1 My husband, David, and his sister, Michelle, brought a girl home, claiming she was Daisy, our daughter, who’d vanished three years ago. The girl’s face did bear a resemblance to Daisy—maybe a five-point match, as they say—but a cold certainty settled in my gut. “David Miller,” I said, my voice flat, “I’m not so out of touch I wouldn’t recognize my own child.” Yet, he swore it was her. He even had a paternity test report, but I refused to believe it. I took the little girl’s image to the media, hoping to find her real family. I even involved the police. David couldn’t stand my persistence. He had me committed to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, a stranger online inexplicably tagged me, claiming to know Daisy’s whereabouts. I clicked the link. The address led to a secluded, rural property. In the video, a little girl, emaciated and covered in grime, mimicked a hog, scrabbling for scraps of feed. Her eyes were wide with a terror that clawed at my heart, and she even let out guttural grunts, mimicking the animals. Her face was identical to my missing Daisy. The moment I saw this girl, the one David brought home, I knew, with every fiber of my being, she wasn’t my daughter. I raced to the Sheriff’s Department. “Ms. Miller,” the deputy said, his tone weary. “This case is closed. Your husband has repeatedly confirmed this is your child. Please, don’t misuse public resources.” No matter how I explained, how I pleaded that the little girl was not my child, no one believed me. The officers watched me with an air of polite exasperation. Of course, they wouldn’t. A paternity test had confirmed the five-point resemblance was indeed my daughter. A moment later, David arrived, striding into the precinct. He grabbed my hand, his eyes burning with anger, but he quickly masked it with an apologetic smile for the officers. “My apologies, officers. My wife… since our daughter disappeared, she’s been quite distressed. Her mental state isn’t quite stable.” He tried to tug me away. I erupted, yanking my hand free. “Enough!” I cried, tossing the official case closure document at him. “How could I not know what my own daughter looks like? This isn’t Daisy! Daisy doesn’t look like this!” An officer intervened gently, “Children change as they grow, ma’am. It’s been over three years since your daughter vanished.” David’s voice softened, laced with a feigned helplessness as he looked at me. “Sarah, I know Daisy’s disappearance has haunted you, left you sleepless. Now that she’s finally back, why won’t you believe her? She is our daughter. Please, let’s not make a scene. What will others think of her, seeing you like this?” Every eye in the room fell on me, scrutinizing me as if I were truly a madwoman. Three years ago, our family went hiking with David’s sister, Michelle, and her family. My daughter, Daisy, and Michelle’s child, Chloe, went ahead to scout the trail. That’s when Daisy mysteriously disappeared. The police searched endlessly, but she was never found. Every waking moment since, I’ve been consumed by her absence. At night, as soon as I close my eyes, her face fills my vision. The little girl David brought back from the authorities, while resembling Daisy, had an entirely different personality and even the most basic habits were off. I couldn’t understand why every family member, even David, insisted she was our daughter. David led me home. The moment he opened the door, the girl rushed towards me. “Mommy!” she chirped, her voice overly sweet. “The relatives brought so much crab! Daisy loves crab! It’s so fresh and sweet. Mommy, do you want to try some?” She hugged my leg. A jolt of revulsion shot through me, leaving my body rigid. Instinctively, I pushed her away. She stumbled, falling to the floor, and instantly burst into tears. “Mommy, don’t you love Daisy anymore?” Seeing her fall, David quickly scooped her up, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at me. “Sarah Miller, that’s enough! This is our daughter! Why are you kicking her like some maniac?!” The girl clung to David’s neck, whimpering softly, “Daddy, it’s okay. I know Mommy hasn’t accepted me yet.” She reached out a hand towards me. I grabbed her wrist, my grip tight. “Who are you, really? Why are you pretending to be my daughter?” Tears streamed down her face. She sobbed piteously, burying her face against David’s shoulder. “Daddy, why won’t Mommy believe I’m Daisy…?” David carried her to the sofa, calming her. Then he strode back, grabbing my arm, dragging me forcefully to stand before the girl. He released me with a shove, throwing me off balance, and I landed hard on the floor. I looked up. The girl’s lips curved into a fleeting, triumphant smirk. A moment later, her voice turned saccharine again. “Daddy, you hurt Mommy.” “Mommy, I really am Daisy! Look at my necklace. We picked out the beads together at the jewelry store. It’s our secret.” I scrambled forward, frantically examining the necklace around her neck. Her tears flowed anew, uncontrolled. “Mommy, I really didn’t lie! I’m Daisy! Don’t you want me anymore?” I froze. The necklace… it was the one Daisy and I had chosen together. Even the yellow crystal on it had a faint crack, just like I remembered. Just as I was about to question her further, David pulled me roughly away, separating us. “Sarah Miller, that’s enough! You’re questioning our daughter over and over again! She’s been through so much these past few years. It’s perfectly normal for her personality to have changed!” I knew David loved our daughter fiercely. From her infancy, he’d handled everything—her diapers, her outfits. He was devoted. I just couldn’t fathom why he couldn’t recognize his own child. I even began to wonder if my own mind was truly unraveling, but when she touched me, I felt a visceral revulsion I couldn’t control. Just then, David’s adoptive sister, Michelle, arrived. Michelle had always doted on Daisy, spending as much time with her as I did, if not more. 2 When I saw Michelle, it was like seeing a lifeline. “Michelle,” I pleaded, my voice cracking, “Look at this girl! She’s not Daisy, is she?” Michelle’s face registered a flicker of surprise, then an awkward glance at the girl. “Sarah, are you… are you seeing things? This is Daisy.” She even pulled out her phone, showing me photos of Daisy taken years ago, comparing them. It was strange. I remembered Daisy looking differently three years ago, but all the photos Michelle showed me now featured this girl’s face. A cold dread seeped into my bones, a chilling sense of unease spreading through me. David, holding the girl’s hand, looked at me with a mocking glint in his eyes. Just as I was about to speak, the front door opened. My mom had returned from her small town. I felt a surge of desperate hope, clutching her hand tightly. “Mom, you see it, don’t you? She’s not Daisy.” My mom pulled out her phone, carefully comparing the photos. Then, she shook her head slowly. I saw her reaction. Mother knows best, I thought. She must feel it too. But then, she sighed, her gaze filled with a weary sadness. “Sarah, honey, have you been worrying too much about Daisy lately? Are you starting to imagine things?” “This is your daughter, Daisy. You can’t even recognize her. I think you’re really sick, dear. It worries me, you’re still so young…” Her comforting words continued, but my mind was a maelstrom of frantic thoughts. “I’m not sick! She’s not my daughter!” But no matter what I said, everyone stared at me with startled eyes, as if mocking me, the madwoman. A memory flashed in my mind. Daisy had a small, heart-shaped birthmark on her lower back. I refused to believe this girl had it too. I grabbed her, pulling her shirt up. She struggled, resisting frantically, and her shirt accidentally tore. She began to cry, small, helpless whimpers. David instantly scooped her into his arms, then slapped me. My mother, horrified, stepped forward. “Sarah Miller, when did you become so unreasonable? This is your own flesh and blood!” David carried the girl away. I stood there, stunned. I had seen it. The birthmark was there. How? Had I misremembered? Was my daughter’s mark not what I thought? They looked similar, but the eyes, the eyebrows, the chin… they were all wrong. My Daisy had a round face, but this girl’s face was slightly longer. I frantically searched for photos, but every picture I remembered, every image of Daisy in my mind, had been replaced by this girl’s face. Then I remembered. Daisy and Michelle’s daughter, Chloe, were very close. They were together that day when Daisy mysteriously disappeared. I turned to ask Michelle, but she wasn’t there. I tried to call her, but my call wouldn’t go through. My messages on the chat app came back with a red exclamation mark. Why? She had just been here a moment ago. 3 David took the girl directly to his parents’ house, clearly to keep me from “going crazy” again. Still refusing to believe she was my daughter, I started posting messages online, hoping her real parents would see them. The posts gained significant traction. David saw them and accused me of deliberately stirring up trouble. The internet, however, seemed to pity me, while simultaneously condemning me as a madwoman. And that little girl… she sent me messages every single day. “Mommy, Daisy misses you so much. Please, don’t argue with Daddy anymore.” “Daisy will be good.” David also apologized for hitting me, urging me to see a psychiatrist. I ignored his pleas. Instead, I began to sift through Daisy’s belongings, until I found a medical report. It clearly stated that my daughter had a severe seafood allergy; she couldn’t eat any of it. I remembered vividly how, because of this, David and I had stopped buying seafood, terrified of risking her health. The time she accidentally ate a single shrimp at preschool and broke out in hives was etched into my memory. She’s not allergic to seafood! Like a drowning person clutching at a straw, I immediately drove to David’s parents’ house. I saw Michelle peeling crab for the girl. Overwhelmed, I lunged forward, grabbing the girl’s hand. “You’re allergic to seafood! How can you eat crab? Tell me, where is my daughter?!” The girl cried piteously, looking at me with wide, bewildered eyes. “Mommy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pulled her, intending to take her to the hospital. Michelle quickly intervened, grabbing my arm. “Enough! Isn’t it too much, the way you’re questioning this child?” My eyes fixed on Michelle, and in that instant, I suddenly saw it. The girl’s eyebrows… they looked so much like Michelle’s. As I froze, Michelle let out a sharp cry. I felt a forceful shove. Both the girl and I tumbled down the stairs. I heard footsteps from the entrance and turned to see David rushing towards us, his face etched with panic. Michelle, meanwhile, scrambled down the stairs, feigning terror. “David!” she wailed, her voice thick with tears. “Sarah’s really gone crazy! She actually tried to kill Daisy!” As I fell down the stairs, my instinct took over. I wrapped my arms around the girl, shielding her body, taking the brunt of the impact myself. David quickly lifted the girl into his arms. She clung to his sleeve, her eyes wide and innocent. “Daddy, I thought Mommy came to find me because she remembered me. But she just kept pulling my hand, no matter if I wanted to or not.” “When Aunt Michelle tried to help me, she actually tried to push me down the stairs! Does Mommy really not love me anymore?” Her cries were unbearable. I couldn’t control my voice. “Enough! You’re not my Daisy! And I didn’t try to push you!” David held her close, his eyes blazing with fury at me. “Sarah Miller, I misjudged you! Do you think a child, so small, just rolls down the stairs on her own?!” “No, I didn’t…” I started to protest, but Michelle interjected from the side. “David, I think Sarah’s condition is getting worse. She’s starting to hallucinate, even doing things that could harm people.” I remembered the medical report I’d found earlier. “No! I didn’t! David, this girl is allergic to seafood, she can’t…” The little girl, still nestled against David, continued to sob. “Daddy, Aunt Michelle, my body hurts so much.” I grabbed David’s pant leg, desperate for him to take her to get checked for allergies. David, with a look of utter helplessness, shook my hand away. My head hit the floor, and everything went black. 4 When I next awoke, I found myself in a hospital bed. A nurse walked in. “Severe mental disorientation. You’ll be staying here for a while.” I grabbed her hand. “Where is this? Where’s David?” “Your family admitted you to a psychiatric facility. Your mental condition is quite serious. You can only leave once you’re fully recovered.” Just as I was about to speak again, someone pulled open the curtain of the adjacent bed. “Keep it down, will ya?” It was a boy, no older than ten, hunched over a laptop, eyes fixed on lines of strange code. Trapped there, I found him to be a quiet companion. He often advised me to give up struggling, saying I’d only leave when family came to collect me. Out of sheer desperation, I began drawing. I drew Daisy, over and over, trying to capture the girl I remembered. I still believed my daughter was out there, vanished. The more I drew, the more sketches piled up. The boy, observing my frenzy, eventually used his computer to generate a picture from my drawings. I stared at the AI-generated photo. This was my daughter. My Daisy. Tears streamed down my face. “Please, kid,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. “Can you find this girl for me? She’s my daughter.” I poured out everything that had happened, telling him about the fake Daisy, the pig farm video, my family’s disbelief. He listened, then used his laptop to log into my old social media accounts. There, among my posts, were old sketches of Daisy. I saw a private message, an account tagged. I found the account. It was empty, yet the profile page boasted hundreds of thousands of likes on old posts. An unsettling feeling seized me. I urgently begged the boy to do something. His fingers danced across the keyboard. Soon, that account was open on his screen. In the private section, there were several videos, each with tens of thousands of likes. In them, a small girl, mimicking a hog, was eating from a trough. Her clothes were filthy, her body emaciated. I watched video after video, tears streaming down my face, uncontrolled. This girl… this was my daughter. The one who’d been missing for three years. I scrutinized her face, confirming it again and again. It was Daisy. Seeing my desperate state, the boy quickly pinpointed the IP address.

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1 My daughter had been battling a debilitating illness for a decade. I, her mother, a leading biomedical pioneer, had finally spearheaded the team that developed the breakthrough drug to cure her. On the very day the drug was set for its clinical trial, a notification pinged on my research lab’s monitor. It was a video from the hospital, showing the treatment underway. A wave of relief washed over me. Finally, my Lily would be the first to escape the clutches of this disease, to reclaim her health. But as I clicked the video open, a cold dread began to coil in my gut. The girl receiving the experimental treatment on screen was not my daughter. Her chest bore the Global Innovation Medal, an honor I had personally designed and given to Lily. She wore the custom-designed princess gown, a lavish gift I’d commissioned for my sweet girl. But the face… it was a stranger’s. A profound unease settled over me. I instinctively switched on the live news broadcast. There, on every channel, was the girl, wearing my medal, holding the hand of an unfamiliar woman. She beamed at the camera, announcing, “I want to thank this incredible drug developer, my mom!” Inside that hospital room, amidst a chorus of praise for the imposter, my own daughter was huddled in a forgotten corner, draped in a flimsy, torn blanket. Then, a nurse brutally pulled her from view, dragging her by her matted hair. I choked on a gasp, my world dissolving into a suffocating rage. How dare they treat my daughter like that? Did they truly believe she had no one watching over her, no one to fight for her? I meticulously re-checked the experimental data. Yes, this batch of the synthesized drug was flawless, a triumph. Just then, my assistant, Marcus, knocked on my office door. “Dr. Hayes,” he announced, “the hospital we’re partnering with sent a video of your daughter’s treatment.” I immediately pushed aside my instruments, my heart thrumming with anticipation. I hadn’t been home in ages, consumed by this very research. Videos were my only window into Lily’s world. But the moment I clicked play, something felt profoundly wrong. The girl in the video was beautifully dressed, radiating a pretty, almost angelic charm. Around her neck hung the Global Innovation Medal—mine, a singular, unique achievement no one else in the world possessed. Yet, the girl wearing my medal wasn’t my daughter. A deep sense of bewilderment grew. I called Mark, my husband. “Sarah, honey, it’s amazing! Lily just got the new drug, and her vitals normalized instantly! Don’t you worry your head about a thing.” “Your student, Chelsea, is here, taking full charge of Lily’s treatment. Don’t you trust her?” “You just keep focusing on your groundbreaking research overseas, keep contributing to humanity! Lily just told me how grateful she is, said she wants to be just like you when she grows up!” Mark’s voice was filled with such conviction, yet the gnawing unease persisted. I switched on the television, tuning into the national news. My drug was a world-class masterpiece; every channel seemed to be broadcasting the story. The image that flashed on screen hit me like a physical blow. The “renowned pioneer” featured in the broadcast was Chelsea Greene, my very own student. And there, in the corner of the hospital room, my Lily was being dragged out by her hair by a hospital staff member! A wave of panic surged through me. I frantically dialed Lily’s attending physician, my voice trembling as I demanded to know how they dared to do such a thing. “Hello, this is Lily Hayes’ mother…” Before I could finish, Dr. Peterson, the attending physician, sighed heavily. “Mrs. Hayes, I know what you’re going to say, but the hospital has to make money too. Stopping treatment was an unavoidable choice, unless you can pay the overdue medical bills.” “You need to understand, Lily’s treatment has been in arrears for three years now. If it weren’t for Dr. Greene’s benevolence, considering you were under her tutelage, and her willingness to subsidize your daughter five hundred dollars a month, your daughter’s treatment would have been stopped three years ago.” “So, that’s the situation. Either you pay up, or you wait for your daughter to succumb to her illness. The hospital genuinely can’t do anything more.” Dr. Peterson hung up, leaving me utterly stunned. Three years of overdue medical bills? Under Dr. Greene’s tutelage? The pieces clicked into place, chillingly, as I remembered Chelsea Greene’s face on the television. Because I had spent so long abroad, conducting research, maintaining a private profile, Chelsea Greene had audaciously taken my place, impersonating me. And she had used the breakthrough drug I developed for my daughter, on her daughter! My heart ached with pain, burning with a searing rage. All thoughts of my research vanished. “Marcus! Book me the first flight home! I’m going back to the States, now!” 2 I landed back in the States that very day and rushed straight to the hospital. I was going to see, with my own eyes, who dared mistreat my daughter when the real Dr. Sarah Hayes stood before them. But the moment I stepped through the hospital’s main entrance, I ran straight into my husband, Mark Hayes. Mark visibly flinched when he saw me, his pupils dilating in shock. “Sarah, honey, what are you doing back so suddenly? You didn’t even say anything…” He stammered, offering a strained, nervous laugh, while subtly tugging at his collar. I caught a glimpse of a tell-tale hickey peeking out from beneath. I smiled, a cold, brittle curve of my lips. “Oh, I decided to surprise you, darling.” Whether it would be a pleasant surprise or a devastating shock would depend entirely on what he’d been up to while I was away. I deliberately traced a finger over the red mark on his neck. “Mosquitoes are quite aggressive here, aren’t they?” “Haha, yeah, they sure are. Got bit without even noticing. Looks a bit… suggestive, doesn’t it? Good thing you’re so sharp, honey.” He quickly changed the subject. “Speaking of which, I even bought Lily the world’s best mosquito repellent! She just loved it.” Hearing him mention Lily, my brow furrowed imperceptibly. I kept my voice even. “I saw something on TV today. What happened to our daughter’s custom gown? Did it get a knock-off version?” I even pulled out my phone, showing him a screenshot. The girl in the photo bore a striking resemblance to Chelsea Greene, but every single accessory she wore belonged to Lily: the diamond tiara, the sapphire necklace. Seeing those cherished items adorning another girl’s body made my heart bleed. My Lily, who should have been cherished and pampered, had been left neglected and abused under Mark and Chelsea Greene’s supposed care. Meanwhile, this child, with no real ties to us, had usurped my daughter’s place, not only stealing her life but even receiving her experimental treatment and giving interviews to reporters. Faced with the photo, Mark’s composure crumbled into a panicked mess, but he desperately tried to hide it from me, forcing a strained calm. “That’s Chelsea Greene’s daughter, Tiffany, honey. You’ve been away so long, you might not know, but Tiffany and our Lily are the best of friends.” “Lily often gives Tiffany her things. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. If she could give away people, I suspect she’d give us away too, haha!” “Is that so?” I asked, my gaze piercing him. Mark stiffened. “Sarah, what’s wrong? Your expression is so… strange.” I fought to keep my voice steady, enduring his blatant lies. “You’d better be clear. I’m back now. You remember what happens when you lie to me.” “Where is our daughter, really? And all those medical funds I sent for her over the years, where did they actually go?!” Mark hadn’t expected me to bring up the medical bills. He froze, utterly dumbfounded. But he still desperately tried to salvage the situation. “I gave it all to the hospital! Sarah, we’ve been together for so long, don’t you trust me?” “Are you implying that Lily hasn’t gotten better all these years because I didn’t pay her medical bills? That’s an outrageous accusation.” “You know Lily’s illness is hard to treat. Besides, Lily is such a handful, always afraid of needles and refusing to take her medicine. Even eating requires constant coaxing. She’s just been spoiled rotten, that’s why she hasn’t improved all these years.” I stared at him, my voice chillingly low. “You think I don’t know my own daughter’s temperament? Are you trying to slander her?” Lily, though sick from a young age, had always been exceptionally well-behaved and considerate. Even when she was first learning to eat, she never caused me a moment’s worry. As for taking medicine or getting shots, she would often turn around and comfort me, telling me it didn’t hurt, and that I shouldn’t be sad. How could such a sweet child possibly be the spoiled, temperamental girl Mark described? Mark quailed under my glare, reduced to a meek, deferential silence. “Where is my daughter?!” I demanded. Mark quickly summoned someone to lead me to Lily’s room. The room was lavish, yet everything inside was adorned in saccharine pinks. My daughter had never liked pink. Lily sat on the bed, dressed in an ill-fitting, but clean, hospital gown. Her eyes were red-rimmed when she saw me, her expression a mix of longing to rush into my arms and a deep-seated fear. “Mommy…” That single, soft word shattered my heart. I lunged forward, scooping her into a desperate embrace. But the moment I held her, Lily cried out in pain. Realizing something was terribly wrong, I lifted the hem of her oversized hospital gown. My daughter’s frail body was covered in bruises and cigarette burns. A wave of crushing pain swept through me. “What are these injuries?” Lily instinctively curled into a ball. “It’s… it’s just me being clumsy, Mommy. I accidentally did it…” “Don’t be scared, Lily. Tell Mommy who hurt you.” Lily shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t ask, Mommy. I can’t say. Please, don’t ask.” I held my child tightly, refusing to let go. To what extent had she been tormented, that she was afraid even to tell her own mother the truth? How much pain and humiliation had my Lily endured in all the years I was away? “Don’t be afraid,” I whispered, tears flowing freely as I gently stroked Lily’s hair. “Mommy’s back. From now on, Mommy will be here to protect you. You will never be bullied again.” I comforted her for a long time before Lily finally stopped crying. But the next second, the door to the hospital room was kicked open with a resounding crash. Standing in the doorway, a small girl, Tiffany Greene, glowered with unbridled fury. “Who let this unwanted little wretch into my room?!” “Didn’t I tell you to kick her out of the hospital this morning?” 3 I glared at the imperious little girl. She seemed utterly oblivious to my identity. “Who are you? And why are you with this little beggar in my room?” “Your room?” I scoffed, a cold sneer twisting my lips. This room had been custom-designed for Lily’s use even before I left the country. For this hospital, I had personally donated millions in cutting-edge equipment. “I don’t care who you are. Get out!” Tiffany Greene demanded, puffing out her chest. “And that little pest in your arms? If I see her here again, I swear I’ll choke her to death.” Her words ignited a furious blaze within me. But before I could react, Mark burst into the room. He quickly scooped up Tiffany, attempting to soothe her. “I’m so sorry, Sarah, honey. This is Chelsea Greene’s daughter, Tiffany. She has a… a slight mental issue and is receiving treatment here. Don’t listen to her nonsense.” “What are you talking about, Dad…?” Mark clapped a hand over Tiffany’s mouth, retreating from the room with a fawning smile directed at me. Only after they left did I realize Lily was trembling uncontrollably in my arms. She seemed terrified of Tiffany’s presence. “Lily?” Before Lily could answer, a nurse’s aide entered. “It’s time for Lily’s meal.” These people had been abusing my daughter. Why would they bother hiring an aide for her? When the aide presented the meal, Lily’s fear intensified. She clung to me, whimpering. “Don’t make me eat that, Mommy. I don’t want to eat that.” “Please, Mommy, anything but that. I’ll do anything you ask…” My daughter sobbed, tears streaming down her face, leaving me utterly bewildered. Lily had never cried during mealtime before. My gaze fixed on the food in the aide’s hand, and I suddenly understood. “Just leave the meal here. I’ll feed her myself in a bit.” “But, Mrs. Hayes…” “I said, leave it.” Though the aide was clearly reluctant, she complied. After she left, I gave the meal to Marcus, instructing him to get it tested. At the same time, I told him to pull the hospital’s security footage. I needed to know exactly what my daughter had endured here, why she was so weak and terrified. Marcus’s efficiency was commendable. But the contents of the hospital’s surveillance footage filled me with a regret that would haunt me forever. The screen showed horrific scenes: “This experimental drug should have gone to Miss Tiffany Greene! Why does the director’s memo have your name on it? It’s clearly a printing error!” “And that prestigious Global Innovation Medal you’re wearing? Did you steal it from Miss Tiffany Greene? Give it back! Your mother is just a student; how could she possibly own something like this?!” “Three years, not a single medical bill paid! What right do you have to even be in this hospital?!” I watched, horrified, as someone yanked my daughter’s hair, dragging her from her hospital bed. Then, they kicked her. My daughter struggled, crawling agonizingly across the floor. If she paused for even a moment, they would hit and kick her again. Amidst Lily’s cries of pain, Tiffany Greene appeared, a lit cigarette in her small hand. “So young, and already so rotten! No doubt your mom corrupted you.” I saw her press the burning tip of the cigarette onto my daughter’s back. Smoke rose. Lily’s raw scream of agony pierced through the screen, searing into my ears. Moments later, Marcus’s analysis of the meal came back. “Dr. Hayes, the lab results are in. These liquids contain growth-inhibiting agents. If injected into a person, they would become emaciated, their body growing progressively weaker…” My fingers dug into my palms, but I felt no pain. They dared to treat my daughter like this… Every single one of them. Every single person involved. I wouldn’t let a single one of them escape justice. Including Tiffany Greene, barely ten years old.

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My mother, Sarah Davis, was a celebrated educator, a state-level specialist teacher. The pressure of the upcoming SATs was immense, and my depression chose that moment to rear its ugly head. She, with a forced laugh she probably thought was witty, declared, “I simply don’t have the time for your theatrics.” Then, she turned her back on me, focusing instead on her star pupils, the ones she was grooming for Ivy League glory. I was left abandoned at the doorstep of my father’s house, a home he now shared with his new family, a life he’d built after his divorce from my mother. A woman, rough around the edges, motioned with her chin, “Well, don’t just stand there like a lump!” “Go grab a plate. The pink set’s all yours.” 1 The SATs loomed large, and my depression had finally spiraled. After a month of shuttling me to doctors, my mother, Sarah, had finally hit her limit. She haphazardly stuffed a few clothes into a suitcase, then practically dragged me into the car. I sagged in the back seat, boneless, like a deflated doll. As she drove, she lectured, “Girls are already at a disadvantage in academics; you have to push harder than boys to even compete.” “How can you be so fragile?” “Constantly throwing around ‘depression flair-up’ – are you going to tell your boss that when you finally get a job?!” I remained utterly silent. She caught my blank expression in the rearview mirror, and her temper flared. “That’s enough! Are we still going on with this?” “Seriously mad at your own mother? Who hasn’t been chewed out at school?” She was referring to an incident in class just days before. As my math teacher and homeroom advisor, she had called on me, knowing full well my fragile state and scattered focus, deliberately putting me on the spot. When I couldn’t answer, she strode down from the front of the classroom. “Hand out.” The sharp crack of the wooden ruler against my palm made me flinch, but she only grew angrier. “Who told you to pull back?! Stick it out!” School policy prohibited physical punishment, but there was no rule against “educating your own child.” I became the sole student in the entire school granted this grim “privilege.” My classmates’ eyes, a mix of mockery, pity, and morbid curiosity, burned into me. Finally, she glared. “If you can’t focus, you stand! You’ll stand for every single class today!” My palms were crimson, my eyes burning. The next day, for the class placement exam, I turned in a blank paper. My mother, upon hearing the news, spent the night pacing. By morning, her decision was made: “Don’t blame me for being harsh. I’m a celebrated teacher, and I have several Ivy League hopefuls in my class. “I can’t possibly dedicate all my time to you. Go home. Skip the exams this year. I’ll help you prepare for a retake next year.” 2 The car pulled to a stop in an unfamiliar apartment complex. My mother retrieved my suitcase. “This is your father’s new place. The apartment number is on this note. Go on up.” Seeing my hesitation, she added, with a feigned concern, “Someone’s home, just ring the bell. Your dad’s new wife is a real ‘trophy wife’ – doesn’t work, just stays home with the kid.” Despite her attempts to mask it, I caught the undertone of disdain in her voice. She drove off in a hurry, and I suddenly called out, “Mom, did you check my medication?” “Hmm? Oh, it’s all in your backpack, remember to take it… I’m off now. Behave yourself at their place.” Before she’d finished speaking, the car’s exhaust fumes were already choking me. I followed the address, ascended the stairs, and knocked. The moment the door opened, I froze. My mother’s “trophy wife” was, surprisingly, a stout woman with oil stains on her clothes, uncombed hair, and sleep crust still clinging to the corners of her eyes. She scrutinized me from head to toe, then, with an almost practiced gesture, tilted her chin. “What are you doing just standing there? Go get your own food. The pink dishes are yours.” 3 My father’s new wife asked me to call her Maria. I stood awkwardly by the doorway, taking in the room: clean, yet untidy, toys scattered across the living room floor. A little girl, perhaps four or five, sat cross-legged on the rug, clutching a fuzzy teddy bear in her arms, watching me with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity—this was my father’s daughter with Maria, my stepsister, Lily. After a long silence, Lily pointed at me. “Uh-oh!” Maria peeked out from the kitchen. Seeing me still rooted to the spot, she sighed. “You planning on marrying the doormat? Go on, get your dishes!” I instinctively opened the cabinet, searching for bowls and chopsticks. I found four distinct sets of tableware. Three showed clear signs of daily use. Only one, a pink set, looked remarkably new, yet it wasn’t dusty; it seemed to be washed frequently. At the dinner table, Lily tried several times to strike up a conversation. But I found myself unable to utter a single word. Finally, Lily scratched her head, excusing herself, “Maybe my sister’s just having a bad day.” “Or maybe she’s sad because there’s no ice cream?” “Mom… I…” Maria cut her off mercilessly, “She can have some, you can’t.” “Because a certain little cheat ate two ice creams yesterday!” After dinner, Maria hesitated before handing me a stack of paper. “Ellie? Can I call you Ellie?” “I heard… people with your condition often don’t feel like talking.” “So, if there’s anything you need to say, would you mind writing it down for me?” I was stunned, my gaze dropping to the stack of paper, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Since my symptoms had emerged, every word I spoke felt like it drained every ounce of energy from my body. My own mother’s reaction had been, “If you don’t feel like talking, then you need to push yourself to practice.” She would deliberately pretend not to understand my hand gestures, insisting I speak, even if it left me utterly exhausted. It turned out… there was clearly a better way to handle it. 4 That evening, I slept in what used to be Lily’s room. My phone buzzed suddenly. It was Mom calling. A wave of irritation instantly washed over me. I hung up, then texted her instead: “Can we just text? I really don’t feel like talking on the phone.” The screen showed “typing…” But in the end, nothing came through. After a long pause, the phone rang again, insistently. I hung up several times. But my mom was relentless. Finally, I resigned myself and answered. My mother’s encouraging voice chirped, “That’s more like it.” “If you don’t feel like talking, then you need to push yourself to practice.” “You’ll feel better if you just communicate more with people.” “You’re Sarah Davis’s daughter, you can’t give up.” I spoke, my voice weak, “What do you want?” My mother instantly perked up. “I’ve sent you a few practice tests. Do them in the next couple of days.” “Chloe Adams got the highest score in class——678, you know.” “You used to be right up there with her.” My voice felt dry. “Didn’t you say I should retake next year?” My mother’s dissatisfied tone came through the line. “I did promise you that, but are you just going to waste this whole year?!” “Since you have an extra year to study, you need to make a spectacular comeback…” “People can’t just give up and coast. That’s how you become useless.” On the other end of the line, my mother kept chattering on and on. But I couldn’t hear a word. I felt like I was suffocating. I wanted to scream, to cry, to jump from the window. But in the end, I only asked, my voice barely a whisper, “Mom… did you check my medication?” My mother didn’t hear clearly. “What?” “Oh, never mind, I have to go prepare my lesson plans.” “Remember to do those tests!” The call ended, and all the strength seemed to drain from my body. I collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the pill bottle within reach. My mom had never noticed that the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed had slowly accumulated, building up to a full bottle. My therapist had actually hinted at it, saying my condition was unstable and urging her to frequently check my medication. 5 Too tired to get water, I dry-swallowed the pills one by one, my consciousness slowly blurring. I imagined that when my life ended, perhaps a few tears should fall, to mourn my pathetic existence. But my eyes were bone dry, nothing to shed. Instead, a pill caught in my throat, and I couldn’t help but gag. The next instant, my bedroom door burst open. Maria rushed in. I frowned slightly, annoyed. How irritating. Looks like I won’t die this time. I’ll have to collect another bottle… But to my surprise, Maria simply rushed to my side, her face a mask of panic, and pulled me into a tight embrace. Her voice trembled, yet it was resolute: “Sweetie, can you still hold on?” “If it’s truly too painful, if you can’t bear it… then Mom won’t call an ambulance.” “But if you… if there’s even a tiny spark of wanting to live…” “Then Mom will never let fate take you!” I stared at her, stunned. Tears were actually streaming down her plump face. A single tear rolled and fell into my own dry eye. Suddenly, I burst into sobs, and then, with all my remaining strength, I tried to force my fingers down my throat. At the same time, Maria dialed 911. 6 When I next awoke, I was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. The drip contained potassium, sending waves of stinging cold through my veins. Yet, a soothing warmth simultaneously spread across my arm. I struggled to look. Maria sat by my right side, one hand scrolling through cheesy online dramas on her phone. Her other hand ceaselessly rubbed my arm, trying to ease my discomfort. To my left was my father, who had cut short his business trip and whom I hadn’t seen in ages. Seeing me awake, he instinctively frowned, as if to scold me for being so reckless. But Maria smacked him on the head. She glared, “Think before you speak!” My dad instantly quieted, reaching out to gently stroke my head. “Will you come live with Dad and Maria now, okay?” I felt a dizzying sense of disbelief. My mother had always claimed my dad was utterly blind. After all, he was a highly educated man, a former international student, yet he’d chosen a new wife she deemed “crude and unrefined.” She had insisted, “She probably put some kind of spell on him.” But at this moment, I started to understand why my father, after the divorce, had chosen Maria. 7 After my discharge from the hospital, Maria made a definitive statement: “No SATs this year!” “And if you don’t want to take them next year, that’s fine too!” She went on a full-blown guilt trip with my dad: “You just earn more money, I’ll spend less, and we’ll leave more for both girls.” “Worst case, we still have this house.” I overheard her talking to Lily by chance: “Remember how Mom used to say, ‘It’s okay if you’re not good at school, as long as you have good character, and the house will be yours anyway, right?’” “Hmm… well, things have changed a bit. Don’t you think your sister will need a place to live too, eventually?” “That’s right! So, this house has to be half hers, got it?” Lily bit her finger, deep in thought. “I guess I can live in half a house.” “Good then, half for sister, half for me.” But I felt as though I’d been slapped awake. Dad wasn’t exactly wealthy; this house was just a modest two-bedroom. Originally, Maria and he shared one room, and Lily had the other, which was perfectly fine. But after I came, to give me my own private space, the three of them had squeezed into one room. When they slept, they lay sideways across the bed. The bed wasn’t wide enough, so they’d improvise by pushing a few chairs to the foot, making it work just barely. Yet, they never once complained in front of me. I silently admonished myself: Ellie Peterson, how could you be so selfish? That evening, I announced, “I want to go back to school.” “I want to take the SATs.” 8 The first thing upon returning to school was a placement exam to determine which class I’d join. Even though I’d missed some school, my foundation was strong, and I could solve most of the problems. So, the principal waved his hand. “Advanced Placement class.” I subtly frowned. My mother taught the Advanced Placement class. I tried to argue, “Can I be in Class Two instead?” “I don’t want to go to the Advanced Placement class.” The principal seemed incredibly surprised but agreed to discuss it with Mr. Harrison, the Class Two homeroom teacher. “You can attend the Advanced Placement class for now.” “Every second counts in senior year. It’s not too late to switch classes after we’ve discussed it.” As I walked into the classroom, it was right in the middle of my mother’s math lesson. My appearance brought a sudden hush to the entire class. My mother’s brow was furrowed with a hint of fatigue. “Here to see me?” “Out of pocket money?” “I’ll transfer some to you in a bit. Go back for now, and I’ll see you this weekend.” I wheeled in a desk and chair from the hallway. “I’m here for class.” My mother’s expression soured. She lowered her voice. “Who told you to use my connections to get into the Advanced Placement class?” “I absolutely detest special treatment.” I didn’t respond, simply moving my desk and chair into the classroom and settling in. My mother, helpless, finally acquiesced. “I truly don’t have time for your antics.” “Just go if you want to.” 9 Undeniably, my mother’s teaching abilities were truly exceptional, known for her ability to simplify complex concepts and her witty, engaging style. And aside from her severity with me, she was generally well-liked by other students. Just like now, my mother produced several exquisitely packed bento boxes. “I know none of you enjoy cafeteria food.” “So, today, I’ve made five portions of sushi myself!” “Whoever can solve this challenge problem on the board gets to eat.” The school cafeteria food was indeed notoriously bad. I had previously begged my mother to bring me homemade lunches. But she would say, “Just bear with it for another year. You can eat whatever you want later.” “This is senior year, a critical period. Who has time to cook for you?” “Besides, I’m eating cafeteria food too, aren’t I?” Yet now, she was using her homemade sushi as a reward. I couldn’t help but let a sarcastic smirk play on my lips. My mother caught sight of it and deliberately tried to embarrass me. “Ellie Peterson, you answer this one.” “Since you’re in the Advanced Placement class, this problem should be a piece of cake for you.” I stood up, trying to force my mind to conjure a solution. But my mother kept circling me, peering at my blank scratch paper, and let out a loud, disapproving “tsk.” In an instant, my mind went completely blank. Every critical word she had ever spoken to me flashed before my eyes, a frantic slideshow. Five minutes later, I dropped my head in defeat. “I… I can’t solve it.” My mother, as if savoring a victory, didn’t let me sit down. She spun around abruptly. “Chloe Adams, you come up and show Ellie how it’s done.” Chloe Adams was the top student my mother constantly praised, the girl who had clinched first place in the placement exam. The girl sitting in front of me hesitated for a second, then spoke in a soft, low voice: “I’m sorry, Ms. Davis.” “I’m not quite sure how to do this one either.” “Could you please explain it?” She was lying. I’d clearly seen that her scratch paper was filled with the solution, and the answer was circled in red ink. My mother immediately strode to the podium, ready to explain the problem. Just then, a loud voice boomed through the classroom: “Oh my, it’s almost 12:30 already, aren’t these kids going to eat?” It was Maria. She stood at the door, carrying a huge bag. My mother recognized her and immediately snapped, “What are you doing here?” Maria calmly walked over to my desk, her voice full of righteous conviction. “Bringing lunch, of course.” “Haven’t you ever brought your child lunch?” I was stunned. Maria’s house wasn’t close to the school. I hadn’t expected her to specifically come all this way to bring me food. She began taking out the lunch boxes, chatting casually with the other students: “You’re all Ellie’s classmates, aren’t you?” “Come on, come on, Auntie made homemade chicken tenders and fried mushrooms today!” “Hurry and eat while they’re hot!” At first, the students were shy, waving their hands in refusal. But after a morning of classes and being held late by my mom, their stomachs were growling. Their politeness lasted barely a minute. The delicious aroma wafted through the room, and they all broke. “Thank you, Auntie!” “And thanks, Ellie, we’re totally benefiting from you!” I felt a bit overwhelmed. I was naturally reserved and rarely socialized with classmates. This was the first time I’d been the center of attention, and the first time I’d shared food. In stark contrast, my mother stood on the podium, guarding a few boxes of sushi. Her face was livid with fury. Just then, someone asked me, “Ellie, who is she?” Before I could answer, Maria effortlessly interjected, “I’m her nanny.” My mother let out a scoff of cold disdain.

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It all began when Luna, the wolf mother who raised me, snagged Sera Dubois’s favorite dress. Liam Thorne, Sera’s childhood sweetheart, actually summoned a brute to hack off Luna’s four paws and then had her cast into a vat of sulfuric acid. I held Luna, her breath shallow, and roared at Liam, “I told you from the start that I was raised by wolves! How is this any different from cutting off my own mother’s limbs?!” But Liam simply looked at me, his face cold, covering Sera’s eyes with his hand. “You’re clearly just some wild stray my stepmother, Martha, picked up from God knows where. Don’t think you can deceive me with those stories!” Luna, still bleeding profusely, struggled to inch her way towards me. I crawled to her, cradling her in my arms. “I stayed willingly, a gesture of gratitude for the Thorne family providing a sanctuary for my pack. You followed me for hundreds of miles because you couldn’t bear to let me go, but I never meant for this to be your undoing.” That night, clutching Luna, I knelt and bowed deeply several times before Aunt Martha’s memorial tablet. “Aunt Martha, the Thorne family’s wildlife parks are now nationwide. They no longer need my ability to command animals. I should have left long ago.” … I was about to blow the bone flute hanging from my neck, but Luna struggled, stopping me. Wolves know gratitude. The Thorne family took in old and infirm animals, giving the pack a home. I knew she didn’t want me to ruin the Thorne family unless it was absolutely unavoidable. The vet, seeing the bare bones, flesh eaten away and cracked from the concentrated sulfuric acid, shook his head, saying there was nothing he could do. “Doctor, she used to be the fastest wolf in the forest. To not reattach her limbs, doesn’t that mean you’re letting her die?” My cries were torn from my soul. Luna stretched out a mangled limb, attempting to wipe away my tears, but realizing she had lost her paws, she curled up dejectedly. I stayed by Luna’s side all night, eventually weeping myself into unconsciousness. With a loud bang, the main doors were kicked open. Mr. Davies, the butler, dragged me to kneel before the grand hall of Thorne Manor. Sera lay limply on a plush armchair, her face meticulously made up to appear frail and wounded, looking as though her breath might give out any second. As I tried to rise, Liam’s hand lashed out, slapping me hard across the face. “Sera went out for a wilderness survey and was bitten by these ungrateful beasts! Tell me, did you instruct them?!” He pointed to a nearby iron cage. Only then did I see several wolf pups trapped inside – Their hides were torn open, their breathing shallow and ragged. I bit back the searing pain in my swollen cheek and crawled towards the cage, desperate to free them, but Mr. Davies dragged me back several feet. Liam’s face darkened. “You don’t care about the person injured because of you, but you rush to these animals! Bury them alive!” I dragged my aching body, throwing myself towards the cage. The pups still wore the leg bands I had personally tied on them – I had delivered them myself, deep in the forest. Their tender paws brushed against my palm, as if telling me not to worry, yet their mournful whines sent a bitter ache through my heart. I gritted my teeth, glaring at Liam. “They didn’t hurt Sera at all! They said they saw Sera being taken by force, and they scared off the attackers and saved her!” Liam froze for a moment, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. But Sera immediately burst into tears, grabbing Liam’s hand. “It was clearly these animals that hurt me, Liam, why would I lie to you?” “She’s definitely playing her tricks again. No one can understand animals!” “If she truly could, would she have tolerated her pet snake biting you? Doesn’t that just prove she did it on purpose?” Liam glared furiously at me, then ordered the entire cage to be taken to the back hills of the estate. Earlier, to save Liam, I had been bitten all over by that snake, but it turned out to be completely non-venomous. I still couldn’t understand why a usually docile snake would suddenly attack Liam. Before I could finish, Liam suddenly gripped my throat, as if to strangle me. “Then how did I get poisoned so severely? Eleanor Vance, there’s a limit to your lies! If Sera hadn’t brought the antidote, I would have died.” I tore free from his grasp, arching my back like a wolf, leaping onto the cage, and baring my teeth. Everyone recoiled in fear. “Anyone who dares touch them will have to step over my dead body first!” 2 Liam’s eyes flickered, startled by my strange posture, and his tone softened. “I genuinely don’t understand you. Why do you care so much about these animals, why do you have to act like them?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. He used to adore animals because of me, allowing me to keep all sorts of creatures in the manor, even praising me for being as cute as a little wolf. But now, after he was bitten by the venomous snake, all my companions had been sent away, leaving only Luna by my side. Now he claimed he “didn’t understand.” My eyes were red, warning everyone to keep their distance, when suddenly, a heavy object struck my head. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness. When I woke again, a searing pain erupted across my scalp. I clutched my head, rubbing it ceaselessly. A familiar cold voice reached my ears. “I told you to go easy on her. Why isn’t she awake yet?” Mr. Davies bowed, apologizing. Seeing I was awake, he quickly alerted Liam. Liam strode to the bedside, about to sit down, then hesitated, a mocking sneer on his lips. “Now you know what a headache feels like? Weren’t you so stubborn just now? Those animals are dead. Apologize properly to Sera, and this whole thing is over.” I clutched at his clothes, my voice trembling. “Liam, why are you doing this to me?” Liam’s eyes hardened with cold indifference. He flung my hand away. “Martha, my stepmother, was a homewrecker who caused my mother’s death. You’re her bastard child, brought back by her. You then released a venomous snake to bite me, trying to seize my family’s wealth. What else do you expect from me?” “I already told you, if you just behaved, I’d let you live comfortably in the Thorne Manor. But you insist on defying me again and again for these animals.” “Aunt Martha was not a homewrecker! She and Grandfather only met because of their shared love for animals after your mother’s suicide—” With a resounding CRASH, Liam swept all the teacups off the table, cutting me off. “You’re going to tell me that outlandish story about being raised by wolves again. I must have been truly cursed to have believed you before!” With that, he stormed out, his face icy. Watching his retreating back, my heart turned to ash. Years ago, Aunt Martha, during a wilderness survey, had stopped a hunter who was aiming his rifle at me. She approached me cautiously, only to discover, to her astonishment, that I was a naked young girl. I growled at her, baring my teeth, yet she extended her hand. From then on, she taught me to read, to walk upright. Using the Thorne family’s resources, she expanded a vast wolf sanctuary. And I, with my unique ability to communicate with animals, helped her gather countless rare data, making the Thorne family a global leader in animal research, securing numerous patents. She brought me back to Thorne Manor. Years later, Liam and I fell in love. He held my hand and swore he would marry no one else. That is, until his childhood friend, Sera Dubois, returned from overseas, bringing with her photos of his father having an affair with Aunt Martha, and then suddenly, he was poisoned. After that, Liam became a changed man, viewing me as an enemy. Assistant Green, Aunt Martha’s only trusted aide, walked in, her face grave. “Ms. Vance, I’ve investigated everything. You need to prepare yourself.” Assistant Green handed me a stack of documents. Photo after photo made me feel as if I might collapse! Liam had sworn to me during our wedding. The Thorne family would only send orphaned animal cubs and animals incapable of hunting to zoos for care, never greedily training animals for dangerous performances. But the documents showed that for years, the Thorne family had been building zoos across the country, under the guise of animal welfare, constantly capturing rare animals to expand their collections. The photos showed all sorts of animals crammed into tiny cages, unable to even straighten their bodies. They used whips to force tiger cubs to jump through fire hoops, and monkeys to hold their breath underwater. Cheetahs had their fangs and claws ripped out for photo opportunities, brown bears were shackled in steel, their bile extracted daily. Those deemed cheap and useless were euthanized; the expensive ones were sold cheaply to circuses. Many of the miserable wild beasts in the photos had been my childhood companions. I still remembered the exhilarating freedom of running through the forest with them. Now, their eyes were filled with pure terror. A forest fire had destroyed their habitat, leaving them severely injured. I had believed the Thorne family’s zoo would be a safe haven, never imagining I was personally sending them to hell. The original wilderness sanctuary had also been developed into a hunting ground for the wealthy. Watching them display severed animal heads to the camera, I finally couldn’t hold back the nausea and vomited. It was all my fault… Assistant Green gently supported me, her face full of concern. “Ms. Vance! Animal protection was Aunt Martha’s lifelong creed. Now, it’s all up to you.” I bit my lip and nodded. I would take Luna. I would blow the bone flute. And I would make the Thorne family reap what they had sown! Luna had been placed in a locked room. I limped to the door, only to see a trail of blood leading from inside the room towards the back hills of the mansion. A cold dread washed over me. I rushed out. Before I even left the gate, I heard Liam’s voice from inside the house: “You want wolf fur? I’ll find you some other kind, why would you—” 3 Sera pouted playfully, “That old wolf dragged those buried little beasts into the house and made a bloody mess everywhere! It scared me half to death when I walked out! I just had to blow off some steam.” “Liam, do you like this wolf-skin bikini I made?” Liam’s voice became thick and syrupy. “You little rascal, you look best without anything on.” I slammed the door open. Sera, clad in a wolf-skin bikini the same color as Luna’s fur, was draped around Liam’s waist, writhing. I lunged forward, maddened, limping as I tried to tear off Sera’s clothes, but then I froze, seeing the bone flute hanging from her neck. My eyes blazed crimson. I seized her throat. “Sera! What is that around your neck?” Sera choked, veins bulging, unable to speak. Liam seized the opportunity to pull me away. “Eleanor Vance, are you insane?! It’s just a dying old wolf! I can catch you another one, can’t I?” Around Sera’s neck was a bone flute crafted from Luna’s bones. It was identical to the one around my own neck. This bone flute could command animals. Luna had deliberately twisted her tail years ago, allowing me to fashion it. I had told only Liam about this. Now, he had told Sera, and even indulged her in killing my wolf mother. Sera, still draped on the armchair, pretended to gasp for breath, but a smirk played on her lips as she raised an eyebrow at me. I cast aside years of learned human decorum, reverting to instinct. I collapsed to the floor, letting out a mournful howl, my nails digging blood trails into the ground. Liam recoiled in fear, stepping back repeatedly. Sera, however, leaned in, pinching my chin to examine my face. She suddenly turned to Liam and said, “This is bad. Eleanor Vance has been afflicted by the wolf-taint, which is why her behavior is so similar to a wolf’s.” In a rage, I grabbed Sera’s wrist, intending to snatch the bone flute from her neck. Liam, who had been hesitant, saw me bruising Sera’s wrist and immediately ordered his men to restrain me. Sera winked at me. “Getting rid of this affliction isn’t hard, actually. I learned from an elder in the rainforest.” She had them force me into a dark room. In the pitch black, deafening gongs exploded around me. I screamed, painfully covering my ears. Bright lights pierced my eyes, like a sharp sword thrust into my eyeballs. I was raised by wolves. For over a decade living with them, my hearing, sight, and smell were a hundred times more sensitive than a normal person’s, indistinguishable from a wolf’s. Liam had always known about my condition. He once pretended to be a ghost and shrieked next to my ear to scare me. That single scream caused my eardrums to bleed, sending me to the hospital for seven days. He had slapped himself, swollen-faced with remorse, weeping before me. But now, because of Sera’s baseless claim of a “wolf-taint,” he was doing this to me. My eyes stung too much to open. I could only yell into the darkness, “Liam Thorne, you know I can’t stand bright lights or loud noises. Do you really believe this ‘wolf-taint’ nonsense?!” In my panic, a cold voice responded near my ear: “I don’t believe it, but you bruised Sera’s hand. This is your punishment.” The gongs crashed in waves. Mr. Davies brutally held my eyelids open, forcing me to face the blinding light directly. Liam steadied my falling body. He saw the blood flowing from my eyes and ears, and his lips pressed into a tight line. “Help Ms. Vance to her bed.” Then he took Sera’s hand, which I had bruised, gently rubbing and blowing on it. Liam took Sera to the hospital to check her neck, which I had scratched. After Aunt Martha passed, Grandfather Thorne had been devastated. He was just recovering some strength when he hobbled in, leaning on his cane, trembling. Seeing my wretched state, he gasped, unable to stand, and collapsed to his knees. “Eleanor, I’ve wronged you, and I’ve wronged your Aunt Martha. I’ve raised such an unworthy grandson in Liam!” “I know it’s your ability to command animals that kept them docile in the sanctuary.” “Those wild creatures were friendly to us because of your command, allowing us to collect experimental data, which preserved the Thorne family’s standing in the scientific and business worlds.” Seeing the old man kneeling before me, I gasped, enduring the pain, and spoke. “Now that Aunt Martha is gone, and the wolf pack has been harmed, there’s nothing that will make me stay here.” “Eleanor, it’s all my fault. The Thorne family’s legacy cannot be ruined by Liam! I’ll cast Liam out of the family, and order no one to help him. Please, I beg you, don’t leave. Please, help the Thorne family one last time, won’t you?” I coughed up a mouthful of blood, stroking the bone flute on my neck. My voice was calm. “Sera has already made a bone flute from my wolf mother’s blood and bones. Go beg her. After all… Liam said she’s a hundred times better than me.” I no longer listened to his pleas. A faint smile played on my lips. I raised the bone flute, blowing it with all my strength. A powerful wolf howl tore through the sky. Grandfather Thorne’s face went ashen. “It’s over, it’s all over…” Within minutes, muffled thuds shook the Thorne Manor’s grand gates. CRASH—BOOM! The next second, the gates burst open! Through a swirl of dust, a pack of wild wolves, standing taller than men, roared!

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I never imagined a simple handbag would lead to this—a divorce from my husband, so soon after our wedding. It all started when my husband and I decided on a destination wedding instead of a traditional banquet. Once in Tokyo, I happened upon a Prestige Atelier boutique and stepped inside to browse. To my surprise, the sales associate informed me that every bag on display was merely for show, none available for purchase. I glanced down at myself—a simple t-shirt, baggy shorts, and hair that looked like a bird’s nest. A few days later, dressed impeccably, I returned, only to be told once again that there were no bags for sale. This time, a male sales associate served me, his attitude even more arrogant. He actually suggested that if I couldn’t afford a bag, I could at least drink all the free water I wanted. I demanded to file a complaint and have my account deleted, but they deliberately made me wait for hours. What was even more infuriating was that my husband blamed me for making a fuss. Fine. I’d like to see if they dare to be so arrogant once they see my account details! Then, even if they groveled on their knees, I would never forgive these snobbish, status-obsessed people! 1 After the sales associate, Chloe, refused to serve me, I was incandescent with rage. “Get me someone else!” The moment I entered the boutique, I had asked to see handbags. Seeing my anger, Chloe paused, then turned to murmur into her headset, her professional smile unwavering as she asked me to wait. A moment later, a young man in a sharp suit, Ethan, approached. I assumed he was there to apologize, but his face was stern as he began, “Madam, we only serve our elite clients. Basic members are not within our service scope.” He then handed me a bottle of water. “Please, take a seat here and have some water. Even if you can’t afford a bag, you can at least drink your fill.” I was instantly inflamed – was he implying I couldn’t afford a bag, just trying to leech off their service? And then offering water to “drink my fill” as an insult? I turned to leave, and as I walked away, I distinctly heard him say into his headset, “This one’s been dealt with.” 2 I turned back. “I no longer wish to purchase from your brand. Can you please delete my account?” Ethan paused, then a “just as I expected” smile spread across his face. “Madam, once your account is deleted, you will no longer be a basic member with us. “If you ever wish to purchase again, you’ll have to start from scratch to accumulate points and upgrade.” I shook my head. “Thanks to you, this is my last time here.” Ethan directed me to sit on the sofa, claiming he would handle it once he was finished. However, an hour, then two hours passed… Growing agitated, I stood up. “How much longer do you intend to make me wait?” At that moment, Ethan was beaming, carrying clothes, trailing behind a wealthy lady. “My apologies, I’m busy right now. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?” The lady, Mrs. Sterling, glanced at me, then scoffed to Ethan, “Ethan, do you let any riff-raff into your counter now?” Chloe immediately chimed in, covering her mouth with a feigned laugh. “Mrs. Sterling, this lady has been here several times, always asking to see bags. “But our counter doesn’t cater to basic or cosmetics members, so she started demanding to delete her account, giving us quite a hassle.” Other customers in the store turned to scrutinize me, and I trembled with fury – Just because I dressed casually last time, they labeled me a “cosmetics member”? I loved this brand precisely because of the excellent service they offered back home. How many cosmetics, bags, and clothes had I bought over the years? And now, I was being discriminated against simply for dressing plainly? I immediately snapped at Ethan, “Get your manager here. I want to file a complaint!” 3 Chloe and Ethan both froze, clearly not expecting me to complain. Chloe pointed to her name tag, a sneering smile playing on her lips. “This is my employee ID. Remember it when you file your complaint, darling. “However, the manager isn’t here right now. It’ll be a while before they arrive.” Ethan nodded. “Yes, Madam. You can wait for the manager to arrive before deleting your account.” Their expressions were dripping with dismissiveness – in their eyes, I was merely a basic member. Even a complaint would only lead to a light reprimand, nothing significant. I turned to leave, tossing over my shoulder, “In a few hours, I expect to see your manager.” Stepping out of the boutique, my husband, David, just arrived, having finished packing. Seeing the grim expression on my face, he hurried to ask, “What’s wrong, Cat?” I recounted the entire incident, but to my dismay, he actually urged me to let it go. “We have a flight to catch soon. Don’t bother with them. Maybe they didn’t mean it…” I re-evaluated the man standing before me. I had married him because I was hot-tempered and sought a gentle partner to complement me. But at this moment, I suddenly wondered: was my judgment so poor, or had I simply misjudged him from the start? Was he gentle, or merely weak? I didn’t answer, and David, assuming I’d agreed, quickly led me to dinner. Throughout the meal, David persistently tried to mediate. “Maybe they really couldn’t sell it. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they make a sale to you for commission?” “If they couldn’t sell it, why were they bustling about, helping that wealthy lady try on clothes? And why bring up memberships?” “I think they were deliberately judging me by my cover.” David offered a few more explanations, telling me not to take it to heart. After dinner, he headed towards the Grand Avenue exit, but I turned and walked straight back to the luxury boutique. David rushed to catch up, pulling and coaxing, but I refused to utter a single word. Inside the store, I went directly to Ethan and Chloe. The two were stunned to see me return. They hadn’t expected me to be so persistent. Reluctantly, they called the manager. While the manager was on the way, they tried to reason with me, then threatened me. When they couldn’t get through to me, they turned their attention to David. “Sir, is this your wife?” My husband nodded. “Yes, my newlywed wife.” Chloe seized the opportunity to interject. “Sir, you really need to keep your wife in line. She’s wasted so much of our time.” “In our culture, when a woman marries, she often takes her husband’s name and should focus on the home and family, not being so aggressive out here.” My husband nodded in agreement. “I’ll talk to her, I promise.” With that, he tried to pull me towards the door. “Cat, can we just enjoy our honeymoon without drama? Like a peaceful honeymoon, not one where we both end up miserable.” 4 I turned to David, my face serious. “If you want to catch your flight, go ahead. I’m not going.” David was at a loss now, left with no choice but to wait there for the manager. During this time, Chloe and Ethan, one after another, thoroughly explained the consequences of deleting my account to David. I watched David, listening intently to their words, and my disappointment deepened. David and I met through an arranged introduction. I was a career-driven woman, always immersed in my work, with no real mind for romance. After repeated prodding from my family, I finally agreed to the setup. But an arranged introduction didn’t mean I had no demands; on the contrary, my expectations were high. High education, tall, high IQ, and handsome. As for anything else, it was irrelevant. Because I was incredibly wealthy, whether my husband had money or a good job simply didn’t matter. It was these very criteria that led me to choose him from a pool of candidates. He had a gentle temperament and could tolerate my busy schedule and occasional bad temper. His job wasn’t great, so I arranged for him to work at one of my subsidiary companies. Afraid he might feel sensitive about it, I framed it as a friend’s company. But now, looking at him, this wasn’t gentleness; this was clearly weakness. My mind was already made up for divorce. When David politely thanked Ethan and Chloe, he turned to me. He came over to my side. “Cat, if you delete this account, you’ll have to start from zero later.” “I just asked around, they didn’t mean anything by it, their words just came out wrong.” “And they said, if we change our minds, this whole thing can just be forgotten!” Seeing his anxious eyes, I scoffed. “You’re my husband. Whose side are you on?” “Of course I’m on your side, but if you really can’t buy a bag right now, you can always buy one later, right? A colleague of mine deals in pre-owned designer bags, they’re affordable and still big brands.” “I’ll get you one after the honeymoon.” I looked up at him. “I recall your salary is, what, ten thousand dollars a month? And you’re planning to buy me a pre-owned designer bag?” “Isn’t it because we’re spending a lot at home? Besides, my parents are getting old, and there will be many more expenses down the line.” I smiled. “Buying a ten-thousand-dollar bag won’t make you poor, nor will it make me rich.” “Don’t say another word. Don’t make me bring up divorce right now.” At that moment, the luxury boutique manager arrived.

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For ten years, Julian Reed refused to consummate our marriage. If I so much as brushed against one of his belongings, he would have it burned and discarded—then brand the word “filth” onto my skin. A decade of marriage left me covered in shameful tattoos, hidden beneath my clothes. For a decade, my body was a canvas of unsightly tattoos, hidden beneath my clothes. That day, carrying a tray, I accidentally brushed his foot. I immediately fell to my knees, terrified, but he did not punish me. I thought his heart had finally warmed to me, but the very next day, he used me as collateral, offering me up in a vile public auction to acquire an item for his beloved, Seraphina Hayes. The men who coveted me began to openly calculate how many rare antiques they would bid for a single night with me. “She’s truly never been taken? Mr. Reed, you’d actually let go?” Julian sneered, “Only the untouched are sent to you. She hasn’t been near a man in nearly thirty years, so she’s certainly famished for it. On the bed, she’ll bend to your every whim…” The men frantically raised their bidding paddles, clamoring to see my compromising images. Julian gazed tenderly at Seraphina, cradled in his arms. “Sera, my darling, whatever you desire tonight, I will acquire for you.” “No matter the cost, Eleanor can pay for anything.” Watching my photos scroll across the massive screen, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I huddled at the edge of the crowd, engulfed by an icy chill. My blood felt as though it had been flash-frozen, then violently surged back through my veins, leaving my limbs numb and unresponsive. The most exclusive auction house in the coastal city typically announced its lots a week in advance, but for a powerful family like the Reeds, a last-minute addition was effortlessly arranged— And I was that “item,” forcibly inserted into the lineup. All because Seraphina had set her eyes on a priceless Ming Dynasty porcelain plate, deeming it suitable for a paint palette. The men’s lewd whispers continued: “Mr. Reed, using Eleanor as collateral, would she really agree?” Julian scoffed, “She’s nothing but a financial drain her parents sold to the Reed family. What right does she have to refuse?” “Besides, given her absolute devotion to me, if I told her to come naked and serve you right now, she’d kneel and thank me for the privilege.” “Mr. Reed is truly formidable. Even the most aloof beauty can be trained into a wanton courtesan.” Julian’s expression grew even more disgusted. “It just proves she’s inherently impure to her very core.” Inherently impure? If my grandfather hadn’t rescued his grandfather from a pile of dead bodies all those years ago, there would be no Reed family today. At last, I gave up on him completely. For ten years of our marriage, I lived alone in a separate wing of the mansion. Only when his parents came to inspect would he have my belongings moved to the balcony of his master bedroom. At night, fearing I might enter the room, he would lock the balcony door. Once, during a heavy rainstorm, I froze into unconsciousness on the balcony. When he found out, he merely had all the furniture in the house replaced, as if my very presence was a contagion. I used to believe I was the one who was “dirty,” which was why I was despised— At fifteen, my parents died in a car crash, our family fortune seized by uncles. I drifted through the streets, taking on any grueling job. At my hungriest, I even fought stray dogs for scraps of bread. Five years later, the Reed family found me. The day I was brought back, I thought my life had finally taken a turn for the better. So, when Grandfather Reed, on his deathbed, asked me to marry Julian, I agreed. He, unwilling to disappoint the dying man, reluctantly consented. I saw his hesitation and proactively offered him time to adjust, even signing a ten-year agreement— If, after ten years, he still didn’t love me, I would leave voluntarily. Because I truly loved him, and I remembered the flicker of kindness he had once shown me. 2 Years ago, when I was fighting stray dogs for a piece of bread, torn and bleeding, he tossed me an expired biscuit. That memory was a solitary beacon in my desolate life. So, after our marriage, no matter how much he loathed and humiliated me, I endured it silently. I would wash myself countless times a day, and disinfect everything before and after preparing food. Only now did I understand: it wasn’t a phobia of germs. He simply found me disgusting. It was late night by the time I walked home from the auction. Gazing at the brightly lit mansion, I dialed his number. “Three days from now, we divorce.” Upon entering, I found Julian still awake, the living room filled with many of his friends—the very same men from the auction. An alarm blared in my mind. I quickly offered a hurried greeting and retreated to a small room on the ground floor. Before I could close the door, Julian followed. He stood in the doorway, his eyes softer than usual. “You’ll sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” I assumed his parents were visiting and turned to gather my things, but he seized my wrist. “Go up now. Wash yourself and wait for me.” My body stiffened. My gaze fell upon the fresh hickeys Seraphina had bitten into his neck, then swept across the men outside, eager for a show. My heart sank to the bottom. I tried to close the door, but he kicked it open. The rebounding doorknob slammed violently into my hip, the searing pain making cold sweat prickle my skin. His pupils constricted slightly, but he still commanded in a low voice, “Be obedient. Go upstairs.” Knowing we would be divorced in a week, I didn’t want to cause a scene now. I swallowed my discomfort and turned. After two steps, I heard him chuckle softly behind me: “Ellie, don’t be nervous later. After all, it’s something you’ve waited ten years for. You should be happy.” I could only obey and go upstairs to the master bedroom to bathe. Picking up the clothes he’d left by the door, I froze. The fabric was thin as a dragonfly’s wing, barely reaching my thighs, utterly revealing. “Julian, the clothes—” Before I could finish, he had already shut the bedroom door. He sat on the sofa, commanding me to put the clothes on. “Haven’t you always wanted to please me? I’m giving you the chance. Make the most of it.” I bit my lip, my movements stiff as I pulled on the flimsy garment. My body trembled ceaselessly. Julian lifted his chin, signaling me to lie on the bed. I lay down numbly, feeling the overhead light flicker. “Nice figure.” “Look at the tattoos on her body, quite provocative. If her skin were flushed, wouldn’t it look even better?” Julian slowly rose, walked directly into the bathroom, and filled a basin with scalding hot water, which he then poured over me. My already sensitive skin instantly flared crimson. A smirk played on his lips. “Red. It certainly suits you.” Downstairs, the men were losing their minds. They watched the projected feed on the television, drooling. “No one argue with me, I’m having this woman. Mr. Reed, care to facilitate?” “Don’t be ridiculous. What are your paltry millions going to do? I heard the Thorne family will also be at this auction. Can you compete with Alistair Thorne?” “He doesn’t even care for women. He’s like an ice block all day, you could shave his head and he’d just join a monastery.” … I lay there for a long time, and Julian made no further moves. I managed to lift my head slightly, only to realize he had left at some point. I quickly found some clothes to put on, preparing to call the maid to change the sheets. I had just opened the door when I heard movement in the stairwell. It was Julian and Seraphina. “Arthur, gentle—” “Sera, darling, watching Eleanor’s disgusting figure earlier, my mind was only filled with you. Do you know how much I missed you?” “But my hand just touched her. Can you please disinfect it properly for me?” 3 The sickeningly sweet sounds of their intimacy washed over me in waves, drowning me. My heart a desolate wasteland, I silently skirted around them, descending the stairs from the other side. This was the servants’ staircase, without surveillance cameras. So no one saw me come down. Looking at the large screen in the living room, and the men with their faces flushed with disturbing arousal. I nearly stumbled. “Did you save the video from earlier? If I sell it on the black market, I could definitely make some pocket money.” “I just casually sent it to my big brother. He’s willing to pay twenty million.” Behind me, hurried footsteps sounded. Julian’s face darkened as he blocked my path. “Who told you to come down? When did you come down?” The people in the living room all turned their heads, eager to rip my clothes off immediately. I quickly retreated, wanting to go back to my room, but Seraphina blocked my path again. Her clothes were still disheveled, the marks on her neck a vivid red. “Ms. Vance, our family is hosting a charity auction the day after tomorrow. Please, come with us.” I instantly recalled their earlier words, my face etched with terror. “I won’t go! I won’t!” Julian looked at me with utter disdain. “What kind of behavior is this, screaming like that? Truly an uncultured country bumpkin!” “This event is for the most prominent families. You are my wife; you must go. Besides—” He swept his gaze over me from head to toe. “This auction’s main event is something you’ve never seen before. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It would be a great pity to miss it.” “I don’t want to—” He suddenly forced himself to lean close to me, his voice barely a whisper, laced with disgust, yet loud enough for me alone. “If you don’t go, tomorrow your grandfather’s ashes will be fed to the dogs.” My eyes widened abruptly, staring at him in disbelief. My grandfather was a towering hero his entire life. How dare he insult my grandfather like that! But realizing the immense power the Reed family now wielded, I could only agree. Time slipped away. On the night of the charity auction, Julian had a stylist specially prepare me. The transparent white gown revealed the tattoos on my arms and legs. With every step, I could feel the invasive stares of those around me. Seraphina, arm linked with Julian’s, walked ahead, while I followed behind like their attendant. Utterly out of place. As we neared our seats, Seraphina suddenly seemed to remember me. She pulled me to the very front. “Ms. Vance, your status truly suits this seat best. It also makes it easier for everyone to see you.” With nothing to block the view in front, my dress barely covered my thighs. I wanted to hide, but Julian’s gaze was full of menace. A burst of laughter suddenly erupted from behind me. “Is that the thirty-year-old virgin?” “Even though she’s older, being untouched at thirty is truly rare, quite unique.” I clenched my hands, digging my nails into my palms. “Shut up!” Julian’s reaction was quicker than anyone else’s. He sharply raised his hand to strike me. But at the moment of impact, he disgustedly lowered it. “My friends are complimenting you. Don’t be ungrateful, Eleanor. Don’t forget what you promised me.” Seraphina gently clutched his sleeve. “Arthur, don’t be angry.” “Perhaps my arrangement wasn’t good, making Ms. Vance upset. I’ll apologize to her.” She rose, appearing wronged, about to bow to me. “I’m so—” Julian pulled her into an embrace. “Why on earth would you apologize to a mere object? She’s not worthy.” He looked at me with cold eyes. “Don’t cross my line.” I lowered my head, not uttering another word. The auction soon began. No matter what Seraphina desired, Julian bought it without a second thought. 4 Soon, it was time for the priceless Ming Dynasty porcelain plate that Seraphina had so desperately wanted. The bidding started at a hundred million. Julian’s eyes were fixed on his phone, where a live stream was playing. I only glanced at it, and my blood ran cold. The live camera seemed to be directly in front of me, capturing my— And the chat stream was filled with different people placing bids. [I bid thirty million.] [Thirty-five million.] [Fifty million!] I abruptly stood up. But then I saw Julian’s smirk. He looked at Seraphina. “Sera, my darling, I’m going to put her up for public degradation for you.” The Reed family’s recent financial momentum wasn’t particularly strong. He had already spent nearly a billion just now. Where would he get the money for that? I suddenly recalled the live stream footage from earlier, and cold sweat broke out. So, he truly intended to use me as collateral for a grotesque public spectacle. “Julian, don’t you dare go too far!” “I am a person, a living, breathing human being, not an object you can casually buy and sell!” At my outburst, Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Eleanor, am I giving you too much leeway?” “You dare defy me in front of my friends and business partners? Truly, a child with no parents has no upbringing.” I glared fiercely at him. “Julian, my parents died serving our country. You have no right to judge them!” “Without my family, your Reed family would have long ago perished in—” SLAP! He struck me hard across the face. The next second, he brutally grabbed my hair and yanked me backward. “Tonight, you can’t escape!” He ordered his bodyguards to bind me. Red ropes coiled around my body, one by one. An iron chain was fastened around my neck. The other end was tied to a pillar at the side of the display stage. Seraphina leaned into Julian’s shoulder, peering at his phone. “The bidding’s already at eighty million? But it’s still quite a ways from the hundred million starting bid.” Julian’s face was etched with distress. “Cut her clothes open. Let everyone inspect the goods first.” I frantically shook my head, pleading with him. “Julian, I know I was wrong. I’ll stay far away from you from now on. Please, don’t do this to me, okay?” “I beg you—” He had already shamed me in front of everyone for ten years. I couldn’t bear to have my dignity trampled again. But he wouldn’t listen to me, letting the bodyguards rip my clothes to shreds. My self-respect was utterly crushed along with my garments. “Julian, I hate you—” My whispered plea was drowned out by the gasps of the crowd. “Wow!” “The brand on her stomach is actually in the shape of a rose! Sera, you really have a mind for these things.” “I only mentioned it to the designer, I never thought they’d actually be able to make it. It’s the first time I’ve seen such a striking rose.” “Mr. Reed! Look at your own auction platform, it’s already at 150 million!” Julian still wasn’t finished. “Not enough. There are still two more antiques not yet displayed. Not enough money.” My last piece of clothing was ripped away by the bodyguards. I had no strength left to struggle, despair engulfing all my senses. I don’t even remember how I was taken backstage. I only recall the dim light, someone carefully dressing me, and then being gently carried into a car. All I saw was a pair of fathomless, dark eyes, and then oblivion. As the car sped away from the auction house, the scene there had erupted into chaos. Seraphina’s coveted Ming Dynasty porcelain plate had now reached five hundred million. The bidder competing with her finally stopped. “Congratulations, Mr. Reed, on acquiring our Ming Dynasty porcelain!” Julian smiled, rising, and gently turned to look at Seraphina by his side. The next second, Julian froze in his tracks.

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Driving to the airport, a Porsche attempted to cut me off. I didn’t yield. To my disbelief, after it sped past, it continued to aggressively tailgate and cut in front of my car. Pressed for time, I decided against engaging with such a road-raged driver and opted for restraint. Yet, my forbearance only emboldened her—in less than a hundred yards, she braked hard, blocking me, five times. My patience snapped. I decided to call the police. But as I was about to report her license plate, a surge of adrenaline hit me. I floored the accelerator, slamming into her—because in that split second, I recognized the plate. This Porsche was the very birthday gift my husband had asked me for last week! … “CRASH!” My Volkswagen Phaeton collided heavily with the Porsche’s rear. A young woman with dyed blonde hair, a cigarette dangling from her lips, climbed out. She swaggered to my car and kicked the door with insolent fury. “You pathetic pauper, did you even see the badge? Por—sche!” “Driving a beat-up Volkswagen and daring to hit a Porsche? Are you blind or just got a death wish?” Seeing that the driver was a young woman, my heart sank. Things were indeed as bad as I suspected. I rolled down my window, coldly scrutinizing her, trying to find a clue in her words and actions. “Five million! Not a cent less, or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born!” She held up five fingers, shouting at me through the window. I suppressed the urge to get out and slap her, choosing to wait and see—I needed to understand her relationship with my husband. A luxury car collision in a busy district quickly drew a crowd of curious onlookers. “Now this is going to be good. That Porsche looks like it’s worth millions. The Volkswagen driver is probably going to lose everything.” “That’s the price of stubbornness. A moment of patience keeps the peace. Why bother fighting over something like this?” Hearing the crowd’s chatter, the blonde-haired young woman became even more arrogant. She kicked my car door again, her eyes blazing with aggression. “Driving a clapped-out Volkswagen, and you don’t yield to a Porsche? Do you really think you’re hot stuff?” “Now you’re scared, hiding in your car like a coward? Too late!” “This is my new car, bought for me by my husband—a full five million! Pay up now, or I’ll have you thrown in jail!” My husband? There it was! Marcus Thorne, you goddamn scoundrel, I’d like to see how you get out of this one! After a moment’s thought, I slowly pushed open my car door, my gaze fixed on her arrogant, yet childish face. “If anyone’s paying, it’s you paying me—I was driving straight, you changed lanes and cut me off. It’s entirely your fault!” “And speaking of jail, those two kicks you just gave my car door? That’s intentional property damage. Those two kicks alone are enough to land you behind bars.” “I don’t know the law, so don’t talk to me about it! All I know is, if I’m driving a Porsche, you yield!” She yelled back, “Jail? The jail that can hold Skye Dalton hasn’t even been built yet!” Seeing her reckless defiance, I couldn’t help but sneer—Marcus’s taste truly was unique, to even want such an idiot. Among the onlookers, some saw Skye driving a luxury car and speaking with such authority, assuming she was some kind of spoiled princess. Hoping to curry favor, they chimed in: “That Volkswagen driver’s got a big mouth. Hit a car and then demands compensation? Someone gets angry and kicks a car door, and she talks about sending them to jail? Probably thinks the young lady’s an easy target.” “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. Add my number; Uncle can be your witness if needed!” “Exactly! I know a bit about the law. Property damage only becomes a felony if it exceeds five thousand. Her beat-up Volkswagen just has some paint chips; it’s hardly worth five thousand!” Already arrogant, Skye was further emboldened by their encouragement. She slapped the hood of my car hard, shouting, “Today, you’re not just paying for my car; you’re kneeling and apologizing to me, or you’re not leaving!” I smirked, pointing to the approaching traffic officer. “You ask the officer who should pay! As for kneeling, you might want to find yourself a comfortable spot for that first!” Enraged, Skye lunged at me, intending to strike, but I kicked her, sending her sprawling onto the ground. She scrambled up, still wanting to fight, but was stopped by the arriving traffic officer. “Stop! Or you’re all coming back to the station with me!” “Officer! This old hag hit my car and then hit me! Arrest her, quick!” Skye clutched her hip, wailing to the officer. The officer ignored her dramatics and asked us to provide dashcam footage. I pulled up the recording on my phone. After watching it, the officer looked coldly at Skye. “It’s clearly your fault, and you’re still demanding compensation?” “You’d better negotiate compensation with the other driver quickly, or we’ll take you in for reckless driving.” “Do you traffic officers even know how to judge? Look closely, I’m driving a Porsche! My husband is a very important man; you can’t afford to offend him…” “I don’t care what car you’re driving, or whose wife you are. Our job is to enforce the law fairly. I’m warning you, if you continue to refuse to comply with the ruling, we will take you to the station.” Skye initially complained indignantly, but seeing the officer’s stern expression, she dared not cause further trouble and chose to call for help. I glanced at the number; it was indeed my husband, Marcus Thorne. Though I couldn’t hear their conversation, from the way Skye’s face softened and her eyes twinkled, I knew they were flirting while discussing how to resolve the issue. After the call, Skye’s arrogant demeanor returned. She pointed at her car, announcing haughtily, “Pay up, then! Big deal!” “My Porsche is insured for five million, more than enough to cover your crappy Volkswagen. The extra cash is just my tip for a beggar like you. Take the money and get lost!” I smirked inwardly. Your paltry insurance policy won’t even cover my limited-edition Phaeton, let alone the fact that your reckless actions aren’t even covered by insurance. Today, I would expose this adulterous pair for what they truly were. Soon, the insurance company’s representative arrived. The adjuster looked like he knew cars. One glance at my car, and his face instantly paled. He only exhaled in relief after reading the accident report in Skye’s hand. “Ma’am, this accident was caused by your aggressive lane changes, which falls outside our insurance company’s coverage. Please resolve the compensation directly with the other party. Thank you!” Skye’s face instantly twisted in fury when she heard she had to pay herself. She pointed at the adjuster and unleashed a torrent of curses. “What kind of garbage insurance company are you?! You don’t pay out for accidents? Isn’t this just stealing money from us policyholders?” The adjuster, unwilling to argue further, waved his hand and walked away. “So, what’s it going to be? Pay up, or go to jail?” I looked at her coldly, stating calmly. Many righteous bystanders, having learned the truth, also began to scold her. “Just because you drive a Porsche, you’re hot stuff? You cut people off aggressively if they don’t yield? Do you think this road is your living room?” “You create your own trouble and then expect the insurance company to pay? Do you think the insurance company is a fool?” Her attempt to assert dominance had backfired, leaving her looking utterly mortified. The mocking whispers from the crowd only fueled her rage. She retrieved a baseball bat from her car and began to wildly smash my car, cursing all the while. “You want me to pay, do you? I’ll smash your pathetic car to pieces right here in front of you! What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll buy you a new one!” “You dare demand money from me? I’ll smash your face in!” Seeing her descend into madness, it was exactly what I wanted. I quietly stepped aside, waiting to watch her spectacle. After a furious outburst, she flung five hundred thousand dollars onto my car. “Beggar, this five hundred thousand is more than enough for your crappy car. The extra is my tip for a street rat. Take the money and vanish!” I smirked. “Your little bit of money won’t even buy one of my headlights, let alone being ‘more than enough’? You’d better find a way to get more cash, or you’ll be rotting in jail!” Hearing this, she looked disdainful. “You pauper, are you so desperate for money you’ve gone mad? See me with cash and think you can extort me?” “Who doesn’t know your beat-up Volkswagen is worth at most twenty-five thousand? I give you five hundred thousand and you’re still blabbering?” “I’m telling you, this is extortion, and you’ll go to jail for it. Don’t think I don’t know the law.” The onlookers also started to advise me, “Sister, take the money and run. Your twenty-five-thousand-dollar Volkswagen, they’re paying you five hundred thousand. Don’t be too greedy.” “Exactly. Don’t be too ambitious and end up losing more than you gain by getting accused of fraud.” Just then, the Volkswagen dealership appraiser arrived. “Who said this Volkswagen is only worth twenty-five thousand? This is a premium luxury car worth ten million, and even one headlight costs hundreds of thousands.” Skye’s face turned pale when she heard my car was worth ten million, but her expression remained defiant. The onlookers’ faces also changed dramatically when they heard my car was worth ten million. “Oh, so this lady is the real wealthy one! She’s truly low-key!” “Real rich people are always low-key, unlike some shallow young women who think they’re hot stuff just because they drive a Porsche.” “Exactly. Maybe her car is even rented. Now she’s smashed someone’s ten-million-dollar luxury car. She’s going to have to pay up!” At this point, the appraiser finished his assessment and reported to me, “Ms. Evelyn, your car is severely damaged. The repair cost would be close to the price of a new car. It’s no longer worth repairing.” I nodded after hearing this, then looked coldly at Skye. “Pay up. Ten million. Not a single cent less.” At my words, her defiant expression faltered, but she still stood her ground. “You say it’s worth ten million, and it’s ten million? You hired a fraudster to cooperate with you, just to extort money from me?” “This is fraud! I’m going to sue you!” To make her give up, I pulled out the purchase invoice and flung it at her. “Take a good look. Am I extorting you?” After seeing the invoice, her face showed a flicker of emotion, but she quickly reverted to her arrogant demeanor. She pulled out a black credit card, a prestige card, from her pocket and waved it in front of me. “Ten million? Big deal? I have fifty million in this card. I’ll just pay you.” Someone in the crowd gasped. “Wow, that’s a Centurion Black Card. Only those with billions in assets are eligible to hold it. This young lady is truly a high roller.” “So young and already worth billions, truly impressive!” Praised by everyone, she became even more smug, flaunting the black card with a flourish. But she didn’t know that the card in her hand was a supplementary card I had given to my husband. If I notified the bank to stop its use, it would instantly become a useless piece of plastic. After notifying the bank to deactivate the supplementary card, I looked at her coldly. “Don’t just flash a card and brag. Fifty million? I bet you can’t even withdraw ten thousand from that card!” Hearing this, she immediately bristled. “Give me your account number! I’ll transfer the money to you right now. If I successfully transfer the money, I’ll smash your face in!” I promptly gave her my account number, instructing her to transfer the funds. However, after several attempts, the transaction repeatedly failed, showing the card was disabled. The onlookers began to jeer. “Another fake rich lady, with a black card, who probably can’t even get ten thousand out of it.” “Why pretend to be something you’re not? If you can’t afford it, just say so. Don’t pull these ridiculous stunts.” Skye, sweating profusely in frustration, quickly hid behind her car to make a call. Soon, my husband, Marcus Thorne, called. “Evelyn Sterling, what’s wrong with my card? Why is it suspended? Quickly tell the bank to reactivate it, and raise the limit to a hundred million. I need it urgently.” I replied calmly, “Why do you suddenly need so much money? What are you trying to do?” “I have my reasons for needing it! Why are you asking so many questions? Just go do it!” I bit my lip tightly and hung up the phone. It was all my fault for indulging this scoundrel so much that he became this arrogant. He was a live-in husband who had climbed up through my connections, yet he dared to boss me around. For the past ten years, due to special circumstances, I had rarely appeared publicly, allowing him to manage Sterling Industries on my behalf. I never imagined he would secretly keep a mistress behind my back. He was truly asking for trouble! He thought that just because I let him be a figurehead, Sterling Industries belonged to him. After I hung up, Marcus sent several messages, but I ignored them all. Soon, Skye held up her phone, displaying a ten-million-dollar transfer record she had just received from someone else, and looked at me with an arrogant smirk. “I’m telling you, my husband is worth billions. How could he possibly be short on a mere ten million for you?!” With that, she transferred the ten million to me. “The money’s transferred! Now get lost!” She pointed at the successful transfer record, her head held high as she yelled at me. I scoffed. “You’ve only paid for one car. What about the other one?” At my words, everyone present was stunned. Skye’s face turned furious. “Are you crazy, or just addicted to scamming people? When did I hit two of your cars?” I pointed to the Porsche. “This car is also mine. It’s worth five million. Pay up, quickly.” At this declaration, everyone was shocked. “Is this person crazy from the crash?” “Quite possibly. Otherwise, how could she not even know her own car?” Skye’s face was contorted with rage. She pointed at me and cursed, “You crazy woman, are you never going to stop?!” I ignored her rabid frenzy and instead pulled out the Porsche’s registration document, flinging it in front of her. “See for yourself. Is this car mine or not?” Skye picked up the registration. After confirming my photo was on it, she froze in shock, then erupted in fury. “This car was clearly a birthday gift from my husband! How did it become yours? You must have pulled a trick to extort me!” “Do you think I’m easy to bully? My husband is Marcus Thorne, the head of Sterling Industries! He’s coming right now. Just wait and see how he deals with you!” Hearing that Skye’s husband was the renowned head of Sterling Industries, the crowd’s expressions changed. “Marcus Thorne, the head of Sterling Industries, is this young woman’s husband? That’s huge! In Gold Coast, who dares to offend Sterling Industries?” “Sister, take the money and run. I know you have some cash, but Sterling Industries is not someone ordinary people can afford to offend. Get out of here, fast.” Skye, seeing my silence, assumed I was intimidated by her mention of Sterling Industries, and sneered, “What, scared now? Too late!” “Once my husband gets here, I’ll have him completely ruin your company. Let’s see if you can still be so arrogant then!” I smiled faintly. “We’ll see about that.” Just then, a convoy of cars arrived. From a Land Rover stepped a man in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair meticulously combed. Several bodyguards trailed behind him.

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Mom’s heart gave out. She’d found the bride at my wedding wasn’t me, but Skylar, Asher’s business partner. A single gasp, then nothing. The moment she stopped breathing, my wedding became her funeral. Asher, though, ordered the ceremony to proceed. He even forced me to place the ring on Skylar’s finger. “Now! Put it on her! I’ll explain tonight.” I ignored his threats, cradling Mom’s body as I left the hotel. By eight that night, the “successful” wedding, with its new bride, concluded. Skylar crowed on her social media feed: “Hehe! Finally married to my guiding light today. So grateful to the third wheel who knew when to leave.” Asher followed, posting: “Some people just aren’t worthy of love.” In the chilling silence of the morgue, I ‘liked’ both their posts. My comment: “Wishing you forever.” Then I clutched Mom’s urn, ready to move out, only to find Asher locked in a passionate kiss with Skylar on the new couch I’d bought for our future. 1 Late that night, I returned home, Mom’s urn clutched to my chest, the moonlight outside as cold as ice. At the door, Skylar’s heels were brazenly placed by the entryway, as if she were the lady of the house. It wasn’t her first “visit” by a long shot. Since she became a Caldwell partner three years ago, she’d been a constant fixture, citing “work discussions.” Morning or a stormy night, didn’t matter. Asher would always tell me to “know my place.” “The company makes money, and you, idle as you are, get to enjoy it.” Now, all I had left was this feather-light urn. Pushing the door open, I found Asher and Skylar, bathed in the dim glow, in a fervent embrace on the very couch I’d picked out for our new life together. Skylar, eyes glazed with drink, draped herself over him. Seeing me enter, Asher glanced at the urn, then pushed Skylar away with a dismissive tone: “So, she really died. Not just an act. Still not done with your dramatics? Fine, I feel guilty now.” A bitter laugh escaped me. When Mom had collapsed from rage, he’d sneered, “If only she’d just die.” Now she was gone, and he paraded this flimsy “guilt”? Today should have been the happiest day of my life—marrying Asher, my childhood sweetheart of twenty years. I even had a bigger surprise planned: despite his low sperm count, a less than one-in-a-million chance of conception, I held a positive pregnancy test in my pocket. But looking at his face now, all I felt was profound disgust. “Asher, it’s over between us.” I watched his eyes widen in shock. “From this moment on, we’re strangers.” I had planned to quietly disappear, out of respect for Grandma Caldwell, but he’d already stomped past every one of my boundaries. “My guilt isn’t enough for you? Do you want me to kneel and beg?” He grabbed my wrist, his gaze frigid. “Know your place, Willow.” I yanked my hand free, intent on gathering Mom’s belongings. But Skylar sat up from the couch, feigning concern as she eyed the urn. “Oh, dear, Auntie’s gone? So sorry, Willow… Asher, I just love that urn. My dog died yesterday. Could Willow put my dog in it for me?” Asher actually reached for it. “Give it! It’s perfect for a mutt!” Seeing Mom’s urn about to be ripped from me, I bit down hard on his wrist. The metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth. He roared, lashing out with a furious backhand. “Bitch!” As I fell, my only thought was to shield the urn, clutching it tight against my chest. My head, though, slammed directly into the sharp corner of the table. “Asher!” Skylar anxiously took Asher’s hand, examining it, then turned a disapproving gaze on me. “Willow, why would you bite Asher? He cares about you so much. It’s just an urn. Aren’t you worried he won’t get Auntie something better later?” Still cradling Mom’s ashes, I struggled to my feet. Blood streamed down my face, dripping onto the urn. Mom had loved me fiercely in life. But the one she loved most was Asher, standing right there. In that moment, something inside me snapped. “You care about me? Then you replace the bride at my wedding and drive my mother to her grave? Asher! Don’t you dare forget what Mom did for you! Who ran into that blazing inferno, her face disfigured by the flames, to pull out a seven-year-old you? Now all I want is to leave. Get out of my way!” “Enough!” Asher strode forward, his hand seizing my throat, slamming me against the wall. A crushing sense of suffocation stole my breath, but what truly choked me was Asher’s snarled reply. “Willow!” His grip tightened, his features contorted into a monstrous mask of rage. “How long are you going to hold this tired old favor over my head? Isn’t this life you have enough for you?!” Asher’s final words were gritted out, each syllable laced with venom: “How dare you even utter the word ‘leave’! I’ve already said I’m guilty. Don’t push your luck!” My face was turning purple from the lack of air, tears mingled with blood streaming down. I couldn’t raise my hands to fight back. Because I was terrified that if I let go, Mom’s urn would crash to the floor. Mom had suffered enough in life. In death, I wouldn’t let her feel any more pain. Just as I felt consciousness fading, Skylar approached. She didn’t stop him, only whined pitifully: “Willow, Asher still loves you. He’s marrying me because everyone thinks we’re a better match, and our union will boost the company’s stock price. But Asher told me that privately, you’ll always be Mrs. Caldwell. Asher’s doing all this, why can’t you and Auntie understand and be more considerate? Why focus on mere appearances?” As her words hung in the air, I felt Asher’s fury surge, escalating rapidly. “Willow! Why can’t you be considerate like Skylar? Why?!” His grip was so powerful, his knuckles turned stark white. “Apologize to Skylar, and I promise you, outside of public appearances, you’ll always be Mrs. Caldwell.” Just as I was on the brink of blacking out, Asher released me. He loomed over me, his gaze a mix of pity, condescension, and cold command. Rage, raw and incandescent, instantly shattered my composure, erupting from every cell in my body. “Asher! I said it! I don’t want to be Mrs. Caldwell!” I lunged into the kitchen, snatched up a carving knife, and lunged at them. “I just wanted to leave before, but now? Now I want you dead!” Just as I was about to strike, Asher exploded in a fresh burst of fury at my actions. He shielded Skylar with one arm, then lashed out, kicking me violently in the stomach. Right where his child, the one he didn’t know about, was growing. The unexpected kick sent me flying back, slamming into a bookshelf. In that instant, an agonizing, bone-deep pain tore through my abdomen. Crimson blood began to flow between my legs. My world instantly turned crimson. I collapsed into the spreading pool of blood, my entire body racked with pain, feeling as though every bone had shattered. But the worst pain was in my belly, the very place where a tiny life had been stirring. A metallic taste filled my mouth as tears blurred my vision. Clutching Mom’s urn, I gazed at Asher, who stood coldly in the distance. I tried to stand, but my body wouldn’t obey. My trembling hand moved to my stomach. Suddenly, a large mouthful of blood gushed out. Skylar gasped, her delicate face paling as she clung desperately to Asher’s arm. “Willow! What are you faking now? I barely touched you! Don’t act like you’re dying!” Asher stood above it all, his face dark and brooding. He irritably pulled out a tissue and began wiping his shoe. Skylar’s eyes welled up, glistening with tears, as she looked at me with feigned innocence: “Asher! Could she be pregnant? Look at all that blood… it’s disgusting, ugh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, bending over in a performative retch. Her act was painfully obvious, yet Asher, suddenly anxious, gently patted her shoulder. “Disgusting? Then don’t look.” He turned to me, his disgust equally blatant. “How could she be pregnant? If she really was… Hmph! She’d be screaming it from the rooftops, using it as leverage for a better life.” Asher sneered, his contempt for me filling the entire room. “That woman… she’s got layers of scheming!” The words were barely out when a searing cramp twisted my gut—a pain that drilled into my skin, pierced my bones, and seared my very soul. It felt as if every nerve ending in my body was being gripped by tiny, furious hands. The baby in my belly was screaming its rage. My insides felt like they were being ripped apart. “Cough! Cough! Cough!” I coughed violently, then, my mouth full of blood, I began to laugh, a ragged, broken sound. “Ha-ha.” “Asher! Look… what’s this?” My hand trembling, I reached into my pocket, my fingers, stained with the blood that was once my baby, clutched the pregnancy report. I pulled it out, holding it towards Asher. “Read this, then I’ll leave! I wish you both forever!” Asher! Didn’t you always want a child? Then before I leave, I’ll use this pregnancy report, like a blade, to pierce his heart. Let you know that from that kick you just delivered, your line, the Caldwell name, is doomed to end. “Willow! I don’t have time for your games!” Asher snatched the report, but didn’t even glance at it. Instead, his face a mask of fury, he crumpled it into a tight ball. And hurled it viciously into the spreading pool of my blood. “Are you deaf?! I said I’m losing my patience! Losing it!” He seized my long hair, yanking my head back, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I told you to give me the urn! I told you to apologize to Skylar! You’re still Mrs. Caldwell! Do you understand?!” A tearing pain ripped through my scalp. I bit down hard on my lip, drawing blood, refusing to utter a sound. My bloodshot eyes locked onto Asher’s. Asher looked at the urn clutched in my arms, veins bulging in his neck. “Why are you still holding it?! She’s dead! How long are you going to use her to threaten me?! Give it to me! Give it to me!” Asher ripped the urn from my grasp. Both of us screamed at the same time. One, a raw, primal rage; the other, a hysterical, desolate grief. My nails had torn Asher’s skin. He glanced at his hand, then his eyes turned suddenly, chillingly sinister. “Fine then! Take it!” He roared, then, as my bloodshot eyes widened in horror, he violently ripped open the urn’s lid and flung its contents towards the ceiling. “Mom!” I shrieked, lunging forward, desperate to catch the scattering ashes. But my head was brutally forced down by Asher, ground against the floor. “Let me go! I can’t let Mom…” Asher slapped me hard across the face, his voice a furious snarl: “Shut up! Stop faking it! You just want to use your mother’s death to extort more from me, don’t you? Asher! I’ll give you what you want!” He yanked my head to his level, then his other hand grabbed a handful of my mother’s ashes, violently smearing them across my face. “You loved that old hag so much, didn’t you? Then let her be a part of you now. Scream! Why aren’t you screaming?!” Asher gripped my head, violently slamming it against the floor. “You won’t even scream! How dare you say you love her! Scream! Let me see your devotion! Otherwise, you won’t be Mrs. Caldwell anymore!” I bit down hard, clenching my jaw, refusing to comply. But Asher kept slapping me, again and again, trying to force my mouth open. Finally, he grabbed my jaw, top and bottom, attempting to pry my mouth open with brute force. Asher’s chest heaved, his voice a thunderous roar: “Do it! If you don’t want this desecration, apologize to Skylar right now! Then beg me! Say you don’t want to leave, that you want to stay and be Mrs. Caldwell!” Pain! Excruciating pain tore at the corners of my mouth. It felt like they were ripping apart, my entire head threatening to split in two by Asher’s hands. But I stared at Asher, my bloodshot eyes, webbed with broken capillaries, locked onto him. Perhaps realizing I was truly fading, a flicker of clarity crossed Asher’s eyes. He finally released me. Gasping for air, I scrambled to the floor, reaching out to gather my mother’s ashes. Suddenly, Skylar threw open all the windows. “Asher, it’s so stuffy in here. Your lungs aren’t good; I’ll air it out for you.” As Skylar spoke, she also cranked up the central air conditioning to full blast. “No!” Ignoring the agonizing pain throughout my body, I lunged forward. But in an instant, the fierce draft from the top-floor windows combined with the powerful AC—in a mere blink—scattered my mother’s ashes. Only a few lingering bone fragments remained, skittering across the floor in the breeze. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Willow! I was just worried about Asher’s lungs, so I opened the windows. I didn’t mean to… Auntie…” She walked over, deliberately stepping on a bone fragment of my mother’s, then blinked, feigning innocence and pity. “Oops, sorry, I just scattered Auntie’s remains.” My vision turned crimson with rage. I lunged, my hands clamping around Skylar’s throat. “I’ll kill you!” I squeezed, utterly determined to drag her down with me. But Asher, who cherished her so, wouldn’t let me have my wish. Once more, I fell, landing back in that pool of blood. “Willow! I’ve had it with you! Do you really not want this Mrs. Caldwell title anymore?!” Asher roared, like a lion whose mane had been set aflame—ferocious, cruel. “If you don’t want it, then why don’t you just get out?!” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Are you deaf to reason? I am trying to leave. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me!” Asher started to lunge, but Skylar held him back. He settled for pointing at me, bellowing: “Willow! How dare you leave! What gives you the right?! If you were going to leave, why did you cling to my side like a dog all these years? Are you a masochist? Isn’t it just money you want?! When your mother saved me back then, wasn’t it because she knew I was a Caldwell, hoping to trade her worthless life for my guilt? She succeeded. Everyone demanded I treat you well. What right do you have to leave now?” Asher was in a blind rage, roaring. His eyes brimmed with disbelief. He couldn’t fathom that I would reject the esteemed Mrs. Caldwell title, when I had loved him so much before. Asher’s face was as dark as a storm cloud. Even when Skylar tried to calm him down, urging him to leave first, he remained in a furious frenzy. It was only when Skylar complained of a sore throat and difficulty breathing that he regained some semblance of control, promising to rush her to the hospital. And I, lying in the pool of my own blood, my body feeling as if countless bones were broken. The bleeding from below didn’t stop. He remained oblivious. Before leaving, he turned, his voice chillingly cold: “Don’t even think about going to my grandma, or else…” As the door slammed shut, he didn’t look back. “Don’t blame me for cutting off our last ties!” But I was too weak to stand, only able to watch them leave with a bitter, mirthless laugh. After their footsteps faded, I trembled as I gathered my mother’s bone fragments, then collapsed, weeping uncontrollably. The wind swept in through the open windows. The blood-soaked pregnancy report, crumpled and discarded, was inexplicably blown to my feet. My hand shook as I reached for it, heavy… How could the wind have moved something so weighted? Soon, my consciousness began to blur, my eyelids growing heavy. I slowly collapsed into the spreading blood, feeling my heartbeat slow, becoming fainter with each beat. Life was rapidly draining away. Before death claimed me, I managed to dial a number. Moments later, I heard the faint click of the fingerprint lock on the door. I thought it was Asher, but my eyelids, too heavy to resist, slowly closed. Yet, in my final moments, I heard… A phone ringing, drawing closer. And I saw her. Grandma Caldwell herself, the matriarch who, though she often sought solace in prayer for the family’s legacy, held absolute power over the Caldwell name, appeared before me. “…Willow!” In that instant, the prayer beads in Grandma Caldwell’s hand snapped. One by one, they scattered, rolling into the pool of blood beneath me—the blood that carried all the Caldwell family’s lost hopes. Why, just before I died, did I have to see her?

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At the company’s IPO launch event, my husband’s gaze lingered a moment too long on his secretary. I turned away. The first thing I did was book an appointment for a termination. The next was to have my lawyer draft the divorce papers. Dean’s furious call came moments after he received the email. “What kind of joke is this? Because I looked at Harper?” “Yes. Because you looked at her.” 1 The livestream of the press conference still played on the screen. Dean, a beaming smile on his face, took the microphone from Harper, seamlessly continuing her opening remarks. “I owe so much to my secretary. For the past decade, she’s handled every project, big and small, at Davies Holdings. I’ve witnessed her tireless efforts all these years.” “Taking this opportunity, with everyone here today, I’m announcing a transfer of 20% of the company shares to Harper. From this day forward, we are not just superior and subordinate, but partners. I hope she continues her hard work in the future.” A ripple of shock swept through the room, immediately followed by thunderous applause. Amidst the congratulations, Harper shed tears, and Dean chuckled, handing her a tissue. Just that one glance. And I knew, with absolute certainty, this man was no longer mine. With two callous sentences, he wiped away a decade of my dedication, pinning my achievements onto another woman. Since he’d shown no decency, I saw no need for loyalty. I pulled out my phone, booked the abortion appointment, then dialed a number I knew by heart. “Is that partnership offer still on the table? I want in.” “Just one condition: I need full management control of the company. I want a 50% stake.” The voice on the other end agreed instantly, a hint of amusement in his tone. “So, Audrey Hayes, you’ve finally seen the light? Shares are no problem at all. To have you join us is worth any sacrifice!” “Though I confess, I’m curious. Back when you graduated, you absolutely refused to work with me. I’ve waited ten years for you. Why the sudden change of heart today?” “Don’t ask what you shouldn’t. You talk too much.” I rolled my eyes, grabbed my keys, and drove straight to the clinic. After the procedure, I took a cab home, arriving just moments after Dean. His gaze immediately snagged on the crumpled shirt from yesterday, still piled on the couch, and his brow furrowed. “Why aren’t the clothes washed?” He turned to the dining table, his expression hardening further. “No dinner either. Are you feeling unwell today?” My hand instinctively went to my aching belly, the pain too sharp for words. I simply shook my head, eyes fixed on my phone, a silent dismissal. Dean carelessly handed me a small, wrapped box, his voice sharp with command. “Then go do it now. Make enough for one extra person today; I’ll take it to the office. The launch just ended; we’ll be working late tonight.” “Harper is with me. Can’t have an employee starving while they work.” Before, I would’ve seen to all the housework without him even asking. By day, I was Audrey Hayes, Marketing Director, fighting battles alongside him in the business world. By night, I was his homemaker, washing clothes, cooking meals, always catering to his entitled whims. That had been my life for ten years. But now, all I felt was an overwhelming weariness. He finished speaking, and I simply scoffed, not moving an inch. “Sorry, can’t do it.” I added, “Besides, didn’t you already eat out?” “I wasn’t just talking about dinner.” Dean’s momentarily calm face instantly darkened. “What are you even babbling about? I worked my tail off all day, only to come home to your frosty glare? Am I indebted to you? You know it’s our anniversary today, didn’t I bring you a gift? Can you stop with the passive-aggressive attitude? When are you going to start understanding my difficulties?” 2 My gaze fell on the gift box. I tore it open. Inside, a tiny, pitiful 1-gram lipstick lay nestled. My phone, by chance, flashed an ad for that very brand. This minuscule thing? It was a freebie, a bonus item from their Valentine’s Day gift set. I almost laughed at the pathetic irony of my own existence. Dean’s face was etched with discomfort, but he soldiered on. “I know you don’t usually wear makeup. I searched every brand to find this small size. Don’t be ridiculous.” I ignored his words. My alarm chimed, and I swiftly popped the pills into my mouth. Dean’s face contorted. He quickly snatched the medicine bottle away. “What are you doing? You know you can’t take medication when you’re pregnant, don’t you?” Seeing the grim set of my expression, Dean’s tone softened, a rare occurrence. He tossed the lipstick aside. “Fine, fine. Don’t like the shade, just throw it away. I’ll buy you a new one, okay? Audrey, you’re not alone now. Getting angry will affect the baby’s development.” As his words hung in the air, I laid the printed divorce papers on the table. “The agreement’s ready. Sign it when you have a moment.” “And I don’t have time to cater to your little secretary. Since you dote on her so much, why not just hire her a nanny?” Dean was swamped with work; I wouldn’t bother him with something as trivial as drafting legal documents. But at my words, his face hardened, and he abruptly stood up. “Divorce? What kind of joke is this? Just because I glanced at Harper during the launch? She’s just my secretary. You’re the one who hired her in the first place. If anything was going to happen between us, it would have happened ages ago. Why wait until now? Can you stop being so dramatic?” He finished, his gaze falling to my stomach, a resigned sigh escaping him as he bowed his head in defeat. “I know pregnant women are emotional, and I’ve tried my best to accommodate you, but don’t push it too far.” His dress shoes scuffed directly onto the rug, leaving glaring marks of dust in their wake. I almost blurted out a warning. Then, catching myself, I swallowed the words, a self-deprecating smile playing on my lips. He was always like this, uncaring of my efforts, my contributions. Now that I was leaving, whatever happened to him was no longer my concern. I met his gaze, nodding calmly. “Yes. Exactly because you looked at her. Isn’t that reason enough? Dean, I told you before we married, I can’t tolerate betrayal. But you’ve changed. So, there’s no point in us continuing.” Dean’s brow furrowed, on the verge of exploding. I spoke again. “And, the baby… it’s gone. Don’t worry, it won’t be an obstacle between you two. And it won’t compete with your little Harper for shares.” “Sign the papers when you have time. Courier them to me. The address is on there.” With that, I ignored his frozen figure, turning and walking away. Behind me, his anguished scream tore through the air: “Audrey Hayes, if you dare walk out today, don’t ever think about coming back!” A cold smile touched my lips. He had used that sentence to shackle me for ten years. I had constantly bowed my head, constantly apologized. What I got in return was not understanding, but his relentless pushing of boundaries. He thought I would turn around and beg for forgiveness, just like always. But as his words echoed, my footsteps quickened. Not coming back? That was exactly what I wanted. 3 Divorcing a husband for a single glance at his secretary sounds utterly preposterous. But only I knew how much unyielding affection was hidden in that look. That had once been a secret between Dean and me. When I first met him, I was still struggling through school. Bullied by classmates, reprimanded by teachers. Dean was a transfer student, strikingly handsome. He immediately captured everyone’s attention. Classmates warned him to stay away from me, calling me a homewrecker’s daughter, a natural temptress, a complete lowlife. Dean said nothing, but the way he looked at me grew deeper, more profound. When we switched seats, the entire class ostracized me; no one would sit with me. They even moved my desk and chair next to the trash can. Only Dean stood up, saying he wanted to sit next to me. I sensed his intentional approaches, but my own humiliation kept me from thinking too much. He advanced; I retreated; each deliberate encounter left me fleeing in embarrassment. But I never expected Dean to follow me all the way home. My father’s cruelty had left me with a broken bone, forcing me onto sick leave. Dean showed up with my homework, only to stumble upon my parents in a furious argument. In truth, my mother was the original wife. My father had drained her dowry, swindled all her money. Then he demanded a divorce, leaving her with nothing. To make my mother give up, he’d flaunted his mistress, cruelly branding my mom a hussy. The mistress lived downstairs, and whenever Dad passed her building, he would look at her deeply. Each time he did, a beating awaited me at home. To buy me medicine, Mom once ran barefoot through a rainy night, only to die beneath the wheels of a delivery truck. Dad was delighted for a long time, stayed out all night, and the next day, couldn’t wait to bring his mistress into our home. Out of deference to my presence, they could only communicate with their eyes. Every unintentional glimpse of my father’s gaze would send shivers down my spine. The night I turned eighteen, my father looked at me with that same chilling gaze. He tried to lock me in my room, and I brought him down with a wine bottle. On the run, I crashed into Dean, who had come to bring me my homework. My father, wielding a carving knife, cornered us in an alley. The second before the knife fell on my head, Dean lunged forward. Police cars and ambulances arrived simultaneously. Dean’s shoulder was shattered, bone visible. Yet, he was still smiling at me. “Audrey, you’re safe now.” With those words, he passed out. I stayed by his side all night. When he awoke, we naturally became a couple. Tears streaming, I gently touched the bandage on his shoulder. “You love me deeply, I can see it. I can read a person’s heart through their eyes. If your gaze ever changes, I’ll leave.” Eighteen-year-old Dean, with effort, lifted his other arm and playfully ruffled my hair. “Silly girl, then you’ll never see it.” I knew he didn’t believe my words. And I never imagined, one day, that very sentence would become a prophecy. After that night, the taunts targeting me at school completely vanished. All the students became exceptionally warm towards me. Dean proudly lifted his chin, like a peacock fanning its tail. “See? I told you. You’re incredibly charming. Everyone will love you. No need to be insecure. As long as I’m here, you’ll be a cherished princess.” He guided me, little by little, to shed the shadows of the past. Taught me to emerge from self-doubt and look up at the sunshine. It was only a month later that I found him in the alley outside the school, relentlessly beating a bully. “That’s for messing with Audrey! Do you get it now?” “Audrey loves strawberry cake. Understand what I mean?” “Now get lost!” The memories blurred. The look in his youthful eyes, I could no longer recall. 4 I returned alone to the apartment I’d lived in before marriage, resting for three days. Dean sent no messages. The company group chat occasionally popped up with chatter. “Then Harper is a shareholder now? She’s really shot up, huh? Must be close to becoming Mrs. Davies?” “What do you mean ‘must be’? Haven’t you seen Mr. Davies call Harper into his office every day? A man and a woman, alone, what else could they be doing?” “Don’t call her Secretary Harper anymore, call her Mrs. Davies, unless you want to lose your job!” “What about Manager Hayes? Didn’t she also like Mr. Davies—” “Please. She doesn’t even wear makeup. What man would look at a woman like that? Is unrequited love uncommon in this company?” … When I chose to keep our marriage a secret, he’d said he didn’t want employees gossiping. Now, it seemed, it was merely for his convenience when he wanted to bail. On the fourth day, I went to the office as usual. And handed in my resignation to HR. She looked at me, surprised. “Manager Hayes, you’re resigning? Does Mr. Davies know? I can’t approve your resignation without his consent.” “Who doesn’t know you’re a company veteran? Your leaving would be like cutting off Mr. Davies’s right arm!” No sooner had she spoken than I heard a scornful voice from outside the door. “What’s there not to approve? She just couldn’t face it anymore.” “After all, every project she ‘handled’ only got successfully signed after it was given to Secretary Harper. If I were her, I’d have packed my bags and left ages ago!” “Secretary Harper’s latest project single-handedly took the company public. Could Audrey Hayes do that? Calling her a trophy wife is an overstatement; she’s practically a toilet!” The projects they spoke of were plans I’d tirelessly worked on, night after night. But each time, at the final hurdle, Dean would hand them over to Harper. I swallowed the surge of indignation, smiling as I looked up. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. That’s why I’m resigning. Please, move aside.” “I hope the company reaches new heights under Secretary Harper’s leadership. With her, everyone’s salaries are sure to soar.” “Damn, who are you being passive-aggressive for? I’ve always disliked you. Just because you’re a manager, you think you’re the boss’s wife?” A colleague, seething with anger, started to lunge at me. She was stopped by someone beside her. “Alright, why waste time with someone like her? Can’t do her job, can’t hold onto a man, still single at her age. She’ll have a bitter pill to swallow later!” Ignoring their reactions, I carried my resignation form into the elevator. As the doors slowly closed, my body gave out. I sank to the floor, hugging my knees tightly. Ten seconds later, I stood again, my usual resolute demeanor restored. I strode directly into Dean’s office. Harper was on Dean’s couch, munching loudly on potato chips. “Manager Hayes? Oh, wait, sister-in-law? What are you doing here?” Harper, as his secretary, was the only one in the company who knew my true identity. Dean’s explanation was that it made it easier for her to arrange his work. But ten years passed, and I saw no work convenience. Only her convenient provocations. My gaze swept over the chip crumbs on the sofa. The irony was biting. Before, when I entered his office, even a cup of coffee was a luxury. He’d always claimed I’d dirty the carpet, stain the couch. Said it would tarnish the company’s image. Now, with Harper, all those rules seemed to have vanished. Dean’s face instantly chilled as he saw me. “Don’t you know how to knock?” “Can’t you see I’m busy? Get out, knock again!” Harper tossed the chip bag to the floor, quickly stepping forward to mediate. “Mr. Davies, don’t be angry. Sister-in-law didn’t mean it. She was just in a hurry.” “Besides, we’re family. What would the employees outside think if you just made her leave?” I shot her a cold glance. “Since when do you have a say here?” Harper’s pretty, innocent expression froze. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made sister-in-law angry. I’ll leave right now.” She barely took two steps before Dean abruptly grabbed her wrist. “Stop right there. This is my office, and it’s not up to her to decide who stays or goes.” He looked at me, his gaze challenging. “What, realized your mistake? Coming to beg me now? Too late!” I gripped the paper in my hand. “Sorry, I’m here to pick up the divorce papers.” My last shred of pride wouldn’t allow me to show weakness in front of Harper. After instinctively lying, Harper’s face changed. She quickly walked to me, taking my hand. “Sister-in-law, please don’t be rash! Is this because of me that you’re getting divorced?” “What did I do wrong? I can apologize to you. If it comes to it, I can resign and leave. Please, don’t argue because of me!” Dean’s patience had reached its limit, his voice laced with suppressed fury. “Audrey Hayes, I told you, there’s nothing going on between me and Harper. Believe it or not!” “You want a divorce, huh? Fine. Just don’t regret it!” “Before you leave, change all project leads under your name to Harper, return any bonuses to the company, and go wherever you want. I won’t stop you!” My eyes burned, a searing disbelief etched into my gaze as I stared at him. “Those were my sleepless nights, countless hours I put in! What right do you have to just hand them over to her?” Dean didn’t even glance at me, turning his back irritably. He lit a cigarette, the tip glowing. Harper seized the moment, throwing herself against the corner of the table. Blood instantly welled on her forehead. Her face was chalk-white. “Sister-in-law… I’ve already apologized! I don’t want the projects! I don’t want anything, isn’t that enough?” “I’ll leave. I’ll leave the company right now. Don’t make it hard for Mr. Davies…” Before I could react, Dean had already scooped her up. His eyes blazed at me with fury, and he slapped me hard across the face. “Audrey Hayes, Harper has already apologized! Are you never going to let this go?!” “My patience with you all these years has made you forget your place. Fine, you want a divorce? I’ll sign right now!” The resignation form fluttered from my hand, landing on the table, overlapping with the divorce papers. Dean didn’t even glance at them, swiftly signing his name three times. He left me with only his retreating back, Harper cradled in his arms. A gust of wind blew through. I wiped the tears from my face. Then I walked downstairs, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the airport. At the hospital, after Dean finished treating Harper’s injury, a strange sense of irritation gnawed at him. Thinking of the projects Audrey had painstakingly worked on for half a year, he forced himself to calm down. He knew that for Audrey, the projects were paramount, so he had deliberately suggested changing the project lead to Harper, certain she wouldn’t agree. That way, he could legitimately refuse the divorce. But he hadn’t expected to impulsively sign the papers just now. After much deliberation, Dean tentatively sent me a message. “There’s an issue with the project. Come to my office later so we can discuss it in person.” A glaring red exclamation mark appeared before my eyes. The next second, a call came through to Dean Davies. “Mr. Davies, no good! All of the company’s projects have been stolen!” A frantic voice echoed through the speaker. “The other party is using the exact same proposals as us! They even know our bottom-line pricing!”

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My wife exploded in rage. All I’d done was press a mere inch deeper into her during intimacy. “Who gave you the gall? To dare to covet a place even Jasper has never reached!” “You shameless wretch, I’ll make you remember your place!” She ordered my legs broken, had the word “filth” carved across my skin, and then forced me to pay her a hundred million dollars in emotional damages. I toiled from dawn till dusk, working seven jobs a day just to pay off the debt. But my wife found my common labor an embarrassment, so she locked me in a custom-built, electrified kennel for “reflection.” My young son, crying as if his heart would break, managed to sneak me out when the bodyguards weren’t looking. For that, my wife had him beaten viciously and then left for the stray dogs outside. “You damned little bastard! How dare you defy my orders! This is what happens!” Watching my son, his small body mauled and bloody, I knelt, frantically apologizing, begging her for just a sliver of money for medical care. But she just smirked, flinging an outrageous bill for a billion dollars in my face. “You two useless pieces of trash, you owe me so much, and you have the audacity to ask me for money! If it’s not paid in full within twenty-four hours, prepare to collect that little beast’s corpse!” My heart turned to ash. As I crawled back, clutching the few hundred dollars I’d gotten from selling my blood, my son’s body was already stiff and cold. Meanwhile, news of my wife lavishing billions on a global art exhibition for her childhood sweetheart was sweeping through the city’s elite circles. I clutched my son’s mangled remains, tears streaming down my face, the grief a dull blade gouging at my heart, searing deep into my bones. 1 In a hushed corner of the hospital, my son lay still, lifeless in a spreading pool of blood. His small body was a map of grotesque wounds, his face barely recognizable. I collapsed beside him, my hands trembling as I reached out, wanting to gather him into my arms, yet terrified to touch. A tidal wave of agonizing pain consumed me, drowning out everything else. Nurses bustled past, oblivious, their excited whispers about the trending news piercing the suffocating silence. “Oh my god, spending a fortune just to make her childhood sweetie smile. Is this what rich people’s love looks like?” “Of course, only a genius artist like Jasper Davies deserves a top-tier female CEO!” “Another love story, and I’m crying over it!” Their shrill voices, repeated over and over, flayed my soul. My hand touched the thin stack of bills in my pocket. I couldn’t even afford a proper urn. In desperation, I dialed Valerie’s number. After a long, agonizing wait, her furious voice blared through the receiver: “Caleb Thorne! You have the nerve to call me! I put you in that cage for reflection, to give you a chance to reform! Who gave you the audacity to escape? Breaking the kennel means you owe me another hundred million! Or I swear, I’ll feed that little brat to the dogs!” Another absurd excuse. For seven years, Valerie had found endless ways to humiliate me. I had grown accustomed to it, but then a man’s voice filtered through the line. “Thorne, you messed up, so you deserve the punishment. My sister was merciful enough not to kill you, why can’t you learn to behave?” My heart was a raw, throbbing wound. But to give my son a proper burial, I had to crush my pride. My voice was barely a whisper. “Please, just a thousand dollars more. I’ll find a way to pay you back. I just want to bury my so—” Valerie shrieked, cutting me off, a shrill, hysterical sound. “Shut up! Don’t use that worthless brat as an excuse! He’s dead, and he’s not worth a penny to me! I’m warning you, if you don’t pay up, it won’t just be broken legs this time!” Her scream threatened to shatter my eardrums. I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face. Around me, the nurses’ laughter rippled, oblivious. Outside, on the massive screen, endless loops of my wife and Jasper kissing sweetly played on. In that moment, my heart turned to ash. I took the last few dollars I had, crawling to the crematorium gates, begging until my head bled and my knees were bruised purple. Only then did they grudgingly agree to cremate my son. The raging flames devoured everything, along with my last flickering hope, reducing it all to dust. I couldn’t even afford an urn for his ashes, so I stripped off my shirt, wrapping his remains inside to carry them home. The moment I pushed open the door, a sticky, cloying scent hit me, sickeningly sweet and opulent. I gagged, stumbling towards my son’s bedroom, hand clamped over my mouth. Torn stockings and lace lingerie lay scattered across the floor, tangling around my feet, as if mocking my helplessness. I frantically kicked them away, but their filthy residue clung to my shoes, the glistening streaks a blinding, nauseating glare. I fought back the urge to cry, reaching under the bed for a crumpled photograph. In it, I held my son, smiling, while Valerie stood behind us, her back to the camera, distant and cold. She had never been affectionate with Leo; this secretly taken picture was his only keepsake of her. The least I could do was let it accompany him on his final journey. I carefully tucked the photo into the ashes, preparing to leave. Footsteps sounded suddenly outside the door, and a harsh, familiar voice echoed: “Well, if it isn’t Valerie’s lapdog, stripped bare and crawling back home?” Jasper leaned against the doorframe, his eyes brimming with contempt. I merely looked at him, saying nothing, tightening my embrace around the cloth-wrapped ashes. His eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, reaching out to snatch the bundle from my arms. “What did you take?!” I clutched it tighter, my voice raw. “Don’t touch my things!” At my words, Jasper scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “What in this house is yours? Not even your wife, she’s mine. A man as useless as you might as well just die!” He puffed out his chest, revealing faint, suggestive marks there, a blatant display of triumph. In the past, I would have fought him, even if it killed me. But now, all I wanted was to properly lay my son to rest. I didn’t even glance at him, just numbly tried to walk past him, out the door. But Jasper suddenly exploded, kicking me hard in the lower back. He grabbed my hair, brutally yanking away the cloth containing the ashes. “You worthless piece of garbage! You don’t deserve to touch anything of mine!” The cloth ripped, and the pale-gray ashes scattered across the floor. A heart-wrenching scream tore from my throat. I stumbled, desperate, scrambling on hands and knees to gather the ashes. But a high heel crushed my fingers, pinning me down. I looked up, following the leg, to see Valerie towering over me, her eyes overflowing with unconcealed disgust. “Caleb Thorne, you are truly disgusting.” Her icy voice cut through me like a sharp blade, piercing directly to my soul. I bit down, teeth clenched, but no sound escaped. Jasper, brazenly wrapping an arm around Valerie’s waist, whined pitifully, “I was just worried that he might take the wrong thing, and then he just attacked me all of a sudden. I guess I shouldn’t have interfered. After all, he’s the man of the house… I guess I deserved to get hit.” I reached for the photograph, my voice a pathetic whisper as I knelt on the floor. “I’m sorry. I just want my things back. I promise I’ll never appear before you again.” Valerie looked down at the photo beneath her foot, then bent to pick it up, shaking off the ashes. As the image became clearer, she chuckled, a cold, dismissive sound. Without a hint of hesitation, she tore it to shreds. “No!” My eyes burned, bloodshot, as a desperate scream tore from my throat. “A worthless piece of paper, and you cherish it so much? How ridiculous!” The fragments fluttered down, mirroring the shattered pieces of my own heart. I lifted my head, my throat raw and hoarse, demanding: “Valerie Stone, do you have a heart? Leo was your own flesh and blood! He was so small, he used to clutch your picture even in his sleep and call for ‘Mommy’!” “What did he do wrong, that you wanted him dead?!” No sooner had the words left my lips than Valerie’s hand flashed out, delivering a stinging slap across my face. “What are you, some kind of saint, to lecture me? You two useless parasites, you eat my food, use my money, and you dare defy me?” Her voice rose to a shrill crescendo. “His only mistake was having a worthless father like you!” I clutched my burning cheek, blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. Jasper stepped forward, a smug grin plastered on his face, feigning concern. “My bad, I honestly didn’t know you’d wrap his ashes in your shirt. But he’s dead, and keeping his remains is just bad luck. How about I clean it up for you?” As he spoke, he picked up a vacuum cleaner, ready to switch it on. Blood rushed to my head. I lunged forward, pushing him with all my might. But before I even touched him, Valerie’s foot lashed out, kicking me to the ground where I retched up a mouthful of blood. “How dare you lay a hand on Jasper?” Her voice was laced with menace. “Touch him again, and I’ll make your life a living hell!” I clutched my chest, gasping for air, my eyes filled with a desolate despair. “Valerie, let’s get a divorce.” At my words, she scoffed, as if I’d just uttered the most hilarious joke. “You owe me money, and you think you can just divorce me? You don’t deserve to!” Her voice sharpened, venomous. “Until that debt is paid in full, you won’t take a single step outside this house!” I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stand, tears welling in my eyes. The once kind and gentle Valerie had died long ago, buried in distant memories. The ridiculous truth was, until this very day, I had still clung to a sliver of hope. That someday, she would remember the good in me, and our family could return to what it once was. Through blurred vision, I managed a bitter laugh, meeting her gaze once more, my voice resolute. “Fine. I’ll pay you back.” No sooner had the words left my lips than I snatched the dagger from the table, plunging it fiercely into my abdomen! The wet, tearing sound of the blade sinking into flesh echoed eerily in the silent room. Valerie’s brow furrowed, her pupils dilating in shock. I swallowed the metallic tang in my throat, a grim smile on my face as I looked at her. “Will my organs be enough to pay you back?” Valerie froze for a second, then her face contorted in furious disbelief. “Caleb Thorne, what the hell are you doing?!” Her voice was shrill. “Don’t think this pathetic stunt will make me go soft on you!” The pain was a raging fire, searing through my insides, but it couldn’t compare to the shattering despair of my heart. Blood dripped onto the floor, blooming into a crimson stain. “Not enough? Then let’s try again!” I pulled out the blade as if unfazed, then aimed for my chest and plunged it in again. Valerie rushed forward, snatching the knife from my hand, her voice seething with anger. “What are you doing?! How much is your pathetic life worth, anyway?!” A string of insults, too vile to be repeated, flowed from her lips. “I’m warning you, you owe me money, and not a single cent will be missing!” Jasper cowered behind her, timidly tugging her sleeve. Valerie immediately, tenderly, wiped the blood from his face, then roughly shoved me to the ground. “If you want to die, get out of here! Don’t scare Jasper!” I pushed myself up, clutching the last of the ashes and the photo fragments to my chest. Covering my bleeding abdomen, I stumbled to the door and pushed it open. “Thank you for letting me go. When I save up enough money, I’ll file for divorce.” Valerie scoffed, her voice dripping with mockery. “You? A worthless piece of trash no one would even pay for on the street. You wouldn’t pay off that debt in eight lifetimes!” She spat. “You’ll come crawling back to me on your knees, begging!” I said nothing more, just gave her a cold, hard look. Gritting my teeth, clinging to consciousness, I stumbled out of that cage. Jasper, clinging intimately to Valerie’s hand, feigned concern, but his eyes burned with a murderous hatred for me. “He just left like that. He won’t… do anything drastic, will he?” Valerie merely glanced at him, her tone dismissive. “Don’t worry, that good-for-nothing leech, he’s too afraid to die.” My body swayed in the biting wind, but it couldn’t match the desolation in my heart. “I’m so sorry, Leo. Your dad… your dad was useless.” I stumbled along, two long bloodstains snaking behind me on the pavement. Under the strange stares of passersby, I crawled to the organ donation center. Lying on the cold operating table, my consciousness began to blur. Yet, a look of profound relief touched my lips. My son, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. Let your father, with this broken body, send you off on your final journey. … A week later, Jasper Davies’s art exhibition tour began as scheduled. Valerie, looking at the bustling crowd, felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of unease, as if some crucial detail had slipped her mind. “Valerie, what’s wrong? You look awful.” Jasper approached, his voice laced with concern. Valerie squeezed his hand, forcing a strained smile. “Nothing. Just a little tired lately, I guess.” She closed her eyes, and Caleb’s bloody image flashed in her mind again. Just then, her phone vibrated violently. A cold sweat broke out, and she fumbled for it, her fingers trembling. The screen blared a notification: a transfer of a billion dollars.

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