were just doing your job, giving him a friendly reminder.” “Will, I’ll only wait ten minutes for you. If I don’t see those documents, pack your things and leave the company!” The phone call was ruthlessly cut off. I stood there stunned for a long time, then let out a self-deprecating laugh. My fiancée had inexplicably reprimanded me for another man. She even, out of concern for him, made me take over what should have been someone else’s task. I still went to retrieve the documents, after all, there were resignation matters to settle. Sally took the documents. I was about to mention my resignation, but she didn’t even glance at me, handing the papers directly to Ben. “I have an announcement. Due to Will’s disregard for company regulations, I’ve decided to demote him. From now on, Ben will take over his Vice President position, and Will will be an assistant, supporting his work.” Ben looked at her, overwhelmed. “I… Ms. Vance, you’re too kind to me!” “It’s just a shame for Will, but you’ve had enough leisure as Vice President for a few years. It’s time to gain some experience as an assistant.” Listening to Sally heap praise on him, my heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a pair of hands, leaving me breathless with pain. Everyone in the company knew I was Sally Vance’s fiancée, yet under her, I had never received any special treatment due to that connection. On the contrary, I was treated more strictly than regular employees, starting from the bottom, working my way up. I drank so much at client dinners I ended up in the hospital, and secured countless projects to finally reach the position of Vice President. She always used to say, “I don’t want people to treat you differently because you’re my fiancée. I’m training you.” Yet, with Ben, her principles would bend and break again and again. Ben’s brow was etched with smugness. He pulled out a few expense reports. “Will, when you’re in a position, you act accordingly. So I’ll just have to uphold some Vice President rules. These are your hotel receipts from your last business trip.” “The company has always emphasized cutting costs. You’re still staying in five-star hotels? You’re just an assistant now; these expenses can’t be reimbursed.” Sally snorted, praising him. “He just took over and already understands how to generate profits for the company. My judgment is truly good.” My fingertips dug deep into my palms. I forced a calm demeanor. “You can give the Vice President position to whomever you wish, but I will not take the assistant position.” “I’m specifically here to resign. And Sally, our engagement is off.” 2 [Your employment process is complete. Report to work the day after tomorrow.] I received my sister’s message while packing to leave what had been our marital home. Sally returned with Ben, frowning when she saw me at home. “Why are you here?” My hands paused. I couldn’t help but retort, “You must have forgotten, this is my home too.” She seemed surprised by my uncharacteristic attitude, paused, then softened her tone. “Ben’s neighborhood hasn’t been safe lately. He’s now the company’s Vice President, holding considerable power, and as his superior, I should show concern.” “So I’ve decided to let him stay with us for a while, until he saves enough money to move out.” Her words were a complete declaration, with no hint of seeking my agreement. Ben stepped forward, feigning sincerity. “Will, I really don’t want to intrude on your and Ms. Vance’s lives, but Ms. Vance insists on not leaving me alone; she practically forced me to stay.” “She also said that you, Will, are older and more tolerant, and wouldn’t mind these things.” Over the years, I had heard such provocative words countless times, but this time, my heart was already unmoved. I picked up my luggage and said indifferently, “Do as you please. I already said the engagement is off. It doesn’t concern me who you bring into this apartment.” As I approached the entryway, Sally suddenly grabbed my hand, displeasure in her voice. “An entire night has passed, and you’re still not calm? I didn’t even mind you humiliating me in front of everyone yesterday. What exactly are you doing?” “Doing?” I scoffed, all the questions I had for her and Ben trapped within my throat. Looking at this meticulously decorated marital home, I suddenly felt pitifully foolish. It was in this apartment that she had knelt on one knee and proposed to me. “Will, I promise you, I will never let you suffer another moment of hardship.” In the past, even the slightest disagreement between us would make her immediately drop everything to soothe me. But now, she knew I was unhappy, yet chose to resolve it by ignoring me for a night, expecting me to calm down on my own. I shook her hand off, saying calmly, “The engagement is truly off. I’ll have you submit my resignation letter for me.” Ben suddenly rushed forward, blocking me, bowing and apologizing profusely. “Mr. Will! It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have come here and made you think I was taking your place!” “I’ll go resign right now and never appear before Ms. Vance again!” With those words, he hurried out the door. Sally clenched her fists tightly, shoving me hard, raging, “Will! Will you only be happy if you drive Ben to his death?! The whole company was talking about him yesterday, and he only fined you to set an example for others!” “If he doesn’t live and travel with me, he’ll be ostracized by everyone in the company! I’m making amends for you! There’s nothing between Ben and me; can you put away your filthy thoughts?!” I crashed against the hallway cabinet, the bones in my lower back almost breaking. She left, slamming the door, without even looking back once. 3 I had my employment documents ready to proceed with joining Thorne & Co., but before I could leave, Sally’s secretary called me. “Mr. Will, Vice President Ben hasn’t approved your resignation letter. He requests you come to the office in person, and this is also Ms. Vance’s wish.” Ms. Vance’s wish. This was a blatant attempt to force me back. If my resignation wasn’t processed, the bid project would remain with Sally’s company. That project was one I had secured after repeatedly humbling myself; now that it had won, I had to take it with me. Ben looked down at me, contemptuously tossing the resignation letter to the floor. “My apologies, Will. Have you been Vice President for so many years that you can’t even write a proper resignation letter? The project handover isn’t clearly detailed, so I can’t approve it.” Looking at the resignation letter, revised dozens of times, I clenched my hands, letting out a scoff. “Intentionally targeting me? Ben, I just disdain to argue with you, otherwise, do you really think you’re qualified for this Vice President position?” I picked up the report, looking at him coldly. “Speaking of which, you reminded me. The projects I’ve handled over the years are all critical to the company’s lifeline. It’s certainly not up to you to approve.” Ben, smugly, blocked my way, pushing a lace negligee into my hand. “You’re going to see Ms. Vance, right? Good. Please return this negligee to Ms. Vance for me. Last night, Ms. Vance insisted on wearing this to cheer me up because I was in a bad mood.” “Let me tell you, forget about firing you for not replying to a message. Even if I said you walked into the company with your left foot first, Ms. Vance would listen to me and tell you to get out!” “Oh, I almost forgot, this outfit got dirty last night because we got a little carried away. Will, could you please wash it before returning it? After all, you’ve done plenty of laundry and cooking before.” Rage surged from my feet to my head. I could no longer restrain myself and swung my fist at his face. “Ben, you’re actually proud of being a homewrecker, aren’t you?!” The force was clearly not great, yet he thumped to the ground, clutching his face, crying and apologizing. “Will, I was wrong! But the resignation letter has to follow this procedure! Hitting me won’t help, everyone has to follow the process!” Accompanying his words was a furious kick to the door. Sally, seeing him on the floor, didn’t hesitate for a moment. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. “Will! How dare you hit Ben!” A searing pain flared on my face. I looked at Sally’s piercingly cold eyes, and it took me a moment to realize what had happened. “Apologize.” Her voice was icy and merciless, her gaze like millennia of frozen ice, chilling me to the bone. “Won’t you even ask what happened?!” My eyes reddened, my head throbbing. I felt like I was about to collapse. “You laid hands on Ben and still think it’s his fault?! You’re truly irrational now, get out of my way! I need to take Ben to the hospital!” She impatiently shoved me. My ears rang, my head spun, and with that push, I actually fell to the floor. She paused, pulling Ben’s hand, about to help me up, when Ben suddenly cried out in agony. “Ms. Vance, what do we do? I feel so dizzy. I wonder if Will’s punch just now injured my brain!” Sally’s eyes were filled with anxious concern. She looked at me, then back at Ben, and finally let go of me. Before I lost consciousness, the only thing in my mind was that deafening slap. And the unbelievable, yet undeniable, truth. The person who once said she would never let me suffer, who worried when she saw me doing dishes and cooking, had actually raised her hand to hit me for another man.

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The moment she clinched her third straight Best Actress award, right there on live television, with millions watching, my wife stood in a wedding gown, holding a ring I’d designed, and proposed to her agent. Her circle of friends, a flurry of retweets and well wishes, declared it was high time they got together. I, too, quietly posted a comment: “Truly touching. Best wishes.” The next second, my phone rang. It was my wife, fuming. “Don’t be childish, Mark. This is the ninety-ninth task. Once I’m done with the last one, I’ll go public with us.” 1. The live chat was still flooded with congratulations. I calmly ate the dinner that had long gone cold in front of me. It tasted awful. Much like the meager affection between Elara and me – flavorless, yet somehow hard to discard. The video of Elara’s passionate, heartfelt proposal to Jason Reed on the awards stage quickly went viral. The comment section was a unanimous chorus of fans praising them for finally finding their happily ever after, calling them soulmates. I expressionlessly set down my chopsticks and opened Elara’s social media. Her latest post was a photo of her and Jason locked in a deep embrace, captioned: “Finally found you, glad I never gave up.” Below it, her close friends chimed in with identical blessings. “My OTP is finally together!” “This is what fairy tale love looks like!” I scoffed, then casually typed a comment: “Truly touching. Best wishes.” After sending it, I tossed my phone aside and drained the remaining red wine in my glass. A bitter taste spread through my mouth, mirroring the raw emotion churning inside me. Knowing she might win, I’d specifically cleared my schedule. I’d prepared a table full of her favorite dishes and uncorked a cherished bottle of red wine, intending to celebrate with her. Because of Jason, our relationship had steadily deteriorated. I’d tried to confront her countless times, but each attempt ended with her giving me the cold shoulder and me, inevitably, giving in. This time, I had thought, after she won the award, we’d finally have that talk, clear the air. She’d even promised me she’d come home to celebrate with me tonight, putting Jason aside. I sat in front of the TV, brimming with anticipation, waiting for her winning moment, ready to cheer for her, waiting for her to come home. And what did I get? I watched her, tears welling in her eyes, change into a wedding gown. From her assistant’s hand, she took an exquisite velvet box, slowly opening it. Inside lay a pair of rings—a pair I had personally designed, meant for our long-overdue wedding ceremony. “Jason,” she said, her voice filled with deep affection, looking out at the audience. “I know you’ve always been there. Thank you for tolerating all my quirks and shortcomings, for being the man behind me. I…” Her voice caught, tears glistening in her eyes. “For my hundredth little gesture for you… will you marry me?” My wife, on a grand awards stage, before the entire world, had proposed to another man. It was utterly, brutally ironic. I felt like I’d been slapped hard across the face, a scorching pain blooming on my cheeks. 2. She knew how much that ring meant to me, how much thought and effort I’d poured into it. Three years of dating, seven years of marriage. When we got married, her career was just taking off. Her agent insisted that going public would harm her prospects. I understood. I supported her. I willingly became the man in the shadows. She promised that at the right time, she would reveal our relationship. I believed her, and for three years, I worked tirelessly, day and night, designing this wedding ring. I revised it countless times, pouring all my heart and soul into it. I had so hoped it would be a testament to our love. I wanted to give her a magnificent wedding, to personally place this unique ring on her finger, and then tell the world she was my wife. Instead, she put it on Jason’s hand, turning it into a cruel thorn in my heart. My phone screen lit up. It was a video call from Elara. Against my better judgment, I answered. The scene that greeted me sent a chill down my spine. In a bathroom, Elara, dressed in a seductive nightgown I’d never seen before—lace and sheer fabric outlining her graceful figure—was carefully reapplying lipstick in the mirror. Jason held the phone, wearing only a bathrobe. “Honey, what are you doing?” Elara playfully rolled her eyes at him, every curve of her lips and eyelids exuding charm. The call ended. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my phone and typed a message: “Let’s get a divorce.” The message sent, my heart felt hollowed out, empty, leaving only an expanse of bitter emptiness. Three hours later, Elara’s call finally came through, laced with pure venom. “Mark, what the hell is wrong with you? What’s with this sudden divorce talk in the middle of the night?” “I’m home. Where are you?” I asked, my voice cold. “I’m celebrating with the team, why?” Her tone carried a hint of impatience. I scoffed. “Elara, do you really take me for a fool?” Elara’s voice hardened. “Believe what you want! I don’t have time for your drama, I’m busy right now!” Seeing her utter nonchalance, I suddenly felt a profound sense of weariness. “Elara, let’s get a divorce. I’m serious.” I hung up. My mind replayed the last ten years with Elara, every single memory. I picked up my suitcase and walked out of the house without a backward glance. The second floor of my studio had a lounge, a place I usually used for quick naps. Now, it was my temporary refuge. I sat slumped on the cold floor, drinking. In a haze, I dreamt of when Elara and I first got together. She was so young and innocent then, her eyes full of adoration for me. I’d casually mentioned wanting a new gaming console. She’d said, “Waste of money,” but secretly, she’d saved up for ages, scrimping and sacrificing, just to buy it for me. Her joy then was purer than any gift she could have received. 3. I woke the next day with a splitting headache. My phone screen flashed with dozens of unread messages, all from Elara. “Where are you? Why aren’t you answering?” “I bought your favorite matcha cake, when are you coming home?” “Mark, can you please stop being so unreasonable?” “Is this about Jason again? Don’t push it too far!” Unreasonable? Pushing it? I scoffed and blocked her number. When did I become the unreasonable, irrational one in her eyes? Perhaps it was when she started publicly documenting her “100 small gestures for Jason” on social media. I’d questioned her then, and she’d nonchalantly brushed it off. “It’s just to keep up appearances, to grab attention.” I believed her. Again and again, I chose to trust her, lowering my boundaries each time. I convinced myself to understand her, to be empathetic. I thought that once she completed her 100 gestures, she would settle down with me. But I was wrong. Her attitude toward me grew increasingly perfunctory, increasingly impatient. Our arguments became more frequent, each ending with my surrender. I was afraid she would really leave me, even more afraid of losing her. I was forced to accept her late-night trips to the beach with Jason to watch the sunrise. I accepted their passionate kiss in a bar on our anniversary. I even accepted her taking off for a month-long trip abroad with Jason without a word. She never told me about these things; I always found out from her social media updates. Every time I saw them, it felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Everyone else was cheering for their love, while I swallowed all my grievances alone. The ridiculous part was, I still had to pretend everything was normal, asking her, “Busy with work lately?” She’d always answer nonchalantly, “Hmm, I guess.” And then, nothing. It was as if an insurmountable chasm had opened between us. I was an outsider, watching my wife openly flirt with another man. I wanted to let go countless times, but each time I saw her return home exhausted, saw her occasional flashes of vulnerability, my heart softened. I lied to myself, saying it was just for work, just an act. But now I finally understood: I had lost, completely and utterly. An email popped into my inbox, sender: Daniel William, a renowned designer. The email was concise, expressing admiration for my design style and a sincere invitation to join his team. My fingers trembled slightly as I replied, accepting his offer. Deep down, I still wanted to prove that without Elara, without this marriage, I, Mark, could live a more fulfilling life. That afternoon, I was buried in perfecting a design draft in my studio when Elara suddenly appeared. She was wearing a perfectly tailored white suit today, sunglasses hiding her eyes but not the star aura emanating from her. My colleagues couldn’t help but steal glances and whisper about her. She had always been proud; after the first year of our relationship, she never came to my studio again. Before, if she could just come by to see me, I would be ecstatic, like a fool, wanting to tell the whole world she was my wife. But now, I merely gave her a fleeting glance and continued working. “Mark, why aren’t you talking to me?” She walked over, draped her arms intimately around mine, her voice a slight whine. I felt uncomfortable with her closeness, subtly pulled my hand away, and said flatly, “Something wrong?” “Last night, I was too caught up in the celebration, I forgot to celebrate with you. Can we make it up tonight?” “No need, I don’t think we have anything to celebrate.” Elara froze, a hint of hurt in her voice. “Mark, what’s wrong? Are you still angry with me?” “If you don’t have anything important, please go home. I have a lot of work to do,” I said coldly, unwilling to waste any more words on her. She bit her lip, her eyes slightly red. “Don’t be mad. Shall we go to dinner together?” Looking at her pitiful expression and the curious stares of my colleagues, I finally gave in. “Let’s go.” 4. I pulled open the passenger door, only to be met by a pair of men’s slippers. I looked at Elara, expressionless. “Jason’s. I’ll put them in the back,” she stammered, grabbing the slippers and tossing them into the back seat, her embarrassment barely concealed. I said nothing, sliding into the car, but my hand froze before buckling my seatbelt. Tucked into the crease was a used condom, still there. I couldn’t maintain my composure anymore. I snatched the damn thing out and flung it onto the seat. Elara’s face instantly went pale. Her lips moved, but no words came out. Of course, she knew what it meant. I slammed the door and got into the back seat. I watched her coldly, like a stranger, a stranger who made me sick. The white suit she wore today was clearly a matching set with the one Jason posted on his social media last week. I casually glanced at the back seat. Jason’s personal items were scattered everywhere: spare clothes, his usual hairspray, even an unread script… Before, Elara would always complain about my messy things, insisting no clutter in the car, saying it ruined the aesthetic. Now, Jason’s things shamelessly occupied her car. Just like their relationship, shamelessly occupying my life, my marriage. All this time, I had been deceiving myself, deliberately ignoring those glaring details, pretending everything was normal. But now, this car full of “evidence” had slapped me awake, leaving me nowhere to hide. “Mark, listen to me, my hundred gestures for Jason are over. I’ll find a way to go public with us.” Elara’s voice was laced with panic and a plea. Over? So what? The thought of her using my designed ring to propose to Jason in public made me realize this marriage had long ceased to be worth anything. Rain drizzled outside the window. I felt a little drowsy. A jarring screech of brakes jolted me awake. I looked up to see a familiar figure standing in front of the car. Jason. He was soaked through, rain dripping from his hair, his face pale, looking utterly miserable. Elara frantically unlatched the door and rushed out. “Jason, are you okay? Were you hit?” I watched her coldly as she ran to Jason, meticulously checking him for injuries. Elara helped Jason into the car, then turned to me, anxiously. “Mark, Jason’s soaked. Can I drop him home first, then we can go to dinner?” Seeing her frantic expression, the last flicker of hope in my heart died out. “Go ahead and drop him off,” I said expressionlessly. “Pull over somewhere with cover and let me out.” “Mark, why are you being so suspicious again? I’m just worried Jason will get a fever,” Elara frowned, clearly annoyed. “I understand. Just drop me off, then you can go.” I thought I sounded quite composed, even a little nonchalant. Elara’s voice suddenly rose, full of anger and accusation. “Jason has been in the rain for so long; do you really have to be so suspicious now? Will you only be satisfied if he gets sick?” At that moment, Jason weakly spoke up, “Elara, it’s fine. I’ll just call a cab later. Don’t let me disrupt your dinner.” I watched their interaction, finding it incredibly jarring. “No, you can’t. You’re soaked like this, what if you get a fever?” Elara refused without thinking, her voice full of worry. Sitting in the back seat, watching their intimate gestures, I suddenly felt incredibly ridiculous. Elara seemed to lose patience. She snapped at me fiercely: “If you don’t want to come along, then get out now. Don’t waste our time.” She reached to pull me out of the car. A sharp pain pierced my heart, and I let her push me out. The heavy rain poured down, instantly drenching me. I stood by the roadside, watching Elara drive away without hesitation. It was hard to find a cab in the downpour. I walked for a long time before finally reaching a sheltered spot. I was soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollably. By the time I got back to the studio, I was burning up, my mind hazy. Thankfully, a colleague working late saw me and rushed me to the hospital. In and out of consciousness, I saw my colleague bustling around, buying me porridge, pouring me water. Eating the bland congee, tears streamed down my face, unstoppable. How long had it been since someone cared for me like this? I suddenly remembered how, when we first dated, if I got sick, Elara would drop everything and rush to my side to take care of me. Now, only a colleague was by my side. Upon returning to the studio, I sent Elara an email. The content was simple, just one line: “I’ve drafted the divorce papers. Sign them.” I scrolled through my phone. There were a few messages from Elara, all sent half an hour ago, asking if I had gotten home. Her tone was as demanding as ever, with a perfunctory concern: “Don’t be so childish next time. I’m not going anywhere.” “Learn to be as considerate and generous as Jason, stop being so petty.” “I’ll give you all the security you want, don’t be so small-minded. I’ll come home to stay with you tonight.” Reading these messages, I let out a humorless laugh. She probably hadn’t been back to our house since the awards, having no idea I had already moved out. I expressionlessly blocked her number. Out of sight, out of mind.

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A male actor, fresh off a few “CEO romance” web series, truly believed he was a CEO himself. After yet another argument with his girlfriend, and to pacify his “darling,” he abandoned a production crew of over five hundred people without a second thought, flying away that very night. The next day, filming was set to begin, but the male lead was nowhere to be found. His hotel room was empty. Dozens of messages were sent, all falling into a void. It wasn’t until evening that he leisurely video-called: “Director, I went to appease my girlfriend. Filming is on hold.” Director Stone was furious. “Nonsense! All locations, all other actors are scheduled! How can we stop production?!” Hearing this, Lucas’s expression was innocent, yet his tone carried a condescending air. “Then what can we do? My girlfriend won’t allow me to film kissing scenes with any woman but her.” “If you want me back, the female lead must be her.” “Even if she hasn’t acted before, we’re a couple. We’re the best official pairing.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over me, standing beside the director. “As for the original female lead, she can just be my girlfriend’s maid.” Director Stone was livid, trembling all over. “Absolutely not! The actress has done nothing wrong, how can I just replace her?” Lucas smiled slowly, deliberately. “If you don’t agree, then I won’t act.” “It’s your call.” 1. “You! Are you threatening me?” The director’s voice was shaking, his phone nearly crushed in his hand. On the video call, Lucas leaned back leisurely on the sofa in his hotel suite, his posture relaxed. “No, Director,” he smiled, “I’m just stating my position.” Director Stone took a deep breath, suppressing his anger. “Lucas, we sent you this script a month in advance. If you didn’t want it, you didn’t have to take the role.” “A month. Couldn’t you tell how many kissing scenes were in it?” Lucas shrugged. “I don’t read them. I only look at the lines on the day of filming.” “It’s your problem. You know I have a girlfriend, and you still gave me a sweet romance script.” Director Stone was instantly speechless. “Lucas, you’re an actor, isn’t this your job?” “Besides, since when did I know you had a girlfriend?” This series was his brainchild, two years in the making. The locations, lighting, and other actors’ schedules were all meticulously planned. Now, with the male lead gone, everything had to be scrapped and started anew. Lucas said nothing, just raised an eyebrow. “How about this?” Director Stone remained silent for a long time before finally speaking. “The show is already half-filmed. What kind of example is it to abandon it halfway? And we’ve already officially announced it.” “All the intimate scenes, I’ll have them done with forced perspective, guaranteeing you won’t touch the female lead at all. How about that?” Lucas frowned. “No,” he said, a hint of helplessness in his voice. “My girlfriend keeps a tight leash on me. Not even forced perspective is allowed.” “She said as long as I have intimate scenes with another woman, even if they’re fake, she won’t accept it.” Director Stone collapsed. “Then what will it take for you to come back?” “I told you.” Lucas smirked, still looking utterly arrogant. “Either we pause for a month until I’ve pacified my girlfriend.” “If I make her happy, maybe she’ll let me do the forced perspective scenes.” “Or, you replace the female lead with my girlfriend.” Director Stone completely slumped, defeated. After a long silence, he struggled to speak again. “Is there a third option?” He looked up at the screen, his eyes red-rimmed. “I searched long and hard for this actress; her acting and image are perfectly suited for this role.” “And she’s done nothing wrong! I can’t replace her. And we absolutely cannot stop production.” Lucas’s face shifted. He spoke impatiently. “Director Stone, I’m not discussing this with you; I’m informing you.” He articulated each word clearly. “If I go back now, she’ll break up with me.” “If I lose my girlfriend, can you bear the responsibility?” I had been standing by, watching the entire exchange, and finally couldn’t take it anymore. “May I speak to him?” Director Stone looked at me, hesitated for a moment, then handed me the phone. I took the phone. The face on the screen saw me, raised an eyebrow, and looked utterly disdainful. I ignored him, my voice calm. “How about this? You both come back, and let her join the cast as my stand-in.” “You two can film the romantic scenes. I guarantee there will be no physical contact between you and me.” “That way, she can be on set watching you, and you won’t have to worry about her breaking up with you.” Director Stone looked at me, his eyes full of gratitude. This was indeed the most reasonable compromise we could think of. But Lucas chuckled softly. He looked me up and down, his gaze sweeping over my face, then slowly began to speak. “You? Have my girlfriend be your stand-in?” He leaned forward slightly, as if confirming something amusing. “Do you even think you’re worthy?” He leaned back on the sofa, his voice dripping with condescending pity. “You’re not as pretty as my girlfriend.” “I refuse. She can only be the lead actress, never anyone’s stand-in.” My grip on the phone tightened. Then he averted his gaze, looking at Director Stone behind me, his voice raising a notch: “Director, if you don’t make the change, then I’m out!” “Go find another male lead yourself.” “All the expenses and delays will amount to more than just a month!” Director Stone sprang to his feet, snatching the phone and angrily exclaiming: “No! We signed a contract!” “What’s a contract?” Lucas laughed, his eyes arrogant. “Don’t forget, I’m a trending actor with half a million followers across all platforms.” “This show relies on me to attract viewership.” “Without me, what are you?” With that, the screen went black. He had hung up. When I tried to call back, his phone was off. 2. Smash— Director Stone, furious, threw his phone to the ground. The screen instantly shattered into a spiderweb. “What an arrogant jerk!” He paced back and forth in the room, gritting his teeth in anger. “If you don’t want it, then don’t film it!” he yelled into the empty air, then slumped back into his chair, defeated. The room was silent for a long time. After about fifteen minutes, Director Stone looked up at me. His eyes were bloodshot, but he had calmed down. “Jane,” he began, his voice hoarse, “the male lead isn’t coming. We need a new one.” “Do you know anyone? Or have any recommendations?” I paused. A name suddenly flashed through my mind. “Director,” I said, “there’s an actor. He doesn’t say much, but his acting is excellent.” Director Stone’s eyes lit up. “Who?” “His name is Ethan Cole.” Director Stone frowned, thinking for a long time. “Never heard the name.” “He mainly acts in serious dramas, doesn’t do many variety shows,” I explained, “but his acting is truly superb, and his image suits this role even better than Lucas’s.” Director Stone mused, “Do you have his contact information?” I nodded. I called him, and he answered quickly. I briefly explained the situation. There was a two-second silence on his end, then he said one word: “Okay.” That same afternoon, Ethan Cole flew in. He arrived at 7 PM, dropped his luggage, and went straight to the set. Director Stone had him try out two scenes. After watching, the director was utterly speechless. “His acting…” Director Stone murmured, “it’s leagues beyond Lucas’s.” I stood by, silent. Lucas came from a trending background; no matter what he played, he was always just himself. But Ethan was different. He was the kind of actor who could truly embody a character. The same lines, the same shots — he just stood there, and the entire scene transformed. Director Stone made a decision on the spot: “He’s the one.” This series had already been filmed for a week with Lucas. All his scenes needed to be reshot. This meant the previous week’s progress was erased, and everyone had to work overtime to make up for lost time. Normally, I would finish after ten hours of filming, but this day, we shot for a full sixteen hours. No one complained. This series was Director Stone’s passion project, and it was everyone’s passion project. Lucas might not care, but we did. At 2 AM, I finally returned to my hotel room. I was so exhausted I barely had the energy to remove my makeup. I collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My phone suddenly vibrated. I picked it up and saw a message. [How’s it going? Your show won’t get filmed without my permission.] The sender was Maya Vance. Lucas’s girlfriend. And my high school nemesis. In high school, my grades always outranked hers. She was always the perennial runner-up, and I, the perennial first. That’s why I got into the top film school. She didn’t. But she never gave up. To make a living through fame, like me, she became a provocative influencer. Later, Lucas noticed her, and they started dating. I looked at that message and suddenly wasn’t tired anymore. I typed back: [Yes, you’re so powerful. When you can’t compete on skill, you compete for a man.] She replied instantly: [What are you so proud of? Don’t think I don’t know you have a crush on my boyfriend.] [You’re just not as pretty as me, so you’ve graciously conceded.] I almost laughed out loud. Have a crush on Lucas? My taste wasn’t that bad. Not every guy who came along caught my eye. [Some people aren’t picky,] [Be careful not to upset your stomach.] She fumed: [Don’t get cocky! From what I hear, you prepared for that show for half a year, and now it’s shut down, so you can’t film it either.] [My boyfriend is a top star. Do you really think the director will give up on him?] [Leave him to cool his heels for a month, and he’ll come crawling back begging.] I stared at the screen for a few seconds, which then made me amused. Half a million followers and he’s a “top star”? A high school dropout who got picked by a talent scout by chance to be a web series actor just because he was good-looking. After a few months of acting, he actually thought he was some big shot? No acting skills, no education—only she would consider him a treasure. I yawned, then replied: [Oh really? I hope your wish comes true.] After sending that last message, I closed my eyes and fell asleep instantly. 3. For the next month, we filmed almost in complete isolation. Everyone poured their heart and soul into it, working from dawn till dusk, wishing they could stretch every minute into two. No one leaked a single piece of news. No behind-the-scenes glimpses, no candid shots, no whispers. From the outside, it looked like the production had halted. Lucas probably thought the same. He and Maya were completely unrestrained. In their social media feeds, they were in Miami one day, Vegas the next, then off to Aspen. All sorts of check-ins, all sorts of couple photos, captions dripping with suggestive intimacy. I got tired of seeing their updates every day, so I just blocked both of them. A month later, wrap day. After the last scene was filmed, Director Stone stood behind the monitor, his eyes red-rimmed. “Thank you, everyone,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse. “Thank you for staying with me to finish this show.” A week after wrapping, I received an invitation to my high school reunion. I wasn’t going to go, but the class president personally called, saying it was rare for everyone to be together, and they all really wanted to see me. I thought about it and decided to go. The location was a hotel in the city center. When I arrived, the private room was already full. Seeing me walk in, a few people stood up to greet me. “Jane is here! Our big star!” I smiled, exchanged a few pleasantries, and found a corner seat. Just as I sat down, the door opened again. Maya walked in, arm-in-arm with Lucas. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder red gown, her makeup flawless, her heels clicking loudly. The moment she entered, everyone crowded around her. “Maya! Long time no see!” “Is this your boyfriend? Wow, he’s so handsome!” “I heard he’s an actor? What has he been in?” Maya smugly lifted her chin, clinging to Lucas’s arm, and said in a sweet voice, “Oh, him? He’s been in lots of shows, they’re all pretty good.” Someone asked, “How come we haven’t seen them much?” Lucas chuckled, his tone casual, “I mostly do web series. Haven’t gotten into full-length dramas yet.” “Oh, web series…” The person nodded, then paused and added, “But web series are pretty good too.” “Hey, Jane also does web series. I heard a show called The General’s Disfavor recently blew up.” “The press conference is tomorrow, let’s go check it out!” Lucas froze. He glanced at Maya, then smiled. “That show is mine. It hasn’t finished filming yet.” Everyone exchanged puzzled looks. Lucas patted Maya’s hand, confidently saying, “They definitely know we’re back, and specifically arranged this press conference for us.” “After leaving them hanging for over a month, they finally learned their lesson.” Maya’s eyes lit up. She leaned on his shoulder. “Really? So I’ll be on stage tomorrow too?” “Of course.” Lucas put his arm around her waist. “My baby is so beautiful; her first acting role will surely steal the show, much more popular than some others.” Someone nearby asked, “Maya is acting now too?” Maya nodded, a hint of shyness on her face. “Yes, I’m the new female lead for this show. I haven’t acted before, but Lucas says I have potential.” “Wow, a real couple acting together! It must be amazing!” “So sweet!” Everyone showered them with compliments. I sat in the corner, eating my dinner, not saying a word.

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[My dad has Alzheimer’s. He keeps saying my mom and I are fakes, monsters. What do I do?] [He’s called the police 99 times, each time demanding they kill us, his son and me. The police are more exasperated than we are.] [Today, my dad tried to peel off our skin to see if we were monsters…] I scrolled through a trending post, and the comment section was full of people enjoying the drama. I, too, joined the fun and commented: [I specialize in Alzheimer’s. Bring your dad to me for treatment.] It wasn’t until the patient showed up, looking at me with fear and despair, that things got chilling. “My real son has a mole on his neck; this son doesn’t!” “My wife used to throw up at the smell of cilantro; now she eats it every day!” “They’re fakes, but they say I have Alzheimer’s, and the police won’t arrest them.” “Doctor, please save me.” A shiver ran down my spine. The old man’s memory was so sharp, his logic so clear and well-reasoned. He didn’t seem sick at all. 1. I promptly requested a home visit. Upon entering the house, the old man’s son, Adrian Vickers, opened the door, a wide smile on his face. “Dr. Sloane, please come in, have a seat. I’ll get you some tea.” At that moment, old Mr. Vickers tightly clutched my sleeve, pointing at Adrian’s legs. “Look at the way he walks. There’s clearly something wrong,” he whispered urgently. “But my son used to be on the track team; his legs were perfectly fine!” My gaze followed Adrian. He did indeed walk with a slight limp, as if he’d been injured. Old Mrs. Vickers, Maria Vickers, walked out, her wrinkled face furrowed with concern. “Can’t you ever just calm down, old man? Our son was in a car accident last year and injured his leg. You know that, don’t you? Have you forgotten again?” She then turned to me, sighing. “It’s fine, he’s old and confused. He mixes up his memories. Don’t take it seriously.” Old Mr. Vickers eyed his wife suspiciously, about to say something, when Adrian emerged from the kitchen. His tone was tired and resigned. “Dad, what nonsense are you telling the doctor now?” “If I weren’t your son, wouldn’t the police investigate? Wouldn’t they arrest me?” Old Mr. Vickers simmered down. I turned to Maria. “Mrs. Vickers, besides your husband’s illness, has your family always had a good relationship?” Maria nodded vigorously, her eyes filled with nostalgia. “Before Patrick got sick, everyone knew how close my husband and I were. We’ve been married fifty years, a golden anniversary! Look, we still wear our gold rings.” She held out her hand. “When our son got married, Patrick handled everything himself. We were so happy as a family.” I glanced at her ring; it was clearly an old style, worn for a long time, heavily abraded. “So, does Mr. Vickers also suspect his daughter-in-law is a fake?” She shook her head. “No, he only says my son and I are monsters. But if we were monsters, wouldn’t our daughter-in-law know? He’s just old and has become a lunatic!” A certain word seemed to suddenly provoke old Mr. Vickers. He instantly became agitated. “Don’t listen to her! Dr. Sloane, these two monsters must have peeled off my wife’s and son’s skin, put it on, and now they’re keeping watch over me, wanting to devour me whole!” “I’m not sick at all! But they keep telling you I’m crazy and demented! They just want to kill me!” “Dr. Sloane, you must save me!” The more he spoke, the more agitated he became, his chest heaving violently. Adrian and Maria stepped forward simultaneously, reaching out to support him. “Don’t touch me!” He roared, batting away their hands, his eyes filled with pure terror and revulsion. “You skin-stealing monsters, stay away from me!” I quickly moved to calm old Mr. Vickers, glancing at the mother and son’s weary, helpless faces. Feeling the timing was wrong, I escorted old Mr. Vickers back to his room before concluding the family visit. As I was about to head downstairs, the iron gate next door creaked open slightly. An old man poked half his body out, beckoned to me, and whispered: “You’re the doctor for the Vickers family, right?” “Is Patrick acting up again?” My heart stirred. “Sir, are you well acquainted with Mr. Vickers?” “Acquainted! How could I not be acquainted!” “We’ve been neighbors for decades. We watched Adrian grow from a little tyke to a young man. He used to call me ‘Uncle.’” “Sigh, they’re all good people, but Patrick’s been muddled these past two years. He doesn’t even recognize his own wife and son anymore. It’s such a tragedy!” 2. My eyes flickered. “The old man’s family, have their faces always looked like this?” The neighbor’s tone was very certain: “Exactly like this, never changed! If their faces changed, how could the neighbors not notice?” “Patrick used to be quite superstitious, always burning incense and praying. Now that he’s old, he tells everyone his wife and son are skin-peeling monsters. I suspect he’s gone mad. Doctor, you can’t believe a word he says!” I quickly pressed for more information. “Have you noticed any changes in their habits or personalities, the mother and son, compared to before?” The neighbor frowned, trying hard to recall. “Patrick used to always tell us that Adrian fell into an abandoned bunker when he was little and became terrified of the dark ever since.” “We all knew he had to sleep with a night light on, and the hallway lights in their house stayed on all night.” “But for the past year or so, their hallway lights haven’t been on much. Sometimes I even see Adrian taking out the trash at night, and he’s not afraid of the dark stairwell at all. He can walk in the dark.” “But he’s forty now, so it’s normal for the kid to have grown a backbone.” Armed with this information, I quickly thanked the neighbor and headed straight to the hospital. In the electronic archives, I searched for Adrian Vickers’s file. Finally, I found a pediatric emergency record from over thirty years ago. Patient: Adrian Vickers, Age: 7. Chief Complaint: Fell into a hole, excessively frightened, with minor abrasions. Treatment: Wound cleaning and bandaging. Diagnosed with nyctophobia (fear of darkness), prone to panic attacks and stress trauma. I was deep in thought. There aren’t two identical wives and sons in the world. If the family members had been swapped, and the police had been called 99 times, they couldn’t possibly ignore it. And it couldn’t be plastic surgery; everyone gets surgery to look younger and better, who would get surgery to look older, and for what purpose? But then again, could Adrian’s extreme fear of the dark, a stress disorder that hadn’t been cured in decades, suddenly disappear? Old Mr. Vickers’s thinking was clear, and he spoke factually, not like someone with Alzheimer’s. Doubt instantly multiplied. I couldn’t understand what was going on. Just then, I received a call from Adrian. His voice was anxious. “Dr. Sloane, my dad has locked us out of the house! He insists we’re skin-peeling monsters who came to harm him!” “Please help us. My dad gets so agitated, so crazy. I’m really afraid his condition will worsen and he’ll kill all of us.” Through the phone, I could still hear old Mr. Vickers’s agitated shouts and curses. Twenty minutes later, I arrived at their house. Old Mrs. Vickers, Maria, sat in the hallway, her back hunched, sighing deeply. Adrian stood at the door, looking at me as if I were his savior. “Dr. Sloane, please tell my dad right away that he’s just confused from his illness. Tell him to take his medicine and stop making a fuss.” Beside him stood a young woman with a slightly rounded belly, presumably his wife. I knocked on the door: “Mr. Vickers, it’s me, Dr. Sloane.” The door was silent for a moment, then came the sound of unlocking. The door opened a crack, revealing Mr. Vickers’s old and wary face. Seeing it was indeed me, he opened the door completely. He pulled me into the house, quickly closed the door, and double-locked it. “Doctor, look!” He grinned, showing his teeth. “These monsters can’t get in now!” “From now on, I won’t let them into my house again!” His face even showed a hint of childlike triumph. I looked at him, my heart heavy. Alzheimer’s can cause memory confusion and difficulty recognizing loved ones. But it doesn’t typically trigger such concrete, targeted paranoid delusions against specific family members. What exactly was going on with this family? “Mr. Vickers, shall we talk?” I helped him to the sofa. He clutched my arm tightly. “Doctor, I’m not sick, truly not sick.” “I know,” I patted his hand, my voice gently reassuring. “Can you tell me why you hung that photo frame face down?” I pointed to the photo frame by the TV cabinet. I had noticed it the first time I came. The frame was turned over, the photo facing the wall. It was a very strange thing, yet in this seemingly harmonious family, no one had seemed bothered by it. 3. Old Mr. Vickers’s eyes became hazy and fearful. “That photo, it’s wrong.” He pointed at the little boy in the photo. “My Adrian, he has a small red birthmark behind his ear. This child in the photo doesn’t, and neither does the son now.” “The photo must be fake, so I have to cover it up!” His accusation once again focused on extremely subtle physiological characteristics that outsiders could not possibly notice. “Mr. Vickers,” I narrowed my eyes, softening my voice. “When did you start feeling like something was wrong with them?” Old Mr. Vickers’s breathing suddenly quickened. “A year ago, after that car accident!” “The mother and son were in a car accident together. They stayed in the hospital for a few days. I brought them home, but their eyes looked at me coldly!” “We’ve relied on each other for decades. How could their eyes look so unfamiliar to me?” “One is my wife, one is my son. You might not notice, but I did!” My heart gave a sudden jolt. Old Mr. Vickers had always said his son’s legs were fine, but his wife said Adrian’s leg was injured in a car accident. Now, old Mr. Vickers himself was saying his son had been in a car accident. His memory was indeed confused. But his details were too precise, not consistent with Alzheimer’s. I stood up and opened the door, letting the three outside come in. “Mrs. Vickers, Mr. Vickers,” I said, my voice serious. “Given Mr. Vickers’s current mental state, and his repeated emphasis on specific differences, I strongly suggest you undergo a DNA paternity test.” “After the blood test, whether he has Alzheimer’s or not, he won’t say you’re fakes anymore.” “A DNA test?” Adrian’s face was a mixture of absurdity and anger. “Dr. Sloane, what do you mean by this? Do I really have to prove to my dad that I’m his son? This is ridiculous!” Old Mr. Vickers, however, found it plausible. “Do it, do it! I agree!” Old Mrs. Vickers, Maria, sighed heavily and pulled a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket. “Dr. Sloane, I’ve already done a DNA test. The old man already overthinks things, and I was afraid he’d die of anger if he knew I did this, so I never brought it out.” I looked down at the report. It was indeed a DNA identification report issued by a third-party testing agency, and the conclusion was clear as day: It supports the existence of a biological parent-child relationship between Patrick Vickers and Adrian Vickers. “Dad! I am your son, the real deal, no fakes, you see now!” Adrian handed the report to Old Mr. Vickers. Old Mr. Vickers snatched the report, his cloudy eyes fixed on the lines of text. At first, there was confusion. Then, a profound fear and despair crept onto his face. “Impossible! This is impossible!” He violently tore the report to shreds, scattering them everywhere. “Fake! This test is fake! You’re all ganging up to trick me! Monsters! You monsters! You peeled off my wife’s and son’s skin! And now you want to fool me with this flimsy paper!” He agitatedly pointed at Maria. “My wife used to throw up at the smell of cilantro, but you can’t go a meal without it. Don’t tell me you suddenly developed a taste for it after seventy years of hating it!” Then he pointed at Adrian. “My son’s legs are perfectly fine, and he has a red birthmark behind his ear! You, this monster, don’t!” “You can’t fool me! Do it again! I want another test!” I quickly tried to calm him. “Then let’s do it again. I know a very reputable testing center; I can help expedite it, and we’ll get the results quickly.” Adrian and Maria almost simultaneously objected: “No!” Maria’s face darkened slightly. “Dr. Sloane, we asked you to help cure my husband, to stop him from being so confused, not to stir up trouble!” “A DNA test costs four or five thousand. Our family isn’t rolling in gold bricks. One test is enough; why do another?” “Or do you also think we’re fakes? Is your mind as muddled as the old man’s?” I looked at Maria, my tone respectful. “Mrs. Vickers, you misunderstand. I also want to cure Mr. Vickers’s illness as soon as possible.” “His crux is that he firmly believes you are impostors, and he is constantly in a state of fear and stress. Eventually, he will either stab you or commit suicide!” “You love him so much, you surely don’t want a tragedy to happen. Do another DNA test, and he’ll have his answer about whether you are family.” “He has no issues with his daughter-in-law. How about we have her go?” The Vickers mother and son finally relented. Maria sighed, waving her hand. “Clara, you go.” I handed two toothbrushes to the young woman, Clara, along with the expedited testing center address. Clara’s eyes flickered slightly, as if she was struggling, but she quickly agreed. “I’ll go get the expedited test done right now.” I helped the disoriented Mr. Vickers sit down on the sofa. He was trembling all over, muttering repeatedly. “That mole… the birthmark… cilantro… they changed after the car accident… they all want to harm me…” Adrian and Maria sat on the dining chairs, their expressions grim. As the suffocating silence nearly reached its peak, Clara, the daughter-in-law, rushed in with a sealed envelope. “Mom, the DNA test results are in—”

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My Oscar-winning husband, upon hearing I was pregnant, excitedly posted online: [My Queen is pregnant! What else can I give her besides a yacht, a mansion, and a private jet?] Seeing the pregnancy test stick he’d proudly shared, I took a deep breath and decided to play along, making our announcement official: [Send me a plane ticket! We need to be together, always and everywhere!] The next second, my social media exploded, trending with furious comments: [Aria Atour, are you a sow? Trying to claim Adam Vance’s baby with Lexi Wilson? Disgusting.] I was utterly bewildered. Clicking into Lexi Wilson’s live stream, I saw her, dressed in my loungewear, sitting in the new mansion Adam had bought for me, imperiously selecting a prenatal nutritionist. I was livid. I called in, demanding she get out of my house. However, as we confronted each other, Adam’s private account suddenly appeared in Lexi’s live stream, showering her with 9,999 “Carnivals” and publicly declaring his love. Lexi, emboldened by Adam’s public display, dared me to meet her at the mansion. Fueled by a desire to confront the other woman, I rushed over. But Lexi, right in front of me, produced a marriage certificate, the property deed, and Adam’s signed prenatal records. Staring at their “proof” of love, I called my husband: “If you don’t explain your relationship with Lexi today, don’t even think about stepping foot in my house again!” … When my Oscar-winning husband, Leo Sterling, found out I was pregnant, he was ecstatic. Not content with gifting me a yacht, a mansion, and a private jet, he immediately turned to the internet for advice: [My Queen is pregnant! What else can I give her besides a yacht, a mansion, and a private jet?] Looking at the positive pregnancy test stick he’d shamelessly posted on social media, a sweet warmth spread through me. I quickly replied, grinning: [Send me a plane ticket! We need to be together, always and everywhere!] The moment I hit enter, my unread messages went wild, skyrocketing to 999+ in the blink of an eye. Before checking, I felt a flutter of nerves. We’d kept our marriage and my pregnancy a secret for Leo’s career. Now that he’d suddenly exposed the baby, I worried whether joy or sorrow awaited us. But when I clicked into my messages, I was speechless. Every single one was cursing me for chasing clout: [Aria Atour, can you stop trying to grab attention? You were already practically driven out of the industry, how are you still so shameless?] [You want to claim Adam Vance and Lexi Wilson’s baby? Please, consider if you’re even worthy!] [I’m done, I’m truly done. Aria Atour, your desperation is palpable. “Always and everywhere”? I’d slap you so hard you’d stick to the wall and couldn’t be peeled off!] I pursed my lips, exasperated. I was pregnant. What did Lexi Wilson have to do with anything? This Lexi had been obsessed with competing with me since she entered the industry. Now that I was practically retired, why was she still instigating her fans to cyberbully me? I clicked on Lexi’s profile, intending to send her a private message, but my finger slipped, and I ended up in her live stream. The next second, I saw Lexi, wearing my loungewear, sitting in the new mansion Leo had bought for me! I hadn’t even set foot in that mansion yet. How did she get in? I immediately sent a comment: “Who allowed you to stream from my house? Get out!” Perhaps due to the sheer number of viewers, my comment was instantly drowned out by a flood of congratulatory messages from other users. Everyone, without exception, was praising Lexi for her good fortune: [I can’t believe our Lexi was secretly married to the Oscar winner! She really is the hidden queen!] [Lexi’s nemesis, Aria Atour, just tried to ride the coattails and got completely flamed. So hilarious.] [Lexi, is this the new mansion the Oscar winner gave you? It’s so luxurious! You’re so lucky!] Lexi leaned back comfortably on the sofa, imperiously selecting prenatal nutritionists and future nannies, only occasionally responding to fans. But the more she acted like this, the more her fans praised her for her “mistress of the house” demeanor. The absurd scene made me chuckle, and I promptly sent a call-in request. Seeing my profile picture flash, the entire live stream erupted: [Oh my god, the attention-seeker even followed Lexi to her live stream! Lexi, pick up!] [Confirmed ID, it’s Aria Atour’s main account. Why is she so relentless?] Amidst the clamor, Lexi frowned, rolled her eyes, and accepted my video call. “Aria Atour, everyone says you’re an attention-seeker. I didn’t believe it before, but I can’t believe you have the nerve to chase me all the way to my live stream to call in. Do you really need me to verbally tear you down to be satisfied?” I hadn’t even gotten a word out before Lexi’s barrage of accusations, stifling me with frustration. My tone immediately lost all politeness: “Ms. Wilson, trespassing is a crime. You have five minutes to get out of my house!” Hearing my sharp command, Lexi froze, then shrieked: “Your house? Aria Atour, have you lost your mind? This is the mansion Adam just gave me!” “How can you be so shameless, lying like that to everyone’s face without blushing!” Lexi’s reaction made me laugh, albeit bitterly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am Leo Sterling’s legal wife, and this mansion is in my name!” Hearing my resolute voice, some fans recalled past events: [Aria Atour used to be constantly rumored with Oscar winner Sterling. Could it be true?] [I heard Aria Atour retired to prepare for pregnancy. Could she really be the Oscar winner’s wife?] Lexi, seeing the skeptical comments, flared up in rage. She slammed her hand on the table and yelled: “Enough! Aria Atour was forced to retire because she had no projects, what nonsense about preparing for pregnancy!” “You love to grab attention, don’t you? Today, I’ll show you proof of Adam and my love with your own eyes!” With that, she abruptly stood up and aimed the camera at the walls. Every wall in the mansion was covered with wedding photos of Lexi and Adam. My mind buzzed. I hadn’t visited this mansion once during my pregnancy because I couldn’t stand the smell of formaldehyde from the renovations. But I remembered clearly that the walls were originally adorned with expensive ancient paintings I’d collected! Leo had personally hung them and excitedly sent me photos, asking for a reward. Now, they were all replaced by their wedding pictures? I scrolled through my phone to find the photos, only to realize that too much time had passed, and those files had been automatically cleaned out. Seeing me holding my phone, utterly stunned, a stream of [hahahahaha] flashed across the comments: [Aria Atour is completely dumbfounded. She probably never expected the couple’s relationship to be this strong. The walls full of wedding photos are undeniable evidence!] [Aria Atour got what she asked for! Hurry up and apologize to Lexi!] Apologize? I’d be a pushover if I didn’t call the police on her. Seeing Lexi’s smug expression, I suppressed my anger and continued to question her: “Where are my ancient paintings? Those are priceless artifacts! Who gave you permission to replace them?” “Lexi Wilson, you better restore my house to its original state quickly, or I swear I’ll call the police on you!” Lexi frowned slightly at my furious outburst, seemingly deep in thought. However, the next second, an account with a golden name entered Lexi’s live stream. Fans quickly recognized it as Leo Sterling’s private account, and a string of “brother-in-law” comments flooded the chat: [Brother-in-law, you’re here! With us on guard, no one can bully our sister-in-law!] [Brother-in-law, I have to complain! Aria Atour is trying to grab attention again, and it made our sister-in-law angry!] [Congratulations, brother-in-law, on your baby! Brother-in-law, are you scouting locations abroad? Can you share any sneak peeks?] I said nothing, rolling my eyes at the screen. Leo’s private account was here now. I wanted to see how much longer Lexi Wilson could keep up this act. I quietly waited for Leo to clarify and apologize, but to my utter shock, Leo started showering Lexi’s live stream with “Carnivals.” What? Had the whole world gone mad? Leo, who yearned to be with me every minute, was showering my former nemesis with gifts? I stared at the ludicrous scene, dumbfounded, but Lexi smiled, her face radiating sweetness: “Thank you, darling. Darling, stop with the gifts. Once I sort things out here, I’ll come abroad to be with you.” The gift effects filled the screen, non-stop. Leo typed just one word: [Okay.] Lexi’s smile stretched so wide her mouth almost reached the back of her head, seeing that “Okay.” “Oh, and darling, this Aria Atour suddenly popped up, claiming our baby. How can there be such a shameless woman in the world?” As Lexi complained, the fans in the chat immediately started attacking me, filling the screen with curses about me trying to grab attention. After a long moment, Leo’s private account typed out a line: [Wifey, rest well. As for this attention-seeking witch, I’ll deal with her when I get back.] Seeing Leo’s promise, Lexi’s eyes narrowed into slits from her smile: “Aria Atour, what do you say? Now my husband says he’ll deal with you when he gets back. Are you scared?” “If you’re scared, hurry up and kowtow to me and apologize! Otherwise, with my husband’s power, forget the entertainment industry—I’ll make sure you can’t even get by in this country!” I couldn’t be bothered with Lexi’s taunts. I immediately sent a message to Leo’s private account: [Are you out of your mind, Leo? You know Lexi is my nemesis, why are you playing along with her act?] [Get back here and explain yourself right now, or I swear I won’t let you off!] I furiously bombarded him with private messages, but soon, my messages wouldn’t send – I had been blocked by my own husband, Leo! Seeing the glaring red exclamation mark on the screen, my heart pounded with anger, my hands trembling. What the hell was this? Did Leo hitting his head during filming abroad truly mess with his brain? While I was still trying to figure out what was happening, Lexi was already yelling my name: “A-ria! Atour!” “You were always trying to cling to my Adam, and now we have a child, and you still shamelessly try to butt in!” “Now you’ve gotten what you asked for, hurry up and kowtow to me and beg for forgiveness!” “Otherwise, if anything happens to my precious baby because of your anger, you won’t be able to bear Adam’s wrath!” I was already fuming, and her taunts spurred me into action. I immediately drove to the mansion. But standing at the mansion gates, I found that my birthday code, which Leo always used for everything, wouldn’t open the door. Leo had clearly told me all his passwords were my birthday. I tried a few more times, unwilling to give up, but still heard the cold error message. Just as I was about to try again, the door was opened from the inside. Lexi, a smug look on her face, sized me up and down, then spoke: “Everyone saw that, right? This wretch doesn’t even know the mansion’s password, yet she presumes to call herself Adam’s wife. It’s absolutely laughable!” I ignored Lexi’s provocation, directly shoved past her obstruction, and strode into the mansion. “Ms. Wilson, are you going to leave on your own, or shall I call security to escort you out?” Lexi froze for a moment, then burst into laughter: “Aria Atour, what is wrong with you? If you have mental issues, please turn right and go to the hospital. I’m a pregnant woman who needs to rest, stop repeatedly testing my patience…” Before she could finish, I loudly called for the security guards: “Get this trespassing lunatic out of here, and take down all these wedding photos and burn them!” However, after I spoke, everyone present looked at Lexi, utterly still. Lexi, surrounded as if she were a queen, defiantly lifted her chin at me: “You truly manage to surprise me every time, Aria Atour. You, a washed-up celebrity who retired from the industry, do you dream every day that you’re married to Adam?” “You think you can order around my household staff? I’m dying of laughter.” “Today, I’ll tell you this: not only is Oscar winner Sterling my husband, this mansion was also personally given to me by him. Even the housekeeper and security guards here were handpicked by me!” Seeing the reactions of everyone around me, I felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. How could this be? I certainly hadn’t been to this mansion before, but every detail, even the flowers in the garden, had been chosen according to my preferences. Why was Lexi not only familiar with this place but also able to command the staff here? I stood there, my mind flooded with questions. Lexi scoffed and shoved her phone in my face: “Take a good look at how everyone’s cursing you, you attention-seeking dog. After you’ve seen it, hurry up and kneel to apologize.” “Otherwise, when my husband gets back, we won’t let you off!” I was so angry my head swam, but the venomous insults on the screen clearly appeared before my eyes: [Aria Atour, your face is already swollen from being slapped, why won’t you leave? Do you really think Adam will look at you twice if you just cling here?] [I can’t believe how crazy Aria Atour has become in just a few months. Impressive.] [Apologize quickly! Kowtow quickly! Apologize quickly! Kowtow quickly!] My hands involuntarily clenched into fists. I glared at Lexi. “Fine, Lexi. You’re playing these games with me while my husband is out of the country, huh?” “Leo can’t come back, but his assistant didn’t go with him this time. You just wait, I’m calling his assistant right now to see who’s telling the truth!” With that, I breathed heavily and called Leo’s assistant. However, as I was dialing, Lexi suddenly twisted her body, gritting her teeth, and flung a stack of papers onto the living room table.

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Cold war, day five. I swallowed my pride, heading to Terry Edward’s place to make amends. My fingerprint stubbornly refused to unlock his door. Then the door opened, and the girl who had tormented me in high school stood there, wearing his shirt, smiling at me. Terry lazily emerged from behind her. “Know you messed up?” My heart utterly broken, I fled the country. Six months later, at a friend’s engagement party. Terry scoffed, “Audrey Hayes, you still can’t let go of me, can you?” I offered a soft smile. “I’m here to deliver my wedding invitation.” 1 It had been five days since Terry and I started our cold war. It was also our five-year anniversary. I’d carefully picked out the watch he’d been eyeing and brought a small cake, ready to patch things up. When I arrived at his villa, the fingerprint scanner kept flashing “authentication failed.” Then the door opened, and Scarlett stood there, smiling at me, wearing Terry’s shirt. My mind went blank. My feet instinctively recoiled a few steps. She was the girl who had bullied me all through high school. “Who is it?” Terry lazily poked his head out from behind Scarlett. He looked me up and down, then let out a scoff. “Audrey Walker, know you messed up?” Before I could even react, Terry pulled me inside. The villa was adorned with balloons, flowers, and champagne. The glaring neon sign Bachelor Party screamed at me. Many of his friends were in the living room. Seeing me enter, they started to tease. “Audrey, you almost let Terry join our bachelor ranks!” “Such a long cold war this time, aren’t you afraid he’d be snatched by some other girl?” Scarlett chimed in. “Don’t say that. Terry is deeply devoted to Audrey.” She pouted playfully. “Remember how he forced me to transfer schools for her? Thinking about it now, I still feel wronged.” Terry put an arm around my shoulder. “Audrey, it’s been so long. You wouldn’t still hold a grudge, would you?” I neither nodded nor shook my head. I couldn’t forgive her. From freshman year, Scarlett had tormented me. She and a few other girls would corner me, raining slaps, glue, and garbage down on me. Bugs in my pencil case, rats in my backpack, even forcing me to get a buzz cut. Those years were the darkest chapter of my life. It wasn’t until the last semester that Terry transferred to our school. He was like a ray of light, pulling me out of the gutter. He used his connections to make Scarlett transfer and declared in front of the entire school: anyone who dared to bully Audrey Walker would have to answer to him. He became my deskmate, brushing his fingers through my short hair, smiling, “Audrey, only you could pull off this haircut.” Even now, seeing Scarlett, I couldn’t bring myself to be calm. The fear inside me surged violently. I lowered my voice, pleading in Terry’s ear, “Terry, can you ask her to leave?” His arm around me tightened. “It’s been years, no need to be dramatic.” His voice wasn’t quiet, and Scarlett heard him. She looked at me, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Audrey Walker, I just got back from overseas. You’re not trying to make Terry send me away again, are you? All that stuff when we were kids, it was just playful teasing. Does it really matter?” Others chimed in, echoing her sentiment. “Who hasn’t had a rebellious phase when they were young?” My nails dug into my palms. They called that “rebellious.” Even Terry thought it was nothing. I stood up, all eyes turning to me. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. “I have something to do, I’m leaving now. You all have fun.” I practically fled. Running far from the villa, my hands still trembled. My heart hammered like a drum. I couldn’t face the unbearable past. I just wanted to bury it deep, never to see the light of day again. 2 The next day, Terry picked me up from work. He was wearing the watch I’d given him, a triumphant grin on his face. I kept my expression neutral, though my stomach churned with unease. I had no right to tell him who his friends could be. He drove me back to his villa. The moment we stepped inside, his passionate kisses descended upon me. “Audrey, I missed you so much.” I wasn’t in the mood and tried to push him away. He mistook my reluctance for playing hard to get, and his desire only intensified. Pinned against the sofa, our breaths grew heavier. “Beep – Unlocked.” We both shot up from the sofa, fumbling to straighten our rumpled clothes. Before we could even see who it was, a familiar voice filled the air. “Terry, can’t you two go to the bedroom?” It was Scarlett’s voice. I stared at Terry in disbelief. The interruption clearly annoyed him too. “Scarlett, could you please knock next time?” My hands trembled uncontrollably. I pointed at Scarlett. “Terry, why does she have your house code?” Terry realized I was angry. He stepped forward and took my hand. “Honey, she just got back from overseas and didn’t want to go home, so she’s just crashing here for a couple of days. Let’s go to the bedroom, ignore her.” Slap! My hand flew up, striking his face. Terry seemed stunned, his head tilted slightly. Scarlett, however, rushed forward, shielding him. “Audrey Walker, are you insane?!” My eyes stung with tears. The scene before me was utterly unbearable. My boyfriend, standing behind the woman who had bullied me. The next second, Terry pushed Scarlett aside. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been deeply insulted. “Audrey Walker, since when did you become so petty? Just because she bullied you back then, you can’t stand to have her around?” My tears fell without warning, my shoulders shaking. I broke up with him. Only later did I discover I had always been a fool. Terry and Scarlett were childhood sweethearts. He hadn’t used any ‘connections’ back then; he’d simply complained to Scarlett’s father. I don’t remember how I walked out of Terry’s villa that day. I only remember his roar before I left. He said, “If you walk out that door, there’s no going back.” The boy who once stood up for me now stood against me. I blocked all of Terry’s contact information. My heart ached, a suffocating pain. I lay awake all night. My dark circles were so heavy I felt drained of all vitality. Whenever I had a moment to myself, Terry’s face would appear in my mind. Sometimes, I’d have nightmares, dreaming of Terry and Scarlett bullying me together. I poured all my attention into work. The company had an overseas project, requiring at least six months abroad. I applied without a second thought. At least, overseas, their shadows wouldn’t haunt me. 3 But withdrawal was excruciating. The emotional backlash was like a hand at my throat, leaving me breathless, my hands and feet tingling. After work, I received a message from one of Terry’s friends. “Audrey, just apologize to Terry. Be careful, or he might actually get snatched away.” “As long as you say the word, he’ll forgive you.” The message was followed by a video. In a noisy karaoke room, Scarlett playfully leaned into Terry’s embrace. I knew Terry had sent it to me deliberately. Every time we argued, he’d use his friends to convey what he wanted me to know. This video was just another way of saying, “Audrey, if you don’t come back, I’ll be with someone else.” Terry always resorted to such cheap tricks. Sleepless nights persisted, yet in this moment, I felt an uncanny calm. I deleted everyone connected to Terry. This time, I wouldn’t waver. The night before I flew out, Terry appeared outside my office building. I stood by the main entrance, watching him. My eyes were red-rimmed, my lips parted, but no words came out. Just as I hesitated whether to approach him, I saw Scarlett. She walked out of a nearby coffee shop. Terry opened the car door for her, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. My legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot. The car merged into the rush of traffic, disappearing from view. I wanted to curse them, call them names, but my tears betrayed me, tasting bitter as they slipped into the corners of my mouth. Seeing Terry again… I wasn’t as strong as I’d imagined. That night, I cried until my eyes were red and swollen. Terry’s words from the villa kept echoing in my mind: “If you walk out that door, there’s no going back.” The future felt too distant… 4 Life abroad wasn’t as easy as I’d imagined. I felt like a body with its soul sucked out. During the day, I worked frantically. At night, I stared at the hotel ceiling, sleepless. Occasionally, I’d spot a familiar figure on the street, and my heart would clench, only to mock myself. Audrey Walker, you’re still thinking about him. A month later, I received a call from a colleague. “Audrey, did you have a fight with your boyfriend? Didn’t you tell him you were going abroad? He came to the office, frantic, looking for you. We told him you went overseas, but he didn’t believe it.” I lowered my gaze. A month. It took him a month to finally humble himself. “Why are you crying?” The man beside me offered a tissue. I blinked hard, indicating I was fine. After a brief chat with my colleague, I hung up. The phone rang again. As soon as I answered, I heard a roar from the other end. “Audrey Walker, you damn well hid overseas! Getting a temper, huh? You…” I hung up before he could finish, then switched off my phone. Caleb Vance watched me, amused. “A former boyfriend you can’t let go of? He’d make a decent bedmate, I suppose.” If he wasn’t my client, the coffee in front of him might have ended up on his face. Men were all the same. I forced a smile and politely flattered him. “Mr. Vance, you’re so open-minded.” Three months later, Terry appeared before me. He looked much more haggard. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot. We sat in a café, neither of us knowing what to say. I broke the silence first. “Business trip?” Terry stared at me, his gaze unreadable. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Audrey, I missed you.” They say delayed affection is worth less than dirt. In that moment, I understood the saying completely. But I’d overestimated him. His next sentence slapped me awake. “I’m getting engaged. To Scarlett. If you just open your mouth and say you object, my fiancée can be you, anytime.” I chuckled. Terry’s inherent arrogance was too obvious. Whether in relationships or business, he never bowed down. Even when trying to win me back, he pushed me to make the decision. Five years. I knew him too well. I saw the anticipation practically overflowing in Terry’s eyes. He wanted to get engaged to me, yet he couldn’t even say he was sorry. I swallowed, my throat dry. My voice was a little hoarse. “Congratulations on your engagement, Terry.” His expression instantly morphed into one of terror. “Audrey Walker, you’re just going to push me onto another woman?” Terry’s accusation sounded like a joke. I put down my cup, stood up, and started to leave. He grabbed my wrist, his grip alarmingly strong. “Audrey Walker, why are you so calm? Five years! We were together for five years! Just because of Scarlett, you’re throwing it all away?” I looked at his bloodshot eyes and suddenly felt absurd. “Because of Scarlett?” “Terry, even now, you still think the problem is Scarlett.” I slowly peeled his fingers off my wrist, one by one. “We’ve broken up. Don’t come looking for me again.” I picked up my bag and pushed open the café door. “Audrey!” he called from behind me, his voice laced with a rare panic. “What if I make her leave? What if I make sure she never appears in front of you again? Can we still…” I stopped, but didn’t turn around. “It’s too late. From the moment you told her the code, from the moment she walked into that house, everything was too late.” I walked away decisively, yet the words “getting engaged” still pricked me painfully.

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I had been friends with Harry for twenty-six years. Being of opposite genders, he was a hopeless romantic who never quite learned to take care of himself. Whenever he fell in love, I would step back and cut contact entirely. On my twenty-seven birthday, perhaps exhausted by his family’s pressure to settle down, he appeared on my doorstep at dawn. Alice, why do not we just give it a try. I was about to snap at him, but he held up a hand. I am serious. It was the first time he had ever crossed the line, offering me his hand. I studied him for a few seconds. Harry, I warned, if we become a couple and it ends, do not expect me to remain your friend. He laughed, that lazy, careless grin of his playing on his lips. It will not end. I could never bear to lose you. I took his hand. And just like that, we gave it a try. That try lasted three years. At our engagement party, Harry slipped onto the balcony with some friends to smoke. Harry, I heard Cole ask from the shadows, you were so afraid your grandfather would come after Sera, you begged Alice to play the role and cover for her, but today I noticed, Alice actually seems to be all in. You did not tell her it was a performance, did you? 1 The hazy smoke obscured Harry’s face as he answered, his voice cold and indifferent. It happened too fast that day. I just forgot. My steps halted at the corner. I was holding the flu medication I had brought for him. Cole let out a sharp curse, calling him a monster, before leaning closer. Then what is your plan with Alice? Are you really going to marry her or not? I saw Sera texting you last night. You were at her place in a bathrobe making late night snacks the night before your engagement. Harry laughed. Sera is my girlfriend, obviously. As for Alice, she is just a family arrangement. Whether we actually marry or not makes no difference. I knew she was into me years ago. Giving her a good marriage and a title is the least I can do. The glass in my hand burned my palm. I lowered my head, feeling a sudden, crushing helplessness. The medication was already melting into a sticky sludge in my hand. But the real burn was on my face. The agonizing shame of my unrequited love being laid bare and mocked. Alice is quite foolish, you know? I have been in the dating game for years, Harry bragged. Who actually gets breathless and cannot make eye contact with a family-arranged partner? She always acts like she does not care and tries to be so cool, but she is so incredibly patient. She humors me in everything. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, his tone radiating self importance. Two days before the engagement I told her I had a work emergency. She never doubted a word and even packed my bags. Last night I was goofing around with Sera at the window and came home with a headache, and since her medicine had expired, she ran out in her pajamas and a winter coat to buy me fresh medicine. She brewed ginger tea, tucked me in, and every half hour throughout the night she would wake up and check my forehead in case I spiked a fever. She probably has no idea how much she loves me. Cole let out a grim sigh. Harry, she has been so good to you over the years, I do not believe you feel absolutely nothing for her? I stood there, feeling like the punchline to a terrible joke. My eyes stung with tears, burning fiercely, yet I could not walk away. I needed to hear the rest. Harry answered without the slightest hesitation, dripping with sarcasm. What a stupid question. Of course I do not. We have known each other for thirty years. If we were meant to be, we would have been together a long time ago. I am drawn to the type of girl who is wild yet innocent, the captivating sweetheart. She is just a cold and tough rock. Nothing like my type. Love is about that instant spark. I do not believe in love growing over time. Even in thirty years, I will never love her. He took a deep breath, speaking with absolute entitlement. But Alice is my lifelong friend. She will be family. Even though I do not love her, I will never treat her poorly. I will have them both, Sera and Alice. My heart twisted, yet I found myself wanting to laugh. What did Harry take me for? A toy he could pick up when he was bored and discard when he was done? How small had I made myself for him to believe that marrying me was an act of benevolence. On the balcony, Cole sighed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Let us go, the party is starting. Just to confirm, Sera is still playing the role of your cousin tonight, right? I turned and went back down the stairs, slipping into the restroom where I violently dry-heaved. The tears fell faster than I could wipe them, ruining the makeup I had spent hours perfecting. The affection I had nurtured over the years felt like a rotting swamp, dragging me under, choking me, filling my soul with nausea. My phone continued to buzz with notifications in the group chat. The party is starting! Where are the guests of honor? Harry and I will be there in a moment, and my cousin is coming too. Since when did you have a cousin? Where is Alice? She is so quiet tonight. I found an empty room. I washed my face and applied a light layer of makeup. Whenever Harry had dated someone else in the past, I had made it a rule to cut contact. I wanted to see what his darling was like. As for him and I… I pressed a cotton swab against the corner of my eye to soak up the tears, making sure not to ruin my face. Harry probably thought that when I told him friendship was over if we broke up, it was a joke. But I never run out of friends. And I certainly refuse to waste another second on someone who does not love me. 2 Darling, why are you just now arriving? The moment I sat down Harry whined and leaned into me. I still have not taken my medicine, my cough is getting worse. He blinked up at me, rubbing his face against my shoulder, shedding every shred of the cold indifference he had displayed on the balcony. The friends around us catcalled. Oh get a room you two, take this romance elsewhere! They are stuck to each other like glue. If they were not such a perfect match and Harry was not my best friend, I would have kicked them out of the chat years ago! Now this is what I call a happy ending! Childhood sweethearts, meant to be! Harry was a reckless playboy for twenty years, and look at him now, completely tamed by our Alice. It makes me believe in love. The sticky, ruined syrup of the medication still stained my palm. I suppressed the nausea and offered a soft smile. I leaned forward slightly, reaching for the champagne on the corner of the table, putting physical space between us. Where is Cole? I asked. Harry, who had been trying to lean in again, froze at my question. He shifted back onto the sofa. He went to pick up his sister. Oh, here they are now. Cole walked in alongside a slender girl in a white dress, sitting them down half a meter away. Man you are so lucky, your sister is gorgeous. You need to introduce her to the single guys in here. A friend teased. Cole shot a guilty look at Harry and replied. This is my sister, Sera. She has not been out much. She is shy, so do not overwhelm her. Amidst the cheerful laughter I studied Sera, and noticed her wet, longing eyes fixed on Harry. The man who had been pressing against me earlier now casually drifted away, settling comfortably onto the far side of the sofa. Hazel, my best friend, noticed my gloom. She laughed brightly. Do not look at him little girl, he is getting married soon. Sera’s face flushed red. She looked away and laughed with an awkward embarrassment. I am sorry, I have a boyfriend. Harry laughed, though his voice held a sharp, protective edge. Hazel, you like to play around, but not every girl is like you. Hazel’s temper flared. She stood up, ready to lunge at Harry. I held her back and smiled at Harry. It sounds like you are such a saint, but Hazel has never cheated on anyone. Harry was stunned. He instinctively dodged my gaze, but forced a confident, casual laugh. I did not either darling. Why are you snapping at me? Seeing my dark expression, Harry downed a glass of alcohol. My apologies, I spoke out of turn. Let us move on. In the chatter, I saw Sera gazing at Harry with profound heartache, as if I were the villain torturing their tragic, star-crossed love. Alright, let us play a game! How about we scroll through our photo albums? Cole suggested, acting as the peacemaker. Be sure to hide anything embarrassing, do not terrify everyone. Let us set the date. May seventeenth, two thousand and twenty-three! Everyone pulled out their phones. If it landed on you, you had to open that date and show the room what you were doing. The spinning bottle stopped on me. My screen was mirrored onto the big projector. The beach, a candlelit dinner, and a screenshot of a delivery locker confirmation code. That was your birthday trip! You two went to the beach together that year, right? Hazel teased, leaning into my shoulder, lowering her voice. I asked you once if, after twenty eight years of celibacy, a man’s embrace was worth it? I smiled at Hazel. The beautiful memories mirroring on the screen now tasted like ash. A friend with sharp eyes pointed at the screen and asked Harry. You two ordering delivery at two in the morning? What kind of food? Was it… you know what! Everyone erupted in laughter. Harry, usually the life of the party, could not bring himself to smile. He glanced at the pale, fragile face of Sera. Not that, just some medicine. Do not jump to conclusions. A sudden malice swelled in my chest. Buying medicine, I said with a gentle, honeyed smile, was that not because you hurt me that night? I ripped my own wounds open to poison the air. You were so aggressive, I do not know what you were so excited about. That dress was very expensive, I only wore it once. Harry, it is as if you had never been with anyone before, your technique is so terrible. Did the girls you liked before not let you touch them? As the group laughed and teased, I saw Sera wipe away tears, and saw Harry’s face twist in suppressed, agonizing frustration. Despite laughing out loud, I felt a suffocating, crushing ache in my chest. Next! Cole wiped the sweat from his forehead and spun the bottle. It landed on Sera. She managed a fragile, wounded smile. My album is not really worth seeing. Hazel looked at her, then at me, her gaze sharpening. If you cannot play, why sit at the table, little girl? Harry frowned. Before he could speak, I took his hand. I leaned into his flustered face, positioning us so it appeared as though we were about to kiss. Puppy, I am a little hungry. Would you mind ordering some food for me? Harry paused for a few seconds before standing up to use the tablet at the service counter. I watched Sera and heard her sharp intake of breath. She was glaring at me through teary eyes. It was the first time she had made eye contact with me all night, her gaze dripping with a desperate, naked hatred. The projection screen flashed with a screenshot of a chat. Are you sleeping with her? You said your relationship with her was a marriage merger, you promised you would never touch her! But my heart is only with you, Sera. 3 I would love some fries, Alice! A friend shouted for their order, their voice perfectly syncing with the final words on the chat. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. I finished the order and handed it to the waiter. I placed my trembling hands under the table and smiled. Such a coincidence. But from what I am reading, it seems Sera is the mistress here. Alice! Harry suddenly shouted. Meeting my calm gaze, he forced a grotesque smile. Please do not speak so harshly to her. Before I could reply, Sera’s voice rose. I am not a mistress. She stared at Harry with a fierce, stubborn defiance. We were first loves, our first kiss, our first time, everything was each other. His family was just stubborn and would not allow it, or we never would have separated. Their relationship is just an open merger, his girlfriend has an unrequited crush, his parents forced them together! The girl vented her emotions, swiping through her screen. The day before May seventeenth, we spent his birthday together. His flight was at eleven, but he dragged his feet until nine the next morning to go to the airport, almost missing his flight. He bought me flowers before he left, we ate cake, and we were intimate for hours. This is the birthday gift he gave me, she said, holding up a sparkling sapphire ring. I just looked at it once on his phone, and he bought it for me. He said I was the only one he would ever buy rings for. I froze. I had been at that auction, I had wanted that very ring, but an anonymous bidder had bought it. Harry told me he would buy me an even more beautiful one. But now, as we were already engaged, I looked down at my bare fingers. Harry never bought me a ring. Sera swiped back to the seventeenth on her phone. I looked at the chat screenshots. While he was at my side, Harry had been texting Sera until late that night. She had photos of the beautiful views, the beautiful jewelry Harry had noted in his calendar to have couriered to her. There was a photo of a birthday cake, and in the shadow, I could see my clothes and my chin. I had my hands folded, eyes closed, wishing to spend the rest of my life with the man I loved. At that time he was right beside me, yet messaging Sera. This cake is delicious, I will have to buy it for you soon. 4 It was repulsive. I rested my hand on Hazel’s leg. The moment she saw the photo, she reached for her wine glass. That is… that is! Do not rush, I smiled at Hazel. She had tears of fury in her eyes, quietly cursing him as a fool, a scum. The air in the room was suffocatingly still. Is that it for you, Miss Sera? Then let us move on to the next round. I spun the bottle smoothly. I want to look at April second, two thousand and twenty-five. Anyone want to play? Harry lost his composure for the first time. He suddenly draped his arm around my shoulder. Darling, my head hurts. I had some medicine today and I should not drink. Let us go to the hospital. I pulled his hand away inch by inch and smiled. No. I opened my phone first. The screen displayed the sterile walls of a hospital room. Photos of post operative care records. Medical notes. Screenshots of my messages to my mother. The doctor says I might not be able to have children again. Mom, the hit and run driver has not been found. Let us postpone the legal marriage registration. April second was five days after the accident. It happened on the day Harry and I were on our way to register our marriage. A car suddenly swerved in front of us. There was plenty of distance to brake safely. Harry was a racing driver, yet he was so anxious that he violently jerked the steering wheel, slamming my side of the car into the guardrail. The child, who had just gained a heartbeat, was gone. I was critically injured and spent three days in the ICU. When I woke, Harry was on his knees by my bed, having lost so much weight. He told me he did not care about children, but he had to marry me, he had to have me. Let us not look, Alice, Harry gripped my hand, panic seeping into his eyes. I really do not feel well, let us go, please. Sera hesitated, wanting to put her phone away, but Hazel snatched it. Hazel scrolled mercilessly to that day, landing on a selfie of Sera in a playful set of lingerie, and a video panning over a filthy, messy ground. In the background of chaotic panting, I heard Sera’s weeping. Why are you here if you hate me so much and never want to see me again? The man kissed her aggressively while calming her, saying, Sera, it is my child, you know she might never get pregnant again. I can have children for you! Sera’s voice was so wronged. If you want to compensate her, just give her our child. Harry sighed. I love you too much to let you lose our child. Let it be, it is something we both owe her. I sat through this pathetic drama, finished my last glass of wine, and set it down. It felt as though thirty years of entanglement had melted away. Harry, let us break up.

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I’m a zen Capybara, but I’ve transmigrated into the body of a tragic wife and inherited all her overwhelming emotions. My husband dotes on his childhood sweetheart, and even our son desperately wants her to be his mother. Perfect. I don’t want to do anything anyway. Late one night, when my husband received a call from her and tried to sneak out, I covered my subtly aching heart and offered him his jacket. 1 Kim’s hushed phone conversation woke me. He deliberately kept his voice low as he got up, soothing his childhood sweetheart on the other end. He quickly dressed, grabbed his car keys, and was about to rush out. “Wait.” Hearing my voice, his expression immediately shifted. “Liliana is home alone right now, and the power’s out. I…” “Put your jacket on before you go. It’s getting cold.” His impatient look morphed into shock, and he stared at me in disbelief for a moment. But I simply turned over sluggishly, absently rubbing my heart, which had been aching for a while. Seeing that I wasn’t crying or making a scene as usual, Kim walked over and kissed my forehead. “Don’t throw a tantrum. I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, feeling nothing in particular, though the pain in my chest intensified. I heard the door click shut, then lazily got up and took a painkiller. It still didn’t do much, but at least it offered some psychological comfort. I’d been in this world for over two months since the original owner’s suicide. Kim was always like this, and I couldn’t be bothered to get angry. Anger, for a Capybara, is a hassle. This was especially true because I still inherited all of the original owner’s emotions. Especially when I woke up early to make breakfast for Oscar. He complained my cooking was terrible, frowning as he tossed all the food he disliked into the trash. “Mom, I’ve told you so many times, I want a Western breakfast. Why does Aunt Liliana always remember, but you never do?” The disdain on his face was obvious. I should have been angry. But I just calmly sipped my fish porridge. “Then go eat with her.” Oscar, who had been full of complaints moments before, choked on his unspoken words. My well-meaning suggestion sounded like viciousness to him. He immediately burst into tears, sweeping his bowl and chopsticks off the table. “Bad Mom! You’re a bad Mom! Why did Dad marry you, you bad woman? I want Aunt Liliana to be my Mom!” His wailing echoed shrilly in the empty villa. I calmly drank my porridge, silently turning away. Capybaras don’t comfort people; not interfering is my ultimate boundary. Seeing I wasn’t reacting, Oscar cried louder, sweeping all the remaining dishes off the table. Children know best how to hurt. He cried, yelling that no wonder Dad liked Aunt Liliana and not me. I ignored him, though the pain in my chest was unbearable. I gently put down my bowl and sat on the sofa, watching the news. This was one of my main ways of getting information about this world; smartphones were too complicated. I’d only learned the very basics of messaging in two months. The TV was simpler. “What are you doing?” 2 When Kim walked in, he saw the mess on the dining table. Oscar, as if finally finding his protector, scurried over to Kim, tattling on my alleged misdeeds that morning. Kim, who hadn’t been home all night, picked him up and stormed over to me. “It was just a joke from your son, do you have to be so unreasonable? He’s so young, what if he hurts his throat crying? Willow Grey, if you can’t even handle such a small matter, then don’t bother taking care of our son.” I nodded softly, slightly tilting my head to continue watching TV. “What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t think pretending to be mute will work. If this happens again, I won’t hesitate to let Liliana move in with us.” “Okay.” Kim, who was still fuming, suddenly got even angrier. He nodded repeatedly. “Fine, you said it. Don’t you dare regret it.” Perhaps afraid I’d change my mind, he promptly made a phone call. As he was on the phone, the TV happened to be reporting on last night’s amusement park fireworks display. “Last night, our city’s largest amusement park was rented out by Thorne Industries CEO, Kim Thorne, who ignited all the stored fireworks at once to delight his girlfriend. The two were seen embracing passionately, a truly enviable sight.” Though the TV only showed two embracing backs, they still looked incredibly well-matched. Kim’s jacket was still on Liliana. He turned around at that moment, and the jacket he was wearing suddenly became a glaring symbol. Seemingly awkward, he nervously adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Let me explain, it’s not what you think, last night was just…” My face paled, and I urgently stood up from the sofa. “No need to explain. I believe you.” I tried my best to keep my voice flat, then hurried towards the bedroom. Kim, however, relentlessly followed me. “Willow Grey, what exactly are you making a fuss about? Liliana is just my sister, it’s only right for me to do these things for her. Can’t you stop believing what the TV says?” But with every word he spoke, my heart ached a little more. Standing on the stairs, I simply fainted from the pain. In a haze, I seemed to hear Kim’s condescending voice behind me. “Don’t think pretending to faint works on me. Get up now!” “Just keep pretending. Let’s see how long you can keep it up.” Before losing consciousness completely, I only heard a door closing. Kim truly didn’t bother with me. I quietly condemned his irresponsibility in my heart, still unable to understand why the original owner fell in love with such a person. But every time I wanted to suggest divorce, an unyielding obsession prevented me from speaking those words. When I woke from unconsciousness, the house was empty. But for some reason, I suddenly felt a sense of relief. I knew this state was very wrong. So I booked an appointment with a psychologist online to check if there was something wrong with this body. “Your condition is provisionally diagnosed as Emotional Syndrome, and it’s quite severe. Given your situation, we recommend you first try to redirect your emotions. All feelings can become a focus, but a person absolutely cannot be a mental crutch. If that truly doesn’t work, then we’ll have to consider MECT (electroconvulsive therapy).” On the way home from the hospital, the doctor’s words echoed in my ears. Pushing open the front door, I heard laughter from inside. 3 Liliana’s luggage was still in the living room, but she was already sitting on the sofa, sharing a cake with Kim and Oscar. Kim fed Liliana a piece of cake, and Oscar chuckled, saying Dad was playing favorites. They looked like a picture-perfect family of three. Until I walked in. Their smiles instantly vanished. Oscar snorted and turned his head away, and Kim’s expression also soured. “What? Not pretending to faint anymore?” I nodded calmly, my mood still peaceful. My chest didn’t ache, which even surprised me. I ignored them and walked straight towards the bedroom. The sound of a suitcase being dragged followed me. “Willow.” I turned around. Liliana looked at me, her cheeks slightly flushed with shyness. “Willow, I just toured the house, and I really love your and Kim’s room. Can you let me have it?” At her words, even the father and son standing nearby stared at me. Their eyes seemed to say that if I caused any trouble, they would immediately jump out and accuse me. But… throwing a tantrum was inherently difficult for me. “Okay. It’s yours.” Liliana’s face broke into a clear, challenging smile. “Thank you, Willow. I knew you wouldn’t mind. Could you help me pack up? My self-care skills are a bit weak; Kim always says you’re very good at housework. Thank you, Willow.” The naked sarcasm in her words still felt offensive. I calmly took her suitcase. And kicked it all the way down the stairs. Her smile hadn’t even faded when she heard the sound of the suitcase crashing to the floor. “Willow Grey, what are you doing?!” Kim rushed over immediately, accusing me. “If you didn’t want to, you should have just said so. Why kick Liliana’s suitcase?” Seeing Kim defending her, Liliana’s eyes instantly reddened. “Kim, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but the porcelain inside this suitcase is a year’s worth of my work, I…” She opened the suitcase, and as expected, the porcelain was shattered. Kim couldn’t stand to see his beloved cry, so he quickly pulled her into his arms, comforting her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll make her apologize to you. I’ll make her pay for this porcelain.” A simple ceramic jar wouldn’t be worth much. But Kim grabbed my hand. “Willow Grey, apologize.” Suppressing the glee in my chest, I shook my head. “Don’t make me say it a second time. Apologize!” “Miss Grey, if you’re angry at me, that’s fine, but please don’t wantonly destroy my work, I…” She trailed off, a mist forming in her eyes again, making her look utterly pitiful. “No apology. You deserved it.” I simply stated that she deserved it. Who in their right mind packs porcelain, not clothes, in a moving suitcase? “Willow Grey! If you don’t apologize now, we’re getting divorced today, and you can get out of this house right now!” I originally thought I would be very sad. Unexpectedly, my chest continued to beat steadily. “Okay.” I pulled my hand free and quickly went to the room to pack my luggage. “If you leave, don’t ever come back.” I nodded. As I passed Liliana, I took off my wedding ring and placed it beside her. “This is to compensate for your porcelain.” Seeing me take off my wedding ring, Kim finally panicked. “Willow Grey, what is the meaning of this?”

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After my best friend passed away in a tragic accident, I took in his younger sister, Kate. Everyone knew she meant more to me than my own life. To raise her and give her a stable home, I even stayed unmarried for years. On her eighteenth birthday, Kate stood before me and delivered a deeply emotional, tearful confession of love. My eyes welled up with tears of overwhelming joy. But the moment I reached out to accept the bouquet of roses from her hands, over a dozen writhing snakes slithered out from the petals. The crowd erupted into roaring laughter. Her college senior stepped up, wrapping an arm around Kate’s waist with a smug grin. “Sorry about that, David. Kate only did it to make me laugh.” Kate looked at me, her eyes dripping with pure disgust. “Did you really think raising me for a few years gave you the right to demand my body in return? You are incredibly pathetic.” My heart turned to ash in my chest. Without a word, I turned my back on her and married the girl next door who had been secretly in love with me for years.

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On the eve of my wedding, my adopted sister was set to marry into the wealthiest bloodline in Manhattan, the Blackwood family. Victor Blackwood possessed a net worth in the billions. He was also seventy six years old. My fiancé could not bear the thought of my fragile sister marrying a man with one foot in the grave. That very night, he rushed over to our estate to propose to her instead. The following day, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, I stood completely alone in my bridal gown, thanking the guests who were awkwardly filtering out of the venue. Unexpectedly, an elderly man leaning on a silver tipped cane hobbled toward me. He reached into his coat and placed a priceless, flawless emerald signet ring on the table. “Miss Sinclair, your fiancé stole my bride. I need you to take her place. What do you say?” I gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Shall we get married right now? The venue is still booked.” 1 Victor chuckled, stroking his chin. “There is no rush.” He evaluated the cheap, tacky wedding setup around us. The tip of his cane poked lightly at the hem of my dress, tearing a small hole through the cheap fabric. My dress was already fraying at the seams. I had worn it for half the day, and the imitation rhinestones were scattering across the floor like cheap confetti. I should have known Oliver Prescott never truly intended to give me a proper wedding. Victor’s expression darkened. “Miss Sinclair, the Blackwood family prides itself on absolute grandeur. We will certainly not hold a ceremony in a third rate venue like this.” He turned slightly. A butler stepped out from the shadows and immediately handed me a heavy, crimson velvet invitation. “One week from now. The most exclusive hotel in the city. The guest list is already prepared, and your gown will be custom haute couture. How does that sound?” I offered a faint smile. “Whatever you say, Mr. Blackwood.” Not long after Victor departed, Oliver finally showed up. I gripped the cold emerald ring tightly in my palm and barely glanced at him. “My apologies, Mr. Prescott. The wedding has been canceled.” Knowing he was entirely in the wrong, Oliver lowered his voice, trying to sound soothing. “Violet, please do not be angry.” “Sophie suffers from severe depression. Old man Blackwood is seventy six years old. If she marries into that house, the stress will literally kill her.” “She relies on me so much. I absolutely could not stand by and watch her throw her life away to an old man.” “So you decided to sacrifice me instead?” I looked at him, finding his twisted logic almost comical. “Did you ever stop to think about how I was supposed to face the absolute humiliation of standing at the altar alone today?” Oliver furrowed his brows. “I thought you would be understanding…” He took a step closer, his tone softening into a patronizing whisper. “We have been together for years. Do you really have the heart to make things this difficult for me?” “Sophie is just a fragile young girl. She is weaker than you. She cannot handle being hurt.” I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “So your fiancée can be publicly abandoned and humiliated, but Sophie cannot suffer even the slightest inconvenience?” Oliver’s face hardened. “Violet, do not twist my words.” “You know Sophie is a clinical patient. If she has a mental breakdown and does something drastic, would you really be able to sleep at night?” He reached out, attempting to grab my hand. “You are still my woman. That fact will not change. I had no choice with Sophie, but I swear I will make it up to you.” He lowered his voice even further, leaning in. “I will set you up in a private penthouse. I will take care of all your expenses. Once you give birth to a son for me, I promise I will give you a proper title and bring you back into the Prescott estate.” I actually laughed. For a brief second, I genuinely hoped I was hallucinating. Then, I raised my hand and slapped him as hard as I could across the face. Oliver stumbled back, completely stunned. “You…” “So let me get this straight. You leave me here to be a public laughingstock on our wedding day, turn around to marry Sophie, and I am supposed to weep tears of gratitude while I stay in the shadows and breed for you?” I narrowed my eyes. “And once I am done, you will graciously grant me the title of your dirty little secret?” Oliver’s expression turned lethal, the fabricated warmth instantly vanishing from his eyes. “Violet, I was giving you a generous way out. Do you really think you are some untouchable royalty?” “Everyone in Manhattan knows you were mine. You are damaged goods. Who else would possibly marry you if you leave me?” “I have been more than merciful. If you know what is good for you, you will behave and do exactly as I say.” With that, he straightened his jacket, turned on his heel, and stormed off. I stood rooted to the spot. It took a full minute before I realized my hands were violently shaking. Oliver used to be different. We grew up together. Our marriage was arranged when we were practically kids. He used to be so gentle, so fiercely protective of me. But everything completely shattered the day my parents brought Sophie home as their newly adopted daughter. Sophie claimed she was emotionally unstable. She demanded Oliver be by her side constantly. Gradually, he began waiting on her hand and foot. He took her to her therapy appointments, drove her to the coast to clear her mind, and personally cooked her meals. Whenever her insomnia flared up, he would stay awake all night just to sit by her bed. Once, I was involved in a car accident. Bleeding heavily from a head wound, I dialed his number in a panic. His voice on the other end was dripping with sheer impatience. “Sophie just barely stabilized, and now you are causing a scene to get my attention? Call an ambulance yourself.” I had gripped my phone tightly, tears mixing with the blood on my face. Looking back, that was the exact moment I should have realized I had been completely erased from his world. 2 The very next day, Victor Blackwood’s betrothal gifts arrived at the Sinclair estate. An entire city block was shut down by a fleet of sleek, black luxury vehicles. When the trunks popped open, they revealed heavy gold bars, flawless emeralds, antique porcelain, and rare vintage paintings. It was a display of wealth most people could not even fathom. My mother clutched a heavy emerald necklace to her chest, her hands literally trembling with greed. “Look at this! This is a Colombian emerald! A real emerald!” My father cradled an antique purple clay teapot, his face practically splitting from smiling so hard. “Look at the sincerity of the Blackwoods. Violet marrying into that family is the best thing that could happen to us.” “What an incredible match! Just incredible!” I stood off to the side, watching their performance with dead eyes. They were cheering as if they had just won the lottery, completely ignoring the fact that I was the winning ticket being cashed in. My mother grabbed my hands tightly. “Violet, once you move into that mansion, you have to be obedient. Be a good girl. Do not do anything to upset Mr. Blackwood.” “He is getting up there in years. If you take good care of him, just imagine his will. Once the inheritance is divided, our Sinclair family will ascend to the absolute top of Manhattan’s elite!” I listened in silence. I did not say a single word. In that moment, I found the entire situation hilariously grotesque. Were these really my parents? Shouldn’t they be terrified that I was being sold off to an old man? When the news first broke that Sophie was arranged to marry Victor, they had sobbed and wailed as if the sky was falling. They acted like it was a death sentence. But now that my name was on the marriage certificate, it was suddenly a glorious blessing from above? From the corner of the room, I caught the hushed whispers of the household maids. “I heard the old man is knocking on heaven’s door. His health is completely failing.” “Tell me about it. Just a few days ago, he was in the ICU fighting for his life all night.” “He could drop dead at any moment.” “Miss Violet is going to have a miserable life. Becoming a widow right after the honeymoon? How cursed.” “Being a widow is the least of her worries. The Blackwoods are an ancient, ruthless bloodline. I heard his first two wives died under terrifying circumstances right after he passed. They say the family buries the wives alongside the patriarch to keep him company in the afterlife.” “Wait… you don’t think they will make Miss Violet…” Their terrified gossip drifted into my ears, but my expression remained completely flat. Buried alive with him? Fine. It didn’t matter. No one in this house loved me anyway. From the second Sophie stepped through the front door, she became the undisputed jewel of the Sinclair family. I was nothing but a burden. Her bedroom was lined with imported cashmere rugs. Her walk in closet was stuffed with limited edition designer bags. Meanwhile, my room was smaller than the servant quarters. The window frames leaked freezing air all winter, forcing me to sleep under two heavy wool blankets just to stop shivering. She loved premium caviar and truffles. My mother would personally prepare it and deliver it to her room on a silver tray. If I boiled a pot of water for tea, I was scolded for wasting the gas bill. When Sophie casually mentioned she liked pink diamonds, my parents immediately commissioned a custom, one of a kind necklace just for her. Meanwhile, I did not even own a basic string of freshwater pearls. But everything was different now. The betrothal gifts from the Blackwoods filled the entire grand hall. The luxury items I was never even allowed to look at were now piled up right in front of my feet. I casually reached into a velvet box and pulled out a stunning ruby necklace, letting the heavy stones catch the light. Seeing this, my mother immediately frowned. “What are you doing touching those? Put it down!” I shot her a freezing glare. “The Blackwoods sent these for me. Are you saying I cannot wear my own jewelry?” Her face turned a sickly shade of pale. She opened her mouth to argue but ultimately swallowed her anger. “Fine. Wear it. Just don’t break anything.” Absolutely pathetic. I sifted through the boxes, pulling out a tiara encrusted with brilliant cut diamonds. I placed it on my head, looking at my reflection in the gilded mirror, and forced a smile. No one in this world loved me, and marrying into the Blackwood family might very well be a death sentence. But at least for right now, all of these beautiful things belonged to me. If I was going to die, I was going to enjoy the absolute peak of luxury before I went out. Dripping in diamonds and rubies, I walked right out the front door. Just as I stepped onto the sidewalk, a familiar luxury car pulled up directly in front of me. 3 The car door swung open. Sophie, wearing six inch designer heels and clinging tightly to Oliver’s arm, stepped out onto the pavement. The moment she saw me, she paused, then covered her mouth to muffle a mocking giggle. “Violet, what exactly are you wearing?” She looked me up and down with exaggerated pity. “Is that rhinestone crown from a dollar store? Oh, it looks incredibly cheap on you.” As she spoke, she unclasped a thin, dainty chain from her designer purse and held it out to me. “Here. A street vendor gave this to me earlier. It is too low class for me to wear, but maybe you want it? At least if you wear this, people won’t laugh at you for wearing fake plastic jewelry.” I stared at her in absolute silence. She tilted her head, maintaining her sickeningly sweet, innocent facade. “Violet, I know you are furious with me. But Oliver treats me so well. I really cannot help it.” “We will still be a family, right?” “Besides, Oliver told me he has to marry me first. You will just have to endure living in a separate apartment for a while…” Listening to her nauseating performance made my stomach violently churn. I reached out and slapped her hand away. The cheap necklace hit the concrete. Sophie let out a piercing shriek and dramatically collapsed to the ground. Her eyes widened in horror, and tears instantly spilled down her cheeks. “Violet… why did you push me?!” “Do you hate me that much? But… but I really didn’t mean to steal Oliver from you… I am just so sick, and he felt sorry for me… he just wanted to take care of me…” Her voice was soft, trembling, and laced with thick sobs, making her look like the ultimate victim. Oliver stormed forward, his face burning with rage, and shoved me hard in the chest. “Violet, that is enough!” “You know Sophie suffers from depression! Why would you purposefully trigger her and assault her?” He glared down at me, gritting his teeth. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. When you enter my house, I will personally ensure your life is a living hell.” “A vicious woman like you only deserves to sleep in the servant quarters.” “You will eat whatever scraps the maids eat.” “If you dare show Sophie even an ounce of disrespect again, I will throw you out into the streets.” With a final sneer of disgust, he bent down and gently helped Sophie to her feet. His tone instantly shifted into sickening sweetness. “Don’t cry, Sophie. Let’s go home.” I stood on the pavement, watching Sophie peer over Oliver’s shoulder. She flashed me a triumphant, arrogant smirk. I looked down at the ground and let out a self deprecating laugh. My title as the eldest daughter of the Sinclair family was nothing but a hollow joke. Sophie’s depression only ever seemed to flare up when it was convenient for her. In front of Oliver and my parents, she was a fragile, dying flower that would crumble in the wind. But the moment we were alone, she was a completely different monster. If I bought myself a new dress, she would instantly snatch it out of my hands. “You gained weight, Violet. You can’t fit into this anymore. Let me wear it for you.” Whenever I complained to Oliver, he would scold me for being petty. “Sophie has clinical depression. Why are you always fighting with her over stupid things?” Piece by piece, everything I ever owned was stripped away and handed to her. A few days before the Blackwood wedding, I went to a high end boutique to buy myself a plush fox toy. I had never celebrated a birthday in that house. No one had ever bought me a gift. I figured buying a stuffed animal might bring me a fleeting moment of comfort. But the second I reached the counter, I saw Oliver and Sophie. A mountain of plush toys was piled up in front of them. As I approached, Oliver wrapped his arm around Sophie’s waist and glanced back at me. “Sorry. Sophie claimed all of these.” Sophie leaned softly against his chest. “Violet, did you want a plushie too?” She picked up a beautiful, fluffy bunny and tilted her head in mock innocence. “But… do cute things really suit you?” “You know what they say. Ugly people shouldn’t try to act cute.” “Do you really think holding a cute toy will magically make you lovable? It’s honestly kind of gross.” She blinked her large eyes as if a brilliant idea had just struck her. “If you really want one that badly, I guess I can spare one for you.” She dug through the clearance bin at the end of the counter and pulled out a dusty, hideous green toad plushie. She dangled it by one leg right in front of my face. “Here, Violet. This one is perfect for you. Look, it matches you perfectly. Bug eyes, bloated stomach… hahaha!” I had stared at her, feeling no anger, only a bone deep, freezing numbness. Without bothering to argue, I simply turned around and walked out of the store. Now, back in the present, I returned to the estate and collapsed exhaustedly onto the sofa. A maid rolled a massive cart into the living room. “Miss, the Blackwood family just sent over another gift.” It was a giant, waist high pink box wrapped in a silk ribbon. I opened the lid. Inside lay a massive, incredibly soft fox plushie. Its fur gleamed under the chandelier, soft and beautiful beyond words. Tied around its neck was an elegant, custom embroidered tag with a single word: Blackwood. I ran my fingertips gently through the soft fur. For the first time in years, a tiny spark of warmth flickered in my chest. Someone in this world was actually willing to give me exactly what I wanted. Who would have thought this Victor Blackwood actually had a romantic side?

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