As I watered the plants on the balcony, I looked across to see my wife twisting like a doll being carelessly manipulated, on the opposite balcony. “I’ll tell him the child isn’t his and let him leave with nothing.” That evening, my wife’s family took turns, seemingly offering earnest advice, yet speaking with condescending authority. “The child’s biological father is the son of the country’s richest man, from the powerful Thorne family in the capital. If Finn is recognized by his true lineage, then his sickly uncle won’t control the family’s future. I can also become the Young Madam of the Thornes, and that benefits you too.” Finn’s face was filled with disgust: “You pauper? You’re not fit to be my dad! My real dad, with a single finger, could make your family never rise again for three generations!” My mother-in-law’s contempt was undisguised: “If Eleanor hadn’t been pregnant back then, her belly visibly growing, how would it have ever been your turn to marry her?” I silently signed the divorce papers. Then I turned and called my father, far away in the capital: “Come pick me up. I’m willing to return and take charge of the Thorne family.” 1 “Arthur, Finn isn’t your biological son.” When Eleanor Vance uttered those words, my reaction was far calmer than she had anticipated. In truth, I had suspected for a while—Finn’s birth, two months premature, his increasingly dissimilar features to mine, and the man who had suddenly moved into the villa next door a few days prior… “Finn’s father is the legitimate grandson of the Thorne family, one of the wealthiest in the capital. The Thornes have few heirs. As long as Finn is recognized by his true lineage, he can surpass his frail uncle and become the successor.” Seeing my downcast gaze and silence, Eleanor gritted her teeth and pressed on: “For Finn’s future, can we pretend to divorce? Once everything is settled, I’ll come back.” A bitter smile touched my lips. She had said so much; what meaning could my opinion possibly hold now? Yet, the thought that the son I had raised for nine years had no blood relation to me, that he would call someone else “Dad,” still sent a dull ache through my heart. “You’ll truly come back?” “Of course! I’m your wife! Once Finn becomes the Thorne heir, we’ll remarry!” She leaned in, intending to kiss me, but I subtly evaded her. “Alright, I agree to the divorce.” Eleanor’s face instantly lit up with joy: “Arthur, thank you for understanding. Finn will be so happy when he finds out! Don’t worry, he’ll still think of you as his dad!” Feeling agitated, I casually asked what was for dinner before turning into the kitchen—ten years married into the Vance family, these culinary skills were all honed for her and our son. “You eat by yourself. I’m going to tell Victor the good news.” Listening to her joyful footsteps, my heart sank deeper into gloom. The side window faced the neighboring front yard. Eleanor, like a jubilant bird, flew into Victor Sterling’s arms. They embraced, twirling, their faces alight with laughter. In all the years of our marriage, no matter how much I tried to please her, I had never seen her so genuinely happy. I had spent a decade, yet couldn’t warm her heart. But the moment the man who had once abandoned her returned, she lost herself completely. Pulling out my phone, I called Mr. Albright, our butler: “Tell my father I agree to assume the headship of the Thorne family.” Just then, with a resounding crash, the door was kicked open. Finn stood at the entrance, fuming: “Hey, Arthur, why didn’t you pick me up from school? Do you want me to walk till my legs break?” Though I had raised him for nine years, this child looked down on me, his live-in father, from the bottom of his heart. But such an unhinged outburst, this was a first. I paused, then crouched down to explain: “Dad was talking to Mom just now and forgot the time. Next time, I’ll pick you up early—” “I don’t need you to pick me up!” Finn lifted his small face, his eyes cold. “Mr. Sterling’s bodyguard already picked me up! His car is huge and fancy, and it’s even a convertible! Don’t embarrass yourself at school anymore. I want Mr. Sterling to be my dad!” With that, he threw his schoolbag down and ran towards the neighboring villa— “Finn!” My heart tightened. I instinctively moved to block him. I suspected Victor Sterling and Eleanor were likely engaged in some intimate act next door, and for the child to burst in at that moment… “Get out of the way!” Finn raised his hand, scratching my face. “Mind your own business! From now on, what happens in my family is none of your concern, you useless live-in!” Stunned, I watched the child run out the door. I wiped the bleeding scratches from my cheek with the back of my hand, then turned and went to the guest room at the end of the second-floor hallway. The window there directly faced Victor Sterling’s master bedroom. I simply wanted to give them a heads-up, based on a basic adult moral compass, that the child was coming. Even a dog in heat would, for God’s sake, restrain itself! On the curtains, those two intertwined, passionate figures moved rhythmically up and down. My heart grew numb, and my stomach churned with a sickening pain. This was Eleanor’s so-called “sham divorce”? Her “just wanting a good future for our son”? Her “still having feelings for me”? Through the window, their soft, murmuring conversation drifted to my ears. I heard Victor insidiously ask her, “How many times did you pay Arthur to raise my son for all these years?” Eleanor playfully chided, “Oh, darling, only that one time on our wedding night, right? Otherwise, how could he have believed Finn was his son?” “Just once?” Victor sounded unconvinced. Eleanor swore firmly, “Truly just once. I feel disgusted just looking at Arthur. How could I let him touch me casually?” Disgusted? She actually called me disgusting. Yet she had also said she loved me, loved the pleasure I brought her in bed, loved my gentle demeanor before and after. She said she would love me forever. Which words from this woman were true, and which were false? Just as I was about to make some noise, to warn them that Finn was already there, I heard Eleanor suddenly stammering, “But, when you become the Thorne heir, you should give Arthur some compensation. He did raise your son for so many years.” Victor snorted, “You seem pretty concerned about him. Have you fallen for him?” Before Eleanor could speak again, Finn burst up the stairs, calling for his mom. The two of them hastily threw on clothes, pulled up trousers, at least they had that much shame. I turned to leave, but accidentally knocked over a flowerpot on the guest room windowsill. “Who—” Victor yelled from across the way. I gave no response, quickly descending the stairs. 2 Eleanor returned with Finn. Before even entering the house, she eagerly shared the good news with me. “The Thornes say they’ll come in seven days to pick up their heir. You should pack Finn’s luggage.” I sat on the sofa, simply acknowledging her, then calmly said, “Perfect, sign it.” Eleanor’s joyful expression subtly faltered as she spotted the divorce papers I had laid on the table. She froze, a flicker of incredulity and hesitation in her eyes. “You prepared this so early?” I nodded, calmly stating, “Didn’t you say they’re coming in seven days? Better to be prepared.” Eleanor’s face clearly showed a hint of guilt: “Arthur, there’s no need to rush. As long as Victor acknowledges Finn…” I waved my hand. “Finn needs to return to his true lineage as a legitimate Thorne heir. If you don’t marry Victor, people will laugh at you.” “Mom! He’s right! Hurry up and divorce him, and let’s go marry Mr. Sterling!” Finn held a new remote-control race car, clearly a gift from Victor. He lifted his small face, looking at me with a mix of defiance and disdain: “Hey, Arthur, if you know what’s good for you, just let me and Mom go—” “Finn!” Eleanor snapped at him. “Don’t be so rude. Even if Mom really takes you to the Thornes, Arthur will always be your dad. You’ll just have two dads…” “I don’t want that!” Finn turned and spat at me: “Who wants such an embarrassing dad? No money, no power. Besides cooking at home, what else can you do? My dad should be a big tycoon, a grand family heir like Mr. Sterling!” With that, he made a face and ran off. Passing the old remote-control car on the floor by the door, he stomped on it, crushing it. “I don’t want this cheap junk!” With a new car, why would he cherish the one I bought him before? But he didn’t know that the limited edition toy model car I gave him was several times more expensive than the actual car Victor drove to pick him up from school today… “Arthur.” Eleanor looked at me with a hint of difficulty: “You… don’t take it to heart. Victor hasn’t seen the child in years, so he’s bound to spoil him excessively. Finn is still a child, easily misled. He… I believe he’ll still be good to you in the future.” “I know. I won’t argue with a child.” I pushed the divorce papers towards her, urging her to sign quickly. But Eleanor hesitated. She picked it up, barely glanced at it, then tossed it onto the table in frustration, turning and heading upstairs. “I’ll look at it later and decide.” I couldn’t describe the feeling in my heart. After all that had happened, was there still a reason for her not to cleanly sever ties? …Three days later, it was my birthday. Eleanor had promised to celebrate with me, but after I had prepared a table full of dishes, she suddenly excused herself to take a call, saying she had company business. “Sorry, Arthur, I have an urgent matter to handle. I’ll be back later to celebrate your birthday.” I nodded, serving myself a bowl of longevity noodles. I said it was fine, it wasn’t a big birthday, go take care of your business. Eleanor smiled, leaned in, wanting to kiss my cheek. I dodged. I said it was just green onion oil. She chuckled sweetly, “You always loved green onion oil noodles. Why didn’t you make something better for your birthday?” Turns out, she had already forgotten. A dull ache settled in my heart. As I ate my noodles alone, Victor Sterling suddenly showed up. “I’m here to pick up Finn. He said he wanted me to drive that new sports car to take him to his extracurricular class today.” “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” I didn’t lift my head, simply calling Finn’s name upstairs. “Haha, no trouble at all. Thanks to you, Arthur, for taking care of Finn all these years. You’re the one who worked hard.” Victor’s smug and hypocritical expression utterly sickened me. “Mr. Sterling!” Finn, hearing Victor’s voice, excitedly ran downstairs. “Finn, be good on the way there, listen to Mr. Sterling—” “Mind your own business! Mr. Sterling and I are real father and son! You don’t need to worry about us!” Finn wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck, glaring fiercely at me. “Finn!” My in-laws, who were just about to leave, turned at the sound and chastised Finn: “You’re being completely out of line! How can you speak like that?” Then, my mother-in-law helplessly called out to me: “Arthur, it’s your birthday today. I ordered a cake for you. I wanted to celebrate with you, but we have a business banquet at the Grand Imperial Hotel today. Eat it yourself.” I felt a slight pang of emotion. All these years, I had diligently cared for my wife and son, and my in-laws had reciprocated, treating me quite well. It hadn’t been in vain that I had secretly supported the Vance family all these years, elevating them to a prominent new-money family in Seaside City. For example, that luxurious private room at the Grand Imperial Hotel today, if I hadn’t pulled some strings with Mr. Albright beforehand, they wouldn’t have been able to book it. After my in-laws left, I called Mr. Albright. “Mr. Albright, my in-laws are visiting today. Please look after them.” “Of course, young master. But aren’t you coming? I saw the young madam and the young master there. And the grandson, too…” In that instant, I felt as if I had plunged into an ice-cold abyss. 3 Outside the private room, I stood for a long time, my fists clenched. Father-in-law: “Why are you still calling me ‘Mr. Vance’? We’ll be family soon, call me ‘Father-in-law’.” Mother-in-law: “That’s right, son-in-law, don’t be a stranger. I’ve considered you my son-in-law for ten years.” Finn: “Daddy, hurry and greet them! Once you do, we’ll be family, and I can finally be your son.” Victor: “Yes, Father-in-law, Mother-in-law, my precious son.” With that, he stole a kiss on Eleanor’s ear and called her “wife.” Eleanor’s face flushed. My heart chilled outside the door. It turned out, today was their “family recognition banquet.” I had believed that at least my in-laws approved of me. It was all a lie. They were fake, my wife was fake, my son was fake. Only my devotion, given for ten years, was real. A server came to serve dishes: “Hello, are you with this party?” The whole family turned in unison, only to see me standing at the doorway. Eleanor abruptly stood up. “Arthur? What are you doing here?” I remained unruffled, looking at each of them in turn. I questioned Eleanor: didn’t you say you were busy with company matters? I questioned Finn: didn’t you say you had an extracurricular class? I questioned my in-laws: didn’t you say you had a business banquet? The air grew thick with awkwardness. Finally, everyone dropped their pretenses. “You’re stalking me?” Eleanor was the first to attack: “Arthur, are you a pervert?!” Victor feigned mediation: “Oh, Arthur, you too. If you wanted to come, you should’ve said so earlier. Why cause such a scene and make everyone uncomfortable? Come, come, have a seat!” “I don’t want him here!” Finn, seeing me, immediately threw a fit: “You’re useless and a spoilsport! You knew everyone didn’t welcome you, that’s why they avoided you! Why are you so shameless, clinging to us? I don’t have a dad like you! Only an heir from a prominent family is fit to be my dad!” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “What are you laughing at?” Eleanor seemed exasperated. “Because it’s amusing.” I wiped my tears, pointing at Finn, and said, if you want to take Finn to his true lineage, you should at least wait until he’s actually entered the Thorne family. My mother-in-law waved her hand: “Mind your own business! If Eleanor hadn’t gotten pregnant back then, how would it have ever been your turn to be my son-in-law? The Thornes are coming to pick him up in a week. He’ll have nothing to do with you after that. Don’t even think about clinging to them, mother and son!” I nodded, turned, and left, saying nothing more. Eleanor reached out to stop me, but I ignored her, deftly stepping aside. She wanted to say something else, but I wasn’t willing to listen. Mr. Albright, who had witnessed everything, caught up to me: “Young master, do you still need me to waive the bill?” I paused: “One last time. Consider it my farewell dinner for them. No need in the future.” That evening, Eleanor returned. Seeing that I had quietly packed my bags, she seemed surprised. “Arthur, where are you going?” She pulled my hand: “I didn’t tell you to leave! Just wait for me here. In three days, when the Thornes pick up Victor and Finn, I’ll settle our son, and then I’ll come back—” “Will you really come back?” I asked her a second time. I looked into her eyes. The innocence and purity I once saw there were what I wanted to protect most in life. But now, lies had covered all those colors. Eleanor first froze, then frantically explained: “Of course! You’re not still mad about the restaurant, are you?” She tried to take my hand to persuade me: “Arthur, I admit it was wrong to hide things from you, but Victor promised that once he secured his position as the Thorne heir, he would invest a billion dollars in my father’s new project. That’s why my parents insisted on treating him to dinner at the best hotel—” “I deliberately didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d be upset.” She apologized sincerely and presented me with a “carefully chosen” gift—a tie with the gift tag still attached. It was the same brand as the haute couture tie I saw Victor wearing at the hotel today. I knew then that I should have harbored no expectations whatsoever. That morning, the Thorne family’s private jet landed outside the Vance family mansion. Eleanor took my hand, her eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions: “Arthur, wait for me at home. Once I settle in, I’ll come back.” “Will you really come back?” I asked her for the third time. Eleanor opened her mouth, then after a long, difficult pause, managed: “Of course.” Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Victor Sterling, with an apologetic expression, said to my in-laws: “I’m so sorry. You see, my two butlers here, they’re so clueless. Why did they park the jet right in front of your mansion?” As he spoke, he waved his hand and called out to Mr. Albright and Mr. Davies: “Hey, my villa is over here! You parked it wrong!” My father-in-law chuckled obsequiously: “No worries, no worries, we’re all family. And you two butlers, why do you two look so familiar?” Victor shook his head: “Mr. Thorne, these two are the patriarch’s most trusted personal butlers. I’ve only heard their names, never seen them in person. How could they look familiar to you?” Immediately after, both butlers stepped forward in unison, bowing respectfully: “Welcome back, Young Master.”

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1 The heiress to a tech mogul’s vast fortune in New York had pursued me for five years, but I’d never given her the time of day. I was just one of the ‘groom lottery’ contestants she’d curated for her eccentric, highly publicized selection process. Whoever was drawn on the eve of the wedding would become the mogul’s daughter’s husband. And I knew, with chilling certainty, I’d be the one chosen. After all, I’d died once before. In my past life, she had chosen me, and I’d become the groom, the focus of everyone’s envious gaze. On our wedding day, she’d drunk too much, missed a call from her adopted brother, Ethan, and he’d died of a heart attack. The morning after, in the stark chill of the morgue, she’d pinned me down, gripped my hair, and forced me to kneel, my forehead hitting the cold tile a thousand times before him. “Why did you tamper with the drawing?” she’d shrieked, her voice raw. “You knew my heart belonged to Ethan! If I’d drawn the empty slip, I could have married him! He touched your suit, crying, just before he died. He was the one I was meant to marry!” “You were just a pawn, a flimsy excuse to make Ethan jealous,” she’d snarled, spitting out the words. “Did you truly believe you belonged in our lives?” Trapped in that sterile, chilling room, I was forced to endure her feverish declarations of twisted affection for her adopted brother. She had them crush my fingers, simply because I’d worn the wedding ring she’d intended for him. She had me stripped bare and thrown into the river, just for wearing a suit that had belonged to him. And finally, she had me nailed into a coffin, suffocating me alive. When I next opened my eyes, my body was whole, yes, but the raw, phantom agony of those memories had clung to me, relentless, for five harrowing years. This time, I would rewrite the ending. I’d swapped the order of the slips, ensuring she’d draw the empty one. From that moment on, their twisted drama would have nothing to do with me. “Ms. Sterling’s chosen slip reveals… an empty draw!” The ninety-nine men gathered understood: Sophia drawing an empty slip meant they’d all lost their chance to become the tech heiress’s husband. “What the hell is this?!” someone roared, tearing their slip to shreds. “It’s rigged! This whole lottery is a sham!” Another started to yell, but a hand clamped over his mouth. “You got a death wish? We all knew we were just here to fill seats. Haven’t you seen the way Sophia looks at Ethan? It’s sickening. If she didn’t draw the empty slip, and one of us got picked? We’d be screwed!” The man spat, “But Ethan’s her brother…” “So what if he’s her brother?” the other hissed back. “No blood relation means they can legally marry. We’re just window dressing. If you ask me, the only one who could get picked and still walk away clean is Liam Foster, Number One.” I calmly tore up the slip marked ‘Number One’ in my hand, a physiological tremor running through my muscles, as if the pain from before still clung to me. Sophia’s pupils contracted to pinpricks, a surge of raw excitement electrifying her. She shot to her feet, abandoning all pretense, and launched herself into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, this time I chose you. You’re not getting away from me.” Ethan’s face flushed. He tried to push her away, but she held him tighter. “But I only see you as a sister, Sophia.” “It’s fine. You’ll get used to it,” she purred, tracing his cheek. “This is destiny.” Sophia cupped his face, her eyes sweeping over me with an icy glare. A jolt of unease shot through me, raising the hairs on my neck. I instinctively straightened my back. Could Sophia have also been reborn? Even if she had, I owed her nothing. This time, I’d given her what she wanted. Finally, I was free! From the head table, Eleanor Sterling cleared her throat, a flicker of panic in her eyes. “Sophia, I never imagined out of ninety-nine slips you’d draw an empty one. It seems you and Ethan truly are meant to be.” She paused, her voice a little strained. “But this is… unexpected. I need to inform your father.” Sophia’s lips curved into an irrepressible smirk. “Fine.” She shot me a triumphant glance. “As for the rest of these men, they’re welcome to stay at the Sterling estate until after Ethan and I are married. Consider it compensation.” Sophia expected me to look dejected, to shed tears. But I didn’t. I simply smiled and applauded, just like everyone else. In my previous life, I had wept with joy when chosen, only to see Sophia’s face, paler than a corpse. Her gaze had been fixed solely on Ethan, not a single glance spared for me. Reborn, I wouldn’t make the same pathetic mistake of clinging to her. On the stage, an inexplicable surge of anger twisted her features. She grabbed Ethan by the hand, declared, “Time for a date!” and stormed off. With the main characters gone, the other ninety-eight men quickly dispersed, like a flock of startled birds. I was just about to head back and pack my bags when Eleanor Sterling pulled me aside into a secluded corner. Before I could even react, a stinging slap landed across my face. “You damn brat! I arranged for Sophia to pick you! How in God’s name did it turn into an empty slip?!” 2 The words barely left her lips before another vicious slap followed. “You’re just as thankless and ungrateful as your deadbeat father! I’m your mother, not some stranger off the street! I told you to listen to me, and you just let it go in one ear and out the other, didn’t you?!” My cheeks burned, but my heart ached far more. “The day you brought Ethan, your love child from that affair, into this family and married Mr. Sterling, that was the day you ceased to be my mother.” Eleanor’s eyes flickered, then hardened into a cruel, unyielding gaze. “If Ethan gets hurt because of your decision, you’ll pay with your life.” Only when I was nailed into that coffin in my past life did I learn the lottery results had always been fixed. Eleanor had always wanted Ethan to marry into the Sterling family, but she had a secret about him she needed to keep hidden. And I, Liam Foster, was meant to be the sacrifice for that secret. Now, all I wanted was to watch them destroy each other. Their secrets meant nothing to me. I rubbed my stinging cheek, my gaze a chilling void. “I’m going to marry someone else. Serena Thorne. Consider it repayment for all the money you’ve spent keeping my father on life support all these years.” Eleanor’s eyes narrowed slightly. Serena Thorne, a name whispered with a mix of awe and fear in the city’s elite circles. Rumor had it she was infertile, notoriously eccentric, and played the field with a ruthless charm, leaving a trail of broken hearts and ruined lives in her wake. She was reportedly looking for a husband recently, to finally ‘settle down’ and embrace domesticity. If I didn’t choose someone, Eleanor would surely force me to marry some old hag. Naming Serena Thorne beforehand was a strategic move. Because I already knew, Serena Thorne was anything but simple. A predatory smile touched Eleanor’s lips. “Alright, obedient boy. Then just relax and wait for your wedding.” Eleanor swayed off, her hips swiveling. I sighed. My room was in the westernmost wing of the Sterling mansion, and I had to pass through the garden to get there. The garden was a chaotic scene now. Ethan sneezed, muffled, into his hand. “Sophia, who planted this lavender? Don’t they know I’m allergic?” Sophia tenderly pressed her own handkerchief to his nose. Then, she turned to the gardener, her voice sharp. “Get rid of this lavender patch. Use the shredder! And this swing set, all those messy bird nests? Clear them out!” That lavender patch was from seeds my father had collected when he was lucid, found by the roadside. He’d said that even after he was gone, the flowers would remain. My eyes widened as I watched the gardener raise his shovel. “Wait!” Everyone froze, stealing glances at Sophia for her reaction. She watched me, her expression unreadable. “Do you think this is your house, where you can plant whatever you want? Or are you just trying to make Ethan sick?” When I was five, my father was gravely ill. I snuck into the Sterling estate, desperate for Eleanor to save him. She had wanted to send me away, but Mr. Sterling found out. He’d said it was fine to take in a few children like me, a gesture of charity. And so, I’d lived here for twenty years. Sophia, who used to play with me and the staff, had once said the Sterling estate would always be my home. There was a small wooden sign by that patch, hand-written by a young Sophia: “Liam and Sophia’s Secret Spot. Forever Home.” I lowered my gaze, ignoring the decaying wooden sign, and bowed deeply. “Ms. Sterling, Young Master Ethan, I apologize. I was out of line. But please, don’t destroy my flowers. I’ll clean them up…” My bow seemed to throw Sophia off guard. Ethan suddenly began to tremble. “Sophia, I’m so dizzy.” His shaking voice snapped Sophia back to reality. She waved her hand. “What are you waiting for? Get to work!” The lush lavender was swallowed by the shredder, turning into a gruesome purple pulp. “No!” I threw myself forward, a desperate, reckless leap, grasping at whatever I could. Sophia shrieked, letting go of Ethan, who stumbled back and hit a tree trunk. “Are you out of your mind?!” she cried, her eyes blazing as she pulled me back. Then she saw the single lavender blossom and the decaying wooden sign clutched in my palm. “You…” Tears streamed down my face. “You said you couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d plant the lavender Dad gave me to help you rest.” The wooden sign crumbled to dust in my hands. “Sophia, I have no home anymore.” Sophia froze, reaching out as if to pull me into her arms. But then, Ethan screamed. From the birdhouse I’d built myself, high in the tree, clumps of caterpillars rained down onto Ethan. 3 Sophia’s eyes narrowed. She quickly stepped forward, pulling Ethan away. The caterpillars had a mild toxin, but Sophia, without hesitation, used her bare hands to pick them off his clothes. Then she turned, her face contorted with disgust, and looked at me. “I almost fell for your act.” “You like throwing bugs, do you? Fine. You all! Pick up those bugs and stuff them into his clothes!” A few maids, eager to please, began gathering the crawling insects. The gardener held me in a viselike grip. “I didn’t! How could it be me?!” Sophia scoffed, saying nothing. Of course. She hadn’t trusted me in years. Otherwise, in my past life, she wouldn’t have condemned me without question, convinced I’d rigged the lottery. I’d almost let the lingering kindness of her family accepting me sway me into warning her about Ethan’s secret. But now, I regretted it. I wanted to see her descend into madness when she discovered the truth. I simply gave up, letting the caterpillars swarm over me. Where they touched, my skin swelled, itching unbearably. Ethan, having composed himself, tugged on Sophia’s sleeve. “Sophia, isn’t this too much? I’m fine now.” “Ethan, you’re just too soft, that’s why people take advantage of you. Come on, I’ll take you to the doctor.” She led Ethan away, passing me without a glance. Freed from the gardener’s grasp, I collapsed to the ground. My fingers, curled tightly in suppressed agony, dug deep into the mud, staining them black with dirt and blood. Because of Sophia, no one would dare help me. So I had to endure the revulsion and pain, picking off the insects myself, before shakily making my way to the family doctor. As I entered, I saw Sophia applying ointment to Ethan behind a privacy curtain. It was just an ointment application, yet I heard Sophia’s soft gasps from behind the curtain. When she finally drew it back, Ethan was breathless behind her, and her face was flushed. Her fingers were still coated with the ointment. Sophia’s gaze swept over my raw, swollen neck. She tossed the bottle of ointment at me. I was a step too slow, and the glass vial shattered on the floor, the liquid spilling everywhere. “Don’t you dare go to the doctor. You only deserve to use filth.” In the Sterling household, in all of New York, she was queen. If she said I couldn’t see a doctor, no doctor would even look at me. I knelt on the ground, using my mud-stained hands to scoop up the spilled ointment and smear it on myself. I looked up to see Sophia gently sanitizing Ethan’s hands. “Sophia, I’m leaving the Sterling estate.” Nine-year-old Sophia had promised me a home, but now that home was gone. It was time to say goodbye. Sophia finished cleaning Ethan’s hands, then lightly kissed his fingertips. Her expression barely changed. “Say that again.” I took a deep breath. “I said, you and Young Master Ethan are getting married. And I’m nothing more than an outsider. I should leave, just like the ninety-eight other candidates.” My voice hardened. “Sophia, this isn’t a request. It’s a notification.” “Notification?!” Sophia’s voice rose, a tone she didn’t seem to notice. “Liam Foster, is your comatose father ready to give up on treatment?” She spoke to me in a near-threat. My body stiffened, trembling with memories from my past life. She had once embraced me, then with an icy hand, pushed me into a coffin. Too bad Sophia, for all her arrogance, couldn’t imagine I was about to be married. In the past, whenever Sophia and I argued, I would always threaten to leave the Sterling estate to make her relent. But now, I didn’t need her to back down. I really was leaving. When I remained silent, Sophia scoffed. “If you’re scared, then just stay here. Ethan needs a personal valet. Especially on our wedding night, you can be here to serve our needs.” Ethan’s face flushed. He hugged Sophia tightly. “Sophia, is that really appropriate?” His hand was caught by Sophia, who then stood up. “Why are you blushing? Come on, let’s go have some fun.” Ethan’s dress shoe kicked me as he passed, sending me sprawling into the glass shards. Using medical tweezers, I carefully picked the fragments from my leg, then haphazardly applied some ointment. I returned to the room I’d lived in for twenty years. I tried to pack my belongings, like the protagonists in novels I’d read. But then I realized there was nothing that truly belonged to me. Sophia used to take photos with me all the time. But at some point, the people in those pictures had stopped aging, stuck ten years in the past. Ethan had been abroad for ten years, and she had yearned for him that entire decade. The hidden room in her wedding suite was plastered wall-to-wall with photos of Ethan, secretly taken by private investigators. I stuffed my identification into my pocket, then sat bewildered on the edge of the bed. My phone vibrated. A message from the hospital attendant. “Mr. Foster, your father just regained a bit of consciousness! He’s calling your name!” 4 I limped to the hospital. As I approached, I heard my father, lying in his hospital bed, softly calling my name. This had never happened in my previous life. In that timeline, at this very moment, the power had gone out in the hospital, and my father had died within a minute without his ventilator. For someone in a vegetative state, any change like this was a miracle. Maybe, just maybe, I’d live to see my father open his eyes. The attendant, sensing the moment, discreetly slipped out. I sat by the bed, holding my father’s hand. “I’m leaving the Sterling estate. From now on, those people mean nothing to me.” I choked up. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t save the lavender you gave me.” My voice broke. “Dad, please, can you wake up and tell me where you found those seeds?” I lowered my head, letting the tears stream freely. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. I looked all over for you. Turns out you were here, mourning.” Ethan strolled in, arms crossed, a smirk twisting his lips as he eyed me. I wiped my tears. “What do you want?” Ethan lifted his foot and casually kicked the hospital bed. The monitors, a tangle of wires, began to shriek, their frantic beeps echoing the chaos. He tilted his chin up arrogantly. “Mommy told me you’re going to marry that freak?” I said nothing, watching him warily. “Normally, who you marry, even if it’s a beggar, wouldn’t concern me. But I hear you know my secret?” “I won’t say anything.” Ethan laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound. “How can I be sure you won’t? If you tell, Sophia will abandon me instantly!” His eyes reddened. “You have to die for me to feel safe!” With a flick of his wrist, a blade slid from his sleeve, aimed straight for me. I instinctively recoiled, falling backward onto my father’s still form. Ethan was anything but delicate. His fingers, surprisingly strong, gripped the blade, poised to slit my throat. Suddenly, a dry, pale hand clamped onto Ethan’s wrist. I heard the monitor next to my ear scream, a deafening shriek. The doctors had said the prelude to a patient waking was a sudden surge in the machine’s sounds. I whirled around. “Dad?” My father’s eyes remained closed, but his hand had instinctively stopped Ethan from harming me. “Don’t… you… touch… my… son.” The click of high heels echoed, growing closer. In a flash, Ethan cut his own fingertip with the blade and shoved it into my father’s hand. Tears poured down his face. “Don’t kill me—” The next moment, he was in Sophia’s arms, clinging to her like a lifeline. “Sophia, Liam’s dad is trying to kill me… I only came to see him because I heard he might wake up. Did I do something wrong?” Ethan’s eyes were misty, a single drop of blood on his finger igniting Sophia’s fury. She gripped my wrist, her single hand threatening to crush my jaw. “Are you trying to kill Ethan again?!” “I’ve paid for your father’s treatment for years! Is this how you repay me?!” I shook my head violently. “I didn’t! It wasn’t me…” Sophia laughed, a sound like a banshee in hell. “Yes, this time it wasn’t you. It was your father.” A cold dread settled deep in my gut. I immediately dropped to my knees, my head hitting the floor in frantic pleas. “It wasn’t my dad! He’s in a coma, he doesn’t know anything!” “Ethan tried to kill me! It was him!” Ethan immediately retorted, “I didn’t! Sophia, you know I faint at the sight of blood.” He promptly clutched his forehead. Sophia, seeing this, believed him even more. Her eyes fell on the blade in my father’s hand. She gritted her teeth and nodded. “Good. Very good…” With that, she ripped out my father’s ventilator plug. The flatline beep, a piercing shriek in my ears, tore through the silence. I scrambled up, trying to plug the device back in, but she kicked me to the ground. “No! Sophia, please, I’m begging you! My dad will die in a minute without that ventilator!” “Hit me, kill me! I beg you, just don’t hurt my father!” Sophia looked down at me, a cold disdain in her eyes. “Dying is the easy way out. Don’t think I don’t know. Someone in a coma won’t die in just ten minutes without a ventilator. This is just a punishment for you.” With that, she calmly contacted the hospital to have the power to the room cut for ten minutes. Sophia, arm in arm with Ethan, looked back at me. “Tomorrow, on my wedding night, you’ll be here to serve our needs.” Her lips curved in a cruel smile. “If you’re not, just wait and see.” I crawled to my father’s bedside, tears streaming down my face, desperately trying to breathe life back into him. But it was useless. Ten minutes later, the power was restored. The moment I reconnected the ventilator, I saw the flat line on the heart monitor. My father was dead. My father, whom I’d lived like a dog for, dependent on their charity, was dead. I sat numbly by the hospital bed, when I suddenly heard footsteps again. My eyes were red from crying. I looked up. “Can you do me a favor?” As if to prove a point, Sophia’s wedding was even more lavish than the one in my previous life. Even Ethan’s tie clip, on his custom-tailored suit, was worth millions, glittering under the chandeliers. As they made their grand entrance, Sophia instinctively scanned the room, not finding me in the pre-assigned seat. Not until the vows were exchanged and the ninety-eight ‘lottery’ men began toasting the happy couple did she finally ask, “Where’s Liam?” Man of number twenty-five thought for a moment. “You mean the number one guy? Haven’t seen him.” But Sophia frowned, correcting him. “He has a name. He’s not ‘number one’.” Twenty-five nodded blankly, watching Sophia walk away. She suddenly remembered that Eleanor Sterling was, after all, my stepmother. So, she circled the room, finally finding Eleanor, who was laughing, holding her phone, talking to Mr. Sterling. “Eleanor, I haven’t seen Liam today.” At my name, Eleanor and Richard exchanged an odd, knowing glance. For some reason, Sophia’s heart sank. The next moment, she saw Eleanor raise her phone. On the brightly lit screen, Sophia saw something that would haunt her forever.

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When I was eighteen, I walked in on Connor Walker helping a scholarship student with her bra strap. He was a boy then, his expression serious, his movements clumsy and hesitant, the tips of his ears flushed scarlet. Eight years later, at twenty-six, I married Connor, a union mandated by our families. Yet, I was keenly aware of the whispers in Manhattan’s elite circles – how a portrait of that scholarship student was locked away in his study. Three years into our marriage, I suggested divorce. He signed the papers after a long, heavy silence. “If you ever need anything,” he’d said, his voice quiet, “don’t hesitate to ask.” Later, I walked into a gala, hand-in-hand with my law firm’s new partner. My best friend, Mark, teased, “You two were locked in a fierce debate in college, now who’d have thought you’d be intertwined like this?” Deep into the night, Connor’s number lit up my phone. “You insisted on that riverfront condo because you can see his law firm from there?” 1 Outside, the raw wind howled, but inside, the apartment was bathed in a comforting warmth. Across from me on the sofa, Connor sat, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, his long frame lean, his face still etched with the same strong lines as when he was eighteen. Only the fresh cut above his brow stood out, a jarring splash of red. An hour earlier, the precinct had called – Connor had been in a fight. When I arrived, Chloe Davis, our old high school classmate, was cradling his face, meticulously cleaning the wound. She looked up, startled, a wild bird, and flinched away. Connor immediately pulled her behind him, shielding her. “She’s easily spooked. Don’t scare her.” I said nothing, simply followed the officer to complete the paperwork. By the time I returned, Chloe was gone. On the drive home, Connor was on the phone the entire way, his voice soft, almost caressing, as he soothed the person on the other end. I had never seen him like that—his eyes gentle, filled with doting affection, utterly focused. Every ounce of his patience was reserved for Chloe. The thought of divorce, sharp and clear, sparked in my mind at that very moment. 2 Connor and I were childhood sweethearts, bound by years of shared memories. But Chloe Davis was his elusive “white moonlight,” the one he loved but could never have. In high school, Chloe had transferred to our exclusive academy on a scholarship. Her striking beauty and brilliant mind quickly captured Connor’s attention. Then came the day Chloe was accused of stealing class funds, her clothes torn off by a group of girls in a humiliating attack. I raced to the girls’ restroom, only to find Connor emerging from a stall, holding Chloe’s clothes. Chloe had her back to him, her voice thick with tears. “Just go, please. If anyone sees you, it’ll be impossible to explain.” But Connor simply said, “No need to explain. Just put your clothes on first.” Amidst the tense standoff, Chloe fumbled, panicked by the stubborn clasp of her bra. Connor didn’t hesitate. “Here, let me.” His expression was grim, his movements clumsy. When he finally fastened the clasp, his ear tips were flushed a fiery red. The moment he turned and our eyes met, a flicker of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by a calm command: “You help her now.” As he left, he added, “Keep this quiet.” I agreed, but by that afternoon, a photo of Connor helping Chloe with her clothes had spread like wildfire across campus. Connor was convinced I was the leak. For the first time, he unleashed his fury on me. “Layla, don’t think just because my parents favor you, I won’t do anything. You’re just the daughter-in-law they picked, not my choice!” I stood firm, defiance hardening my voice. “It wasn’t me!” He scoffed, a cold sneer twisting his lips. “Who else saw? You’re just jealous of her and me.” His words struck me like a blast of icy air. “When did you two…?” He impatiently cut me off. “You didn’t actually think me looking out for you meant I liked you, did you?” That night, the Walker family learned of the incident. Connor was dragged home and forced to apologize. He stood there, chin defiantly jutted out. “If you like Layla so much, why don’t you marry her?” He was met with a harsh punishment, physical in nature, from both parents. Back then, he hadn’t yet seen the truth: I was raised from childhood to be the future Mrs. Walker, and as the sole heir, he had no say in his own marriage. In the end, he married me. Chloe transferred schools, and he was sent abroad for eight years of higher education. When Connor returned eight years later, his aura had completely transformed. The boyish awkwardness was gone, replaced by a composed, reserved presence. He found me and proposed marriage. “Since we’re both still single, let’s just do it.” I knew I couldn’t escape the arranged marriage. Marrying someone I knew felt, at the time, like a stroke of luck. Later, I would discover that the first thing Connor did upon returning to the States was to seek out Chloe. But Chloe, with her fierce pride, had rejected him. Marrying me, it turned out, was nothing more than a childish act of spite directed at her. 3 “I have to go out. You should sleep first.” Connor’s words pulled me back from my thoughts. He rose and walked toward the door, his voice softening as he spoke into his phone, “Don’t be scared, I’m coming now, they won’t dare do anything… Mm, lock the door, wait for me.” I stood up too. “So late, and you’re still going out?” He paused briefly, a mere hitch in his stride, then continued toward the door. “Something urgent came up. I’ll be back very late.” Just as he reached the threshold, I called out to him again. A flicker of impatience crossed his face. “Something else?” “Connor,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.” Fury instantly blazed in Connor’s eyes. He clenched his jaw, his voice strained. “What are you stirring up now?” “Chloe was startled today. She has no one else here, so she could only turn to me for help.” I looked at him, my gaze unwavering. “Helping her means going to her upscale club every day to back her up?” My voice rose. “The esteemed Mr. Walker, getting into a brawl and ending up at the precinct for a club employee – that’s your idea of helping?” Connor’s thin lips formed a cold, hard line. His deep-set eyes held a dangerous warning. “I’ll get to the bottom of what happened tonight.” He paused, then added, his voice chillingly low, “And it better have nothing to do with you.” It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. My blood ran cold. In the two-plus years of our marriage, Connor had never once lost his temper with me. It had almost made me believe he’d moved on from Chloe, that he truly wanted to build a life with me. Now, it was clear I had been hopelessly naive. A sudden memory surfaced. Connor’s study had once held a portrait of Chloe. He had painted it himself. He hadn’t hidden it from anyone, not even his family. Grandpa Walker had thrown a colossal fit over it, eventually settling for a compromise: our wedding photo, mine and Connor’s, hung in the study instead. The portrait of Chloe, he had locked away in a cabinet. In that moment, I suddenly understood: he had not compromised. He was simply, in his own way, silently defying his family. Outside, the wind howled fiercely. The balcony door in the dining room had been left open, and a rush of cold air swept in, making me shiver uncontrollably. Just then, Connor’s phone emitted a sharp, piercing shriek. Almost simultaneously, the icy darkness in Connor’s eyes shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fear. He strode quickly toward the door. “Chloe, don’t be afraid, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t open the door for anyone…” As he spoke, he was already out the door. The door opened and closed, sealing off all his fleeting tenderness. That night, Connor never came back. I sat alone on the sofa until dawn. As the sky brightened, two messages landed on my phone. One was a photo of Connor and Chloe walking side-by-side into a hotel. The other was a single line of text: “Divorce him. Pick me instead, okay?” Scrolling up, I found three unread messages: “Layla, I’m back.” “Whenever you need me, I’m here.” “Do you love him that much? Could you love me instead?” I blinked my burning, tired eyes, then quickly tapped a few words onto the screen: “Okay.” 4 Connor arrived home the next afternoon. He was wearing a brand-new suit, a brand he would normally never even glance at. He looked immaculate, not a trace of perfume on him. If it weren’t for the glaring red marks on his throat, perhaps no one would have believed that he and Chloe had stayed in that hotel room until the afternoon. Likely out of guilt, he had brought me a gift. “I’m sorry. I said some harsh things last night. I apologize.” He placed the gift in front of me. I pulled out the divorce papers, already prepared, from a drawer and slowly slid them across to him. “Take a look. If everything’s in order, sign them.” Connor’s brows furrowed. “Just helping an old classmate, and you’re making this a big deal? Layla, when did you get so petty?” I ignored his words. “Our prenuptial agreement dictates that our pre-marital assets remain separate. As for post-marital cash, it’s a fifty-fifty split. And for the houses, I only want the riverfront condo.” Connor finally looked at me directly, his deep eyes filled with probing inquiry. After a long moment, he gave a cold laugh. “Is this your new tactic?” He didn’t believe me. He thought this was just another attempt to win him back, to manipulate him. And of course, the Walker family’s position in the social elite was unshakeable. How many old families would have done anything to marry their daughters into it? In his eyes, I had no reason to give up the title of Mrs. Walker. But I had considered giving up long ago. It was a perfectly ordinary day. Connor, as usual, had been out entertaining clients, returning home completely drunk. As I helped him, he suddenly pointed at me and snarled, “Layla, your affection disgusts me.” I froze. A bitter, suffocating ache filled my chest. I distinctly remembered him liking me too. That year, in freshman high school, Connor and I weren’t in the same class. Our classrooms were directly across the hall from each other. When an earthquake hit the neighboring state, we felt the strong tremors here. That day, Connor was the first person to burst out of his classroom, sprint into mine, and wrap his school jacket around my head. He practically dragged and lifted me, pulling me downstairs. That earthquake caused no damage, and my only injury was the bruising on my wrist from his desperate grip. His friends used to tease him, saying I was his most valuable possession. They even joked about us getting married on the spot. I expected Connor to get angry, but instead, he said, “We will get married.” “Oh, come on, don’t speak too soon! You’re still years away from legal age!” But Connor had declared, “If I get married and she’s not by my side, none of you better show up.” When we married, all his friends came. But what did it matter? 5 Connor was convinced I was playing a game, using reverse psychology to threaten him. He sat across from me, his gaze cold and indifferent. Every time we’d argued before, I was always the one to back down first. So he assumed this time, too, I would soften and yield. But what he didn’t know was that I was absolutely determined to leave. I pulled the divorce papers closer, gripping the pen. Under his chilling stare, I flipped to the last page and signed my name. Then I handed him the pen. “If there are no issues, just sign here.” At that moment, Connor finally realized I wasn’t joking. He lowered his gaze, his voice incredibly deep, almost a whisper. “Are you sure?” I glanced at my watch. “If we go to City Hall now, we can still make the last appointment.” He didn’t speak, just stared at me, his dark eyes searching for a flaw in my resolve. I don’t know how long passed, but finally, he lowered his gaze. “Then let’s do it.” He signed his name. His pen paused suddenly. “Grandpa’s birthday gala is next month. I hope we can keep our divorce quiet until after that.” I had no objection. I stood up and pulled out the suitcase I’d packed long ago from the corner. “Layla.” His voice softened, losing some of its cold edge. “You can continue living here.” “No need.” If we were divorcing, there was no reason to maintain any ties. “If you ever need anything in the future,” he added, “don’t hesitate to ask.” I didn’t linger. As I reached the front door, he quickly followed. “I’ll drive you.” “No, someone’s already coming to pick me up.” Downstairs, I saw a tall figure standing under the streetlamp in the distance. The moment he spotted me, he strode forward, his long legs covering the ground quickly, and naturally took my suitcase. Once in the car, I looked at the proud, elegant man in the driver’s seat. “Jackson Reed,” I said, “give me one month.” Jackson chuckled softly, then leaned over, reaching for my seatbelt. “Just one month. I can wait.” 6 Jackson Reed and I were college classmates. Both top students in the law school, we were peers, and competitors. We met during a major debate competition. The topic was: If you had the superpower to make someone love you back, would you use it? Jackson and I were on opposing sides, and that debate was fierce. In the end, my side won. After the debate, he stopped me. “If I had that power, I’d use it without hesitation.” I was young and headstrong then, full of proud defiance. My words aimed directly at his heart. “Then you don’t deserve to be loved.” Jackson looked at me deeply. “I love her, but I also respect her. As long as I don’t give up, she’ll see me.” I smiled meaningfully. “So even the brilliant scholar has an unrequited love, huh?” He said nothing, just watched me in silence. Later, we started interacting more frequently through student council, constantly clashing, outwitting each other at every turn. Over four years, we surprisingly became good friends. On graduation day, Jackson asked me out for a drink. I went. He asked me what my plans were after graduation. I said, half-joking, “What else? For people from families like ours, it’s marriage, kids, and securing long-term partnerships for the family business.” Jackson looked at me very seriously. “Can you wait, then? Five years at most. Can you wait for me?” The bar was too loud. I didn’t actually hear what he said clearly. I drained my glass. Almost the instant I set it down, Jackson leaned in and kissed me. That day, I fled. Not because of Jackson’s boundary-crossing action, but because I realized I was attracted to him, and I had responded. I was terrified of that feeling of losing control. I turned off my phone, cutting off all contact with the outside world. A week later, when I finally reconnected with my classmates, I learned that Jackson had gone abroad for advanced studies. He was gone for four years. Now he was back, and I was a married woman. 7 “We’re here.” I snapped back to reality, realizing the car had pulled up outside my apartment building. As I stepped out, he followed. My suitcase was in his hand; he showed no intention of giving it back. We entered the elevator and went up to my floor. At my front door, he didn’t step inside. “Layla, want to open a law firm with me?” I was surprised he’d suggest such a thing. After marrying Connor, I’d stopped practicing law. As Mrs. Walker, it wasn’t appropriate to be in the public eye frequently or to do anything that might tarnish the Hayes or Walker family names. For years, I’d just managed small businesses, gradually forgetting I was once a law student. The moment Jackson brought it up, I admit, my heart stirred. But I quickly dismissed the idea. “I’m an amateur now. I’d only drag you down.” Jackson had thrived over the years, a rising star everyone in the legal world was betting on. At parties, old classmates spoke of Jackson with envy: “Jackson Reed, the hotshot partner, is earning seven figures a year, pushing for eight. You folks dragging the industry down should really reflect on yourselves.” Jackson didn’t see it that way. “You can do it, Layla. You always could.” He reminded me of our campus days, of my fierce competitive spirit, of the times I’d cornered him in debates, leaving him speechless. “Layla,” he said, “since you’re starting a new life, why not take one more step forward?” His words swayed me. As I approached thirty, I found the courage to live for myself. The following days, my life became a blur. I was out early and home late every day. It was exhausting, but I felt an unprecedented sense of fulfillment. It wasn’t until I received a call from Grandpa Walker that I realized a whole month had simply vanished. “Layla, what have you been so busy with lately? Why haven’t you come to see your grandpa?” The Walker family elders had always been kind to me. Grandpa Walker especially so. There were no granddaughters in this generation of the Walker family, and Grandpa Walker would have showered me with everything good. I explained I’d been busy with work. He said, “Day after tomorrow is Grandpa’s eightieth birthday. Don’t forget. Oh, and your grandmother ordered a custom gown for you, sent it to the estate. When you have a moment, see if it fits.” I nodded repeatedly, chatted a bit more, then hung up. The estate Grandpa Walker mentioned was the Walker family’s wedding gift to Connor and me, quite a distance from the city center. For convenience, we usually stayed at The Bayview Lofts. After work, I drove back to the estate to pick up the gown. Divorce was one thing, but showing respect to elders was another. Arriving at the house, I headed straight for the walk-in closet. The housekeeper said my gown had been put away there. The walk-in closet was in the master suite, but for convenience, there was a separate door to it from the hallway. Just as I reached the door, the master suite door swung open without warning. Chloe Davis appeared before me. Seeing me, she recoiled like a startled rabbit, looking flustered. “Ms. Hayes?” I nodded, not intending to linger, and continued walking. I hadn’t taken two steps when Connor’s lazy voice drifted from behind me: “Who are you talking to…” His voice suddenly cut off. I felt a hot gaze on my back. I turned, nodding blandly at him. “Just came back to pick up the gown Grandpa sent.” Connor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you get it?” “I’m just going to,” I replied. I entered the walk-in closet and found the gown in the bottom drawer. Without lingering, I quickly left. But as I reached the turn in the staircase, Connor called out. “Layla, next time you plan to come here, give me a heads-up.” He leaned against the railing on the second floor, his shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, revealing clear scratches and hickeys. “Chloe is sensitive. You showing up like this makes her very uncomfortable.” I pursed my lips. “While I understand your urgency, we’re not divorced yet. If this gets to the family estate, it’ll be difficult for you to explain.” Before he could speak, I added, “Tomorrow is the day we finalize the divorce. Don’t be late.”

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The moment I unlocked my phone, a notification popped up. 【BREAKING NEWS: Tech CEO Eleanor Vance and Husband Dazzle at Charity Gala, Donate Millions, and Can’t Keep Their Hands Off Each Other!】 But I distinctly remembered attending no such charity gala. A knot of confusion tightening in my gut, I tapped the link. In the video, my wife, usually a picture of cool composure, was walking the red carpet, her fingers tightly intertwined with her male assistant’s. Descending the steps, the assistant even swept her into a bridal carry, as if terrified she’d trip on her gown. Even the host couldn’t help but gush, “Mr. and Mrs. Vance are simply as smitten as newlyweds – truly enviable!” Eleanor, however, offered no explanation, just clutched her assistant’s hand and playfully flashed a peace sign at the camera. I stared at the screen, my heart sinking like a stone. Looks like Eleanor wants a new husband. 1 Overnight, Julian Clark, the assistant, became a viral sensation. That very evening, hundreds of thousands flooded his livestream, the comments section exploding with frantic messages: 【OMG, CEO’s Husband! What’s it like being married to the CEO? Spill the tea!】 【Ms. Vance is always so serious. Is she super cute and demure behind closed doors, like a little darling wife?】 【You must be new here! Company employees already leaked it: once, Ms. Vance’s husband came to pick her up, and she’d scamper over and practically melt into his arms, blushing furiously!】 【Wow! So how good was the hug?】 Julian’s face flushed as he nodded. “Very soft, very good to hold.” The comments instantly erupted: 【Oh my God, the CEO’s husband is actually shy! Is this what they mean by a ‘darling husband’?!】 【From today onwards, this couple is officially locked in for me!】 【Please, please, more gossip about Ms. Vance! She’s always got that Ice Queen face on. Her fans are starving!】 Last year, Eleanor Vance attended an international AI conference. A video of her speech went viral, making her an online phenomenon, admired for both her beauty and powerful presence – she became everyone’s “Ice Goddess.” To avoid excessive scrutiny of our private life, I rarely appeared in public with her. So why, this time, did she bring Julian Clark to the gala? Just as I was pondering this, Julian continued: “Ms. Vance might seem cold, but she’s surprisingly demure. She gives me a morning kiss every day and even makes breakfast. At noon, she’ll text to ask what I’ve eaten. And at night, she cooks dinner herself. Every day with her, I feel surrounded by love.” Someone piped up: 【Surrounded by love? That sounds a little suggestive!】 【Quick! Does Ms. Vance prefer a dominatrix outfit or a maid costume at night?!】 【Definitely a maid costume! The colder she is by day, the sweeter she is by night!】 Julian covered his face, “blushing” again. “She prefers to wear maid costumes to please me… Oh, don’t ask any more questions! It’s so embarrassing!” I gripped my phone, my knuckles white. At that very moment, a text from Eleanor popped up: 【Honey, the company’s doing a product test tonight. Might be home very late. Don’t wait up, go to bed first~】 Product test? More like wearing a maid costume on some other “husband’s” bed. Seeing Julian still vaguely flaunting their supposed affection, I left a comment directly in the livestream: 【Julian Clark, you’re just an assistant. What are you doing pretending to be the CEO’s husband?】 The screen instantly went silent. Then, a wave of furious comments crashed down on me: 【Who let this crazy dog loose? Mind your tongue!】 【Calling the CEO’s husband by his full name? Do you have a death wish?】 【I suggest you apologize, fast! Ms. Vance could trace your IP and find you in minutes!】 I scoffed, a cold sneer on my face, and revealed my identity: 【I am Eleanor Vance’s actual husband! Julian Clark, report to HR tomorrow to process your resignation!】 On screen, Julian’s face drained of color. A few seconds later, he abruptly ended the livestream. That night, Eleanor didn’t come home. 2 The next morning, I marched straight to the company. Eleanor, her face etched with exhaustion, immediately lit up when she saw me. She pulled me into her office, clinging to me, playfully whining, “Husband, why are you so early today? Missed me last night, didn’t you?” The images from the livestream flashed through my mind. I shoved her away. Just then, Julian Clark’s voice drifted from outside the door. “I’m going to take care of someone, then I’ll come back to settle things with you!” Julian saw me emerge and lowered his head. His eyes were swollen and red, clearly from a night of heavy weeping. Julian whispered, barely audible, “Mr. Hayes, you’re here?” “Let’s go to the conference room, I’ll explain everything to you there.” I crossed my arms over my chest, my voice booming. “Say whatever you have to say right here. Don’t give me that pathetic, innocent look, making people think I’m bullying you.” I added, “And who are you calling ‘Mr. Hayes’? Just call me Marcus.” Julian looked at Eleanor, his eyes brimming with tears. Eleanor, unflustered, began to explain for him. “Honey, you must have seen the charity gala video last night?” She offered a sweet smile. “It’s like this: I’ve been busy testing new products lately, and I forgot to tell the organizers you wouldn’t be attending. They’d already set up a spot for you and an interactive segment, so I just brought Julian instead. With so many cameras, I couldn’t let outsiders think there was trouble in paradise between us, could I?” No sooner had she finished explaining than the R&D manager rushed in, saying there was a slight glitch with the new product and Eleanor needed to check it out. Julian started to follow, but Eleanor stopped him. “My husband’s still mad. You better not come.” I didn’t beat around the bush. “Julian Clark, let’s talk about what happened on the livestream last night.” Julian’s face immediately drained of color, then flushed, looking utterly miserable. “Marcus, I had a little too much to drink last night, that’s why I spoke without thinking.” He stammered, “You know, my parents aren’t well, and my younger brother is getting married soon, so I need to get money for his wedding. My regular income isn’t enough to cover my family’s expenses, so I thought I’d try livestreaming to earn some extra cash. Yesterday, when I saw so many people in the livestream for the first time, I just… started running my mouth. Honestly, Eleanor and I have nothing going on. It was all just me making things up.” “I’ll upload a video after work clarifying my relationship with Eleanor and apologizing to you.” Julian suddenly dropped to his knees, begging. “Marcus, please don’t fire me! I really need this job.” Seeing I didn’t speak, he began to slap himself repeatedly. The office echoed with the sound of slaps. Julian was a scholarship student Eleanor sponsored. I knew his family’s situation all too well. Watching him slap his face until it was swollen and blood trickled from his lips, my heart softened. “Don’t entertain unrealistic fantasies, and don’t let there be a next time!” My voice hardened. “Otherwise, I, Marcus Hayes, will show no mercy!” I glanced toward the conference room. Eleanor’s expression was grim. It looked like she’d run into a thorny issue. I went home without a word. My best friend, Devon Blake, called, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Mr. Perfect Husband, I heard you went to the company today and made a scene? But you couldn’t bring yourself to deal with Eleanor, huh?” I snapped, “I’m letting her off the hook for now because she’s busy. Tonight, when she comes home, I’ll deal with her.” Devon’s tone sobered. “I heard the organizers didn’t actually expect you to show up. No one’s ever been able to convince a bigshot like you before.” My heart sank. This felt more complicated than it seemed. 3 Under the subdued lighting, I fell into deep thought. Eleanor and I had an arranged marriage, a strategic business alliance. While we had little emotional foundation before the wedding, after, she was shrewd and capable at work, and gentle and virtuous at home. What’s more, my wild, impractical ideas, she somehow understood. It was as if I had suddenly found a soulmate on my wavelength. Even more importantly, our chemistry in bed was explosive. Every night, for three hundred and sixty-five days a year, she’d anticipate my desires, exploring new ways to please me, always keeping things exciting. To give me complete security, she conscientiously maintained more than double the standard social distance from other men. A woman with perfect looks, a stunning figure, and outstanding capabilities – a true catch. It was hard not to be captivated. The door creaked open, and Eleanor quietly slipped in. She shed her outer clothes and burrowed into my embrace like a kitten. “Husband, I’m home.” Seeing I didn’t respond, she chuckled and playfully tapped my nose. “First time I’ve seen you jealous. You’re like a little tiger, all claws and snarls.” I hadn’t cooled down. “I’m no little tiger. Go to your ‘darling husband.’ Aren’t you afraid people will misunderstand and think you’re having an affair, coming to my place?” Eleanor let out a soft laugh. “Still mad at Julian? He’s just a naive boy who hasn’t seen much of the world. It’s normal for him to get a bit conceited with all that sudden attention. Look, he’s already posted a video clarifying things and apologizing. The comments are all trashing him now. Consider it payback for you.” Her eyes met mine, earnest and unwavering. “Husband, I swear to God, there’s absolutely nothing going on between Julian and me!” My heart softened. The Hayes and Vance families had been allied by marriage for years, their interests deeply intertwined and complex. What’s more, Eleanor came home almost every day, working hard to please me every night. I figured she wouldn’t have the time or energy to get physically involved with Julian. So, as long as she was willing to humble herself, I could give her an out. But then, Devon’s warning flashed in my mind, and my expression hardened. I cupped her face, my voice low and cautionary. “Eleanor Vance, you know I, Marcus Hayes, am a stickler for exclusivity. I never liked, nor would I tolerate, sharing what’s mine—people or possessions.” My gaze bore into hers. “The reason I agreed to marry you, beyond the family alliance, was because you were different from those other socialites. You were pure and untainted. If you ever got tainted, I’d find it utterly repulsive. So please, don’t force me to stop loving you.” Eleanor nodded. “Husband, I’ll always be yours and yours alone.” Then she pulled me down toward her. “Husband, how about I make amends in triplicate tonight?” I propped myself up with my elbow, keeping her at arm’s length. “Not so fast. I have a condition: Julian Clark has to be transferred!” “That’s just a word from the CEO’s husband, isn’t it?” she purred. 4 The next morning, Eleanor and I arrived at the company, hand in hand. I marched straight to HR. “Julian Clark lacks the necessary skills. Is there any suitable position for him?” The HR manager paused. “Marcus, we just had a cleaning lady resign.” I nodded. “Excellent. That position suits him well. Doesn’t require much brainpower, after all.” Minutes later, the HR manager loudly announced Julian Clark’s transfer. Amidst the whispers and knowing glances of the onlookers, Julian, fists clenched, stubbornly asked, “Marcus, according to labor law, a formal employee transfer requires a legitimate reason. Otherwise…” I scoffed, cutting him off. “New hires should start from the bottom, shouldn’t they? If you’re unwilling, that’s fine. Just pack your things and leave. There are plenty of people lining up, practically tripping over themselves to get in here.” Familiar footsteps echoed behind me. Julian, his eyes red-rimmed, looked at Eleanor. “Eleanor…” “Eleanor,” I prompted, “do you have any objections?” Eleanor smiled, serene as a summer breeze. “Such trivial people and matters… you decide.” At that, Julian seemed to lose all his strength. “Marcus,” he said, defeated, “I accept the assignment.” He then changed into a cleaner’s uniform and went off to scrub toilets. The onlookers began to whisper amongst themselves. “Ha, he finally got what he deserved! He used to walk around with his nose in the air, acting all superior because Eleanor favored him. Now he’s stuck scrubbing toilets.” “Should I go leave a real mess just to make him gag?” “Oh yes, absolutely! I still remember how he used to boss me around when he first started. I’m boiling with rage! We have to make him sick to his stomach!” I glanced at Eleanor from the corner of my eye. Seeing no reaction from her, a weight lifted from my heart. I clapped my hands and headed off to go racing with Devon. 5 The HR manager was a real go-getter, assigning Julian plenty of manual labor. Eleanor ignored it completely. A month passed peacefully, and our third wedding anniversary was approaching. I specifically dragged Devon to the mall to pick out a gift. From a distance, I saw Eleanor enter a watch store. “Your Eleanor’s something else, isn’t she?” Devon said, his voice full of admiration. “I heard she’s been swamped and stressed lately, but she still remembered your anniversary! Truly a five-star wife in our circle.” My heart swelled with joy listening to his praises. When I got home, I personally prepared a candlelight dinner and changed into Eleanor’s favorite doctor’s uniform, waiting for her to return. But as eight o’clock approached, Eleanor still hadn’t appeared. I called her, but at first, no one answered. Then, her phone was simply off. Eleanor never ignored my calls; no matter how important the matter, she would always answer and explain. My heart clenched. Nothing bad could have happened to her, could it? Frantic, I called Eleanor’s new assistant. He hesitated, stammering, and couldn’t clearly explain where Eleanor was or what she was doing. It wasn’t hard to guess. Eleanor wasn’t at the company, nor was she held up by any legitimate work matter or person. Unless it was Julian Clark. My heart sank. I silently enjoyed the elaborate candlelight dinner alone. Just as I finished the last piece of steak, the door suddenly burst open. Eleanor’s face was thunderous as she raged at me. “Marcus Hayes, I used to think you were merely spoiled, but now I see you’ve lost your humanity!” Her voice trembled with fury. “Julian misspoke, yes. He was subjected to online attacks, bullied by colleagues, demoted and had his salary cut to scrub toilets. He has already received his due punishment! Why do you refuse to let go of his family too? Do you want to drive them to their deaths before you’re satisfied?” She stared at me, her voice dripping with scorn. “Is it really that entertaining to toy with a powerless, no-name kid?” She saw me calmly sipping my red wine. Her anger intensified. She swept the dinner plates and wine bottles off the table with a violent swipe. Porcelain clattered sharply against the floor. Eleanor warned, “I advise you to be a good person! Don’t push my boundaries again!” With that, she stormed out. The space returned to silence. I searched online using a few keywords and quickly pinpointed Julian Clark’s newly created social media account. He was wearing an exquisite watch, flaunting it in a post. 【A one-year anniversary gift personally prepared for me by my amazing CEO!】 【My CEO also said she knows I’ve been through a lot of unhappy things recently, so she’s giving me a vacation to clear my head. She hopes when she sees me again, I’ll be her energetic little assistant once more.】 【Actually, I just want to tell her that a word of comfort from her would be enough.】 I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. Flaunting their relationship so openly? How could I not help him out? I forwarded the link to Devon. “Devon, get all your company’s influencer accounts moving. By tomorrow morning, I want this sweet story of boss and assistant to be viral across the entire internet.” Eleanor Vance, I told you long ago, I, Marcus Hayes, am no saint. Cross me, and there’s a price to pay!

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My boyfriend had severe germophobia. In our three years of dating, even holding hands felt tinged with his disdain. Until that day, I found him pinning my best friend against a wall, kissing her fiercely. Her rosy lipstick was smeared and messy from the passionate embrace. Turns out, our three years together were nothing but a calculated ploy for him to get closer to her. His buddies joked in their group chat: “Three years of faking germophobia! Now that you’ve got the campus queen, when are you ditching the stand-in?” Liam Vance idly scrolled on his phone: “Chloe said to wait until after her birthday. She doesn’t want it to be too ugly.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I beat him to it, deleting all his contact info and, as an afterthought, unblocking his childhood best friend from my blacklist. 1 My best friend, Chloe, said she needed to clear her head, so I accompanied her to a karaoke bar until ten at night. When Liam came to pick her up, he frowned, staring at Chloe’s flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. “Why did you let her drink so much?” I thought he was scolding me for not taking better care of my best friend, so I quickly explained, “She’s not in a good place. I really couldn’t stop her. You watch her, I’ll go get some hangover medicine.” He walked toward Chloe on the couch, answering with an unconcerned “Mm,” without turning back. As I reached the elevator, I realized my phone was still in the private room and turned back. The moment my fingertips brushed the doorknob, soft, sticky gasps filtered from inside. I froze, peering through the glass. Liam had his hand clamped around Chloe’s waist, his head bowed, kissing her fiercely and intimately. Her lipstick was smeared to the corners of her mouth, but she hooked her arms around his neck, tilting her head back to return the kiss with fervent passion. My back pressed against the cold hallway wall, my nails digging deep into my palms. I held my breath, listening to the sounds within. A sliver of hope still lingered: Maybe it’s just a drunken mistake. Maybe I’m seeing things… Until Liam’s low, husky voice, laced with a suggestive chuckle, reached my ears: “Does it hurt to see me with her? If I’d known you cared this much, I would’ve just come clean sooner.” “No, wait until after her birthday. She is my best friend, after all,” Chloe’s voice pleaded, trailing off in a soft whine. “Whatever you want, my little darling.” He chuckled softly. “But don’t worry. When I’m with her, my mind is always on you.” “Really? Maya’s so pretty, though…” “My eyes are only for you.” His coaxing tone was so familiar it sent a chill down my spine. “As for the feelings with her—long forgotten. Nothing compares to the intensity of being with you.” 2 Those words were like ice-cold blades, carving into my heart, one by one. I clenched my fists, oblivious to my nails piercing my palms, tears streaming down my face. But I forcibly suppressed the urge to push open the door and confront them. More than a hysterical outburst, I wanted to know how long I’d been deceived. When I composed myself and returned to the room, Liam was helping Chloe towards the door. He noticed I was empty-handed, and a flicker of impatience crossed his eyes. “You forgot to even buy the medicine? Let’s take her to my place first. I have hangover soup at home.” Before, I always thought his exceptional care for my best friend was just him being caring, given that the three of us grew up together. Only now did I realize how foolish I’d been. In his guest room, I settled the sleeping Chloe. As I passed the kitchen, I stopped. Under the warm glow of the light, Liam was stirring a clay pot with a spoon, steam misting around his profile. This was the first time I’d seen him cook in our two years of living together. When we were together, he always said the kitchen was too greasy, that hands that touched raw meat made him “sick.” So, I was always the one preparing all our meals. I even spoon-fed him his stomach medicine on time. The scent of angelica root wafting from the pot now pricked my eyes with a painful sting. He wasn’t incapable of cooking; he just didn’t want to cook for me. I watched his concentrated back as he stirred the soup, and suddenly wanted to ask: If he never liked me from the start, why waste three years of my life? 3 After Chloe rested in the guest room, Liam leaned against the kitchen doorframe, wiping his hands, his tone casual: “She has class tomorrow. You can sleep on the couch tonight.” I stared at the lingering lipstick stain on his fingertips, and suddenly, I laughed. “Liam Vance, let’s break up.” He froze in the act of wiping his hands, raising an eyebrow at me. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” “No tantrum.” I pulled the key from my bag and placed it on the hallway cabinet. “From today forward, I won’t appear in front of you again.” He frowned, reaching to grab my wrist, then quickly let go as if his germophobia had flared. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to go with me for Chloe’s birthday tomorrow…” “Shouldn’t the person celebrating her birthday be you?” I cut him off. Watching his expression instantly freeze, I said softly, “I heard everything. Outside the karaoke room.” His face instantly drained of color. He reached out to pull me, but hesitated, remembering the lipstick stain on his hand, his fingers hovering in mid-air. “Maya, you listen to me, I can explain…” “No need.” I took two steps back, putting distance between us. “I wish you both a happy future together. Don’t waste each other’s time.” As I turned to leave, I heard him curse under his breath behind me, but he didn’t follow. The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell flickered, on and off. I pulled out my phone and unblocked the number I’d blacklisted three years ago. The moment the screen lit up, countless unread messages flooded in, the latest one from three months prior: “Maya, he doesn’t have germophobia at all. On your birthday, he got drunk and kissed me, saying it was just to test a lip gloss color—” The sender was Sam Wright, Liam’s childhood best friend and my former deskmate. I wouldn’t let any clue, no matter how small, slip past me again. That night, around one in the morning, Liam tossed and turned beside me, unable to fall asleep. Finally, he got up and left the room. I opened my eyes and quietly followed him. I stood outside his study, listening to him on the phone, his voice gentle and coaxing to the person on the other end: “Are you still mad at me? You haven’t replied to any of my texts.” He sighed softly: “How can I sleep when you’re still angry? “Yeah, she’s asleep. “Didn’t touch her. Don’t overthink it.” I was already numb with rage, so listening to his disgusting words didn’t provoke such a violent reaction anymore. I just couldn’t help but laugh. Laugh at how incredibly stupid I’d been. We’d been together for so long. When we argued, he’d just impatiently rub his temples, dismissively say, “Let’s cool off,” and then sleep in the guest room. Countless nights, I’d fall asleep alone, consumed by my emotions. I’d wake up with a wet pillow. See? He wasn’t some oblivious ‘man of steel’ incapable of comforting. He too could toss and turn all night because of someone else. He too could whisper soft words to a woman. It just wasn’t me he wanted to comfort. 5 I couldn’t stand to sleep next to him anymore. I secretly applied for a new dorm room with the university. One afternoon when I had no classes, I went back to pack my things. Passing the gaming room, I unintentionally overheard Liam and his friends chatting inside. “Ryan, you faked germophobia for three years with Maya. Now you’ve got the campus queen. When are you bailing?” Liam replied casually: “Soon. Chloe doesn’t want me to be too harsh. I’ll break it off after her birthday.” “You’re something else. You went through all that trouble for Chloe. You dated her best friend for three years, even rented a place and lived with her, all to find chances to see Chloe. You really played the long game.” Liam’s voice was low and steady: “I could’ve pursued her directly, but she’s too proud. She’s seen every trick in the book when it comes to dating. It would have been harder than pursuing her best friend. Might as well make it easy, pursue her best friend to provoke her instead.” His friend chuckled mockingly: “Definitely. You provoked the campus queen so much she actually threw herself at you. Legendary!” My vision suddenly went black. My chest felt like it was squeezed by a giant hand. A suffocating tightness made it hard to breathe. I’d imagined countless times how they started. But I never expected it to be so repulsive. I’d also wondered when he started liking my best friend. A few months ago, half a year ago, a year ago… But I never thought he was after her from the very beginning. He’d meticulously planned it. I was just a pawn he used to get close to Chloe. After high school, he gave up a spot at a better university, Eastern State. He filled out his application to Western College, just to be with me. I once believed that was his greatest sincerity towards me. I happily accepted his pursuit. Now, tracing the clues back, I remembered. I had personally told him. I was going to Western College with Chloe. Tears streamed down my face like broken pearls. How ironic. I sadly believed that true feelings could change. But I had never even touched the corner of his true feelings. 6 On my 21st birthday, I only invited Liam and Chloe. We celebrated simply in the apartment I’d lived in for almost three years. On the table was the cake Liam had bought me, covered in fresh, plump strawberries. Chloe spoke first: “Liam, you’re such a terrible boyfriend. Don’t you know Maya doesn’t like strawberries?” I don’t like strawberries. And he doesn’t care to remember. It didn’t matter anymore. He shrugged. “Sorry, I forgot.” I caught the fleeting glimpse of triumph in Chloe’s eyes. Strawberry cake was her favorite. My birthday cake had become a tool for their secret flirtation. I tugged at the corner of my mouth in a mocking smile. “Hurry, blow out the candles.” Chloe urged me to make a wish, her smile bright. I looked at her, seeing a stranger I’d never known before. We’d known each other for ten years, the most important friends in each other’s youth. Ten years of friendship, ruined beyond recognition, all for a man. Chloe. You want him? He’s yours. At the cost of our decade-long friendship. I closed my eyes, making my wish in a flat, calm tone: “I wish my boyfriend, Liam Vance, and my best friend, Chloe Greene, a long and happy life together, filled with love.” After I finished, the air instantly froze. A silence so profound, not a single sound. I opened my eyes, expressionless, and stared coldly at the two stunned figures: “After all, a match made in hell, destined to be together forever.” 7 In the dim, silent dining room, the candle flame flickered faintly, swayed by a draft from the window. Chloe’s choked sob broke the tense standoff between the three of us. “Maya, how could you say that about me?!” Liam took a swift step forward, shielding her behind him. His cool gaze fixed on me, his tone still unhurried: “It has nothing to do with her. I was the one who liked her, who relentlessly pursued her. If you want to blame someone, blame me alone.” I looked at his resolute eyes and couldn’t help but laugh. As I laughed, tears welled at the corners of my eyes. “Liam Vance, you’re a coward. If you liked her from the start, then why didn’t you just pursue her? Why did you have to mess with me?” He hadn’t been sure how much I knew. Hearing that, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He frowned, lowering his head silently. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” My gaze went past him to Chloe: “Right here in this house, on the bed I personally made, I found several strands of your hair. Wine-red, the same color I went with you to get dyed. Was the hotel too expensive, or was it more thrilling here?” My emotions slowly spiraled out of control. I yelled, my voice rising: “Tell me, how am I supposed to describe you? Tell me!” She flinched, opening her mouth, but no words came out. Liam put his arm around her shoulders, staring coldly at me: “The last person you should blame is her. If she hadn’t stopped me, I would have broken up with you six months ago. She cared about you as a friend; she didn’t want to hurt you. Otherwise, why would she have put herself through all this, having a secret affair with me for so long?” Chloe, wiping her tears, murmured softly: “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had a chance to date him for three years, either… Who can control matters of the heart? You shouldn’t speak about me like that…” Listening to their utterly sickening words, I felt a wave of nausea. “So, it’s been half a year already. How hard it must have been for you two, carrying on a secret affair for half a year.” I laughed, furious, too disgusted to say another word. I walked into the room, pulled out my suitcase, and slammed the door shut with a bang. Without looking back, I walked away. 8 After we completely ripped each other apart, they became utterly shameless. Soon after, they openly started dating. They flaunted their affection, inseparable at school. My roommate, Lucy Hayes, was also my classmate. She cautiously came to me, seeking confirmation: “Did you and Liam break up?” I felt no need to hide it and nodded, admitting it. “Because of the campus queen, Chloe? Aren’t you two best friends? Did she… become a home-wrecker?” I paused, then calmly shook my head. “No, we broke up amicably.” I didn’t want to discuss such private matters with outsiders. This relationship had left me with immense pain. But the emotional hurts of a relationship are ultimately not for outsiders to know. As for Chloe, I certainly held resentment. But after ten years of friendship, I couldn’t help but hope. I wanted to preserve some last shred of dignity for our decade together. 9 What made me most awkward was Riley Dawson’s birthday party. She was one of Liam’s friends’ girlfriends. Because we hit it off, we got along extremely well. I had agreed to attend her birthday party a month ago. Now, fearing the awkwardness, I didn’t really want to go. But her words, “Worst case, I’ll just tell Liam not to come. But you have to be there,” convinced me. I couldn’t really ask her to tell Liam not to come, could I? In the end, I bit the bullet and went. 10 In the noisy private room, I sat in a corner, quietly eating fruit. Liam had not only come, but he’d brought his whole new ‘family’ with him. Chloe sat beside him, half her body draped in his embrace. He’d bought a bag of roasted chestnuts from somewhere, and he patiently peeled them one by one, feeding them to her. The room was filled with old acquaintances. Eyes silently flitted between the three of us. I lowered my head, pretending not to notice, and sipped my juice. Riley nudged me lightly with her elbow, her voice apologetic: “I didn’t know he’d bring her. I’m so sorry…” I pursed my lips and smiled, feigning indifference. “It’s fine. We’re all in the same university. It’s bound to happen.” Just then, the private room door opened. Liam’s good friend, Ethan Chase, walked in. His eyes met mine instantly. He then glanced at Liam’s side, raised an eyebrow, and walked over to the empty seat beside me. Drinking always led to games. A classic game of truth or dare. On the third round, Ethan lost. He didn’t hesitate and chose ‘dare.’ Jake Miller grinned mischievously: “Ethan rarely loses! Let’s go big. Pick a girl here and pretend to be a couple for a month.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping the room, then smirked. “They’re all my buddies’ girlfriends. You want to play that hard?” Riley, loving the drama, squeezed over and nudged me towards him: “Not all of them. Look, there’s a single one right here!”

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The CEO’s wife, Scarlett Sterling, hoping to ensure her childhood sweetheart, Asher Hayes, could successfully inherit his family’s vast fortune, pressed me to agree to a sham divorce. She expected me to walk away from our marriage with nothing, yet promised me 50% of her company shares upon signing. Asher Hayes watched her, his eyes narrowed with jealousy. “Scarlett, are you truly giving Liam Carter the shares?” Scarlett scoffed, “Him? Please. The stock transfer agreement he’s holding is fake. Besides, with his brain, he’ll probably never figure out the truth before he dies.” Asher’s eyes flickered. “You’re not actually going to remarry him, are you? What about me? You promised we’d get married.” Scarlett paused, then sneered, “That’s even less likely. Don’t worry, I always keep my promises. I won’t let you down.” Standing just outside the study door, listening to my wife’s unmasked words, I lowered my gaze to my leg – broken by her when I refused the divorce. With a flat expression, I pushed open the study door, offering no rebuttal. I remained calm, signing the divorce agreement without a fuss. Scarlett beamed. “I knew Liam would understand. Here, take this transfer document. The paperwork will be finalized in three days.” I smirked, taking the document. She had no idea. Asher’s supposed massive inheritance was nothing more than a glittering façade, hollowed out from the inside. The moment she married Asher, all she’d be left with was financial ruin, losing everything she had! 1 I clutched the share transfer document, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. To think, Scarlett Sterling and I had been married, only for it to come to this. Seeing my expression, Scarlett and Asher exchanged a knowing glance, their gazes momentarily filled with mocking amusement. As I reached the door, Asher’s impatient voice cut through the air behind me: “Scarlett, since you’re divorced, shouldn’t Liam move out? It’s just not right for a divorced man to still be living in his ex-wife’s house. What would people say?” I turned, looking at Scarlett. She was engrossed in her phone, offering no reaction. “Don’t worry,” I said coldly, “I’ll be out today. I won’t be an eyesore.” When I emerged from my room again, Asher was already directing the Sterling household staff: “Change the decor in this place. It’s so tacky, so ugly. Clearly Liam’s taste. Seven years married into the Sterling family, and he still hasn’t shed his provincial tastes. So uncouth.” I surveyed the surroundings. While I had overseen the renovation, Scarlett herself had chosen this style, claiming it had a charming Old World feel and that she’d want to live here forever. “Forever” had lasted a mere seven years, it seemed. Asher pointed around, then caught sight of me. He grinned. “Hurry up and clear out Liam’s room. I’m going to turn it into a bathroom—” The butler, Mr. Davies, looked up, thinking he’d misheard. Asher’s hand lashed out, slapping him. “You old fool, are you deaf? Get that room cleared out now!” Under duress, Mr. Davies bowed. “You heard him. Pack up Mr. Carter’s belongings, now!” But Asher stopped him. “Who are you calling ‘Mr. Carter’? I’m the man of the house now, you blind, deaf idiot!” Mr. Davies lowered his head, apologizing. Asher wouldn’t let up, insisting on supervising personally. He turned to me. “I’ll watch myself. Let’s see who dares to sneak Liam anything that isn’t his. I’ll skin them alive!” Meeting Asher’s triumphant gaze, I ignored him, turning my wheelchair toward my room. Asher stood in the doorway, looking at Scarlett’s bedroom down the hall. He sneered. “Liam, you probably don’t know this, but it was my idea for Scarlett to move out of your room. “I heard you two argued about it. Well, your spot in that room? It’s mine now.” Scarlett and I had indeed argued, not just about separate rooms, but her insistence on keeping a room for Asher: “Liam, Asher doesn’t have much family. What’s so bad about him moving in? We’re all friends; it’s just adding an extra plate. Why are you making such a big deal?” Seeing Scarlett’s firm expression then, I couldn’t argue, so I let her have her way. Just then, a sharp crash jolted me from my thoughts. Ceramic shards scattered across the floor. It was the handcrafted mug Scarlett had made for me, her first gift. Asher jumped, then kicked the fragments near him. “What a worthless piece of junk.” “Hurry up and clean this mess. I have things to do.” He stood by the door, watching. I looked at the scattered pieces. I said nothing. We were divorced now; it didn’t matter if it shattered. Of all the things Scarlett had given me in our seven years of marriage, this mug was the only one I treasured. Because back then, she truly had cared for me. Then Asher returned to the States, and her attitude toward me changed overnight. Even her gifts became laden with ulterior motives. Later, whenever Mr. Davies brought me a gift, I knew Scarlett was with Asher and wouldn’t be home that night. Our seven years of marriage meant so little to her; it couldn’t hold her heart, which swayed so easily toward Asher. Just for a word from Asher, she’d divorce me, even concocting a fake agreement to keep me placated. Thinking of her words in the study, my heart clenched. I looked down at my leg, numb with pain from the injury, and felt only coldness. I had only refused the divorce, and she had utterly disregarded our years together. In her eyes, perhaps only Asher had ever truly existed. With that thought, I glanced at the bedroom, then turned my wheelchair, heading downstairs. My luggage consisted of a few sets of clothes and nothing else. But Asher suddenly appeared behind me, pushing my wheelchair. It careened out of control, heading straight for the stairs. Too late to recover, I tumbled down the staircase, a sickening crunch of bones echoing in my ears. The loud thud drew Scarlett from the study. “Liam! What have you done now to frame Asher?!” My words of accusation caught in my throat. She didn’t even look at me, immediately rushing to Asher’s side. This wasn’t the first time. She grabbed Asher’s hand, examining it carefully, noticing a slight scrape on his palm. Her brow furrowed in anger. “Liam, you always resort to these pathetic tricks! Do you really think I’m a fool who can’t see through you? “Last time your hand mysteriously broke, you claimed Asher pushed you. And what happened? It turned out you did it yourself. Are you trying to say Asher pushed you again this time?” I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come out. Asher had pushed me that time, causing my hand to break, but the surveillance footage showed me intentionally smashing it. Scarlett had instantly declared I was framing Asher. She not only shielded Asher but also confined me to the house, punishing me by refusing to let me see a doctor, even forbidding the staff from helping. My hand missed its critical treatment window, leaving a permanent tremor. Seeing my silence, Scarlett became even more convinced. “Liam, we’re past this. How long do you plan to sit there acting out a scene?” I managed a bitter smile. When I tumbled down the stairs, my other leg had hit the marble banister, surely fracturing it. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Just then, Mr. Davies wheeled my luggage out. “Ms. Sterling, the custom order has been placed at the front door.” Scarlett’s expression instantly softened. 2 It was the custom artwork she had commissioned. Thinking of it, she smiled. “Mr. Davies, get two careful staff members to bring that in. Don’t damage it.” Then she glanced at me, her voice cold. “If he wants to lie there, let him. No one is to help him.” She took the first-aid kit from a staff member, sat on the sofa, and meticulously tended to the scrape on Asher’s palm. Seeing the triumph in Asher’s eyes, I turned my head, unable to bear the sight. I tried to move, to struggle up, but the slightest shift sent a jolt of pain up my leg, leaving me speechless. I fumbled in my empty pocket, remembering my phone had shattered a few days ago, and I hadn’t replaced it yet. Now, I couldn’t even help myself. The next moment, all the photo frames on the living room wall were stripped bare. Photos of Scarlett and me were tossed onto the floor like garbage. I looked at the scattered photos, reminders of happier times with Scarlett. She had said time passes quickly, and when we were old, these photos would be proof of all the storms we’d weathered together. She’d never throw them away, she’d promised. I scoffed. It seemed I was the only one who took her words seriously. When I looked up again, new photos adorned the wall. Scarlett still smiled beautifully, but the person beside her was no longer me. It was Asher. Just then, the staff brought in the artwork, promptly framing it on the most prominent empty wall in the living room. Seeing this, I understood. That blank wall had always been reserved for Asher. I had suggested making it a wall of relief sculptures, but Scarlett had always reacted with unusual irritation. I’d thought she was just tired from work, planning to bring it up again later. But after a few more attempts were met with firm rejections, I’d dropped the idea. Now, it was clear she had plans all along; she just hadn’t wanted to tell me. The staff’s hushed whispers reached my ears. They thought Asher and Scarlett were a better match, more like a proper couple. “Look, his posing is exactly like the former son-in-law’s. They really are a perfect match.” I looked up at the artwork, noticing it for the first time. Asher’s pose was indeed identical to mine in old photos. Was this what he meant by “replacing me”? Just as the framing was complete, Scarlett finished bandaging Asher. Scarlett nodded, satisfied. “Be careful when handling these. These artworks are worth a million dollars.” She paused, then looked at Asher, smiling. “Also, Asher says you all worked hard. Your salaries are doubled this month.” The staff, hearing this, immediately showered Asher with praise. “Ms. Sterling is so generous to Mr. Hayes, casually spending millions. I heard Mr. Hayes gets a huge inheritance when he marries. Is it true?” “Don’t call him ‘Mr. Hayes’ anymore; it should be ‘Mr. Sterling,’ like the son-in-law. Ms. Sterling always told us to prioritize Mr. Hayes’s requests. Who would have thought…” “It’s about time. Liam was never a good match for Ms. Sterling. He got off easy enjoying a few years of luxury. To dream of a lifetime with Ms. Sterling? Impossible!” Listening to them fawn over Asher, I didn’t bother to speak. Right or wrong, it was all just their gossip, useless beyond mere chatter. Asher basked in the staff’s adulation, his gaze turning even more smug as he looked at me. Their chatter faded as several formally dressed individuals entered. The lead one spoke: “These are the three-million-dollar jewels Mr. Hayes ordered. Please confirm receipt.” The staff gasped again. Asher, beaming, took the box and handed it to Scarlett. “Scarlett, do you like them? I had them specially custom-made for you.” Asher emphasized “specially,” his eyes provocatively flicking to me. Scarlett’s eyes welled up. “Thank you, Asher.” Asher’s eyes twinkled. He feigned surprise. “Did Liam never get you proper jewelry?” Before Scarlett could reply, the onlookers from the staff chimed in: “We’ve never seen anyone treat Ms. Sterling as well as you do, Mr. Hayes! We’re so happy for her.” Asher looked at Scarlett with feigned heartache. “Scarlett, don’t worry. I’ll treat you even better from now on. I won’t disappoint you.” He suddenly remembered the grand wedding he’d been planning for so long. He turned to me, a wide grin spreading across his face. “In three days, it’s my wedding with Scarlett. You’re welcome to attend.” “No need for a gift, though. Your signature on the divorce papers is the best gift I could ask for.” “But do you even have proper clothes? Wouldn’t want you to make a fool of yourself. Scarlett and I wouldn’t care, but I’d be worried about you getting pointed at.” I froze for a moment. They were getting married so soon. “Fine,” I said, a cold laugh escaping. “I’ll be there.” How could I miss this spectacular show? It seemed they had no idea that “inheritance” was nothing but a front for a mountain of debt. I couldn’t wait to see their faces when they learned the truth. 3 Scarlett frowned. “Asher, don’t let him ruin the mood. Besides, he’d only make a spectacle of himself!” Asher shrugged. “What are you afraid of, Scarlett? Look at him now. What kind of trouble can he cause? “It’ll be good for him to see what a real wedding of the century looks like!” With Asher’s words, Scarlett had no rebuttal. She shot a disdainful glance at my blood-stained pants. “Mr. Davies, take him to the hospital. Don’t let this delay the wedding in three days.” Mr. Davies immediately called for help to take me out. As I was wheeled past them, they both recoiled with expressions of disgust, as if something utterly vile had passed by. They didn’t know that same expression would soon be directed at them, only this time, it would be from everyone else. Wedding day. Scarlett was already preparing backstage. When she saw me, her smile instantly froze. “Liam, I thought you were just talking. I can’t believe you actually had the nerve to show up.” “Since you’re here, take a good look. Asher’s wedding is far grander than yours ever was. This is what a wedding of the century looks like!” By then, many guests had arrived, and Scarlett’s bridesmaids came over. Someone recognized me, sneering, “Isn’t that Liam Carter? What’s he doing here? Don’t tell me he’s planning to crash the wedding and win her back?” “Look at him. Does he even stand a chance? If Scarlett hadn’t been waiting for Asher and her family hadn’t pressured her to marry, he’d never have become a rich son-in-law. These past few years of luxury were a charity case for him.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. It was then I realized. The reason she had suddenly changed her mind and married me overnight wasn’t because she loved me, but merely to pass the time, waiting for Asher’s return. I clenched my fists. “Scarlett, is what they’re saying true?” Seeing my face darken, Scarlett looked startled for a moment, then admitted frankly: “So what if it is? Haven’t you lived well in the Sterling family all these years? Haven’t you enjoyed a lavish lifestyle?” So, she thought I was only with her for her money? All these years, I had abandoned my own career aspirations, willingly marrying into the Sterling family as a live-in son-in-law, wholeheartedly caring for her parents. And in the end, this was what she thought of me. I had been a fool for seven entire years. It was utterly ridiculous. Seeing my silence, she tossed a divorce certificate at me. “The paperwork is done. Here’s your divorce certificate.” I picked it up, dusting it off. “Scarlett, do you really think you and Asher are getting a huge inheritance?” “I’m telling you, it’s nothing but an empty promise, a pipe dream.” My words hung in the air. Scarlett immediately slapped me twice, pointing to the door. “Liam, get out! Now!” Asher brought her a glass of brandy. “Scarlett, the ceremony is about to start. Let’s enjoy the show. Watch how some people turn green with envy.” Others chuckled, saying I was just bitter and jealous. Amidst the chorus of well wishes, the ceremony quickly concluded. Scarlett and Asher stood on stage, waiting for Mr. Miller, the attorney handling Mr. Sterling’s will. Guests whispered among themselves: “The Sterling family hit the jackpot! This son-in-law… I heard the Sterling inheritance is enormous, a truly astronomical sum…” “Why didn’t that luck fall on me?” “You know, yesterday I dreamt of gold in the Sterling family. Who knew it would come true? But for someone else…” Asher listened, immensely pleased. He promised Scarlett, “Once we sign, we’ll use a portion of this money to invest in your company, and get it listed on the stock exchange as soon as possible.” Scarlett nodded, her eyes triumphant as she looked at me. The next moment, Mr. Miller, dressed in a sharp suit, appeared on stage. After a few polite words, he got straight to the point. Mr. Miller wasted no time, opening the sealed will envelope for all to see. I let out a cold laugh, shaking my head at the expectant expressions on Scarlett’s and Asher’s faces. Asher caught my eye. “Liam, green with envy, aren’t you?” he taunted casually. “If you’re willing to bark like a dog right here, right now, maybe I’ll be generous and give you ten grand for the performance.” The guests near me chuckled, their gazes at me turning to undisguised contempt. Mr. Miller took out the will and began to read aloud: “As per the wishes of the late patriarch of the Sterling family, Mr. George Sterling, I hereby publicly announce his last will and testament.” “The Sterling estate comprises ninety-nine residential properties, thirty commercial plots, and forty-six percent of Sterling Enterprises shares…” Mr. Miller hadn’t even finished when the room erupted in chatter. Some guests immediately began to flatter Asher, praising his boundless future and how his marriage to the Sterling family was simply icing on the cake. In an instant, Sterling Enterprises’ valuation soared. Asher, full of himself, said, “What do you say, Liam? It’s too late to bark like a dog now. How about you crawl like a dog, barking as you go? Maybe then I’ll still give you that ten grand.” The surrounding crowd roared with laughter, some even cheering him on. However, at that very moment, Mr. Miller’s voice cut through the noise, clear and cold: “The inheritance designated for the deceased’s distant relative, Asher Hayes, is zero—” The entire hall gasped, everyone dumbfounded. Only Mr. Miller’s steady voice continued. He paused, looking at Asher. “And an additional one hundred million dollars in personal debt.”

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I deliberately leaked my whereabouts, ensuring Brooke Harrison would witness me surrounded by women in the private room. She burst in, consumed by fury, demanding to know why I was being intimate with other women. I pretended not to hear, raising my glass to clink with the girl beside me and drink. As her fiancé, I had been by her side for eight long years, from nothing to building Harrison Corp. through sheer grit, drinking myself to early-stage stomach cancer at countless client dinners. I had single-handedly propelled the corporation to become a national leader, yet now she intended to marry a fresh-faced college graduate. The company’s senior executives were baffled, many voicing their indignation for me: “Assistant Miller has been with you for eight years, fighting tooth and nail. Without him, the company wouldn’t be where it is today. How can you favor this new intern?” But she nestled into Kyle Peterson’s embrace, her eyes filled with tender pity as she looked at him: “Ryan Miller has been scrambling in the business world for so many years; his heart is no longer pure. Not like Kyle; he hasn’t been corrupted by society.” “But what if Assistant Miller finds out and turns against you?” Brooke scoffed, playing with the engagement ring on her finger: “My corporation is a national leader now. One Ryan Miller gone? There are thousands more where he came from. He’s not indispensable!” Little did she know, I had already witnessed it all from just outside the conference room door. I tossed the breakfast I’d prepared for her to a stray dog on the street, then turned and called the CEO of a rival company: “I accept your offer. You name the price, but I have one condition—I want Harrison Corp. to go down.” … I was stuffing my stomach cancer diagnosis into my suitcase when a message from Brooke popped up: “Next quarter’s budget is shrinking. Transfer your mom out of the private care facility.” I stared at the screen, my chest tightening, making it hard to breathe. Just yesterday, she’d proudly posted a picture of the limited-edition sports car she’d bought for Kyle on social media; its retail price alone was enough to keep my mother in that facility for ten years. “Understood.” I replied curtly. “And drop off the keys to your waterfront penthouse. Kyle says he wants to throw a bachelor party there.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, where a dull ache throbbed. Drawers overflowed with eight years’ worth of stomach medication, all earned only for her to ask me to personally clear out my home for my rival. “I don’t agree.” My lips twisted as I sent a voice message, my voice hoarse, too drained to type. “Ryan Miller, don’t give me that attitude! The company isn’t a charity! I don’t pay you to be insolent!” Immediately after, she sent a transfer record: “This month’s salary will be docked by twenty thousand. Consider it a wedding gift for Kyle.” Five minutes later, another message appeared in the chat box, this time a slightly awkward voice message: “My tone was a bit harsh just now.” “Seven PM tonight, that Michelin restaurant on Maplewood Street. I’ve asked the chef to save their signature lobster. Finish eating, then handle the care facility situation.” I stared at the message, my throat tight. She used to secretly slip strawberry milk into my backpack after she lost her temper. Now, even her apologies sounded like commands. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time, eventually only sending an “Okay.” In the Michelin restaurant that evening, I stared blankly at the cold French lobster. The seventh time the hot dish was brought to the table, the private room door was pushed open. She rushed in, trying to sit down, and just as she began, “I…”, her phone rang. Kyle’s tearful voice came through the speakerphone: “Brooke, I’m so scared. It’s thundering outside…” Brooke’s face instantly changed. She grabbed her bag and hurried out, tripping over the tablecloth as she passed me. “Wait.” I wanted to tell her to eat before she left, perhaps this would be our last meal. “This dinner…” “Pay for it yourself!” She frowned, shaking off my hand. “Don’t bother me with trivial matters like this again. If anything happens to Kyle, I’m coming for you.” The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. Not long after, a photo popped up in Kyle’s chat. He had Brooke pressed against the sports car door, kissing her, the brand-new wedding ring on his ring finger glaringly bright. I stood on the rooftop where we used to have our dates, clutching the diagnosis in my hand. A light rain began to fall. I pulled out my phone and dialed Chloe Davis’s number: “Ms. Davis,” I gazed at the neon lights of Harrison Corp. Tower in the distance, a familiar burning pain in my stomach. “I have complete backups of Harrison Corp.’s overseas money laundering records.” A new message illuminated my screen: “Are you sure you want to do this? Harrison Corp. is your life’s work.” I thought of that snowy night eight years ago, Brooke, covered in blood, kneeling before me, crying, “Ryan, only you can save me.” Now, she stood atop the peak, stepping on my shoulders, yet she found my blood-stained hands too dirty for her wedding dress. “Confirmed.” I pressed send, watching the diagnosis soak in the rain, then dragged Brooke’s number into my blacklist—this time, it was time to settle the score. After conveying the information to Chloe, I picked up my mother from the care facility and took her to my waterfront penthouse. Mom’s hand gently tugged at my sleeve, her aged, trembling fingers covered in liver spots: “Ryan, listen to your mother, don’t argue with Brooke.” She sat in her wheelchair, her cloudy eyes full of worry. “She’s helped us so much over the years. Even if there are disagreements, just take a step back…” “Mom, don’t worry about it.” Mom didn’t know about Brooke and Kyle; she just thought we were a young couple having a fight. My phone vibrated suddenly on the coffee table. It was a message from Brooke: “The keys to the waterfront penthouse must be handed over tomorrow. Kyle wants to decorate the wedding suite early.” My knuckles, clutching the fruit knife, turned white. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom secretly tucking her blood pressure medication into her sleeve. Eight years ago, when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, she also tried to hide her diagnosis from me for three months, afraid I’d worry. “Mom, I’m going out to buy something.” I patted her head, trying to make my voice sound light. I went to the hospital to get some medicine. Before I even reached home, I heard a commotion inside. The moment I pushed open the door, a cloud of cigarette smoke assailed me. Kyle Peterson had his feet propped on the coffee table, the new blanket I bought for my mother discarded on the floor as a footrest. Mom’s wheelchair was overturned in the corner. She was on her knees, picking up scattered medicine bottles, her white hair disheveled around her face. “What are you doing?!” My eyes burned red. I rushed to help my mother. Kyle slowly flicked his cigarette ash. “Brooke said this place is mine now. The old woman was clinging to the place, so I had to show her who’s boss.” The bodyguard behind him suddenly kicked the wheelchair, and I fell heavily onto the tiles, my forehead hitting the floor with a painful thud. I got up and slapped Kyle hard, but to my surprise, he didn’t resist, just crumpled to the floor. I was still confused when Brooke rushed in right behind him. “Ryan Miller! What the hell is wrong with you?!” She turned to Kyle. “Baby, are you hurt?” Her tone was gentle and concerned, something I hadn’t heard in a long time. “He pushed my mom!” I took a deep breath, looking at Brooke. Seeing Brooke, Kyle’s eyes immediately reddened. “Brooke, your mom insisted on staying here; she wouldn’t listen to anything I said…” His voice had just the right amount of a sob, and he turned to glare at my mother, who was cowering in her wheelchair. “Ma’am, you’re making things so difficult for Brooke, you know?” Mom clutched her torn scarf, stammering an explanation: “I, I just wanted to wait for Ryan to come back…” “Playing innocent, are we?” I rushed to grab Kyle, but he gripped my wrist in return. “Ryan, don’t be angry, if you don’t want me in the apartment, I’ll leave right now…” He deliberately stumbled towards the coffee table, knocking over a bottle of red wine that splashed precisely onto Mom’s leg. “You!” I was about to charge forward but was shoved away by Brooke. “It’s just an apartment. Do you have to attack Kyle over it?” I pulled out the property deed and roared, “Now, get out, immediately!” Kyle suddenly buckled at the knees, collapsing onto the floor in front of Brooke. “Ryan, I was thoughtless! I don’t want the apartment. Please don’t involve Brooke!” As he spoke, he raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face. Before I could react, Brooke slapped me. “Ryan Miller! Who are you trying to intimidate?!” She rushed forward, shielding Kyle behind her. “It’s just an apartment. Do you have to drive him to his death to be satisfied?” The agonizing pain in my stomach made my vision blur. I stumbled, leaning on the wall to keep from falling. Kyle took the opportunity to throw himself into Brooke’s arms, his tear-streaked face rubbing against her jacket: “Brooke, don’t be angry. It’s my fault for being useless, I shouldn’t have put Ryan in such a difficult position… I even wanted Ryan to be my best man. But it looks like he won’t…” “Enough!” I clenched my fists, my knuckles white from the strain. “Eight years ago, when you knelt in the rain begging me to save Harrison Corp., why didn’t you say that?” A flicker of panic crossed Brooke’s eyes, then she lifted her chin. “Eight years ago was eight years ago. Harrison Corp. can run just fine without you now. You will be my best man next week at the wedding.” She intimately stroked Kyle’s flushed cheek. “Kyle, don’t feel bad. After the wedding, I’ll buy you an even bigger place downtown.” Kyle bit his lower lip, tears still clinging to his eyelashes: “But Ryan seems really angry… I, maybe I shouldn’t have a wedding…” Brooke frowned. “What right does Ryan Miller have to disagree? Kyle, rest assured, the apartment is yours, and the wedding is yours too.” I slammed the red wine bottle onto the floor. “The hell I disagree! Nobody is touching this apartment, not an inch!” I pulled out my phone. “I’ve already called the police for trespassing. If you don’t want to go to jail, get out.” The sound of approaching sirens grew louder. Brooke’s face was grim. She pulled Kyle and left. My mom, nearby, seemed to understand what was happening, tears streaming down her face. I collapsed onto the sofa. My phone pinged. Chloe Davis had sent a message. I was a little surprised; why would she suddenly message me? I stared at her message for a few seconds, stunned. “I’ve made arrangements for your mother. The Serenity Falls Private Care Facility in Westview. 24-hour nursing, the medical team was flown in from Switzerland.” Before I could reply, a transfer notification followed, the amount enough to cover Mom’s care for ten years. “I know you’re worried. Real-time monitoring and medical records will be synced to your phone.” “Also, your apartment is in an excellent location. I’ll have someone help you clean it up later.” I replied with a “Thank you,” but I didn’t let Chloe clean the apartment for me. I still felt a bit awkward. Soon after, a butler delivered a box. Inside, besides the care facility’s access card, was a miniature control device. A note was attached: “For any assistance, press the emergency contact button anytime.” My mom was taken away, and I sat on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. Suddenly, a frantic knocking came from the door. Through the peephole, I saw Brooke Harrison with two cleaners outside. “Ryan, I was too impulsive just now. My words were out of line. I’m here to apologize to you and your mom.” Her eyes were earnest, a complete change from her earlier arrogance. “You must be swamped. I brought people to help you tidy up the apartment.” I hesitated for a moment, then finally stepped aside. Watching them begin to organize items, I turned and discreetly hid the miniature camera in a picture frame in the bedroom. That night, I checked the surveillance feed and saw Brooke bring Kyle into my bedroom. Kyle had Brooke pressed against the wall. He sneered, “Ryan Miller really thinks you’ve changed your tune?” Brooke yanked open his collar, her eyes filled with contempt: “Idiots are easy to fool. Once I’ve stripped him of his power in the company, what can he do against me?” “I just worry he has something else up his sleeve.” Kyle’s hand roamed restlessly. “What if that evidence…” “What storm could it possibly stir up?” Brooke wrapped her legs around Kyle’s waist. “The company’s lifeline is in my hands. He’s just a stray dog.” The sound of tearing fabric ripped through the air, and they tumbled onto the bed. A piercing pain shot through my stomach. All these years, I had fought for her, drinking until my stomach bled during client meetings, revising proposals through the night until dawn. But her? She used me as a stepping stone, discarded me when she was done, and then stomped on me. “Once we’ve taken care of him, this apartment will be ours.” Kyle’s voice mingled with gasps. Brooke purred, “Naughty boy, let’s take care of business first…” Watching the sordid scene, I smiled bitterly. Turns out, in her eyes, I was always just a tool. I sat in the old apartment, sleepless through the night. The day before the wedding, Brooke’s text message lit up my phone screen: “There’s something I want to say in person. Meet me at our usual spot.” I stepped out the door, thought better of it, and tucked the device Chloe had given me into my pocket. When I arrived, the spot was empty. I wanted to go back, but then a sweet scent enveloped me, and I passed out. When my consciousness returned, the damp, musty smell filled my nostrils. I was chained to the basement wall. The iron door creaked open, and Kyle, dressed in a crisp suit, walked in. “Tsk, tsk, tsk… Assistant Miller, look at you now.” He crouched down, his fingertips lifting my chin. “A stray dog…!” A fist suddenly slammed into my stomach. The dull pain, compounded by my existing injuries, made me curl up into a fetal position. “Brooke said she’d take care of you after the wedding.” He loosened his tie, a triumphant grin on his face, then slapped me across the face. “If you’re smart, just die early. Let me tell you, Brooke only loves me.” Kyle stood up and left. My stomach began to spasm violently, cold sweat poured down my back, and my consciousness began to fade. The chains grated against the wall, and the faint, muffled sounds of wedding laughter drifted from a distance. Suddenly, the miniature device fell out of my pants pocket. I fumbled for the device, my thumb almost too weak to press the raised button. Cold sweat soaked my back. From a distance, I heard Brooke’s voice taking her vows at the wedding: “I do—” My fingertips finally touched the emergency contact button. In the last moment before my consciousness completely vanished, I used every ounce of my strength to press the button. Later, I felt several presences around me. Among them, I heard Chloe Davis’s voice; she seemed angry. A faint, crisp scent lingered in the air. At the same time, at the wedding venue, Brooke suddenly clutched her chest, her face instantly turning ashen. Kyle noticed, asking softly, “Brooke, what’s wrong?” She forced a smile, but her gaze involuntarily drifted towards the chapel doors. A chilling premonition washed over her. On a whim, she called her assistant: “Go check the basement. Make sure Ryan Miller is still there…” “No need!” Kyle suddenly grabbed her wrist, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He was afraid Brooke would see my injuries. “Why bother with someone like him? The wedding’s about to start!” Brooke’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Kyle’s agitated expression. She subtly pulled her hand back, and when no one was looking, instructed her assistant: “Go yourself. Don’t alarm anyone else.” Twenty minutes later, the assistant burst into the wedding venue, her face ashen. “Ms. Harrison! Something’s happened!” “Ryan Miller is gone!” The sharp sound of a champagne flute shattering on the floor echoed through the ballroom. Brooke’s face went white. She lunged forward. “What did you say? Ryan Miller is gone?”

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Five years ago, Summer Peterson, the younger sister of a mutual friend, fell for Daniel Stone at first sight. Everyone laughed, telling me, “She’s just a middle schooler. What does she know about love?” Daniel himself repeatedly stated he only saw her as a child. But the young girl remained undeterred, constantly encouraging herself. On the night of her eighteenth birthday, she confessed her feelings to Daniel once more. That night, Daniel smiled, a mix of helplessness and indulgence. “Kid, I guess I’m really stuck with you.” Watching Daniel, usually so reserved, speak so softly and tenderly to the girl he had practically watched grow up, I suddenly felt exhausted. I chose an ordinary day and personally handed him the divorce papers. I sat opposite Daniel, my demeanor as calm as if we were discussing a business deal. “Our son is yours. I’m giving up custody.” “You can keep living in this house. I’ll pack up tomorrow and move out.” His hands clasped together, his gaze fixed on me, heavy and unwavering. He clearly didn’t understand why I was suddenly making such a “whimsical” decision. “Claire,” his eyes held a faint, distant emotion, “if this is about Summer, I apologize. But you know I only see her as a child.” He patiently explained, still convinced I was overreacting. I remembered the night my blood sugar dropped. Daniel, having finished work, sat at his desk, constantly glancing at his phone as if waiting for a message. As I stumbled and collapsed by the sofa, he was listening to Summer on the phone, talking about her period cramps. Before, our marriage, while not passionate, was at least respectful. But at that moment, he pulled his gaze away from me, gently instructing the voice on the other end: “Have someone at home brew you some warm herbal tea.” And our son, Ethan, seeing his father’s lack of reaction, casually pushed me with his foot from where he lay sprawled on the sofa: “Mom, can you move? You’re blocking my blocks.” It turned out, in their eyes, I, who always gave without question, wasn’t even worth a single word of concern, less important than a toy. Eight years of marriage ended abruptly, with nothing more than two signatures. As I packed my bags, Daniel methodically outlined the property division. I barely listened—my lawyer would handle it more professionally. As I dragged my suitcase out the door, he called out from behind me, his eyes deep: “Claire, you still have a lot of things. No need to rush moving out.” The house was filled with my belongings, but my suitcase only held a few seasonal clothes. He probably misunderstood, thinking I intended to leave with nothing. “I’m not planning to abandon everything,” I said. “Just have the housekeeper organize my things and ship them to me later.” Marriage was, at its core, a partnership of interests. I didn’t need to prove anything by walking away empty-handed, especially since I was not at fault. Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it, saying nothing more. He followed me out. As I stepped through the main door, he suddenly reached out to stop me: “Are you going back to your parents’ place? How are you going to tell them?” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. They won’t bother you.” In my peripheral vision, Ethan peeked out from the doorway, watching me silently. His gaze tugged at my heart—after all, he was the child I had carried for ten months, soothed countless times through sleepless nights. I wanted to say “I’m sorry” to him, to offer a few words of caution, so I put down my suitcase and turned. But then I heard him ask Daniel, “Dad, when is Summer going to take me to see the race cars?” That faint pull in my heart instantly vanished. I said nothing more, turning to leave. “I’ll have the driver take you.” “No need.” I refused curtly, not bothering to look back at the calm, indifferent father and son. I bought a train ticket to a quiet coastal town in the Pacific Northwest. Outside the window, a fine mist clung to the mountains and water, like an ink painting. Daniel’s and my marriage began as a family arrangement. In the first few years, I was content with our respectful, almost formal, relationship. I had never seen his gentle side until Summer appeared. She showed me that he could be attentive and caring, like a warm older brother. For these past five years, everyone had told me, “She’s just a young girl, don’t take it to heart.” “What does a middle schooler know about love?” “It’s normal for high schoolers to idolize someone. It’ll fade in a while.” “You’ve been married for so many years. Why are you competing with a young girl?” As if any slight dissatisfaction I showed towards Summer was irrational. So I constantly told myself, “Claire, don’t be so petty.” But Summer still, little by little, permeated Daniel’s and my life— Her handwriting began to mirror his stroke, he remembered her period cycle clearly, her name was constantly on Ethan’s lips. There were no overt boundary crossings, it was just… like this. Oh, right. The night I collapsed from low blood sugar was also the “100-Day Video Anniversary” between Summer and him. 4. After settling into the Pacific Northwest, My best friend, Harper, and I explored many places. Blue tiled roofs peeked over white walls, small bridges arched over winding streams, and moss clung to cobblestone paths. Every corner exuded a sense of boundless freedom. We never tired of it. But on the third night, Harper’s emotions erupted, and she poured herself drink after drink. Tears streaming down her face, she asked me, “You still haven’t answered why men are so obsessed with their idealized first loves.” Harper was different from me. She and Liam had been together for seven years, starting in college, a true love story that led to marriage. By all accounts, they should have been blissfully happy. But Liam had a high school ex-girlfriend, a girl he had romanticized into his “white moonlight” over those seven years. The night I filed for divorce, Harper’s marriage also shattered. That night, Liam brought his ex back home, right into their bedroom. Harper calmly waited for them to get dressed, then proposed divorce. I thought carefully about her question. Suddenly, the whole “white moonlight” concept felt like a false premise. The moon doesn’t emit light; it merely reflects the sun’s rays, fabricating its own brilliance. Adorned with stolen glory, how could it possibly remain bright, forever hanging high in one’s heart? So——”A ‘white moonlight’ is nothing more than a trite excuse for them to hide their sordid intentions.” Harper didn’t seem to need my answer. She buried her head in her knees, already sobbing uncontrollably. For a fleeting moment, I felt that marriage was utterly dreadful. When Daniel’s call came, I felt as if I were still lost in a heartbreak-induced dream. He seemed to have been drinking, his voice low and hoarse. “Claire, where are the hangover pills at home? And the stomach medicine?” I paused, then replied, “The stomach medicine is in the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in the study.” Daniel moved a few steps, and I heard rustling on the phone, faintly laced with impatience. I waited a moment, then asked, “Did you find it?” The rustling stopped. “Found the stomach medicine.” He paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I usually don’t pay attention, so I didn’t know where it was.” I hummed in acknowledgment, then instructed him, “Next time, if you need anything, you can ask the housekeeper. She knows everything. Don’t call me to bother me.” He was silent for a long moment, then mumbled, “Okay.” There were no hangover pills at home, only the hangover soup I always prepared in advance. In the past, when it came to Daniel and Ethan, I never let anyone else handle things. I enjoyed doing everything for them, as if that was how I found my worth. Later, I realized I was wrong. Thankfully, “Even at dusk, the sky is still full of fiery clouds.” 5. A night of heavy drinking, sometimes lucid, sometimes muddled. I was caught in a bizarre, fragmented dream. There was the 800-meter race, finished with gritted teeth. There was the joy of standing on stage, dreams realized, only to be met with a painful slap backstage. There was the park where Daniel and I walked hand-in-hand, the sunset vibrant. A jumble of good and bad, ultimately coalescing into a jarring ringtone. I jolted awake, disoriented. I fumbled for my phone on the bedside table. It was an unknown number. I pressed answer, and the voice, which had haunted me like a nightmare for five years, returned. “Claire, Ethan invited me to their school’s model race car exhibition next week. Do you have any photos of your old handicrafts? Could you send them to me? I’m worried if I make something too good, the style will be too different from what you made before.” I closed my eyes. “My old pieces are in the display cabinet at home. You can go…” “The housekeeper cleared out the house, and those things were thrown away as trash,” she added, “Ethan told her to.” My fingertips grew cold, a sense of utter helplessness washing over me. I looked at the morning light streaming through the window, my voice very faint: “Ms. Peterson, I think you’re more concerned with the future, so whether it’s the style of the work, or Daniel, or Ethan, just do as you please.” “You don’t need to specifically inform me of anything. I never stopped you from interfering in another family’s life before, and I certainly won’t now.” “As for Ethan’s name, I wish you all the best. Once you reach legal age, you can personally change it for him in your capacity as his stepmother.” “Buddy” was the nickname Summer gave Ethan; she found “Ethan” too old-fashioned. Perhaps out of resentment, I had never adopted that name. The purpose of this call was clear to both of us. I was no longer eighteen, so I wasn’t interested in playing games of veiled words. But an eighteen-year-old girl’s pride is thin, after all. Her stuttered rebuttal was cut short by me: “Is Ethan with you?” A rustling noise came from the phone, followed by faint breathing. I thought he was probably waiting for me to speak. I sighed: “Ethan, you know I’m not your mom anymore. I won’t be looking after you from now on, so you don’t need to use others to upset me.” The call probably served different purposes for each of us. But it no longer concerned me. With that, I lifted my hand and hung up. 6. I was far from as composed as I appeared; a bitter sadness swelled within me. I can’t even pinpoint when Ethan started favoring Summer. In the beginning, Daniel wasn’t willing to marry me. Our marriage, before it began, was preceded by many acts of rebellion. There was me secretly entering competitions, dreaming of overnight stardom, hoping to bring prestige to our family. There was Daniel, in a cold war with his family over his girlfriend, trying to run away time and again. There was me, kneeling before my parents, begging repeatedly. There was Daniel, after countless acts of defiance, attempting to take his own life. I finally caved under the phrase, “You’ve enjoyed every privilege, so you should create value for the family.” As for why Daniel compromised, I had no way of knowing. Actually, later, in a hazy memory, I recalled seeing another side of him. The original Daniel was an open book, a talkative, cheerful young man. It was through our repeated interactions that he slowly became quiet and reserved, masking all his emotions. Later, as if completing a necessary ritual, we got married. Three years into the marriage, Ethan was born. In the fifth year, Summer appeared. Summer was fifteen then, a bright-eyed middle schooler, cheerful and constantly chattering around Daniel. Daniel, of course, wouldn’t take a fifteen-year-old seriously, just as others told me, “What does a middle schooler know about love?” He simply used Summer as an outlet, a way to express the other side of himself that he kept hidden. So, two extremes emerged. The calm and aloof Daniel in front of me became a gentle, smiling older brother in front of that young girl. And a child’s development is always a reflection of their upbringing and learned behavior. They are adept at learning; a father’s attitude toward the mother determines the child’s attitude toward the mother. As Ethan grew, he became increasingly distant towards me. He resented my strictness and preferred to bond with Daniel and Summer. He would unhappily say, “You only know how to control me. Summer isn’t like that.” He would also innocently ask, “Mommy, how can you not even know this? Summer is so much better than you.” Children, in fact, are far smarter than we give them credit for. Ethan discovered that every time he said things like that, I would silently turn away. He started using Summer more and more to hurt me. I had told him that it was wrong. But his father hadn’t. Daniel continued to subtly tell him, “Well done!” through his actions. So, inviting Summer and destroying the handicrafts I had helped him with, It was just Ethan, in what he believed was a perfectly natural way, intentionally trying to upset me. 7. Harper said the blues in Tromsø, Norway, were beautiful. We immediately bought tickets for the next day. Hiking along the snowy mountains, as we were about to reach the summit, I received another call from Daniel. I didn’t know if he couldn’t find something again. But we had already made things clear last time. I didn’t answer; I just hung up. After reaching the summit, Harper and I were awestruck by the incredible stillness and power of the landscape. In that silence, she suddenly burst into tears. It was as if this hike was her journey of self-redemption. Strangers who had hiked alongside us offered kind words of comfort. Harper wiped her tears. “It’s nothing, I just feel like I’ve been ripped off these past few years!” “Hey, little sister, the road ahead is long. It’s never too late to find your way back.” I had intended to wipe away a tear myself, to fit the mood, but I ended up laughing at the kind accent and philosophical words of a local hiker. As we all chatted, my phone in my bag rang. I pulled it out and glanced at it. It was a video from Ethan. Daniel I could ignore, but Ethan was different. From both a legal and a blood perspective, I couldn’t completely sever ties with him. So I opened it. The moment the video started, my blood instantly froze. I stared blankly at the playing screen, utterly frozen. Harper, seeing my stillness, leaned closer. Then her face suddenly changed. She snatched my phone, frantically pressing delete.

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I found a limping girl in the remote mountains. As I was bandaging her wound, a flurry of bullet comments flashed across my vision: 「Stop immediately! This is your fiancé’s lifesaver!」 「Save her, and your engagement party will be ruined.」 「Don’t believe it? Just look at the bangle on her wrist!」 I instinctively tightened the tourniquet in my hand. On the last night of our project’s resource survey, a landslide trapped us in a secluded village. My engagement party with Julian Sterling was two days away. We were from matching prominent families, childhood sweethearts, and our union meant our two families’ cooperation would deepen. More importantly, Julian was incredibly good to me, almost to the point of being completely compliant. He seemed particularly fond of tracing the bangle on my wrist. No matter how severe our arguments, as soon as he saw my wrist, he would calm down and apologize. I had been looking forward to this engagement for a long time. The thought of potentially not making it back left me feeling agitated. “Ah!” A girl’s sharp gasp came from the doorway, followed by the scolding voice of an older woman. It was Mrs. Finch, the woman we were staying with, and her daughter, Lyra. The young girl timidly held a large bowl of soup. She had accidentally spilled some, and Mrs. Finch was now berating her: “You worthless, clumsy good-for-nothing!” A few colleagues from the project team exchanged glances, sighing softly. Mrs. Finch was a typical rural woman who heavily favored sons, treating her own with extreme preciousness. She had repeatedly hinted that she hoped we could take her son, Jed, to the city to find work. Jed Finch was an idle loafer who had long dropped out of school, holed up in a dilapidated internet cafe at the village entrance, playing games. But the Finch family’s daughter was different. The young girl was thoughtful. On the first day she sheltered us, she mended Mr. Thompson’s aged trousers and even ran to the village head to buy me feminine hygiene products. Listening to Mrs. Finch’s increasingly vulgar and loud curses, Mr. Thompson couldn’t bear it— “Ma’am, is the soup ready?” Mrs. Finch finally stopped. “Oh, coming right away—” We had paid a hefty fee to stay at the Finch’s, so her attitude was surprisingly pleasant. “You worthless brat, hurry up and get the bowls!” The girl rushed out, stumbled, and a stack of bowls crashed to the ground with a clatter— It was then I noticed her right foot was a little lame; she struggled to run. She had also fallen to the ground, scraping her skin. “You good-for-nothing—!” I grabbed Mrs. Finch’s arm, handing her a hundred-dollar bill. “She’s still young, accidents happen. Let’s just buy some new bowls.” Mrs. Finch snatched the money, a forced smile on her face: “Young? She’s twenty! Useless, and a cripple too!” I subtly shifted my right foot, hiding it. Years ago, an accident had left my right foot somewhat deformed. Seeing this girl, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy. But I was surprised the young girl was already twenty; she looked so thin and sallow. I took out a tourniquet and antiseptic from my backpack, carefully cleaning her wound. Mrs. Finch was still muttering, asking us to take her son away: “Isn’t Van Industries running a Community Uplift Initiative? Take my son! Train him well; he’ll definitely make something of himself…” The Community Uplift Initiative was for sponsoring disadvantaged students, not for housing grown-up freeloaders. If we were to take anyone from the Finch family, it would be better to take this girl. I heard she dropped out after freshman year of high school, called home by Mrs. Finch to cook and await marriage. But because of her limp, the bride price talks always fell through, so she remained unmarried. I asked her softly: “Do you want to continue your studies? I can—” Suddenly, my vision blurred, and a vast stream of bullet comments appeared before my eyes: 【You cannot!!】 【Don’t be foolish. This is your fiancé’s lifesaver. Take her back, and your engagement party will be ruined!】 【If you don’t believe it, look at her wrist! Is there an antique carved bangle on it?!】 I instinctively tightened the tourniquet in my hand, looking towards her sleeve. Everyone in my circle envied me for having a fiancé like Julian Sterling—devoted, deeply loving, and gentle. We had grown up together, experiencing both success and crises. He always kissed my wrist again and again. I had even joked: “If you like it so much, you can have this bangle.” But he always refused, only saying he loved me immensely. Before the bullet comments scrolled wildly, I had never once thought that he didn’t love me, but rather the bangle on my wrist. … “Ms. Van?” I snapped back to reality, realizing I had been staring at the young girl’s sleeve for too long. She smiled bashfully, touching her wrist— “This was my grandmother’s.” An antique carved bangle, with a flat wooden band. It happened to look very similar to the one on my own wrist. The only difference was the color. Mine was a deep brown, while Lyra’s was a light peach-wood color. For some reason, I vaguely felt her bangle also looked familiar. 【We told you so! Julian Sterling only treats you so well because he mistakenly believes you’re his lifesaver.】 【If you bring this girl back and Julian finds out the truth, he’ll think you deliberately schemed to replace his idealized first love, and he’ll seek crazy revenge on you!】 The bullet comments said I lived in a “white moonlight” angst novel. If I, out of kindness, rescued Lyra from the Finch family’s hellhole, my fiancé, Julian Sterling, would see Lyra’s bangle at the engagement ceremony and call off the wedding on the spot. Later, Julian and Lyra would go through a series of dramatic, angsty “you chase, I run” scenarios. Whenever the plot stagnated, Julian would blame my existence for hindering their relationship. If I hadn’t impersonated her, he wouldn’t have missed his idealized first love for so many years. So he would use my feelings for him, seize the opportunity to retaliate, crushing Van Industries and humiliating my genuine affection. But I remained innocent throughout. Julian had never explained why he cherished that bangle, nor had he ever spoken to me about the past. He would push me relentlessly until I had nowhere left to retreat, eventually turning completely dark and becoming the novel’s main villain… Ten years after the novel’s publication, a new batch of readers arrived. This new generation of readers deemed the plot utterly nonsensical, rallying to my defense. Under their collective petition, the story rewound to its starting point. I became the protagonist, and the story began anew. 【As long as you pretend to know nothing, leave the mountain village, and completely cut off the Finch family from external contact, Julian Sterling will never discover the truth!】 【Actually, before the “little white flower” Lyra appeared, Julian Sterling was still very good to the female lead.】 【Men are always susceptible to temptation. If you can mitigate the risk beforehand, there’s no need to cause yourself trouble. The female lead must not be a bleeding heart!】 The bullet comments argued incessantly. I finished applying the last bandage and helped Lyra up. “You still haven’t answered me. Do you want to continue your studies?” Mrs. Finch was very reluctant. But Mr. Thompson casually mentioned that he had a relative whose daughter, after graduating from a prestigious university, received a bride price of half a million dollars. Mrs. Finch’s face immediately lit up. “Can she still study at her age?” Lyra also looked anxious. “Ms. Van, I dropped out four years ago…” The less-than-fairytale truth was that Lyra’s grades weren’t particularly good back then either. But I always felt that reading more books and seeing more of the world might lead to more choices for a person. This was also why I insisted on promoting the Community Uplift Initiative alongside the engineering project. Because I also had someone I wanted to repay. Lyra resembled her greatly. “It’s almost June. If you still haven’t decided, I invite you to my graduation ceremony.” It wouldn’t be too late to decide after seeing a university for yourself. After the plane landed, I momentarily zoned out. “Ms. Van?” I touched my wrist. It was still Lyra who arranged for Lyra and me to exit through two different channels. Julian Sterling was coming to pick me up. Although the bullet comments seemed sincere, after so many years of shared history, I wanted to give Julian one more chance. Perhaps the bangle was just a catalyst, not the sole reason for his affection. Upon disembarking, Julian Sterling, holding a bouquet of tulips, stood out with his distinguished aura. He stepped forward to take my hand. Then he froze. He looked down at my bare wrist. “Serena, where’s your bangle?” I feigned complaint: “It got scratched during the survey, so I sent it for repairs. I can’t even remember how many years I’ve worn it. It feels strange not having it on.” “Ten years.” He said softly. My heart skipped a beat. The bangle was won at an auction, and I remember clearly, that auction was six years ago. —The girl in Julian Sterling’s memory wasn’t me. I smiled, shaking my head. “How could that be? Ten years ago, I was still wearing Grandma’s jade. It broke in an accident later.” Julian Sterling’s steps faltered. He seemed nonchalant, but I could hear a slight tremor in his voice. “Grandma’s jade? Wasn’t your grandmother’s gift the antique one?” I firmly denied it. “No, the antique one was an auction purchase.” Since the bullet comments claimed Julian would later believe I intentionally impersonated her, I might as well clarify now that I was never his lifesaver. Save myself the trouble of being blamed later. If I’m not your lifesaver, will I still be your lover? I watched Julian Sterling’s pupils contract in surprise, disbelief, anxiety, then calm. Then he didn’t release my hand. “Perhaps I misremembered,” he said. The engagement ceremony was being meticulously prepared. The people I sent returned with information. After taking me home, Julian Sterling immediately contacted a private investigator to look into what happened ten years ago. The materials were delivered to me first. I finally learned the “truth” the bullet comments spoke of— Ten years ago, a large-scale cross-state human trafficking case occurred. Julian Sterling and Lyra were both caught up in it. While held captive, Julian’s eyes were temporarily blinded. It was young Lyra who meticulously cared for him. But after the rescue, Julian and Lyra lost contact. He only remembered the young girl who cared for him had an antique carved bangle on her wrist. Julian and I were childhood sweethearts, originally just friends, until I wore the bangle I bought at auction, and Julian accidentally saw it. He began to pursue me fiercely. Too much time had passed. Perhaps Julian couldn’t quickly find Lyra, but he could definitely confirm that my bangle was indeed auctioned six years ago. “Serena, coming to try on your dress?” My bridesmaids called out. I shook my head. “There might not be an engagement party.” But until the night before the engagement, I received no “engagement cancellation” message from the Sterling family. Julian Sterling clearly knew the truth, yet still chose to continue with me. I still held a sliver of hope. Julian Sterling wasn’t the absurd “bangle-sexual” type mentioned in the bullet comments, loving whoever wore the bangle. Among a room full of esteemed guests, we raised our glasses together. I spoke playfully: “You always cared so much about that bangle, I thought you were looking for someone through it.” This was my last chance for him to confess. But Julian Sterling kissed my cheek. “There’s no one. I love you.” Adults have the right to make their own choices. Julian Sterling chose me, whether out of love or practicality. And I, out of practicality, gladly accepted his choice. After the engagement, relying on our marital ties, I quickly took leadership of all integrated product lines within Van Industries and Sterling Corp. partnerships. Compared to outsiders, Julian’s family clearly trusted me more. After all, a daughter-in-law was “family” sooner or later. I made time to visit Lyra. She hesitated for a long time, finally calling me the moment she saw students at a graduation ceremony waving their caps. “Ms. Van, I want to go to college.” When she was most desperate, trapped in that mountain village, she handed me a pack of feminine products. I repaid her with three years of student aid. Up to this point, everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion. I seemed to have, as the bullet comments wished, avoided Julian and Lyra meeting, confessed the bangle’s origin to Julian, proceeded with the Sterling marriage, and gained a capable partner and business resources. Until I discovered Julian Sterling secretly volunteered as a teacher in a remote area. Before final exams, I went to visit Lyra. I called beforehand. She was older than her classmates, but shy, speaking softly and sweetly. “We have a new volunteer teacher, Mr. Sterling. He’s also from Rosewood, like you, Ms. Van.” I froze. Rosewood was quite far from the mountain village; it was unusual to volunteer there specifically. “Mr. Sterling is a little strange.” “Did he bother you?” My voice was serious. “No, no, he seems nice to me, but I just feel uncomfortable…” I happened to have something to do in the village soon. I’d go check out what this volunteer teacher was all about. … When I arrived, I overheard a few girls gossiping. “What’s the deal with Lyra and the new Mr. Sterling? Is she trying to seduce him, hoping he’ll take her to the city when he leaves?” “No way, Lyra seems so well-behaved.” “Well-behaved? Then why does Mr. Sterling only answer her questions, and even bring her snacks and books? He glares at others who ask for help; I don’t even dare to ask questions anymore!” “Oh my god, a teacher-student romance? No wonder Lyra dropped out before. Could it be a repeat offense…?” I listened, my brow furrowed. It clearly sounded like the teacher’s problem, yet the ambiguous speculation and rumors fell onto the student. A teacher who allowed a teacher-student relationship to develop was already ethically compromised. I had to tell Lyra to keep her distance from that volunteer teacher. When I found Lyra, she was studying, working on a test. I happened to spot a missing condition in her solution steps. So I feigned a stern expression and tapped the desk— “Careless, little sister…” Lyra looked back in surprise, but before she could speak, a hurried voice suddenly interrupted— “Serena Van, what are you doing!” I was suddenly pushed aside, my elbow slamming into the back desk. The newcomer firmly shielded Lyra, his expression tense, a lesson plan in his hand. It turned out. The new volunteer teacher was Julian Sterling. The classroom desks were old and broken, with protruding nails. My arm was cut open, bleeding profusely. But my fiancé seemed not to notice, spreading his arms like a mother hen, terrified I would devour Lyra whole. “Serena, are you stalking me? What couldn’t you resolve in Rosewood that you had to come all this way to harass Lyra!” He thought I had followed him. My heart chilled inch by inch. I thought that after knowing the truth, for Julian, our years of shared feelings outweighed the childhood debt of gratitude, which was why he honored our engagement. I hadn’t realized he was having his cake and eating it too. Engaged to me, while flying to a mountain village to be a protective knight. “And you, Julian Sterling, why are you here?” Julian Sterling’s expression was pained. “Serena, I’ve been looking for someone. Before, I mistakenly thought it was you, but I only recently discovered the truth.” “I couldn’t wrong you, so I still got engaged to you.” “But I also can’t wrong Lyra.” “I gave you the engagement, and the partnership with Sterling Corp. Can’t you be a little understanding and let me repay a life-saving debt? Lyra’s family treats her badly, I really can’t bear it…” I suddenly felt that the “good guy” Julian Sterling, who had resided in my heart for the past few years, shattered, revealing a real, selfish, hypocritical man. Ever since I first saw the bullet comments, a sword had been hanging over my head. At this moment, it suddenly fell. It severed the last bit of false hope in my heart. “Julian Sterling.” I cut him off. “Did you only learn the truth after our engagement?” He was speechless, silent for a long moment. So, he had actually confirmed the truth before the engagement, but weighed the pros and cons and chose to proceed with me. “Second question.” “Did you really only realize something was wrong, that I might not be your lifesaver, when I sent my bangle for repairs?” After seeing the bullet comments, I had thought about it carefully. It seemed strange. In that accident, though Julian’s eyes were temporarily blinded and he was terrified, His family and mine were old acquaintances. Even if a child’s memory isn’t deep, he should have been able to tell if it was me. Even if, in a state of extreme panic, he didn’t recognize me, once rescued and grown, he should have regained his senses. Lyra’s bangle, though similar to mine, had distinct scuff marks, and the carving patterns were different. For six long years, why did Julian never seek confirmation, stubbornly believing that the person with the bangle was his destined love? Unless he already intended to pursue me. Six years ago, Van Industries’ stock soared, and multiple product lines expanded into new markets. It was a thriving period. And Julian, as one of many Sterling descendants, wasn’t particularly prominent. To gain attention and secure resources for himself, he needed to win my favor. So for six years, he never sought confirmation. It satisfied his need for gain and alleviated his guilt over the “debt of gratitude.” Until he graduated, we got engaged, leaving other Sterling descendants far behind. His rare flicker of “pure love” rekindled, and he couldn’t help but seek out his true beloved. “Third question, does Lyra know the truth?” Why did a volunteer teacher suddenly appear? Why did Mr. Sterling care for her so much, only to bring baseless rumors? I always thought the plotline of “repaying kindness with marriage” was absurd. If the other party is uninterested, isn’t that just repaying kindness with malice? Julian Sterling took a deep breath. “I originally planned to keep it from you. I didn’t want Lyra to affect our marriage. Once we were married, I would settle her in Hong Kong. I promise she wouldn’t bother you.” I showed an incredulous expression. Then he turned and gently stroked Lyra’s head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. Ten years ago, you saved my life. I was that blinded little boy, Jules. Do you remember?” Two pairs of eyes simultaneously looked at Lyra. From the moment Julian first burst into the classroom, Lyra had been pushed behind him, struggling to interject. The young girl fiercely pushed Julian’s hand away, her voice clear— “I don’t remember. Mr. Sterling, are you mistaken?” The bullet comments scrolled wildly, filled with “OMG”s and “WTF”s. 【Can someone check the original plot? Was Julian Sterling’s lifesaver really not Lyra?】 【Upstairs, I’m checking… Lyra, it seems, really didn’t admit to saving anyone!】 【Julian didn’t even ask…?】 【Isn’t that his usual move? The self-deluded silent type.】 【Is the male lead a ‘bangle-sexual’? He loves whoever has the bangle. Was he a bangle spirit in his past life?】 Julian Sterling refused to believe it. He insisted I had threatened Lyra, making her afraid to tell the truth. Eventually, Lyra grew exasperated. “If you don’t believe me, ask my mom and my brother! I’ve never left the village!” “Fine! Then we’ll go to your house! I don’t believe your whole family has been bought off by Serena Van!” We marched in a large group to the Finch family home, expecting it would only take a word from Mrs. Finch. But to our surprise, when Julian, with his authoritative demeanor, asked Mrs. Finch if Lyra had ever been to Rosewood, or if she had been abducted, Mrs. Finch’s expression grew frantic, and she dropped the cup in her hand. “There’s no such thing! No, no…” She fiercely pulled Lyra towards her. “Did this brat cause trouble at school? I told you girls don’t need to read too many books; once they do, their minds go wild! Did she say something crazy?” “This girl is a habitual liar! Don’t let her trick you!” Mrs. Finch’s voice was sharp and cruel, her squinting eyes filled with wariness and calculation. Lyra’s brother, Jed Finch, was lounging in the house, basking in the sun, and he had the same squinting eyes as Mrs. Finch. But Lyra had round eyes. Mrs. Finch was stout and thick-limbed, but Lyra’s figure was delicate, like a kitten… A bizarre suspicion suddenly formed in my mind. That bangle… Six years ago, I had bid for it at an auction because I felt an inexplicable familiarity, a strange fondness for it. Where had I seen it before, even earlier than meeting Lyra, even earlier than the auction? I interrupted Julian’s endless chatter. “Mrs. Finch, do you have any photos of Lyra as a child?” “Why would I have such a thing…” I continued to search the house as I asked. Mrs. Finch doted on her son. Though they weren’t wealthy, the house displayed several photos of her son and family portraits. Not this one, not this one, this one… I found it! Mrs. Finch also realized something was wrong and lunged forward, trying to snatch the photo from my hand— It was only a second, a fleeting glimpse of the little girl pushed to the side, but it was enough for me to clearly see young Lyra’s face in the photo. Familiar. Like someone from my past. I was determined to take Lyra with me. Mrs. Finch wailed, pointing her finger at me, cursing: “She’s stealing people in broad daylight!” Her eyes darted around. “If you want to take this girl, fine. Leave the bride price! That Mr. Thompson of yours said that girls who’ve studied should get half a million!” Ironically, Julian Sterling, who had just fiercely protected his “wife” in front of me, who had promised to protect Lyra thoroughly, Now tried to persuade me. “Lyra is still a Finch family member. You can’t just take her away.” He knew perfectly well that Mrs. Finch and her son treated Lyra horribly, often beating and scolding her, seeing their daughter as merely a tool for making money. Yet he wasn’t willing to rescue her from her misery. —I bluntly called out his thoughts.

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1 When the Maxwell family teetered on the brink of ruin, I sought out Caleb myself, offering a lifeline, and saved their legacy. In a show of gratitude for my intervention, Caleb, known for his philandering ways, immediately underwent a vasectomy. He swore to remain pure for me, for life. He took me across every continent, through mountains and by oceans, vowing to etch our love into every landscape we touched. Three years later, he drugged me, stole my phone, and infiltrated the Thorne estate. He meticulously orchestrated a scheme that brought my family to its knees overnight. My parents, consumed by despair, took peaceful sleep pills, ending their lives together. My sister, Sarah, was dragged into a dark alley by Caleb’s men, subjected to unspeakable public humiliation, and the video footage of her degradation was then callously sold at a twisted auction for the amusement of wealthy young scions. I pleaded with Caleb to spare the Thorne family, but he merely gripped my face, forcing me to watch as my parents’ remains were cremated. “You thought your act of marrying me was so noble, didn’t you? Yes, the whole city praised the Thorne family for being a beacon in the storm, saving me from disaster! But what did they say about me?” “They said I was nothing but a dog, clinging to your coattails, Eliza Thorne!” Caleb personally destroyed my family, all to prove he was stronger than the Thornes, that he wasn’t a dog. He tore up the divorce papers and shoved them into my mouth. He wanted me to watch, firsthand, as he meticulously climbed the ladder to become the city’s veritable kingmaker, a man who could turn the tide with a flick of his wrist. To further humiliate me, he brought different women home every day, transforming the mansion into his personal playground. And I? I was their sole servant. “What’s the Thorne family worth now? Your status is perfectly suited to cooking their meals and massaging their feet.” It didn’t matter. Not really. When I’d rescued him from the avalanche years ago, a shard of rock had pierced my heart. I only had three days left to live. … I flung myself from Caleb’s villa window, desperate to retrieve my family’s last possessions. With the Thorne family bankrupt, every valuable item had been sold off, leaving only some personal effects in the mansion, things no one wanted. I worried my parents would be cold down below, that Sarah would have no clothes to wear. But before I even reached the front door, the Thorne mansion buzzed with life, Caleb’s laughter piercing my ears, instantly seizing my heart. When he saw me enter, the cigarette paused between his lips. Then he raised a hand, beckoning. “Well, well. Is the Thorne orphan interested in attending the auction of her own family’s relics?” My fists clenched, my throat tightened, unable to believe what I’d just heard. “What did you say? Caleb, those are your parents and sister too!” Caleb’s eyes turned glacial. “Your family didn’t think about me being their good son-in-law when you used the Maxwell name to boost your reputation, did you?” He draped an arm around the stunning woman beside him. “Chloe, just bid on whatever you like. I’m here.” On the stage, my mother’s earrings and comb were being auctioned. Chloe’s eyes gleamed with delight. She raised her paddle. “Five million! Mr. Maxwell, I simply adore this!” Another woman, Ivy, her eyes misty, looked over. “Sister, can you let me have it? I love it too!” Caleb roared with laughter, amused. “Alright, Chloe’s new here, Ivy, why don’t you let her have this one? The next one’s all yours, okay? Listen up, darlings, bid on whatever you want! If you can’t win it, come to me. I’ll make sure it’s yours, no matter the cost!” A wave of cheers erupted from the women, paddles flying. My mother’s and father’s jewelry and clothes were quickly auctioned off, and I could do nothing but watch. Then, Sarah’s private garment was brought out. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a rare find! The winning bid includes a scandalous private recording! Starting bid, ten million!” Wealthy young playboys eagerly raised their paddles, their hunger unconcealed. The women with Caleb, however, rolled their eyes to the heavens. “In this day and age, any person’s intimate garments can fetch a high price? No thank you! Wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole!” A flicker of triumph crossed Ivy’s face. She turned to Caleb. “Caleb, darling, why don’t you bid on this for Eliza? She’s broke now, probably won’t be able to afford new clothes soon! Better to wear her sister’s than some cheap junk, right?” Caleb’s lips curved into a sneer, his gaze on me filled with utter disdain. “Fine. As Ivy suggests. I’ll make sure it’s yours.” Caleb snagged a corner of the garment, along with a USB drive, and tossed them both onto my head. “Since you’re bankrupt, take these. Study them carefully. Might come in handy someday, when you’re trying to make a living.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I told you I was afraid of pain, and you swore to remain pure for me. How can you say such things now?” Caleb scoffed. “Are you out of your mind? I said I got a vasectomy for you because I never wanted to touch you! You disgusted me, so I found an excuse to trick you. How could you actually believe it?” The old, torn wound in my heart now throbbed with a pain so sharp I almost blacked out. It was true, heartbreak really did have a sound. I clutched my chest, my face ashen, and sank to the floor. Caleb, with his entourage, stepped over me, their laughter echoing. “Don’t play the victim. The only people in this world who ever sympathized with you are all dead.” “Wait.” I called out, stopping Caleb. “The next item. I’ll make sure it’s mine.” 2 On the stage, a stone ring lay displayed. It was crudely made, utterly plain, almost ugly. The paddles in the audience remained down. No one wanted to bid on such an unappealing item, which looked utterly worthless. Caleb peered at it for a long moment, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Isn’t that the one you gave me? The one I threw away? You actually secretly picked it up again. How pathetic.” This ring was part of my mother’s dowry to me, a stone she personally chose, and my father personally shaped for me. This unique, ancient stone was said to be a naturally rare substance, formed over millennia, worth billions, and incredibly resilient, capable of cutting through bone with ease. My parents gave me this ring as a symbol of self-preservation, a promise that no matter what, they would protect me. But when Caleb was trapped in the ice, I’d pressed this ring onto his hand, praying for all my luck to transfer to him, begging for him to survive. He did survive. But when I rescued him, I lost my footing and fell. The stone deeply gashed my chest, and the ring fell into the snow, buried beneath. “You probably don’t know this, but I deliberately scraped that ring against your chest to break it. That way, I could openly throw it away. Such an ugly ring, and from you? I wanted it even less.” My eyes stung, but my heart was numb. I repeated, “I’ll make sure it’s mine.” A few young socialites symbolically raised the price to three million dollars, the last of the money I had left. A young woman, clearly wanting to prolong the cruelty, tried to bid higher, but Caleb instinctively stopped her. He stared at my disheveled appearance, a cold smile twisting his lips. “Something I discarded, and you still cherish it like a priceless treasure? You really are my pathetic admirer. Fine, I’ll grant you this charity. Take your three million. And remember this: you are a Thorne. Remember how your family humiliated mine. Remember how I never loved you, yet you shamelessly clung to me.” With that, he lost interest and swept out, a dozen women trailing in his wake. I clutched the stone ring my parents had given me, the one I had lost and now regained. A relieved smile touched my lips. My parents were gone, but the ring was back. Did it mean they were here, protecting me? Too bad I only had three days left to live. My smile faltered, a sudden spasm in my chest. My vision blurred, and I collapsed. … The doctor urged me to stay in the hospital, assuring me that if I remained still, the stone shard lodged in my heart might not shift, giving me a few more days. I waved him off, pushing myself up and returning to Caleb’s villa. What was the point of a few more days? Just a few more days of Caleb’s torment. There was no meaning in it. Better to find release and join my parents and sister. When I arrived home, the dining table was a scene of boisterous chatter, but there was no place set for me. Caleb turned, his brow furrowed. “Still know how to come back? Look at the time! Chloe was practically in tears because you didn’t cook today! You’re not getting any food for the next few days!” I walked past the dining room without turning my head. “Whatever.” Caleb’s brow furrowed. He rushed forward in three strides, seizing my wrist and slamming me against the wall. My heart seized in a violent spasm. All my organs screamed in protest. The pain was so intense, I felt like vomiting. Caleb was about to lash out, then he noticed the crisscrossing scratches covering the wrist he held. Those were the marks I’d unconsciously made during the agonizing spasms from the stone in my heart. “You dare to self-harm?” Caleb leaned closer, his eyes burning with intense hatred. “What, I endured humiliation for three years, and you can’t handle a few days of inconvenience? Let me tell you, your Thorne family is penniless. I bought your life! You think you can die without my permission? Dream on! I’ll make sure you live a life worse than death!” I looked at the man I had loved for almost a decade, the man who had consumed my entire youth, eighty percent of my life. He looked increasingly alien. I spoke softly, repeating, “Whatever.” Caleb’s fury erupted. He ripped off my jacket, then, in front of everyone, picked me up and threw me onto the sofa. By all accounts, I should have felt humiliated, or perhaps even a perverse joy at finally giving myself to the man I loved, or perhaps a defiant challenge in my gaze towards the other women. But my heart ached too much. I felt nothing, and then I fainted from the pain. 3 When I next awoke, I was still naked on the sofa, covered only by a small blanket. Caleb was no longer home. A dozen women chattered incessantly, their voices grating. I called them into my room and opened my wardrobe. The walk-in closet was filled with clothes I’d had custom-made, every piece a unique design. The women’s eyes went wide. Fortunately, Caleb’s influence was absolute now; no one dared to raid his mansion. So these gowns, which were technically Thorne family property, along with me, remained untouched. “Pick whatever you like.” Chloe stood before me, eyeing me up and down with suspicion. “You’re being this generous? What trick are you playing now?” I shook my head, saying nothing. Once I finished packing my family’s last relics, it was time to sort through my own. Caleb hated me so much; after I died, these clothes would probably be burned, every single one. These works, which their designers took such pride in, deserved to fulfill some purpose. A few younger women, unable to contain their excitement, eagerly began picking out clothes, exclaiming, “The fabric is amazing!” Only a handful of women, around my age, remained with their arms crossed, their expressions skeptical, wondering what I was truly up to. I paid them no mind, opening drawers to reveal exquisite bags and watches, their faces illuminated by the glittering treasures. I noticed then that these women, in varying degrees, resembled me. Chloe, the newest one, was almost a mirror image, and the most favored. But it no longer mattered. Whether Caleb loved me or not, it was irrelevant. After all, I only had two days left. The roar of a sports car in the garden pierced the air. Ivy, who had been standing still, craned her neck to look out. Suddenly, she walked up to the clothes rack and picked out a dress. When Caleb opened the door, Ivy suddenly screamed, clutching the dress. The sequins had been cut halfway off at some point, and a sharp edge had sliced her delicate leg. Blood immediately gushed forth. I remembered Caleb had noticed her smooth, pale legs before, which was why he’d given her the largest guest room. Caleb’s face instantly darkened. He lunged forward, sweeping Ivy into a bridal carry, tenderly blowing on her wound. Ivy’s eyes teared up. “Ivy is so clumsy, Caleb. Eliza meant well, giving us clothes. It’s Ivy’s fault for picking the one with the razor blades.” Caleb’s gaze grew increasingly dangerous. “Eliza Thorne, I’m giving you one chance to explain.” I shrugged. “What’s there to explain? A common hussy acting like a victim. Since you won’t divorce me, I’m still your wife. What’s wrong with teaching a mistress a lesson?” “Eliza Thorne, I told you, your duty is to serve them. Who gave you permission to act like the Lady of this house and discipline my women?” My defiance enraged Caleb. He pulled out a whip and handed it to Mr. Davies, the butler. “For Ivy’s injury, I want you to pay a hundredfold.” The whip cracked against my legs, the barbs tearing at my flesh. For the first ten lashes, I felt nothing. Compared to the agony in my heart, the pain in my legs was negligible. But with the eleventh lash, the wound exposed bone. I saw the whip strike the stark white bone, and finally, tears fell. Caleb crouched down. “Does it hurt now? Kneel before the camera and bark like a dog a few times. Say, ‘Eliza Thorne and everyone in the Thorne family are Caleb Maxwell’s dogs!’ Then bow to Ivy and apologize, and I’ll let you go.” I closed my mouth, letting out a disdainful scoff from my nose. This earned me several heavy blows from Caleb himself, swung with a baseball bat, the pain excruciating. 4 Ivy covered her mouth, her eyes wide with terror as she tugged on Caleb’s sleeve. “Caleb, darling, maybe that’s enough? Eliza’s leg… I think it’s broken!” “Broken is good. A hundred days to heal. For a hundred days, she won’t be able to run, and she won’t have the strength to bully any of you.” A hundred days. That’s a long time, Caleb. You’ve planned everything, but you’ll never guess I only have one day left. Breaking all precedent, Caleb stayed at my bedside for a night. He gave me a full basic check-up, confirmed with the family doctor that it was just a bone fracture, and that I’d be fine after three months of rest. I found him irritating and was about to tell him to leave when a mouthful of blood erupted from my lips. Caleb laughed. “Keep pretending. Go on.” “Why didn’t you vomit when the doctor was here? Afraid he’d see through your act?” “Eliza Thorne, do you know why I like Ivy? Because she’s so much like you when you pretend to be innocent. You’re both the same, you treat me like a fool. But Ivy has nothing. She can only cling to me. You, on the other hand, had the Thorne family, you were so arrogant. Now the Thornes are gone, and you still refuse to bow down to me. That’s why I hate you most.” “Stop faking it. Learn how to play weak from Ivy. Your face right now, it disgusts me.” Caleb rose, as if in a fit of pique, and instructed his driver, “I’m sleeping at the office tonight. No one is to disturb me.” The women outside, having rarely been put in their place, gathered outside my room, their eyes piercing me. I coughed up another mouthful of blood. Ivy scoffed. “Eliza Thorne, Caleb’s gone. You can stop pretending now, in front of us.” I had no strength left to speak, only to breathe deeply, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Only I knew that the whips and bats had shifted the stone shard in my heart again. My heart was probably nothing but a pulpy mess now, the shard having pierced my trachea, which was why I kept coughing blood. My life was ending. Suddenly, all I wanted was a bowl of peanut soup. I struggled to sit up, maintaining the last semblance of the Thorne heiress’s dignity. “A bowl of peanut soup, please. Very rich.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “Why? Am I your servant?” With that, she turned to leave, but Chloe stopped her. The two exchanged a look. I heard Chloe whisper, “I saw her medical reports. She’s allergic to peanuts. We should just go along with it…” Ivy gasped in alarm. “Then she’ll deliberately frame us!” Chloe lifted her chin, gesturing outside. “Don’t be silly. It’s using a knife to kill without touching it.” Finally, a young woman, timidly, brought in a bowl of peanut soup. She wore my favorite dress, the one I wore the day Caleb proposed. The girl was smart; even her hairstyle was exactly like mine that day. Her eyes burned with ambition and defiance as she brought the spoon to my lips without asking. “Sister, I’ll feed you. You must drink every single drop.” I drank, spoonful by spoonful. I felt a rash erupt on my face, my throat and fingers swelled. Finally, the peanut soup, somehow, went down my windpipe, and my heart seized with excruciating pain. Then, everything before my eyes lost its color. When Caleb returned, dark circles under his eyes, he walked straight to my room. “Have you learned your lesson?” Seeing my lack of response, his displeasure deepened. “Your silence won’t work. I have all the time in the world to wear you down! I don’t believe I can’t keep you here for life and eventually get a word of submission out of you!” “Oh, right. You love to dance, don’t you? Tomorrow, come with me to a ball. I want everyone to see how the Thorne heiress, who once captivated half the city with her dance, now drags her broken legs, crawling behind me like a dog!” “Are you mute? Even dogs bark!” “Still haven’t had enough of being watched by those people? Want another round?”

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