Every time my wife and I fought, she’d buy me a luxury watch. By the time I had collected 99 of them, I decided I couldn’t accept any more, and I asked her for a divorce. It all kicked off one night last fall, sparked by a social media post from my wife’s assistant. “This holiday night, spending it with you, finally feels like home~” The picture showed him at a fancy rooftop garden restaurant. Leaning against him was a woman, half her face hidden in shadow, but her distinct collarbone and the faint hickey on her neck screamed intimacy. Alex then commented: “The boss looks amazing. My Venus.” I glanced at the message Amanda had sent just minutes before, saying she was working late. A faint smile touched my lips as I replied in the comments: “Her technique’s even better.” Shortly after, Alex called, his voice laced with faux injury, explaining it was just some quote he found online, nothing more. Amanda snatched the phone, her voice dripping with sarcasm towards me: “We just grabbed dinner after working late, what’s your problem? Do you have any idea how Alex felt when you said that publicly?” Then, her tone softened towards Alex: “Don’t take it personally. He watches too many trashy romance dramas; thinks everyone’s a rival.” The line went dead. The next day, Amanda came home, and with her, another watch box. This one contained a green watch. “Honey, please forgive me. What I said last night was just to save face.” Staring at the drawer overflowing with expensive watches, I gently shook my head. I had loved her for seven years. I had forgiven her ninety-nine times. This time, I was letting go. 1 When Amanda got home, I was digging into a special extra-spicy, loaded-with-peppers hot pot I’d made just for myself. She never touched spicy food, so for seven years, chili peppers had been banished from our dining table. Amanda walked straight over, grabbed my personal hot pot without a word, and dumped it down the toilet. “I’m allergic to peppers, did you forget?” She then handed me an elegant gift box. “Alex picked it out. As an apology from him. Seriously, look at what you said last night. He’s so much more considerate than you are. You’re older than him, his senior; can’t you be a little more magnanimous?” I didn’t move an inch. She nudged me. “Are you listening to me? Why are you being so petty?” As she spoke, she noticed my eyes watering – from the intense spice – and looked slightly flustered. She mumbled something about getting tissues, but I stopped her. “Don’t bother. I’m going to take a shower.” I went to wash up, avoiding her. When I came out, she was surprisingly still there. Amanda sat on the sofa, the gift box on the table. She seemed calmer. “Honey, I lost my temper earlier. Come see the gift we picked out for you.” Amanda eagerly tore open the packaging, but froze when she saw the color. “Why is it green…” Her words trailed off, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. She quickly forced a smile and tried to explain, “Honey, forgive me. What I said last night was just to keep up appearances.” The excuse felt incredibly flimsy. I didn’t bother looking closely. I ran a hand through my hair, about to bring up the divorce. Just then, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and immediately answered. “What’s wrong?” Alex’s voice came through, choked with tears. “Amanda, my stomach hurts so bad, and I can’t get a cab to the hospital.” Amanda’s expression turned grave instantly. Without even a glance my way, she grabbed her coat and rushed out the door. I stood there, stunned. A few minutes later, a voice message arrived from her. “You have to accept that watch. Otherwise, Alex will feel terrible, and it’ll affect his work.” I didn’t reply. She sent another. “I’ll be back soon.” The sound of speeding cars bled through the background noise. I didn’t need to guess. She was racing to Alex’s side as fast as she could. 2 After Amanda left, she never came back that night. I waited from late evening until dawn. Nothing. That night, the emotional turmoil triggered a severe angina attack. I was rushed to the emergency room. I tried calling Amanda, but her line was constantly busy. Just as I was about to give up, a notification popped up. Alex had updated his social media status. He shared a photo of himself getting an IV drip, captioned: “Looked into your eyes, knew you were the one. Watching over me through the night, by my side in my toughest moment. Boss, how can I ever repay this kindness? How about… with myself?” The message oozed gratitude and adoration for Amanda. Right below it, a comment from someone apparently working at the hospital: “OMG, I work here! Just snapped this on the sly, totally explosive!” The attached picture showed a frail-looking Alex, with Amanda standing by his bedside, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. It looked like a poignant movie scene. Another candid shot showed Amanda watching over Alex’s bed, her eyes filled with a tenderness and concern directed solely at him. Even though I should have been used to it, my heart clenched painfully. Almost involuntarily, I dialed Amanda’s number. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said curtly and hung up. I used to be skeptical about the “seven-year itch,” but right then, I had to admit it was real. The exhaustion and disappointment had completely drained my will to continue. My angina attack was brought under control quickly, and I was discharged soon after. Dragging myself home, I had barely stepped inside when Amanda confronted me, furious. “What stunt are you pulling now? Can’t you stop being so unreasonable? He was really sick, shouldn’t I have taken care of him?” “I just had a severe angina attack. I almost died.” I cut her off coldly, my eyes devoid of any warmth. Hearing this, Amanda’s face went deathly pale, her eyes wide with disbelief. She froze, speechless for a long moment. 3 To the outside world, Amanda and I were the picture-perfect couple. Amanda wanted to be childfree, and because I loved her, I respected her decision without argument. So, for seven years, we never had children of our own. Until recently. One night, Amanda came home drunk after a work function. As I helped her onto the bed, she suddenly threw her arms around my neck, her eyes hazy. “Honey, let’s have a baby…” Then she passed out. I carefully removed her makeup and changed her clothes. I thought she genuinely wanted a child with me. I thought she still loved me. Until… Three days prior, my sudden angina attack landed me in the ER. The feeling of being pulled back from the brink still haunted me. Originally, I had made preparations, even got a full physical. I had planned to spend the holiday weekend with Amanda, tell her I wanted to cherish every day we had together even more. My health check confirmed I could provide my half of a healthy child. But now, none of it mattered. On that autumn night, Amanda spent it with her assistant, Alex, even speaking coldly to me in front of him. What hurt most was that green watch she held – a symbol of betrayal. Her words defending Alex were like sharp knives, cutting into my heart again and again. She knew exactly what the color green implied in certain contexts, yet she went along with Alex’s choice. It was chilling. Amanda stood up angrily, her knuckles white from clenching her fists. But she didn’t ask why I hadn’t told her about my condition sooner. Because she had already chosen to discard me, call after unanswered call. I had given her countless chances, hoping she’d come back to me, but she always chose Alex. “Enough, Ethan!” Her voice was filled with anger and contempt. “You’d make up a lie like that just to get my attention!” She shoved me hard onto the sofa. “You’ve been fine for years, and suddenly, right after I hire an assistant, you have a heart attack? Do you think this is some kind of TV drama?” “When did you become like this? Alex is just my assistant! Is it wrong for me to care about my staff? Can’t you stop being so sensitive, watch fewer of those stupid shows, and stop messing with your head?!” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Staring at the closed door, I remembered a text message I’d seen five days earlier. Alex had told Amanda he wanted a child. Amanda had replied to Alex: “Baby, I want a child that belongs to us too.” In that moment, I knew with chilling clarity that she seemed to have completely forgotten the vows we once made together. So, her drunken words that night… they were meant for Alex. I looked at the shut door, no longer feeling the familiar urge to compromise or smooth things over. In our seven years of marriage, I had always been the one trying to hold things together. Today, I was completely disheartened. I thought back over the years. She had once given me ten watches as symbols of love. But since Alex appeared, the subsequent eighty-plus watches felt more like milestones marking their relationship. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, fighting back the pain as I texted my lawyer: “Hello, I need to consult about a divorce. As soon as possible.” 4 For several days, Amanda didn’t come home. On the fourth day, my phone finally rang. Amanda’s voice still held a trace of lingering anger, tinged with coldness and distance. “Come downstairs. My mom wants us to come over for dinner.” Before I could respond, she hung up. My mother-in-law had always been kind to me. No matter how much I resisted going, I had to consider her feelings. When Amanda saw I had made an effort to dress up, a sarcastic smile played on her lips. “Well, look at you, all spruced up. And you tried to tell me you almost died. How ridiculous.” My breath caught. Then I managed a small smile and said softly, “Yeah. Right.” She didn’t press the issue, instead turning on the car’s music system. As the music started, a soft voice alert played. “Your little assistant Alex reminds the dear Mrs. CEO, please enjoy the music, but also drive safely, love you~” Alex’s gentle, slightly magnetic voice echoed in the somewhat awkward silence of the car, making the atmosphere even more charged. In the past, I would have immediately demanded an explanation from Amanda, insisting she justify it. It would have ended in another argument. But now, I chose silence. I just sat there quietly, saying nothing. Amanda seemed to realize her blunder, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face. “…Alex said personalized voice prompts are trendy now, so I had him set one up for me.” I nodded slightly, my expression calm and unreadable. During dinner at her parents’ house, my mother-in-law clearly sensed the strained atmosphere between us, occasionally casting questioning glances our way. As the meal drew to a close, she finally leaned in and asked quietly, “What’s going on with you two? Had a fight?” Amanda laughed lightly, naturally linking her arm through mine. “No, Mom, don’t worry about it.” Her mother immediately relaxed, her face filled with relief. “That’s what I thought! All those online rumors about you and your male assistant being too close are nonsense. My Amanda would never do anything to hurt Ethan!” 5 “News? What news?” Amanda looked puzzled. Her mother glanced at me, paused for a moment, then took out her phone and handed it to her. “This. Everyone online is buzzing about a ‘ManXu’ CP – pairing the CEO and her male assistant.” I caught a glimpse of the phone screen. It was a compilation of photos featuring Amanda and Alex, many taken in settings I’d never seen. For instance, one showed Amanda and Alex painting plaster dolls together in a park. One of those identical cartoon figures sat silently on the nightstand in our bedroom. She had told me it was painted by an employee’s child, and she brought it home because she thought it was cute. Thinking back now, it was just another carefully crafted lie. Amanda took the phone, then grasped my hand to explain, “Those photos were all taken during company events. It’s not like what they’re saying online.” “Alex just graduated; I mentored him closely, like his teacher. It’s natural for him to rely on me. Sometimes, when we spend a lot of time together, he even worries you might misunderstand and tells me I should go home and spend more time with you.” I wasn’t particularly interested in her explanation, just replying flatly, “Mm, I get it.” The tension eased slightly from her face, but then I turned to her mother, my voice firm. “I want a divorce from Amanda.”

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On our third anniversary, Ethan forced me to give blood for his old flame’s dog. The long needle pierced my skin, the suffocating feeling of my blood being drawn making me scream in despair. My life hung by a thread. Meanwhile, Ethan and Olivia were busy planning the dog’s funeral arrangements. He didn’t forget to warn me: “You stay in that room and reflect on what you did, otherwise, forget about marrying me!” After I got out of the hospital, I didn’t hesitate. I called my Aunt Carol and agreed to the match she’d arranged overseas. But Ethan, why are you now frantically searching the world for me, spending nights outside my building, repenting? 1 When I was finally let out of the room I’d been locked in, Ethan was helping Olivia move her things in. Silently, I moved my suitcase into the guest room, leaving the master bedroom for her. Only then did Ethan nod, satisfied. “Locked up for a few days, you finally learned your lesson.” My breath caught, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. Three days ago was our third anniversary. I had excitedly planned a proposal, only to have Olivia show up unexpectedly and ruin everything. The moment Olivia saw me, she smiled. “Wow, you really do look like me. No wonder Ethan’s with you.” It hit me like lightning – the crushing realization that I was just her replacement. I was so stunned I didn’t even notice when Olivia approached Ethan’s golden retriever, Goldie. She gently stroked Goldie’s fur. “Goldie, Mommy’s home.” But the next second, she plunged a sharp pair of scissors deep into Goldie’s body. The dog died right there in a pool of blood. A few tears from Olivia, and Ethan instantly, furiously decided I was the murderer. That same night, he dragged me to the hospital, practically wanting to drain me dry. “Goldie bled to death. You should feel what Goldie felt!” Ethan’s cold, final words echoed in my ears. The feeling of my blood leaving my body, the suffocation, made me shriek in desperation. I explained, begged, apologized over and over… But it wasn’t enough for him. He locked me, weak from blood loss, in that room, alone with Goldie’s lifeless body, forcing me to repent until I broke down. Whenever exhaustion threatened to pull me under, Ethan would play recordings of Goldie barking, constantly grating on my nerves. For three whole days, every time I closed my eyes, I plunged into agonizing nightmares. Fear and despair washed over me like a flood. While Ethan and Olivia were planning Goldie’s funeral, I dragged my weak body to the hospital. I was so close to death, even the doctors weren’t sure they could save me. After being discharged, I immediately called my Aunt Carol. “Aunt Carol, I’ll do it. I’ll go abroad for the marriage arrangement.” 2 I had two weeks before Aunt Carol would come pick me up to go overseas. I had no choice but to return to that house. As soon as I walked in, Ethan forced me to kneel before Goldie’s urn and repent. Olivia stood nearby, eyes red from crying, mourning Goldie’s tragic end. Then she turned, helped me up, and spoke softly, “Sarah, I was so lost in grief over Goldie the past few days, I couldn’t check on you. You don’t mind, right?” “And Ethan… honestly, locking you in that room with Goldie’s body… that must have been so hard for you.” Ethan sneered, “She brought it on herself!” The whole situation felt utterly absurd, and a wave of fear washed over me. The man I had loved for three years wanted me dead… over a dog! After the memorial, Ethan tossed a necklace at me. “Your third-anniversary gift. Making up for it now.” I looked at the necklace – clearly an accessory matching one of Olivia’s expensive designer bags. I sighed inwardly and didn’t reach for it. Ethan’s face instantly darkened. “Don’t like it? Sarah, don’t be so greedy.” I forced a bitter smile and took the necklace. “I like it. Thank you,” I said calmly. Only then did Ethan look satisfied. He left, taking Olivia out for French food, her favorite. I leaned against the doorframe and slowly sank to the floor, bitter tears escaping the corners of my eyes. Ethan wasn’t always like this. For three years, he had cherished me. If I randomly craved those specific tacos from downtown at 3 AM, Ethan would drive across town without hesitation to get them for me. He never forgot my birthday or any of our anniversaries, always planning surprises weeks in advance. Every payday, he’d transfer his check straight to my account, saying he wanted me to feel completely secure. … Until six months ago. Ethan started coming home late, sometimes not at all. Whenever I called, it went straight to voicemail or was busy. Once, I couldn’t stand it anymore and brought lunch to his office. He casually handed the meal I’d spent hours preparing to his assistant – Olivia. Then he urged her to eat. “You have a sensitive stomach, you need to eat on time.” In that moment, a sense of unease and defensiveness gripped me, especially when Olivia smiled and called me “Sarah, dear.” Her eyes held a clear hint of provocation. I asked around and found out the truth: Olivia was the old flame Ethan could never get over. As soon as she returned to the country, she became his assistant. Feeling insecure and desperate, I planned the proposal on our third anniversary, hoping marriage would tie him down. But Olivia’s words – “You look like her” – shattered everything. Three years as Ethan’s substitute. It was time to face reality. 3 Ethan and Olivia came back very late. The sounds drifting from the living room woke me up. “Ethan, this is so thrilling… Aren’t you afraid your fiancée will find out?” Her breathy moans were unbearable. I clutched the blanket tightly, my lips pressed into a thin line. Then I heard Ethan’s careless reply: “Afraid of what? This is my house, not hers.” “Oh, stop~ Aren’t you worried she’ll break up with you?” Olivia tested. Ethan scoffed, absolutely certain. “She won’t. She loves me way too much. Why would she ever leave me?” “Besides,” he added, his voice laced with contempt, “she has no job, no savings… and let’s be honest, who else would want her now? She’s not exactly untouched. Marrying me is her only option.” “Shh, baby, let’s not talk about unpleasant things. Just enjoy the moment.” … Tears fell like broken pearls until they dried up. The noises from the living room finally stopped. When I woke up the next morning, Ethan and Olivia were gone. I started packing my things and realized how little I actually owned. Everything fit into one suitcase. For Ethan, I had given up the chance to emigrate with my aunt, moving alone to this unfamiliar city. Three years had passed. My aunt, focused on her career, was thriving. Me, focused on finding true love, had failed miserably. I gathered all the gifts Ethan had ever given me. Anything useful, I donated. Anything useless, I threw into the dumpster downstairs. It took several trips up and down before everything was gone. Downstairs, I ran into Ethan again. My first instinct was to run, terrified he’d realize I’d thrown out all his gifts. But he casually took my hand. “What are you doing?” I suppressed my panic. “Just taking out the trash,” I said coolly. Ethan gave a distracted “Mm-hmm,” his eyes glued to his phone. Looked like he and Olivia were arguing again. After a moment, he asked, “What did you say?” “Nothing,” I replied quietly. He still hadn’t heard me. Needing both hands to type, he let go of mine and walked towards the elevator by himself. But then his phone rang. His expression changed drastically when he saw it was Olivia. He hesitated for a few seconds before answering. Olivia’s crying voice came through the receiver: “Ethan, you have to come save me! These business partners are trying to get me drunk…” Before she could even finish, Ethan bolted out the door. 4 After Ethan left, I hailed a cab and went to the bank. I transferred the entire inheritance my parents left me into Ethan’s salary account. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was enough to cover everything he’d spent on me over the past three years. If I was leaving, I was leaving completely, owing nothing. As for what Ethan owed me… I decided to let it go. After leaving the bank, I got a text from Ethan. He told me to meet him at a hotel restaurant. I hesitated for a few seconds, then changed my route and told the driver to take me there. As I approached the private dining room, I heard people singing “Happy Birthday.” The first thing I saw was Ethan and Olivia locked in a passionate kiss. Olivia was wearing an expensive haute couture dress, a diamond sparkling on her hand. I recognized it. It was the gift Ethan had placed in the crystal cabinet in his study a month ago. At the time, I’d foolishly thought it was a birthday present for me and had been happy for days. Now, it was clear it was always meant for Olivia. Another round of false hope, but this time, it didn’t hurt as much as before. Those three days locked in that room had extinguished any love I had left for Ethan. People in the room looked confused when they saw me enter. A few well-meaning guests even asked if I had the wrong room. A sharp pain twisted in my chest. I looked at Ethan, my gaze complicated. So, after three years together, he had never even mentioned my existence to his friends. To the world, he maintained the image of being single. Ethan frowned, accusatory. “What are you doing here?” I lowered my eyes, speechless. I should have known. In three years, Ethan never initiated plans with me. It was always me taking the first step. Olivia smoothly intervened, “Ethan, I invited Sarah to celebrate my birthday with us. You don’t mind, do you?” Ethan’s expression softened slightly. His cold eyes scanned me before he finally let me sit down. I chose a seat in the furthest corner, watching everyone congratulate Ethan and Olivia, reminiscing about their high school romance. “I remember back in high school, Ethan swore he wouldn’t marry anyone but Olivia. I was so bummed when you two broke up. But look, after all this time, you found your way back to each other! Meant to be! Cheers!” “Yeah, Olivia, you better treasure Ethan! When you went abroad, he was miserable for ages. He dated a few girls afterwards, but they all kinda looked like you!” … My fingertips trembled uncontrollably. Hot tears fell onto my hand. No wonder I chased Ethan for two years and he never agreed. The moment Olivia left, he got together with me. So, it was all just to get back at Olivia. My nails dug deep into my palms, drawing blood. A voice message notification popped up from my aunt. I meant to tap ‘voice-to-text’ but accidentally hit the speaker mode. “Sweetie, it’s your birthday today! Did you have cake? Auntie ordered one for you, celebrate with your friends!” The message played out loud. The room fell silent for a moment, the atmosphere turning awkward. Ethan looked surprised, but mostly angry. “Sarah, what is your problem? You know damn well today is Olivia’s birthday, and you pull this stunt? Who are you trying to disgust?” Ethan lashed out without thinking. Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. My own boyfriend, celebrating his old flame’s birthday on my birthday, and wouldn’t even let someone wish me well. What a prize. “What are you laughing at?” Ethan demanded, annoyed. I looked him straight in the eye, calm, and said, syllable by syllable, “Coward.” Anyone could see the tension between Ethan and me. Combined with the fact that I resembled Olivia, it wasn’t hard to guess I was another one of her stand-ins. Only Ethan refused to acknowledge it. “Sarah, oh, it’s your birthday too? Why didn’t you say so earlier…” Olivia tried her usual tactic, feigning retreat to gain ground. I tilted my head, staring into her eyes. “My birthday. What’s it got to do with you?” Crash! The glass in Ethan’s hand shattered at my feet, sending shards flying, embedding themselves deep into my calf. Blood started flowing freely. “Apologize to Olivia!” Ethan roared. The same rage as the day he locked me in that room. But this time, I wasn’t afraid. I couldn’t wait to get out of this place, out of this city. My feet moved faster than my brain. I bolted for the door. But Olivia suddenly ran to stop me. A piercing scream cut through the room as she crumpled to the floor, her face contorted in pain. My eyelid twitched violently. A wave of unease washed over me. SLAP— Ethan struck me hard across the face. I fell to the ground, watching helplessly as the heel of his leather shoe ground viciously into the back of my hand. Cold sweat broke out all over me from the pain. Ethan didn’t stop until my hand was a bloody mess. “If anything happens to Olivia, I swear I won’t let you off the hook!”

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After I was burned and disfigured saving my husband. Julian Astor held me, sobbing, promising he’d always be good to me. But on our wedding anniversary, his secretary showed up with a baby bump and a diamond ring, demanding I step aside. Julian sent the secretary away and voluntarily got a vasectomy. He even took me to do IVF. Everyone in the city praised Julian as a devoted man who had seen the error of his ways and returned to his love. But on the day our child was set to inherit the family business, the secretary ran in, claiming she was the child’s biological mother. I calmly took a sip of my tea, smiling faintly. “Oh, really? I’m curious to hear how you plan to argue that my son is actually yours.” 1. It was the second year after I was burned and disfigured saving my husband. His secretary, Bianca Thorne, chose Valentine’s Day to flaunt her pregnancy and a diamond ring, trying to force me out. Overwhelmed with despair, I stood on the hospital rooftop, ready to jump. Julian grabbed me, holding me tight. “Chloe! I’ll make Bianca get an abortion immediately and fire her. I’ll never see her again, I swear. Please, don’t leave me!” I looked at him, my voice filled with sorrow. “Julian, your love was the only thing keeping me going. But you don’t love me anymore. I can’t hold on.” “Chloe, you’re the only one I’ve ever truly loved!” Julian knelt before me, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll get a vasectomy tomorrow. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you!” Persuaded by everyone around us, I finally decided to give Julian one more chance. He was ecstatic, hugging me tightly, unwilling to let go. “Chloe, I’ll spend the rest of my life making amends, atoning for what I did. I’ll never betray you again!” “If I ever do, you won’t have to lift a finger—I’ll end it myself!” True to his word, Julian had the vasectomy the next day. He also transferred 10% of the Astor Corp. shares to me as compensation. Then, he took me to start the IVF process. He announced that this child would be the heir to the Astor fortune. Eighteen years flew by. Julian spoiled me rotten, making me the envy of the city’s elite social circle. I thought life would continue like this forever. But the unexpected arrived. On the day our son, Ethan, was to inherit the family business, my husband Julian threw a grand succession ceremony for him. The lawyer read out the share transfer agreement from the board of directors. Julian solemnly handed the corporate seal to Ethan, his eyes full of pride. “Son, the Astor family legacy is in your hands now. You are my only child, my greatest pride!” “Do well. Dad believes in you!” Ethan bowed respectfully to Julian, then looked at me. “Mom, thank you for raising me, for all your effort and sacrifice. I’ve decided to transfer 5% of the company’s shares to you as your birthday gift.” “Quick, come up and sign.” The room erupted in applause. Astor relatives praised me for raising such a filial son. Just as I was about to step onto the stage. A figure rushed past me, grabbing Ethan’s hand, crying hysterically. “Ethan, I’m your real mother! The woman beside you, Chloe Fang, she’s an imposter!” “I’m Bianca Thorne, your father’s secretary. Back then…” Her words hung in the air, and Mr. Astor Sr.’s face turned to ice. Julian hurried to my side, his voice trembling. “Chloe, I haven’t seen Bianca since that incident, believe me!” Ethan, standing on the stage, instantly understood who Bianca was. His face flushed with anger, he slapped Bianca hard across the face. “You shameless, despicable homewrecker! Wasn’t it enough that you tried to destroy my parents’ marriage back then? Now you show up claiming to be my mother?” “Who gave you the nerve, huh?” “My mother is Chloe Fang, from the Fang family!” Bianca clutched her swelling cheek, heartbroken. “Ethan, how could you hit your own mother?” “I really am your mom!” Julian strode forward, pulling the woman away from Ethan, his voice furious. “Bianca, if you’ve lost your mind, go see a doctor! Don’t embarrass yourself here!” “Security! Get her out of…” Julian stopped mid-sentence, staring in shock at the documents Bianca held up. “You… how could you be so vicious… You!” He clutched his chest, collapsing to the ground in pain. “Dad!” Ethan’s expression changed drastically. He rushed to perform first aid. “Dad, what’s wrong? Wake up!” “Don’t worry, sweetie. Your father just needs some time to accept that I’m your mother. He’ll come around,” Bianca said, then shot me a provocative smile. “Chloe Fang, how does it feel? Raising my son for eighteen years, only for me to reap the rewards?” “With the son comes the status. I’ll be the rightful Mrs. Astor now!” “And you? Get ready to be kicked out of the Astor family!” Ethan picked up the scattered documents, his lips trembling violently. “How could this be?” “Bianca secretly swapped my mother’s egg during the IVF?” “My mother is Chloe Fang…” I walked up and took my son’s hand, my voice firm. “Ethan, I am absolutely certain you are my son. The documents Bianca provided…” “The proof is right in front of you, and you still don’t believe it?” Bianca glanced at me scornfully, her tone dripping with mockery. “You got burned saving Julian, had to give up your acting career to be a housewife. Then you schemed to have his child to secure the inheritance. Too bad you were just paving the way for me.” “I almost feel sorry for you. Feel like crying yet?” 2. Bianca’s words caused an uproar. Julian’s sister-in-law looked at me sympathetically. “Oh, Chloe, dear, your luck is just terrible. Raised Ethan all these years just for the mistress to benefit. And those company shares you were about to get… gone just like that.” “The dividends alone are worth millions every year. Such a pity!” “Indeed, a pity,” her husband chimed in. “My brother Julian only has this one son. That 5% stake should obviously go to the biological mother. You…” “Ethan,” an elderly relative, Uncle Harrison, spoke up. “Chloe Fang hasn’t given our Astor family any children, and your father had a vasectomy. Logically and emotionally, it’s inappropriate for her to continue living in the Astor mansion. I suggest she move out as soon as possible.” “We don’t want outsiders gossiping about a cuckoo in the nest.” Bianca’s eyes lit up. She nodded at the old man. “I’ve always heard that Uncle Harrison is reasonable and fair. Meeting you today truly impresses me.” “It’s only right,” Uncle Harrison said, turning to Julian, who was slowly coming around. “Julian, since Bianca is Ethan’s biological mother, let’s take care of the family recognition ceremony today while everyone’s here!” With him taking the lead, others quickly agreed. A servant brought a chair for Bianca, practically fawning over her. “Don’t even think about it!” Ethan gripped my wrist tightly, scanning the room. “I only recognize Chloe Fang as my mother. As for Bianca trying to get into the Astor family? Not while I’m here!” “Dad, what about you?” I looked at Julian, waiting for his answer. He avoided my gaze, his eyes settling on Bianca with a complicated expression. After a long pause, he said, “Ethan, don’t be so impulsive…” A sharp pain shot through my heart. Tears welled up. “Julian, you instructed Bianca to switch my egg back then, didn’t you?” “I risked my life, got burned and disfigured for you, and you not only betrayed me, but you also…” “Chloe, absolutely not!” Julian retorted coldly. “I deeply regret cheating back then and causing this mess.” “All these years, I’ve searched for treatments to restore your looks, I reopened a film company for you, supported you until you won Best Actress again. I’ve been doing everything I can to make it up to you. You feel that, don’t you?” “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved!” “Bianca was just… a tool for physical release!” “A tool for physical release?” Bianca looked at Julian, disappointed, her doe eyes filling with tears. “That’s not what you said when you were on your knees proposing to me!” “You said meeting me made you understand what true love was…” “Slap!” Julian struck Bianca across the face, gritting his teeth. “If you keep slandering me, don’t blame me for disregarding your connection to Ethan and sending you to prison!” “You’re so cruel! Just like that, you turn on me and want to send me to prison?” Bianca was utterly devastated, collapsing into tears and lunging at him, hitting him. “I carried a child for you too! Why are you doing this to me?” “It was a boy, four months along, already kicking, sob…” “And you forced me to abort him, sob sob…” People rushed to break up the fight. Ignoring the chaos, I took a report from my purse and handed it to Ethan. “Son, I am 100% certain you are mine. Because I have the DNA test results.” “DNA test results?” Bianca snatched the report from my hand. After reading it, she gasped, “How is this possible? I clearly swapped your egg with mine! Afterwards, I even paid that Dr. Evans $50,000!” “Why wouldn’t it be possible?” I watched her frantic state with a cold smile. “I paid him $100,000. Naturally, he’d do double the work for me.” “What do you mean?” Julian frowned at me. “What else did you have Dr. Evans do?” 3. I took a sip of tea, my voice nonchalant. “Nothing much. I just instructed him to carefully cultivate the embryo, ensuring it would successfully survive.” “The fact that our Ethan turned out so intelligent, capable, and handsome… we really should thank Dr. Evans.” Mentioning his son, Julian’s face filled with pride. “I’ll have someone send Dr. Evans a generous gift later to thank him properly.” “I declare the succession ceremony back on!” “Chloe, come up and sign.” I walked onto the stage, signed the share transfer agreement with a flourish, and gave my son a hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bianca being dragged out by security. Her face was ashen as she stared at me, then suddenly, a chilling smile spread across her lips. “Chloe Fang, you think Julian really loves you? What a joke!” “He once tried to…” Before Bianca could finish, security threw her out. Julian blocked my view. “Chloe, don’t listen to Bianca’s attempts to drive us apart. You know how I’ve treated you all these years, right?” I returned his gaze with a faint smile. “Yes, I understand perfectly.” Julian’s tense brow relaxed. He opened his arms to embrace Ethan and me. “Photographer, take a picture of our family of three!” “Mr. Astor, taking a family photo without me wouldn’t be quite right, would it?” A male voice cut in, followed by Julian’s sister-in-law’s surprised gasp. “Isn’t that Liam Hayes? Chloe’s childhood friend?” “He’s always been at odds with our Astor family. Is he here deliberately to cause trouble?” “I have no interest in causing trouble. I’m here to claim my son,” Liam Hayes said, raising a hand in greeting to the crowd. He strode confidently towards Ethan and held out his arms. “Ethan, come to Dad.” A collective gasp went through the room. First, a fake mother claiming the son. Now, a fake father jumping into the fray. This was explosive! “Liam Hayes, what the hell is wrong with you?” Julian grabbed Liam’s collar, teeth clenched. “Ethan is the son I worked hard to raise! What are you doing, showing up and claiming him?” “Mr. Astor, are you sure he’s your son?” Liam gave a wicked smile, turning to the crowd. “Uncles, aunts, take a good look. Whose son does Ethan really look like?” His words ignited the room. Julian’s sister-in-law covered her mouth, exclaiming, “Oh my god! Ethan’s eyes are exactly like Liam Hayes’—those same distinct eyes! And they both have that little skin tag in front of their ears… This… how is this possible?” “Tsk tsk, besides the eyes, their mouths are very similar too. Look, Julian has thin lips, but Ethan’s are fuller. I thought he took after his mother, Chloe, but now…” Mr. Astor Sr. shuffled forward unsteadily, pulling Ethan closer for a detailed look. He shot me a look filled with resentment. “Chloe Fang, quite the schemer! Our Astor family treated you well! How could you do this? Where is your conscience?” “Julian already had a vasectomy, this was his precious only son! You’re twisting a knife in his heart!” “You venomous woman!” “You’re all talking nonsense!” Julian’s face changed drastically. He let go of Liam and cupped Ethan’s face, yelling, “Look! Ethan’s eyebrows are low like mine, he has cavities like me, stomach problems like me! He’s clearly my son!” “Julian, the paternity test is right here. See for yourself.” Liam tossed the document at him, smiling slightly. “Now, your son is mine. And soon, your company will be mine too!” “I don’t believe it!” Julian stumbled towards me, his voice urgent. “Chloe, you love me so much, you would never betray me like this, right?” “Tell everyone! Who is Ethan’s real father?” “Tell that Hayes guy to get lost, now!” I put down my teacup, my voice flat. “Julian, earlier you asked what ‘double the work’ I had Dr. Evans do. Now you see the answer.” “I secretly had him replace your sperm with Liam Hayes’. Surprise, surprise?” “Impossible!” Julian roared. “You were recovering in the hospital from your burns back then, under tight security by my people! You had no chance to see Hayes! You must be lying!”

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After I got wasted, someone dragged me off to take the fall for them in their car, and I ended up getting hauled in by the cops for questioning. Luckily, they figured out I hadn’t done anything wrong, but the embarrassing part is, I was so out of it, I latched onto the female officer’s leg and refused to let go. Turns out, that cop was my buddy’s sister. And she was into me. Like, really into me, for a long, long time. 1 I got dumped. One drink, and I completely fell apart. “A drink that’s only thirty-seven percent alcohol? Seriously?” The bartender placed a freshly mixed drink in front of me. The liquid shimmered under the pale blue light, like crystal. Me, the guy who never used to touch a drop, had ordered several drinks I’d never dream of trying before. I picked up the glass and downed it in one go. The burn and bitterness exploded on my tongue, and then the damn tears started streaming down my face. Three years. Over a thousand days and nights. Thirty thousand-plus hours. Over three million seconds. All down the drain! I slammed back the last drop in my glass and slammed the glass down hard on the bar, making a dull thud. The alcohol was hitting me. I grabbed my phone and made a call. “Alex, what’s up?” My best friend’s voice came through the phone. “Jake, tell me, what the hell is wrong with her?” “She’s the one who ditched me for some rich kid, cheated first, and she has the nerve to blame me? Saying I won’t find a job, won’t make money, can’t give her a happy life?” I took another huge gulp of my drink, fueled by the booze, and started ranting about my ex. “At the police academy, I aced everything, awards up the wazoo, even did a few heroic things, you know? What right does she have to look down on me?” “Ha! Plenty of girls are into me… what’s she got to be so stuck-up about?” “Yeah, yeah, totally,” Jake agreed. “Alex, you’re a great guy. She doesn’t appreciate you, that’s her loss!” “Exactly!” I slammed my hand on the table. “She’s not worth it!” I was drunk, my head was spinning, not making much sense. After hanging up, I couldn’t even remember what I’d said. I just stared at the bottle. Why am I torturing myself? Why hang myself up over one girl? Thinking this, I took another big swig. It’s just a breakup. What’s the big deal? I stumbled out of the bar. It was already dark. The cold air hit me. My head started to ache, but mostly I felt dizzy. The world seemed to be spinning. I couldn’t tell which way was up, staggering down the street. Just as I was lurching along, someone suddenly grabbed me. “Hey buddy, do me a favor.” A rough, low voice. I turned my head. The guy reeked of booze, his face was flushed red, and his eyes were glazed over. I scoffed. Lightweight. But before I could say anything, he yanked me into a car. What the hell is this guy doing? I tried to fight back, but I was totally limp, no strength at all. He shoved me into the driver’s seat, tossed a couple hundred bucks on me, then took off running, stumbling, nearly face-planting. I was still confused when a cop walked up. He waved at me, signaling me to stop, then tapped on the window. “Can I see your ID, please?” I automatically reached for my wallet, but just then, the alcohol really hit me. My head spun harder and harder… I passed out. … I woke up… in the police station. Blue and white walls, neat lockers, warning signs on the walls came into view. As awareness slowly returned, my blood ran cold. Damn it. I was set up! “You’re awake?” The person talking was in uniform. Tall, fair skin, sharp features, almond eyes, a high ponytail, looking sharp and capable. “Officer, I wasn’t drunk driving! Someone dragged me into the car!” I explained frantically. If I got booked for a DUI, I’d be screwed. “Relax. My colleagues already found the car’s owner.” She handed me some breakfast and sat down beside me. “Eat something first. Get something in your stomach.” Seeing I was still panicking, she opened her laptop, pulled up a video, and put it in front of me. In the video, I was drunkenly walking and singing, even helping an old lady cross the street. Then, just as I reached the intersection, a big guy with a red face dragged me into the car. Then the cop showed up. The woman smiled. “My colleagues pulled the surveillance footage last night. We were going to send you home, but you were clinging to my leg for dear life, wouldn’t leave. We had no choice but to let you sleep it off here.” 2 My face flushed hot. So embarrassing. I never knew I was such a messy drunk! “Officer, uh, what should I call you?” “My last name is Miller.” Miller? “Officer Miller, I was totally out of line last night, I’m really sorry, and for wasting your time, look…” She smiled gently. “It’s okay, understandable. Just finish eating and head home. Your family’s probably worried.” I paused, saw Officer Miller really didn’t seem bothered, nodded, finished my food, and left quickly. I got home late morning. Jake Miller was squatting on my doorstep, playing games on his phone. As soon as he saw me, he jumped up. “Alex! You’re finally back!” “You were gone all night, didn’t answer your phone… I thought something happened to you!” I pulled out my phone, only to realize it was dead. I scratched my head awkwardly. “Uh… spent the night at the police station.” “What?” Jake looked shocked. “What’d you do?” “It wasn’t me! I got dragged into a car last night by some drunk guy trying to get me to take the fall for his DUI. I was so wasted, I passed out. Woke up at the station. I’m worried if this will mess anything up for me.” I sighed, feeling anxious. “Which station were you at?” “The one in the West End Precinct.” Jake started laughing. “No way! My sister works at the West End Precinct. You want me to ask her about it?” “Yeah? Awesome. Thanks, man.” My eyes lit up. “No problem.” Jake dialed a number. “Hey, Sis? My buddy got picked up yesterday, Alex Reed… Yeah, can you see…” That evening, I got a friend request on my phone. I checked the name, saw it was Jake’s sister, and accepted. 【I asked around for you. The car owner was plastered too last night and came up with that stupid plan. He turned himself in this morning.】 【So don’t worry about it affecting anything. But since you’re an academy student, you should probably be more careful in the future.】 I paused, wondering how she knew I was in the academy… figured Jake must’ve told her. 【Okay, got it. Thanks so much.】 Jake’s sister replied quickly. 【No problem. Just buy me dinner sometime when you’re free.】 【Okay, deal.】 I didn’t think much of it, figuring she was probably just being polite. Then I thought about Officer Miller again. Her striking face popped into my head. Maybe I should get her a thank-you gift too? 3 A week later, I got a call from Jake’s sister, Claire. I rushed to the station. Jake was sitting there, cheek swollen, bruised lip, clothes torn up. “Alex!” He ran over as soon as he saw me. “Finally!” I frowned. “What happened to you?” “Got mugged! But I won the fight!” Jake said, flexing his fist. I mentally facepalmed. This idiot. Still so upbeat even like this. “Are you okay? Need to get checked out at the hospital?” “Nah, Alex, just scrapes and bruises. No big deal. But you should see the other guy!” Jake patted my shoulder, looking proud. Just then, Officer Miller—Claire—and two other cops appeared, escorting someone. The person had a hoodie pulled low, clothes ripped, face and arms covered in cuts and bruises. Clearly the mugger. Seeing the guy, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Jake really did a number on him. He wouldn’t be looking normal for weeks. Claire saw me and gave me a small smile. My heart hammered. “That’s him!” Jake, completely oblivious to my reaction, pointed at the man, gritting his teeth. “Little punk! Serves you right for trying to rob me!” “Alright, that’s enough,” Claire cut him off coolly. “Go give your statement.” “Okay,” Jake mumbled, looking put out, and followed the other officers. I waited in the lobby, awkwardly greeted her. “Officer Miller. We meet again. Uh, thanks for your help with this.” Claire looked a little surprised, so I quickly introduced myself. “We met last week, remember? The drunk guy? I’m Alex Reed. R-E-E-D.” No idea why, but I suddenly really wanted her to remember my name. “Alex Reed… Got it.”

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The wind screamed past my ears, tearing the breath from my lungs. A split second before the fall, a billionaire had claimed I was his long-lost granddaughter, whisking me away into a life of unimaginable wealth. He had casually tossed my mother a check with enough zeroes to buy a small island. Without a flicker of hesitation, she signed her name, shoving me out the door without once asking if I wanted to go. Later, my twin sister saw me on television, living in a sprawling mansion, flanked by a security detail. Jealousy is a venom that rots the brain. She used a tearful reunion as an excuse to visit, and the moment my back was turned, she shoved me off the sixteenth-floor balcony. Her face, contorted into a monstrous sneer, was the last thing I saw. “We have the exact same face! Why do you get to be the billionaire’s miracle? Once you’re dead, that empire is mine!” When I hit the pavement, the pain wasn’t just immense; it was an apocalyptic shattering of every nerve in my body. Blood pooled in my mouth, hot and thick. The heavy, metallic stench of iron filled my nostrils as my vision dimmed, my dying eyes locked on the tiny, frantic silhouette of my sister looking down from the penthouse. In those final, agonizing seconds, the truth of my “fairytale” reunion flashed before my eyes. The sterile rooms. The needles. The cage. If I ever get a second chance, I thought, the darkness swallowing me whole, I would rather die than let him take me again. 1 “Are you deaf? I told you to get your sister for dinner!” The shrill, grating voice of my mother, Brenda, shattered the silence. I stood frozen, my mind violently spinning. It wasn’t until a sharp kick landed on my shin that the sensory details of the room snapped into focus—the smell of stale cooking grease, the peeling wallpaper, the faded linoleum. I was back. I was standing in our cramped apartment, mere minutes before the billionaire and his lawyers knocked on our door. A tidal wave of euphoria crashed over me. But the real shock came when my twin sister, Riley, walked out of my bedroom. She was wearing my clothes—a faded, oversized band tee I usually slept in. The moment she met my eyes, a chilling smirk played on her lips. My gut instantly knew. She remembered, too. She had also been sent back. “Sweetheart, why are you wearing her rags? Won’t your skin break out?” Brenda asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Riley only ever wore the good clothes. If a fabric wasn’t premium cotton or silk blends, she claimed it gave her a rash. So, for eighteen years, I wore the thrift store rejects and her cast-offs. Riley ignored Brenda’s concern, excitedly grabbing her arm. “Mom, that doesn’t matter right now. Come here. I need to tell you something.” She dragged Brenda into the tiny kitchen, their heads bent together in hushed, urgent whispers. Through the narrow doorway, I watched the skepticism on Brenda’s face melt away, replaced by a greedy, ear-to-ear grin that deepened the harsh lines around her mouth. Cold sweat prickled across my skin. Riley was going to steal my identity. She was going to volunteer to be the billionaire’s long-lost granddaughter. But would he buy it? Would he believe Riley was the one he was looking for? What if I was the one dragged away again? Three sharp knocks on the front door made me flinch. My heart hammered against my ribs. I made a silent vow right then and there: if he saw through her lie and tried to take me, I would throw myself out the window before I ever let him put me in his car. Better to end it on my own terms than endure the slow, torturous hell of my past life. Smack! A stinging slap across my cheek snapped my head to the side. Brenda glared at me, her voice a venomous hiss. “From this second on, you are your sister. You keep your mouth shut, you hear me? You say one word, and I’ll beat you half to death.” At the door, Riley pulled it open just a crack, peeking out with manufactured innocence. “Um, can I help you?” She was perfectly mirroring my quiet, timid voice from our past life. She even nailed my wide-eyed, hesitant stare. Mr. Hayes, the icy, suited secretary, stepped inside without asking, holding a thick leather portfolio. Behind him walked Arthur Kensington. Arthur’s sharp, sunken eyes scanned our decaying living room with unconcealed disgust. He lowered himself onto our ratty sofa like a king claiming a dirty throne, immediately doubling over in a fit of violent, wet coughing. Riley hurried over, playing her part. “Who are you? Why are you in our house? Get out before I call the cops!” Mr. Hayes adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, looking Riley up and down before turning his attention to Brenda. “Ms. Miller. Please review these documents. Your daughter, Wren, is Mr. Kensington’s biological granddaughter. She was switched at birth in the hospital. Mr. Kensington’s health is failing, and he wishes to bring his sole heir home.” It was a poorly constructed lie, riddled with plot holes. The first time I heard it, I thought they were running a scam. Riley and I were identical twins. How on earth could only one of us be switched at birth? But before I could even process the absurdity, Brenda had snatched the supposed DNA test. She pretended to read the medical jargon, but her eyes were entirely locked on the document tucked behind it. The settlement agreement. If she let me go, Arthur was offering her a cool five million dollars as “compensation for her years of care.” Brenda didn’t hesitate. She didn’t ask for a pen; she grabbed the one from Hayes’s breast pocket and scrawled her name with trembling, frantic hands. She was vibrating with the high of a sudden, unearned fortune. “Mom?” I mumbled, playing my part perfectly, letting my voice crack with feigned confusion. “Shut up,” Brenda snapped, not even looking at me. “The DNA test is right here. You’re his granddaughter. No wonder I never could stand you—you aren’t even mine.” She turned to Arthur, her smile practically unhinged. “Mr. Kensington, I only have one daughter now, and that’s Riley. Please, take your girl home.” She couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. She didn’t question the logic of twins. She didn’t ask what I wanted, or if I was terrified to leave with strangers. She didn’t even wonder where her other daughter would theoretically be. Her eyes were glued to the check, terrified that if she blinked, the paper would evaporate. In my past life, I had clung to the doorframe, crying, begging her not to make me go. My fingernails had bled against the wood. She hadn’t even looked back. 2 I stood by the peeling radiator, watching the scene unfold with the detached chill of a ghost. Hayes scrutinized Riley, then let his gaze slide over to me. A shiver racked my spine. Mimicking Riley’s usual arrogant demeanor, I lifted my chin and glared right back at him, my expression radiating teenage hostility. “Which one of you is Wren?” Hayes asked, his voice smooth and clipped. His background check would have told him that Wren was the unloved one, the girl in the hand-me-downs. But because Riley had stolen my ratty t-shirt, he couldn’t tell us apart by our clothes. That was exactly why Arthur had chosen me in the first place. An unloved, neglected child is the easiest to sever from her roots. No one comes looking for the girl nobody wanted. Seeing Hayes hesitate, Riley quickly stepped in front of me, shielding me from their view. “I… I’m Wren,” she stammered, shrinking into herself. “Is it true? Am I really not my mother’s?” She sounded heartbreakingly fragile, but I could see the manic, triumphant gleam dancing in her eyes. After a tense beat, Hayes gave Arthur a subtle nod. Arthur descended into another agonizing coughing fit, his face turning a dangerous shade of plum. For a second, I thought he might just drop dead right there on our cheap rug. My heart was in my throat, terrified he would see through Riley’s act. But he bought it. He slowly nodded. Hayes handed the final copy of the agreement to Brenda. Arthur stood up, leaning heavily on his silver-tipped cane, and offered Riley a grandfatherly smile. “Wren, my dear. Come with your grandfather. Let me spend my final days making up for all the time we’ve lost.” Tears welled up in Riley’s eyes—a masterclass in manipulation. “Grandpa! You finally found me.” She threw herself into Arthur’s arms, but not before shooting me a vicious, gloating smirk over his shoulder. “Sir, we need to leave,” Hayes interrupted, checking his watch. Riley pulled back, wiping her eyes. “Grandpa, could I come by later tonight? I need to say goodbye to my mom. Even if she didn’t love me, she kept a roof over my head. I want to do this the right way.” Arthur frowned slightly, but the performance won him over. He patted her hand. “Very well. I will leave a driver for you. Don’t be late.” Riley nodded furiously, walking them to the door like the perfect, obedient heiress. 3 “Oh my god, honey! It actually worked! They believed you!” The door hadn’t even clicked shut before Brenda started shrieking. Her hands shook so violently the five-million-dollar check made a frantic, fluttering sound in her grip. “Five million! Five million dollars for absolutely nothing!” “Mom, listen to me,” Riley said, dropping the timid-girl act immediately. Her voice was sharp, commanding. “He thinks I’m Wren. You need to get her out of here. Now. Give her some cash and her college acceptance letter. Tell her to leave town today.” “Why?” Brenda asked, distracted by the zeroes. “Because we can’t have loose ends!” Riley hissed. “Once she’s gone, you take this money and buy a luxury condo across the city. Cut your phone line. Even if she comes back, she won’t be able to find you.” They were standing less than ten feet away from me, loudly conspiring how to erase my existence. I couldn’t help it; a dark, quiet joy bloomed in my chest. Walking away from this nightmare was going to be so much easier than I thought. “But… she is your sister,” Brenda murmured, the check lowering slightly. For a fraction of a second, I thought a dormant, maternal instinct had finally flickered to life. Then she sighed. “If she leaves, who’s going to do all the chores around here?” And there it was. The drop from heaven to hell. For half a breath, I thought I was a daughter. I was just losing an unpaid maid. It was liberating, honestly, to let the last shred of hope I had for her love finally die. “Mom, you have five million dollars! You can hire a live-in housekeeper!” Riley argued, exasperated. “Don’t forget, the billionaire wanted her!” Seeing Brenda waver, I decided to give them the final push. “Wait,” I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling with fake indignation. “Were those men looking for me? I’m the real granddaughter? How could you lie to him, Riley? He’s dying! He just wants to see his real family! I’m going to go find him!” I bolted toward the front door. Riley lunged, grabbing a fistful of my shirt. I was chronically malnourished and built like a bird; she easily yanked me backward. Her face darkened, a vicious sneer twisting her features. “You take one step out that door, and I’ll break your legs. I am the heiress now. You are never, ever stealing my luxury life again.” Together, Brenda and Riley shoved me down the short hallway and threw me into my bedroom, locking the door from the outside. To sell the performance, I pounded on the cheap wood. “Let me out! Please! You can’t do this!” “Give it up!” Riley yelled through the door. “Get out of this city and don’t ever let me see your face again! If you try to ruin this for me, I’ll make sure the Kensington family destroys you!” Her footsteps retreated. Once I was sure they were gone, my hands dropped from the wood. I slid down the door until I hit the floor, my tense muscles finally going slack. My shirt was plastered to my back with cold sweat. Riley thought she had stolen a golden ticket. She had only seen the paparazzi photos from my past life—the designer clothes, the galas, the pristine smile. She had no idea what was happening behind the velvet ropes. A dying billionaire searching for a lost granddaughter. It was the greatest lie ever told. A dark, bitter smile stretched across my face. Fortunately, someone else was going to take the fall for me this time. I just hoped Riley enjoyed her “luxury life” when she finally realized what it actually cost. 4 After two hours of muffled scheming, Riley left to meet her driver. A few minutes later, the lock clicked, and Brenda opened my door. On the kitchen table sat a neat stack of cash. Maybe twenty thousand dollars. My mother, true to form, was cheap to her very core. She had just been handed five million dollars, and parting with twenty grand looked like it was physically causing her pain. “Your sister is right,” Brenda said, refusing to meet my eyes. “Take this money and get the hell out.” She scurried into her bedroom and came back out, tossing a few items onto the table next to the cash. My birth certificate, my social security card, and my crumpled acceptance letter to the Rhode Island School of Design. Things I treated like sacred relics, she tossed like garbage. The day that RISD letter arrived, she had snatched it from my hands, threatening to burn it. I had applied entirely to out-of-state schools, desperate for any excuse to put a thousand miles between us. I thought she had thrown it in the trash years ago. My hands trembled violently as I picked up the thick envelope. I hadn’t seen this letter in my past life. I never got the chance. And now, holding it, the reality of my freedom finally sank in. “Stop looking so pathetic,” Brenda sneered. “Take your crap and leave. As of today, I don’t have a second daughter. And don’t come crying to me when you fail. You’re cut out of the will. You aren’t getting a dime when I’m old.” As if I’d ever come back to wipe her drool, I thought. “Mom,” I said, my voice shockingly steady. “Are you saying twenty thousand dollars is the buyout price for our entire relationship?” She stiffened. “Because that old man gave you five million,” I continued, leaning casually against the table. “And we both know his real granddaughter is standing right here.” Since Riley was already gone, Brenda was stripped of her strategist. She was on her own, and she wasn’t smart. “What are you implying?” Brenda hissed, her face flushing. “That money is mine! You little ungrateful bitch—”

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The man accused in the high-profile divorce murder case was looking for a defense lawyer at our firm. My boyfriend Mark’s junior colleague, Chloe, wanted to take the case. She saw it as her big break, a chance to make a name for herself right out of law school. Considering she was fresh out of school with zero real trial experience, I shut her down immediately. Chloe took it as an insult to her abilities. Furious, she quit on the spot and vanished off the grid. Meanwhile, I successfully got our client’s death sentence commuted to life with parole, solidifying my reputation in the legal community. The day the client, Frank Miller, was released on parole, Mark drugged me and delivered me right into Frank’s hands. “If she had just let Chloe handle your case back then, maybe you wouldn’t have done any time at all!” Mark spat. He killed someone. How could he possibly walk free? But Frank bought Mark’s story. He brutally cut my eight-month-old baby from my womb. After smashing the infant’s life out, he mercilessly hacked off my arms and legs. As I lay dying, I desperately asked Mark why he would do this to me. He just glared and spat in my face: “If you hadn’t been so stubborn about keeping the case from Chloe, she never would have stormed off overseas and gotten killed in that bombing!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Chloe asked to take the case. 1 “Ava, can I take over that spousal murder case you’re working on?” “If I can win this for the client, get him acquitted, not only will I get confirmed early from my probationary period, but I could really make a name for myself in the industry.” Hearing that familiar voice sent a jolt through me. I glanced at the calendar on the wall and instantly knew—I was back. I’d been reborn. In my past life, I knew this case was far too complex for a fresh graduate, an intern, basically. Plus, we were defending a killer. If handled poorly, it could easily tarnish the entire firm’s reputation. So, I turned her down, citing her lack of experience. I patiently explained that I’d give her the next suitable case, but for this one, she should just observe. But she took it as me questioning her competence. She quit in a huff and went abroad alone. Later, in the courtroom, I masterfully argued the case, successfully getting the client’s original death sentence reduced to ten years. My reputation soared. Three years later, I married my boyfriend, Mark. But on the very day the client, Frank Miller, was released, Mark tied me up—eight months pregnant—and handed me over to him, spewing venomous lies: “Frank! If she had just let my girl Chloe take your case back then, maybe you wouldn’t have spent all those years locked up!” I tried desperately to explain that Frank had killed someone; an acquittal was impossible. But Frank believed Mark. He didn’t just rip my baby out and feed it to dogs; he hacked off my arms and legs. As I bled out, I stared at Mark, demanding to know why. He just glared, eyes filled with hate, and cut out my tongue: “If you’d just given the damn case to Chloe, she wouldn’t have run off overseas and died in that terrorist attack! You owe her this!” Only then did I realize Mark had been in love with Chloe all along. Marrying me was just a twisted plot for revenge. Seeing my silence now, Mark frowned, annoyed, and nudged me. “Ava, did you hear me? It’s not like you’re short on cases. Just give this one to Chloe.” Mark’s impatient tone snapped me back to the present. I looked at Chloe, standing there radiating confidence, and sneered, “And how exactly do you plan on getting a murderer acquitted? Are you planning on committing perjury?” The words barely left my mouth before Chloe’s eyes welled up. “Ava, how could you say that! How could you insult me like that? I might not be as experienced as you, but I have professional ethics!” “If you don’t trust me, fine! I’ll just leave!” She made a move to turn, but Mark grabbed her hand. “Chloe, don’t go. This isn’t your fault! If anyone should leave, it’s Ava!” 2 Our argument quickly drew a crowd of coworkers. Chloe squeezed out a couple of tears, playing the victim perfectly. “Ava, I don’t have to take the case, but how could you accuse me of planning perjury? If word of this gets out, how am I supposed to build a career in law?” “Or… maybe that was your intention all along?” The onlookers immediately turned on me. “Ava, you know how crucial reputation is for a lawyer, right? Even if you don’t like Chloe, you can’t just slander her like that!” “And you call yourself the firm’s star attorney? Committing defamation yourself!” “If you don’t apologize to Chloe, she has grounds to sue you!” Apologize? Not a chance in hell. Just as I was about to retort, Mark stepped between us, adopting a peacemaking tone. “Ava, I know you didn’t mean it. Just let Chloe have this case, and I’ll forgive your little outburst on her behalf. It’s just one small case, really. Letting her have it won’t affect your status as our top lawyer. Why are you being so petty about it?” Me, petty? He had no idea how complicated this case truly was. When Frank Miller first came to us, everyone knew he was a killer. They wouldn’t touch the case with a ten-foot pole, terrified it would stain their precious reputations. I was the one who finally took it, under immense pressure. I poured countless sleepless nights into this case, digging up evidence, scouring legal precedents and case histories. Finally, at the first hearing, I managed to secure a chance for a reduced sentence for the client. Now, with the finish line in sight, Chloe wants to swoop in and claim the glory, and they call it a “simple little case”? I actually laughed out loud, my voice cold. “Every piece of evidence, every document for this case, I gathered and organized myself. Why the hell should I hand it over to Chloe?” “If you all want to help her so badly, give her one of your cases!” Mark waved dismissively. “You said it yourself, the best you can do is get him a reduced sentence. But Chloe has reviewed the files and thinks she can get the verdict overturned, maybe even get him acquitted!” “If Chloe pulls this off, it’ll shake up the entire legal world! Think of the business it’ll bring to our firm!” Hearing this, Chloe seemed emboldened. “I’m confident I can do it!” Other colleagues chimed in, chanting, “Let Chloe handle it! Let Chloe handle it!” Seeing their deluded fervor, I stopped arguing and nodded with a tight smile. “Alright. Since you all have so much faith in Chloe, I agree. I’ll withdraw from the case.” As I started gathering my files from the desk, Chloe rushed over, grabbing my arm with a saccharine smile. “Ava, even though I’m taking over, could you maybe leave the files you’ve already prepared for me?” I feigned confusion. “My materials only support a reduced sentence. They won’t get anyone acquitted. I doubt they’d be much use to you.” Chloe’s smile twitched; she seemed unsure how to respond. Mark stepped in again. “Ava, don’t be so stingy. I know you’re attached to this case. Look, I’ll make a decision for you. You can be Chloe’s assistant, help her gather materials. That way, you still get to be involved!” That was hilariously pathetic. “No thanks,” I said flatly. “I’m not interested.” With that, I dumped all the files into the shredder. Mark exploded. “Ava, are you crazy! Don’t you forget who owns this firm! I can fire you, you know!” 3 He thought his threat would make me back down. I couldn’t care less. “Fine by me! Make it today!” My response seemed to stun Mark. His voice softened slightly. “Ava, stop acting like a child. Your reputation only carries weight here. If you leave this firm, you’ll definitely regret it!” Regret it? Have I lost my mind? “Don’t worry,” I assured him firmly. “I absolutely will not regret this! Whatever happens with this case, win or lose, it has nothing to do with Ava Riley!” With that, I grabbed my belongings and turned to leave, chin held high. Chloe, fuming, yelled after me, “Ava Riley, when I win this case and become a legal superstar, don’t you come crawling back, begging us to take you back!” Winning a case for a murderer to become famous? What kind of fantasy world was she living in? Even the killer himself had confessed. When he begged me to take the case, all he asked was for me to do my best to get him off death row, secure the maximum sentence reduction possible. Where did Chloe get the insane confidence she could overturn the conviction? But honestly, even without Chloe’s little drama, I wouldn’t help this killer again. The agony of having my baby ripped out, my limbs hacked off in my past life, still made my whole body tremble. A man who flouts the law and commits such evil doesn’t deserve a reduced sentence! That evening, I posted an update on social media announcing I was no longer representing the defendant in the “spousal murder case.” The news spread like wildfire. Offers from other law firms started pouring in, including some heavy hitters in the legal world. But a message from an old classmate caught my eye. “Ava, since you’re not defending him anymore, could you maybe help the victim in this case?” Through the information my classmate shared, I learned that the killer, Frank Miller, had hidden a lot from me. The victim, Elena Ramirez, had been trafficked and sold to Frank as a wife. When Elena’s father came looking for her, Frank had thugs cut out the old man’s tongue, preventing him from ever telling the truth. Elena eventually had a child and resigned herself to her fate. But Frank not only sold their child, he subjected Elena to daily brutal beatings, ultimately killing her. If all this was true… Frank Miller wasn’t just guilty of murder. He was involved in human trafficking, child abandonment, and aggravated assault. Combined, these crimes absolutely warranted the death penalty. But Elena’s father had no money for a lawyer. During the initial proceedings, he was constantly threatened by Frank’s family. Hearing about the plight of this father and daughter filled me with righteous anger. I clenched my fists. “I’ll represent Mr. Ramirez! Pro bono!” I had to make sure Frank Miller faced the full force of the law – not just for Elena and her father, but for the me and the child who died so horribly in my past life. Two weeks later, armed with all the evidence I’d gathered, I arrived at the courthouse. Just as I got out of my car, I ran smack into Mark and Chloe. Mark flashed a smug, self-satisfied grin. “See, Ava? I told you you’d regret it! And you denied it! Now you’re here with your materials, ready to kiss and make up, right?” Mark reached for the files in my arms, but I sidestepped him. “You’ve got it wrong, Mark. These materials aren’t for you!” Chloe clung to Mark’s arm, sneering, “Stop pretending. You obviously found out we discovered evidence to get Frank acquitted, so now you’re here trying to grab a piece of the pie.” “If you get on your knees right now, kowtow three times, and loudly admit ‘I was wrong,’ maybe, just maybe, I can forgive your earlier rudeness.” I rolled my eyes. “Chloe, if you’re having mental issues, I know a good vet I can refer you to. If he can’t fix you, maybe he can break your legs!” Ignoring the angry shouts erupting from Chloe and Mark behind me, I strode confidently into the courthouse. As I headed towards the counsel tables, Chloe pointed accusingly at me. “Your Honor, Ava Riley has been fired from our firm! I request that this individual, who has no connection to this case, be removed from the court!” The judge ignored her. It was only when I firmly took my seat at the plaintiff’s counsel table that Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. “Ava Riley, what are you doing sitting at the plaintiff’s table?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392291”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mom, terminal with cancer, sat in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank, having endured a grueling twenty-hour Greyhound bus ride just to be at my wedding to Ethan. But when it was his time to walk down the aisle, I called his name until I was hoarse, but he was nowhere in sight. Turns out, his childhood sweetheart, Sophia, was having a depressive episode, threatening suicide again: “Ethan, I can’t live without you.” My usually stoic fiancé was holding Sophia tightly, desperately begging me to stop the wedding, to let them leave. Relatives and friends tried to stifle their laughter, watching the absolute train wreck unfold. Right at that moment, as she crossed the hotel threshold, my mom took her last breath. My wedding became her funeral. Seeing my mom dead, Ethan’s eyes reddened slightly as he looked at me, a hint of guilt surfacing. “I promise, as soon as I get her checked into the ER, I’ll rush right back to marry you. I promise we’ll fulfill Mom’s last wish.” But he forgot, this was the 96th time he’d hurt me. And I wasn’t going to marry him anymore. Calmly, I texted him, breaking things off. Ethan, however, just brought his childhood sweetheart back to our home. 1. “The groom ran off with another woman, right at the altar! Any normal person would lose it, but she actually let him go?” “Tsk tsk, mother and daughter both have bad luck with men, can’t even hold onto one. So embarrassing!” Below the stage, guests pointed and whispered about me. My mom, overwhelmed by Ethan’s cruelty, collapsed, unconscious. “Mom!” I screamed, catching her, starting chest compressions, trying desperately to perform CPR. Everyone was startled, but no one stepped forward to help. Panicked, I begged Ethan, “Ethan! Please, can we get my mom to the hospital first?” Ethan, still holding Sophia, saw everything. He shot a cold glance at my mom, his voice dripping with impatience. “You say your mom’s dying every other day. How long are you going to keep up this act?” “Sophia’s depression is life-threatening. Having another person in the car could trigger her even more. Are you trying to kill her?” His entire world revolved around Sophia. He didn’t even care that my mom had collapsed. He’d completely forgotten that his entire successful business was built on the life savings my mom scraped together for him to start it. How could someone be so cold-blooded? I kept doing compressions, but Mom didn’t wake up. Seeing this, the crowd finally panicked, chaos erupted, and someone finally called 911. Amidst the commotion, Ethan tried to leave, but Sophia, fidgeting, stopped him. After Ethan coaxed her gently several times, Sophia spoke, her voice sickeningly sweet and manipulative: “Ethan, I feel really awful. Since Auntie isn’t using her wheelchair right now, could I maybe use it?” Instantly, complex gazes fell upon me. And I just stared, hard, at Ethan. The wedding was ruined. My mother and I were already beyond humiliated. Now he wanted to push it even further, take my dying mother’s wheelchair for Sophia? Feeling the woman in his arms tremble, Ethan’s eyes filled with guilt as he looked at me: “Chloe, your mom isn’t using the wheelchair right now anyway. Letting Sophia use it for a bit… you wouldn’t refuse, right?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. I almost forgot. Sophia was his childhood sweetheart. The one who made Ethan ditch my birthdays, ignore me when I was sick, even when my mom was critically ill. The reason he’d sabotaged our wedding eight times before this. How could I possibly win against that? But I didn’t want to agree. Probably sensing my answer, Ethan spoke again after a moment: “Years ago, you promised you’d grant me ninety-nine requests, unconditionally. Let this be one of those requests, okay?” “You still have dozens left, right?” Hearing Ethan say this, my eyes instantly welled up. Back when my mom first got seriously ill, it was Ethan who knelt by her bedside, begging her to let him marry me. He sold everything he owned to scrape together money for her treatment. Mom was deeply grateful and agreed to the marriage. I asked him then how I could ever repay such kindness. He scratched his head, casually saying: “Your mom already agreed to let us get married.” But I insisted: “My mom is my mom. I am me.” Sensing my sincerity, he said: “Then… just unconditionally grant me 99 requests, or let me hurt you 99 times, and we’d call it even.” In the four years after we got engaged, Ethan never made a single request. Until Sophia reappeared a year ago. Since then, he’d used up 96. But this time, he was wrong. First, there weren’t “dozens” left. Second, this involved my mother’s life. I could never agree. What I didn’t expect was that before I could even answer, Ethan grabbed the wheelchair and put Sophia in it. “Remember, you owe me one less now.” Seeing him act like this, and not wanting to waste time arguing, I had no choice but to lift my mother onto my back myself. But as I passed Sophia, I caught a fleeting, malicious smirk on her face. The next second, she stuck her foot out, tripping me. I crashed hard onto the floor, my chin hitting the tile. Pain shot through my entire body. Mom was thrown from my back. Gasps erupted from the crowd. I scrambled to protect my mom. Beside me, Sophia spat out venomously: “Sister, even if you’re trying to fake a fall to get Ethan’s sympathy, you can’t be heartless enough to use your own mom, can you? Auntie’s still just pretending to be unconscious.” Someone in the crowd chimed in: “Ungrateful daughter! Your mom’s collapsed, and you’re still here fighting over a man? Shameless!” Unable to watch my humiliation, Ethan started to reach out to help me, but hearing the accusation, his hand dropped. “Chloe, get your mom up! Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?” Sophia tugged at Ethan’s sleeve. “Okay, Ethan, don’t be mad about this little thing. Quick, let’s go to the hospital pharmacy.” Seeing that I didn’t argue, just staggered to my feet and struggled to lift Mom onto my back again, limping. Ethan started pushing the wheelchair, following me, a hint of concern in his voice: “Maybe find someone to help you carry her?” Beside him, Sophia chuckled lightly: “Sister, you’re the woman who can carry a fridge up six flights of stairs. Why suddenly can’t you carry a person today?” “You’re not… deliberately blocking my way, are you?” Hearing this, Ethan instantly distanced himself from me, disgust flashing in his eyes: “Chloe, why have you become so petty? You know Sophia’s having an episode, yet you’re deliberately walking so slow. If you can’t walk, get out of the way! Don’t block the path!” Me, petty? He used to praise me for being understanding, saying he appreciated that I never questioned his need to care for Sophia, and he treated me well because of it. But later, after he ditched me countless times for Sophia, the moment I asked even a mild question, he called me small-minded, accusing me of picking on a sick person. And now, because of Sophia, we had become unrecognizable versions of ourselves. His heart had completely tilted away from me. After a long wait, the ambulance finally arrived. I placed Mom on the stretcher. Just as I was about to get in, Sophia grabbed my arm again: “Sister, I’m a patient too, I need to go to the hospital. Give me your spot.” I clenched my teeth so hard they ground together, looking at Ethan. Ethan looked awkward, and for once, he actually stopped her: “They don’t need to take you. I’ll drive you to the hospital. Be good.” Only then did the ambulance doors close. An hour later, I sat outside the emergency room, tears streaming down my face. Mom didn’t make it. She died in the ER. The doctor said the ambulance arrived too late. If it had been just ten minutes earlier, the outcome might have been different. As I stood numbly outside the ER, Ethan finally showed up. The thought that Mom would still be alive if not for him and Sophia consumed me. Overcome with grief, I wanted to slap him across the face. But unexpectedly, the moment I raised my hand, he caught it excitedly. His face lit up with happiness: “Chloe, thank god you were understanding enough to stop the wedding and let us go! Sophia’s episode was really serious. You were so considerate, you saved her life again.” He glanced at the extinguished light above the ER door and said casually: “Looks like Mom’s okay too. Great. You take care of Mom first, I’ll come visit her when I have time.” “Next time, I promise the wedding will go smoothly. Mom will definitely get to see us get married, my beautiful bride…” He finished speaking and ran off. He had no idea. Once the debt was repaid, I was leaving. And my mom would never see me get married. 2 While I arranged for Mom’s cremation, he was still with Sophia. I brought her ashes home, packed up her belongings. The housekeeper watched my strange behavior, looking confused. Just then, Ethan sent a gift via the bridal shop staff: two more wedding dresses. He specifically included a message: one was an apology for the interrupted wedding, the other compensation for taking Mom’s wheelchair. As the dresses were fully displayed, the young employee gushed, practically seeing pink bubbles around me: “Mrs. Jiang— Oh, I mean, soon-to-be Mrs. Evans— your fiancé bought out our entire new collection for you! You are so lucky.” My face was blank. Inside, I just wanted to break down and sob. They didn’t know. This was just Ethan’s routine compensation after hurting me. My eyes were empty as I watched them hang the dresses on hangers number 96 and 97. An entire room filled with wedding dresses, with only the last two hangers in the corner remaining empty. I looked away. I knew I’d be leaving soon. I placed the urn and Mom’s belongings on the table in the sunroom. I quickly packed a suitcase. Just as I put the suitcase by the wall, Ethan returned with Sophia. He was carrying lots of supplements he’d bought for Mom. He was always so thoughtful, so considerate. For a hazy moment, it almost felt like the man who had coldly watched my mother die wasn’t him at all. But the next second, conflict erupted. Sophia’s sharp eyes spotted the urn. She let out a sudden, piercing scream as if terrified. Her “depressive episode” flared up. She reached out and swatted the urn off the table. The ceramic box shattered, scattering ashes all over the floor. My vision turned red. I lunged forward, shoving Sophia away, screaming uncontrollably: “Get away! Don’t touch my mom!” Sophia shrank back into Ethan’s arms, sobbing. “I’m sorry, sister, my depression acted up again… But do you hate me that much? Did you deliberately buy a fake dead person prop and put it here just to scare me?” Ethan, instantly furious and protective of Sophia, unleashed a torrent of accusations at me: “Chloe, you know Sophia has depression! Did you buy this disgusting prop to scare her to death? You’re truly malicious! Apologize right now!” “If you know what’s good for you, I might still agree to reschedule the wedding. Otherwise, forget about your mom ever seeing you get married!” Scrambling on the floor, trying to gather the ashes back into the broken container, I screamed back at him, my voice raw with anguish: “Ethan, these are my mother’s ashes!” Ethan grew up in a single-parent household; he never had a mother. Ever since we got together, my mom treated him like her own son. He used to help out at her little dumpling stand every day. When she was bedridden for long periods, he patiently cared for her. He treated my mom like his own mother. Hearing this, surely he’d react somehow, right? But after a brief pause, a mocking smile twisted his lips: “Sophia said your mom isn’t dead. What are you pretending for? Besides, she’s your mom, not mine. Even if she did die, what’s it got to do with me?” Sophia suddenly clutched her head and started crying dramatically, her words utterly vile: “Sister, why are you lying to frame me? Auntie just called me last night, calling me a bitch and a whore, telling me to stay away from Ethan.” “It’s true, I’m sick, I’m shameless, I’m pathetic for clinging to Ethan. I should just listen to Auntie and go die…” My mom died two days ago. She was blatantly lying, slandering my dead mother! Yet, Ethan believed this outrageous lie. “You’re lying—” I shot back, but my fury was cut short as Ethan kicked me, sending me sprawling. “Chloe, how can you and your mother be so disgusting? If you don’t apologize to Sophia today, don’t even think about getting up!” My head hit the wall. Blood trickled down. I stared at him, my gaze filled with deathly stillness. Seeing the blood, he faltered for a second, then changed his tone slightly: “Forget it. Look at you, bleeding all over. Don’t be an eyesore here, you’ll just upset Sophia.” Sophia, Sophia, his mind was filled with Sophia. Fine. Let him spend the rest of his life with Sophia! Gritting my teeth, I gathered the broken urn and ashes, went upstairs, and back to my room. Behind me, a soft voice drifted up: “Ethan, will sister be upset now that she’s been exposed?” “She brought it on herself. What right does she have to be upset!” I slammed the door shut, finally blocking out the mockery from outside. My dad died young. Mom raised me alone, working tirelessly at her street stall. And I couldn’t even protect her ashes. They were thrown on the ground by someone else. Maybe this was Mom’s way of telling me from heaven that it was time to let go of all this entanglement, that I couldn’t stay here any longer. After crying silently for a long time, I picked up the calendar from the desk. I circled today’s date and marked it with the number 98. The door opened quietly sometime later. Ethan tiptoed over to my side. Before I could close the calendar, he snatched it away. Ethan frowned, looking at the red circle that had nearly torn through the paper. Annoyance flickered in his eyes. “What’s this circle around 98 supposed to mean?” 3 I quickly grabbed the calendar back and closed it. “Nothing, just spacing out.” He seemed surprised by my calmness, then suddenly remembered something: “You should really try to break that spacing-out habit. Last time, you almost got hit by a car.” He was talking about that time in college. I was agonizing over a clothing design, lost in thought, and wandered off the sidewalk into traffic. In that terrifying moment, he was the one who pulled me back. I treated him to dinner to thank him, and one thing led to another, sparking our relationship. Knowing he’d misinterpreted my current state, I didn’t explain, just gave a noncommittal nod. Lost in the memory of our college romance, a rare smile appeared on Ethan’s usually stern face: “Alright, don’t sulk alone. Come see this, I know you’ll love it.” He led me downstairs and snapped his fingers. Several housekeepers wheeled out an exquisite, luxurious wedding dress. “Chloe, you will be my most beautiful bride.” “About what happened with Sophia earlier… I’m sorry I lost my temper with you. This dress is my apology. I promise I’ll give you the grandest wedding ever.” Ethan declared this publicly, professing his feelings in front of everyone. The housekeepers beside us practically swooned with envy. My expression remained flat. “Put it in the closet.” Seeing my lack of enthusiasm, his face darkened slightly: “You don’t have to keep picking fights with Sophia. You were partly wrong in this too.” “Mom obviously isn’t dead. You lied to us, saying that urn was hers. If Mom heard you, she’d definitely scold you too.” I almost laughed out loud in bitterness. He still didn’t believe my mom was dead? If he had even an ounce of trust in my words, a simple call to the hospital would confirm it. But he treated Sophia’s words like gospel. I was truly talking to a brick wall. I scoffed coldly, “I did nothing wrong.” Ethan’s face contorted, finding me utterly unreasonable: “So you think Sophia and I are deliberately trying to make trouble for you?” “What else?” I replied flatly. “You’re unbelievable!” Ethan slammed the door with a deafening crack and stormed out, furious. I knew where he was going. Back to Sophia. Sure enough, Sophia immediately started bombarding me with photos and videos, flaunting their time together. I simply blocked her number and went to sleep. The next day, having few relatives or friends left, I arranged a simple funeral service for Mom. I notified Ethan, wanting some closure, a final conversation before cutting ties completely. His reply was simple: “Okay.” But the service was almost over, and he never showed up. Instead, Sophia arrived, followed by a group of rough-looking thugs. Sophia saw the surprise in my eyes and smirked. “What, surprised to see me?” Seeing their aggressive stance, I sensed trouble. “Why did you bring these people here?” “To trash the place, of course! Go on, smash it all!” At her command, the thugs stormed into Mom’s memorial setup, smashing everything in sight. Countless flowers were scattered, wreaths trampled, even Mom’s portrait was shattered. Chaos reigned. “Stop! Don’t touch anything! One more move and I’m calling the cops!” I shielded the urn with my body, shoving them away furiously, screaming until my voice was raw. Their fists and makeshift clubs rained down on me. My head bleeding, pain overwhelming me, I collapsed. Sophia grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to look at her. “That old bitch mother of yours. If she didn’t die, was she just going to keep leeching off Ethan?” “Ethan says you’re just a boring housewife. He’s tired of you, can’t get rid of you, so I had to help him out.” A housewife? Is that how Ethan described me to her? Before we were engaged, I was a well-known fashion designer. It was only after his business took off that he begged me to quit my demanding job, saying he didn’t want me running back and forth, exhausted, that he would take care of me. But now, my mother and I were just burdens in his eyes. Fine. I really was leaving. But I wasn’t going to let her get away with this. Seeing me dazed, Sophia sneered dismissively, then turned to the thugs: “Throw her in the coffin, nail it shut with her mom—” Before she could finish, I grabbed a sharp piece of broken wood from the floor and stabbed it hard into her shoulder. Then, I lunged, wrapping my hands fiercely around her neck. A desperate counterattack! Sophia let out a bloodcurdling scream, cut short as my grip tightened. The thugs froze, startled, about to move. I snarled viciously, “Get lost! All of you! Or I snap her neck right now, and you won’t get paid a dime!” Sophia shook her head frantically, pleading with them for help, but the thugs scattered and ran. Relief washed over me. I released my grip, shoving Sophia to the ground. Before I could react, a stinging slap landed hard across my face. My head snapped sideways, ears ringing, as I heard Ethan’s furious roar: “Chloe, how dare you provoke Sophia again? Did you think my warnings were just hot air?” My eyes, blazing red, fixed on Ethan. “She was going to bury me alive!” Ethan seemed momentarily flustered by my shout, turning to look at Sophia. Sophia clung to him like a lifeline, sobbing pitifully: “Ethan, I was just joking! But sister took it seriously, she tried to kill me!” He pulled Sophia protectively into his arms, then turned on me, his voice harsh, as if I’d committed some heinous crime. “She’s sick, Chloe! She was just joking with you! How could you take it seriously and attack her?” This same transparent act had played out countless times. And yet, Ethan still blindly believed Sophia every single time. Tired of his lectures, I stated numbly, “Ethan. This is the last time.” Seeing the utter coldness in my expression, Ethan felt a jolt of fear, a sense that he was losing something vital. Noticing the injuries covering my head, he loosened his hold on Sophia. “Forget it. Let me take you to the hospital first.” He reached for me, but Sophia suddenly clutched her back, crying out: “It hurts, it hurts so bad! Ethan, my shoulder! Sister stabbed me right through! I’m going to die from the pain!” Seeing the blood soaking through Sophia’s clothes, Ethan panicked. Any concern for me instantly evaporated. He scooped Sophia up and ran towards the door, tossing back one sentence: “I’m taking her to the hospital first. Call yourself an ambulance. Text me when you get there, I’ll come meet you.” I watched his figure disappear through the main entrance. Then I called 911 myself and was eventually loaded onto the ambulance. Just as the ambulance pulled up to the hospital entrance. My phone buzzed with an anonymous text: “I won’t let him come get you.” Immediately after, Ethan’s call came through: “Sophia’s injury is too serious, she needs someone with her. I can’t pick you up right now. Later, I’ll definitely find time to check on you later, I promise!” I could hear Sophia’s coquettish voice in the background before Ethan abruptly hung up. He never asked about me again. So I was alone. Surgery, paying bills, recovering, staring blankly. During that time, Ethan never visited me once. But I’d occasionally catch glimpses of the two of them, acting lovey-dovey, in various corners of the hospital. What a perfect couple. I contacted a real estate agent and put the house up for sale. This was the house Ethan bought with the first big profit he made after starting his business with Mom’s money. That was when Ethan loved me the most. The deed was solely in my name. I thought we would build a happy home there. I never imagined I’d be the one selling it off in the end. I signed the contracts quickly, finalizing the transfer. The agent assured me they would handle the moving arrangements completely. Only then did I leave. Back home, the housekeeper presented me with the 99th wedding dress Ethan had sent. I hung it on the last empty hanger in the closet. After paying the staff their final wages and letting them go, I circled the date on the calendar, marking the final number: 99. In the blank space on the calendar page, I wrote my farewell letter to Ethan. “Family gone, debt repaid. Ethan, we’re done.” I placed Mom’s death certificate and the calendar page together on the coffee table. Then, I picked up my suitcase, went to the airport, chose a random flight, checked in, and boarded. As the plane soared into the sky, an exhausted Ethan finally returned home. The villa was eerily silent. Confused, he tried calling me. His eyes fell on the note on the coffee table. Just as he reached for it, the cold, robotic voice came through his phone: “Sorry, the number you have dialed is not reachable…” And the next second, he saw my mother’s death certificate. As if realizing something, his hand trembled as he snatched up the calendar page. When he saw the large, stark words written there… Ethan’s pupils constricted instantly.

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When I came to, I was floating near the ceiling, and there was a woman in my house. She looked so innocent. Wearing a perfectly fitted white cashmere cardigan, she stood by the window. On the stove, water bubbled noisily in a pot. The woman skillfully dropped in some pasta, drained it when it was perfectly al dente, and poured a simple sauce over it. Just like that, dinner was ready. Her name was Emily, my husband’s star student. What was she doing in my house? Emily had a gentle smile, a picture of quiet grace. As I tried to process, she moved without pause, setting the table with a familiarity that suggested she’d done this a thousand times. Then, she looked up, a blush rising on her cheeks, and called out shyly in my general direction, “Come and get it.” Before the words fully left her mouth, a tall figure walked towards her. The man strode quickly, almost eagerly. He pulled Emily into a tight hug, holding her with a carefulness that made it seem like he was embracing the most precious thing in the world. Held like that, Emily looked like… well, like she belonged there. She tilted her head back shyly, stood on her tiptoes, and brushed a soft kiss against the man’s cheek. He bent down, capturing her lips with his own. A moment later, they pulled apart, both slightly breathless. “Okay, stop fooling around, the pasta’s getting cold,” Emily scolded playfully, though her voice brimmed with happiness. The man stroked Emily’s hair, his touch full of affection. I couldn’t move my feet. The man’s back looked so familiar. As he turned, my heart hammered against my ribs. A horrifying suspicion took root, making my fingertips tremble. The instant I saw his face, my eyes flew wide open. My whole body shook. The man looking down at Emily with such tenderness in his eyes was my husband, Ethan. I almost collapsed, a sharp, choked sob escaping me. I doubled over, the veins on my forehead throbbing. My trembling hand reached out towards my husband. But it passed right through his face. Oh god. I was dead. All I could do was watch them, loving and intimate, right in front of me. Before… before this, my husband had called me, asking what I wanted for our third anniversary. I’d thought of so many possibilities. Never this. Ethan, is this your third-anniversary gift to me? How fucking special. But… when did this even start? When did they get together? 2 Emily. I’d met her before, quite a while ago. I was there the day she was assigned to Ethan’s team. Back then, Ethan didn’t like her. He even found her annoying. But the department insisted he take on a trainee, and Emily was pushed onto him. She was, well, a bit timid for the job. Couldn’t handle decomposed bodies, wasn’t strong enough to move corpses easily. She created a lot of extra headaches for him. For a long time after that, whenever I visited the medical examiner’s office, I’d hear him complain. “I’m not here to be a teacher. Dealing with the dead is busy enough without them forcing someone on me who just makes more work! She’s not strong enough, what good is she?” I found it almost funny at the time, how much this young intern got under his skin. “Hey, I’m a woman and I became a cop, remember? Got a problem with me too?” I’d retorted. “How can she compare to you? My wife is the star of the precinct!” he’d said proudly. But gradually, I heard Emily’s name less and less. I eventually almost forgot she existed. Until a few major cases hit the city. Ethan started working late constantly, sometimes staying out all night. One day, I made some beef stew and brought it to his office. Emily was there that day, too. They were eating lunch together. “The liver from the cafeteria is actually really good!” Emily was saying cheerfully as she ate. “Know why medical examiners don’t eat organ meat?” Ethan asked, his eyes lowered, his voice deep. “Wh-why?” Emily asked, curious and a little nervous. “Because it tastes a lot like human flesh.” “Whoa!” Emily looked like she was about to cry from fright and turned to me to complain. Ethan just sat there, leaning back casually, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watched. At the time, I naively thought it was a sweet moment. But thinking back now, Ethan was never one to joke around much. Especially not with people he didn’t like. A loud “Crash!” pulled me from my memories. Emily stood amidst a pile of shattered glass, looking helpless and pitiful. Ethan rushed out of the bathroom, water droplets still clinging to his hair, dripping down his jawline. “I just wanted to look at it, I didn’t mean to,” Emily stammered. Ethan glanced briefly at the shards on the floor, then turned his concerned gaze entirely on Emily. “It’s okay,” he soothed her. “Are you hurt?” I didn’t have the energy to watch them. I just stared numbly at the broken pieces on the floor. What Emily had shattered was the only thing my dad left me. 3 Before I met Ethan, my dad was the only person in the world who was truly good to me. My mom didn’t like me. She’d dropped out of school early herself to work for my uncle, suffering all kinds of hardships. She couldn’t stand seeing me have it easier; she wanted me to taste the bitterness she had. When I was in middle school, she wanted me to quit and save the money for my brother’s after-school activities. My dad wouldn’t allow it. He thought it was about money, so he worked extra jobs tirelessly. Later, exhausted, he died in the line of duty during a mission. After Dad passed away, Mom finally had her excuse. She blamed his death on me. My life got even harder. One day, I came home and saw her rummaging through Dad’s belongings. Anything valuable had long been sold off, except for a few certificates and his service award trophy. “Marrying you was the worst luck ever! Dead and still broke! And I gave you kids… you just couldn’t wait to check out, leaving me with this mess!” After venting, she spotted the yellow metal base of the trophy and her face lit up with a sudden grin. She thought it was gold. She wanted to sell it. I immediately snatched it away. “No! You can’t touch this!” Seeing me grab it, she flew into a rage and kicked at me. “You brat! Your brother’s starving, and you’re hoarding this piece of junk? You ungrateful little bitch, worthless girl!” Her fists rained down on me like hail. She clawed and scratched, her nails leaving bloody trails on my skin. I hadn’t eaten properly in ages. I couldn’t fight back. All I could do was cry out, hoping someone outside would help. Soon, my cries attracted a crowd. Ethan was among them. Ethan was different from me. He came from a well-educated, respected family of doctors and academics. His parents were loving; he grew up surrounded by affection. He never lacked money. I, on the other hand, was always covered in bruises, constantly hungry. Besides my school uniform, all I owned were ill-fitting, worn-out clothes. But him? Always clean sneakers, always neat, well-fitting clothes. The crowd criticized my mother, but no one paid attention to me. Except Ethan. He gently took my hand. “I have medicine at my place. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I still remember how carefully he avoided my wounds. His touch was so light, it felt like the cuts didn’t even hurt anymore. Yet, it also felt incredibly strong, heavy enough to effortlessly pull me up from the ground. Seeing me about to leave, Mom started screaming curses. “You worthless thing, put that trophy down! I must have done something terrible in a past life to birth such a heartless creature!” With that, she lunged at me, claws out, trying to grab the trophy. I stumbled back. Ethan stepped in front of me. He spoke coldly, “You want to mess with a hero’s award? What, you want to go to jail? Don’t you know you can’t touch national honors medals?” Just a teenager, but radiating confidence. My mother, hearing him, got scared. She hadn’t had much schooling and didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but she instinctively believed him. Still, her mouth didn’t stop spewing insults at me. “Jenna! Already learned how to hook up with boys and turn against your own mother, huh?! You cheap trash, worse than a streetwalker!” It wasn’t the first time she’d cursed me, but it was the first time it had been that vile. But I didn’t care. I had saved Dad’s medal. Ethan frowned. I felt ashamed, unable to look at him. The next second, he covered my ears with his hands. The world went silent. Only my own heartbeat echoed, loud as a drum. This was my most humiliating memory. Ethan knew it better than anyone. He knew I valued that trophy more than my own life! I watched him step over the shards, carefully lifting Emily’s hand like it was a treasure, inspecting the cut on her finger. In the dim light, I saw him frown, saw the pain in his expression – for her. Even knowing he’d changed, that he didn’t love me anymore, my heart ached fiercely at that moment. Emily sniffled quietly. “What do we do? I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to see…” “It’s okay,” Ethan comforted her. “Is this thing important?” “No, it’s not important.” Emily’s tears turned to smiles, and she nestled happily into Ethan’s arms. To console this woman he’d known for only a few months, he ruthlessly discarded our ten years together. Ultimately, I was just a poor judge of character. This was the only memento my dad left me, and he said it wasn’t important? Not important! I told him once, this was more important than my life. 4 After sweeping the scattered fragments into a dustpan and then into a trash bag, Ethan paused, staring at the bag thoughtfully. Finally, he placed the trash bag containing the pieces in a corner, separate from the rest of the garbage. He sat down on the sofa, his gaze fixed on that corner, lost in thought. When Emily came out after her shower, she noticed the bag by the wall. “Should we take that out when we leave?” she asked Ethan, who was still on the couch. “No need. Leave it; I’ll handle it.” For some reason, Ethan didn’t throw the pieces away immediately. He kept them. But soon enough, the two of them were wrapped tightly in each other’s arms again. I stood beside the trash bag, wanting desperately to tear open the black plastic, to touch the fragments of the trophy, the pieces that held my father’s name. But my hand passed through the bag, through the shards, over and over. Utterly futile. At that moment, a wave of helplessness and despair washed over me. And those two cheating dogs were right there, whispering and cuddling. I wanted to kill them. Any way possible. I lunged towards them in fury, wanting to claw their faces. They remained completely undisturbed. I hated it. I felt sick to my stomach. Looking at their ugly faces, I couldn’t stand being near them for another second. I desperately tried to flee the room. But when I reached the doorway, I hit an invisible barrier and bounced back. Frustrated, I tried again and again, only to end up like a dead fish, sprawled on the floor. I understood then. I couldn’t get too far away from Ethan. I was trapped near him. How ironic. Watching the couple on the sofa behind me, utterly powerless. The man who once swore eternal love to me was now holding another woman. It was laughable. Jenna, oh Jenna, you were so blind. I watched Ethan’s hand on Emily’s waist, watched him kiss the small cut on her fingertip, his eyes full of devotion. “Does it still hurt?” His voice was low, magnetic – the voice I knew so well. Whenever I got hurt, he would comfort me softly just like that. Except my injuries were knife wounds, sprains, torn muscles… Emily’s was just a tiny scratch. The scene unfolding before me made my stomach churn. I felt like throwing up again. “Ethan…” Emily began, her eyes misty, but Ethan silenced her unfinished words with his mouth. “Didn’t we talk about this? Call me by my name when no one else is around. I don’t want to be just your mentor, Emily. Not only your mentor.” Responding to him, Emily tilted her neck back, returning his kiss passionately. A shrill ringing suddenly pierced the air. Startled, as if caught doing something illicit, both looked annoyed. Ethan moved to answer the phone, but Emily clung to him, protesting. The ringing, however, showed no sign of stopping. Reluctantly, Ethan stood up and checked the caller ID. “It’s the office. Probably a new case.” He put the call on speaker, so I could hear too. “This one’s bad, Ethan. Get back here, quick!” The voice on the other end sounded urgent. 5 I was forced to follow Ethan to the medical examiner’s office. Emily trailed close behind him. The office was chaotic, everyone rushing around. No one seemed to notice anything unusual between Ethan and Emily. An emergency meeting was called to handle the body parts forensics had sent over, to assign the autopsy. The remains were partial limbs, recently pulled from the lake. As the most brilliant forensic pathologist of his generation, Ethan was unsurprisingly assigned the autopsy. Emily would assist, documenting the findings. The moment I followed Ethan into the autopsy room, my heart clenched violently. Staring at the limb on the stainless steel table, I had a sickening feeling I knew who it belonged to. Ethan changed into blue scrubs and approached the table, beginning the examination methodically. The partial limb on the table was just a forearm, bloated and bleached white from the lake water. The skin tissue was severely damaged. Due to the recent heatwave, decay had already set in around the cut edge. The room reeked of decomposition. Emily took one look, turned pale, and averted her gaze, waving a hand in front of her face. “So gross.” It was just the two of them in the room. Seeing Emily tremble, Ethan dropped all pretense of professionalism. He pulled her into a hug. “It’s just a limb, don’t be scared. Aren’t I right here with you?” He gently patted her back, his tone indulgent. “You’re so easily spooked. How can I trust you to handle cases on your own someday?” “Then just keep me with you always, okay?” Emily’s eyes were full of dependence. Ethan frowned slightly but nodded anyway. Unexpectedly, as the scalpel made its first incision on the arm, a sharp pain shot through my own forearm. It made my scalp tingle, an agony I couldn’t suppress or lessen. Ethan’s deep voice boomed like thunder in my ears. “Right ulna length 24 centimeters. Based on ulna-to-height calculation, estimated height of deceased is around 5’5″. Significant outward curvature of the arm… deceased is female, bone age approximately 25 to 28 years old.” It felt like being plunged into ice-cold water. I snapped to awareness, yet felt frozen to the bone, my blood turned to ice, my mind blank. Of course. This was my body. Even though I had suspected, seeing the mutilated limb on the table still sent a wave of profound shock through me. I never imagined I would die like this, so brutally. 6 Even the brightest lights cast shadows. Aside from the faint sounds from the autopsy table, the room was silent. The examination was nearing its end. Ethan was patiently reviewing the autopsy report details with Emily, explaining everything meticulously, point by point. I stumbled towards the unrecognizable limb. An old scar on it, reopened and uglier than ever due to the prolonged immersion in water, gaped open. That scar… I got it a year ago, slashed by a criminal while on duty. I remember sweating from the pain, bleeding heavily. It took ten stitches to close. I hadn’t made a sound then, just gritted my teeth, my sweat-soaked hair plastered to my face. Ethan had burst into the emergency room then. He was frantic, hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes, beads of sweat on his nose as he ran in. The moment he saw me, his face went whiter than mine. The moment I saw him, the throbbing pain in my arm seemed to lessen. But his eyes reddened. He looked at my arm, wanting to touch it but afraid to. After a long moment, he managed to choke out two words. “Does it hurt?” I hadn’t felt sorry for myself, hadn’t really felt the pain until then. But his careful, quiet question unleashed a flood of tears. Suddenly, it hurt terribly. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” he’d stammered, clumsily wiping my tears, holding me close, whispering comfort. In that moment, I felt like I had the whole world. My eyes saw only him. Later, the wound healed, but it left an ugly scar on my forearm forever. Even though I have a tough personality, dealing with criminals all day, and don’t usually fuss over my appearance, I’m still a woman. Looking at that hideous scar, I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Ethan noticed my discomfort. He took my arm, cradled it gently in his palm, kissed the scar softly, then looked me straight in the eyes and said, word by word: “This is a badge of honor, Jenna. Like your father’s medal. It’s the most beautiful mark in the world to me.” His words were so beautiful then, like young love, passionate and pure. But things change. No matter how beautiful the memory, it couldn’t withstand the brutal reality. Right now, I truly wished Ethan could recognize my body. We were once the closest people in the world, holding each other through countless nights, leaning on each other through disappointment and sadness. Nobody knew my body better than him. This scar, you kissed it once. Ethan, don’t you remember? I closed my eyes, letting go of that last shred of futile hope. Nearby, the two of them had somehow ended up in another embrace. Ethan, usually so meticulous about his work, was now tangled up with Emily right next to the autopsy table. He didn’t recognize me. They expertly cleaned the autopsy table, pushed aside the instruments that were in the way, and became intimate, oblivious to their surroundings. And my body was right there beside them. That’s my body. I wanted to get away. I felt nauseated. The initial despair slowly morphed into a venomous thought. He will recognize me eventually. Sooner or later, that day will come. He will realize he was fooling around with another woman right next to the body of his murdered wife. I looked forward to that day. I don’t know how much time passed. Emily was sitting again, Ethan hugging her tightly from behind, guiding her through her questions with that same protective, doting manner. Such a familiar scene, so much like how we used to be. Emily pointed to the scar tissue. “Here, the wound on the arm… how did you determine the time frame?” she asked, puzzled. “You can tell from the color of the granulation tissue. It indicates about a year ago…” Ethan ruffled her hair, looking satisfied. As he said this, a flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, disappearing as quickly as it came. A year ago, same spot, same wound. He had called it… the most beautiful mark. After a moment, pulled back from his distraction by Emily’s soft call, he resumed explaining as if nothing happened. Suddenly, the door to the autopsy room banged open. Ethan opened it. It was my old mentor, Captain Miller. He was bringing in more remains. It was my torso. 7 Unlike the arm, the torso hadn’t been thrown into the lake. Aside from the crushed skull and several patches of livor mortis, the body was relatively intact. Because of this, the crescent-shaped birthmark near my ribs was starkly visible. Ethan approached the autopsy table, then froze abruptly. His eyes locked onto my torso.

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It was the weekend, and the whole family drove out to this remote lake up in the hills to take pictures of my nephew for some competition. Suddenly, Kevin shrieked. He had several leeches clamped onto his ankle. I quickly grabbed a small utility knife to scrape them off. The bites were bleeding quite a bit. But Kevin started yelling that I’d cut him on purpose. He snatched the knife and slashed wildly at my face, several times. My brother, my sister-in-law, Mom, Dad – they all just watched Kevin ruin my face, even saying I deserved it. Later, on the way down the mountain path, Kevin deliberately shoved me. My whole family just stared blankly as I dangled from the cliff edge. Not one person reached out to help me. Then, I blinked. And Kevin was pointing at his ankle, yelling, “What is this bug? It’s huge!” I looked over, my voice flat. “It’s nothing. Just flick it off.” “Sarah, move back! You’re blocking the shot!” Through the fog in my head, I heard my sister-in-law, Linda’s, impatient voice. My brother, Mike, yanked my arm hard. “Didn’t you hear her talking to you? Just standing there like a damn statue.” It hit me then. I was reborn. I was back at the edge of that remote lake on the hilltop. Kevin was striking poses by the water’s edge. He wore a crisp white shirt and black overalls, his pale little face looking cherubic, almost pinchable. Who could believe this sunny, adorable little boy was the monster who’d disfigured me and sent me falling to my death? “Kevin, honey, step back a bit more, closer to the water. Yes, right there!” Linda’s camera clicked away, capturing every ‘precious’ moment. The whole reason we’d trekked up this godforsaken hill today was to get the perfect set of photos for Kevin. Mike and Linda planned to submit them to a big casting call held by a media company. The winner got a contract as a child model. Neither of them had a real job. They were pinning all their hopes on Kevin becoming famous and making them rich. This casting call? They were dead set on winning. “Kevin, just a little further back, stand in the water a bit. The light’s better there. Mom, go help Kevin fix his clothes and hat.” Mom scurried over, fussing over Kevin. But before Linda could even snap another picture, Kevin screamed. “There’s a bug in the water!” Linda waved it off. “Of course, there are bugs. It’s nature. Just ignore it and look at the camera!” Kevin was uneasy, looking down again. “It’s crawling on me!” He started stomping his foot frantically, trying to shake it off, but it wouldn’t budge. I leaned in for a look. Clinging tightly to his ankle was a fat, bloodsucking leech. Last time, when I saw the leech, I immediately found my knife to help him get it off. The bites bled non-stop because leech saliva contains an anticoagulant. But Kevin had insisted I cut him on purpose with the knife. He’d grabbed the knife from me and slashed my face like a maniac. I screamed, clutching my face and running, but Kevin just laughed loudly behind me. “You cut my ankle, so I messed up your face!” When I found a mirror, I almost collapsed. My face was covered in jagged cuts, blood everywhere. Kevin had permanently disfigured me. “Dad, please, take me to the hospital!” I’d begged. “What hospital? Just wipe it with a tissue,” he’d said dismissively. I couldn’t believe it. “I’m bleeding this badly, and you want me to use a tissue?” Linda chimed in, dripping sarcasm. “Well, you shouldn’t have cut my son’s ankle. Serves you right.” Mike backed her up. “Yeah, besides, kids don’t know their own strength. You’re his aunt, don’t make a big deal out of it.” Mom pulled me aside, dabbing at my face with a tissue. “Sarah, Kevin still has lots of pictures left to take. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” My heart felt like it had turned to ice. I could only grit my teeth and swallow the humiliation. We finally packed up when the sun started to set. “Mom,” I tried again, “can we please stop by the hospital on the way home?” “We have antiseptic at home. Just clean it up there.” “Mom, if I don’t go to the hospital, my face will scar!” Mike snapped impatiently. “So what if it scars? It’s not like you’re pretty anyway!” Kevin piped up, “Aunt Sarah’s ugly! Scars or no scars, it’s all the same!” Tears I couldn’t stop slid down my cheeks. I bit my lip, silent. Then, suddenly, Kevin pushed me hard from behind. I lost my footing, tumbled down the slope, and went over the edge of the cliff. My hands scrabbled, catching onto a protruding rock just in time. “Mom! Dad! Help me! Mike! Linda! Grab my hand!” I screamed for help, but they just stood there, watching me with cold indifference. Not a single hand reached out. Eventually, my strength gave out. I fell into the abyss, shattering on the rocks below. This time? I wasn’t getting involved. Kevin was freaking out about the bug. “What is this thing? It’s huge!” Mike and Linda rushed over. Even they flinched seeing the leech, fat and swollen with blood. I watched coolly from the side. “It’s nothing. Just flick it off.” Linda ordered Mike, “Get that disgusting thing off Kevin right now!” Mike looked scared too but shuffled forward hesitantly. He grabbed the leech and yanked. It didn’t come off. The leech’s mouthparts were latched deep into Kevin’s ankle, like they were burrowed into his flesh. The harder Mike pulled, the tighter it clung. Kevin started crying. “Daddy, get it off! Get it off!” Mike got rough, gave one massive pull, and finally ripped the leech free. He threw it onto the bank and stomped on it hard. There was a sickening squish, and blood sprayed everywhere. Mike looked shaken. When he turned back to Kevin, he saw the ankle bleeding uncontrollably. He quickly carried Kevin ashore, grabbing tissues to press against the wound, but they soaked through almost instantly. Mike didn’t know that ripping a leech off like that often leaves the mouthparts embedded in the skin, leading to infection and complications. Linda was beside herself. “What kind of bug is this? How could it bite my son so badly!” she whined at Mom. “Mom, what kind of dump did you bring us to? It’s full of giant bugs!” “What’s wrong with this place?” Mom defended herself. “It’s beautiful! Green hills, clear water. The best part is, the scenery’s great, nobody’s here, and it’s free! If we went to some other park, it’d be packed, not to mention the expensive entrance fees. For all of us? Think how much that would cost!” Linda shut up. She might feel bad for her son, but she loved money more. Mom peered closer at the wound. “Looks like a small bite. Just keep pressure on it, it’ll be fine.” After Mike held pressure for a long time, the bleeding finally slowed. Seeing things calm down, Mom immediately pushed them to continue the photoshoot. But Kevin refused to go back in the water. “Grandma, there are big bugs in the water! I’m scared!” “Then just stand near the edge,” Mom suggested. Linda looked around, still convinced the light was better in the water. “Kevin, honey, Daddy already killed the big bug. Don’t be scared, there are no more big bugs in the water now.” Kevin still refused. Linda kept coaxing. “How about this? Daddy will go with you. If there are any more bugs, Daddy will catch them.” After a lot of cajoling, Kevin finally nodded. Mike carried Kevin back into the water, gave him a pep talk, then stepped aside. I watched the lake water, barely covering Mike’s ankles, and a small smile touched my lips. They kept at it until the sun finally went down, and Linda capped the camera lens. “Okay, I think that’s enough for today.” I piped up, “The scenery here is nice. Let’s take a family photo!” Linda immediately shoved the camera at me. “Fine. You take it for us.” Wow. So much for a family photo that actually included me. I took the camera. “Okay, everyone stand next to Kevin. Move a little further in, yeah, right there, the light’s good.” Mom, Dad, Mike, and Linda all waded into the water. They lined up, waiting for me. I deliberately fumbled. “Uh, how does this thing work?” “Ugh, you’re useless.” Linda came over impatiently to show me. “Got it now?” “Yeah, yeah, got it. Go get back in place.” I raised the camera. “Okay, squeeze together a bit. Perfect. Stay like that, I’ll take a few.” I clicked the shutter repeatedly, taking several shots. Linda snatched the camera back to review them. She seemed satisfied enough. We all headed down the mountain together. This time, I learned my lesson and walked behind the little monster. As soon as we got in the car, Kevin started complaining that his ankle hurt. Linda pulled up his pant leg. The spot where the leech had bitten was red and swollen, with a distinct triangular mark. She shrugged it off. “It’s fine. We’ll put some cream on it when we get home.” But Kevin didn’t look fine. His face seemed paler than before. “Mommy, I’m cold.” Linda found a jacket and draped it over him, but he still seemed restless. “Mommy, I don’t feel good.” “Where don’t you feel good?” “Everywhere.” Linda assumed he was just being difficult. “If you don’t feel good, then go to sleep!” When we got home, Linda shook Kevin awake. “We’re home. Come on, get out.” Kevin was unsteady on his feet, but nobody seemed to notice or care. For dinner, Mom made simple noodles. Kevin frowned at his bowl. “I’m not hungry.” Mom tried to coax him, thinking he was just being picky. “Kev, Grandma’s noodles are delicious. Just try some.” Kevin picked up a single strand with his fork, put it in his mouth, but didn’t swallow. “Kevin, just eat this tonight, okay? Tomorrow Grandma will take you out for a big treat.” Mike slurped down his own bowl in two bites. “Mom, don’t worry about him. If he doesn’t eat, he’s not hungry. Kevin, listen up, if you don’t eat now, there’s nothing else later. You can just go hungry!” Kevin put down his fork, looking pitifully at his dad. Mike got annoyed. “Just let him starve then.” After dinner, Linda started reviewing the day’s photos, picking through them, but couldn’t find any she was truly happy with. “We’ll have to go back again tomorrow. These shots aren’t quite perfect.” “Ow!” Mike suddenly yelled, startling Linda. “What’s wrong with you!” Linda looked down and her skin crawled. Mike had four or five angry leech bites on both his lower legs. She grabbed the antiseptic. “Quick, disinfect these.” Mike grumbled, “Too many damn bugs in that lake!” “One last trip tomorrow, then we’re never going back there again,” Linda declared. The next morning, Linda went to wake Kevin. He dragged his feet, refusing to get up. Linda finally ripped the covers off him. “Stop lazing around! Get up, we have to go take more pictures.” Kevin sounded weak. “Mommy, I think I have a fever.” Linda felt his forehead. It was definitely hot. “It’s okay. You’ll feel better after some medicine.” She assumed he’d just caught a chill and mixed up some children’s fever reducer. She had no idea his symptoms were from the leech’s mouthparts still embedded in his skin, causing a nasty infection. If they’d gone to the hospital right then, Kevin probably wouldn’t have gotten so serious. But the whole family dismissed it, bundled him up, and drove him right back to that lake in the hills. Kevin stood in the water again, striking poses as Linda directed. Suddenly,he wobbled, lost his balance, and pitched face-first into the water.

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My wife’s family was worth millions, and I married into it. Her adoptive brother claimed I caused the accident that left her dad in a vegetative state, that I only married her for the money. Just based on his suspicion, I was sent to prison. She broke the hand I used to paint. She damaged the eye I used for photography, leaving a four-inch scar across my face. My mom knelt before her, begging for my release. After getting out, I avoided her like the plague. But she haunted me, relentless as a ghost. My mom spent her life savings to bail me out, but my wife demanded she kneel and apologize right there before agreeing. On the way home, the stress triggered a heart attack. Mom collapsed, and then a passing car hit her. Now she’s the one in a vegetative state. Only when I suffered the same fate as her father did the Vances finally back off. The first thing I did after getting out was sign the divorce papers. I wanted nothing to do with the Vances ever again. To pay for Mom’s medical bills, I scraped together two high-paying—or what counted as high-paying for me now—jobs. I thought I’d paid a steep enough price. But seeing Sarah Vance at the nightclub proved how naive I was. Surrounded by her friends, her gaze landed on me, full of condescending arrogance. “Well, if it isn’t the great artist, Liam? What’s someone like you doing in a low-class joint like this?” “I seem to recall you looking down your nose at places like this.” She pulled a wad of cash from her purse and threw it in my face. “Take good care of my friends, and there’s more where that came from.” I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw trembled. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I just serve drinks. I’m not an escort.” Laughter erupted around me. Sarah’s face tightened for a second before she pulled out several thousand dollars and tossed it on the floor in front of me. “You can be!” They casually rattled off names of expensive liquors, shattering what little pride I had left. That booze, worth more than my life felt like right now… if I sold it, Mom’s medical bills for the next month would be covered. I slowly lowered my head and went to get the drinks. My hand, the one she’d broken in prison that never healed right, trembled violently as I held the tray. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I held the tray out. Nobody moved to take anything. The sweat soaked through my shirt. After a long moment, Sarah finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “How are you going to sell drinks if you don’t drink? Don’t you know the rules here?” My grip tightened on the tray. We were together for five years. She knew perfectly well I was allergic to alcohol. If it weren’t for the scar on my face and the damage to my wrist, I wouldn’t have been desperate enough to take this job. I grabbed a bottle, ready to drink it anyway, but she snatched it from me. She poured it onto the floor, letting it soak into the carpet under the sofa. She tilted her chin, gesturing for me to get on my knees. “Oops, how clumsy of me. That’s expensive stuff. What a waste… unless… you just lap it up from the carpet.” My eyes fixed on the stained carpet. A wave of humiliation washed over me, worse than anything I’d felt before. God knows how many shoes had trampled this club carpet, and I doubted it had ever been cleaned. The manager saw what was happening and strode over. He kicked the back of my knee. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the floor. Stay calm, Liam, I told myself, over and over. This is the best job you could find. You need this. When I didn’t move, Sarah threw another ten thousand dollars, the bills scattering over my head and shoulders. Stiffly, I bent forward, my face getting closer and closer to the filthy carpet, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. The next second, Sarah’s stiletto heel pressed down on the back of my head. My head twisted, forcing my cheek flat against the carpet. The club lights hit the grotesque scar near my eye. That happened in prison. She’d used a pen… the tip had grazed my eyeball as I flinched away in pain, tearing the skin. Emergency surgery saved the eye itself, but not the vision. I lost sight in my left eye. People around gasped as if they’d just noticed. “Ugh, what is that on his face? So creepy! They’ll hire anyone here!” They knew damn well how I got the scar, every single one of them. But they pretended ignorance, twisting the knife. Sarah chuckled softly, the point of her heel tracing the edge of my scar. “Is this really our great artist? I barely recognize you.” Then, she shifted her weight, grinding her heel into the wrist of my bad hand, the one pinned beneath me. The tendons were already ruined, never healed properly, but the pressure sent white-hot pain shooting up my arm. “Liam,” she said slowly, each word deliberate, the pressure increasing, “is this the hand you used to tamper with my father’s car?” She picked up some of the scattered bills and started slapping them against my face. “Still not drinking? Are you waiting for a formal invitation?” The manager, who had frozen nearby, snapped back to attention. He kicked me sharply in the backside. “Drink it, now! These are VIPs! Screw this up, and you’re fired!” He grabbed my head, forcing it down until my lips were pressed against the alcohol-soaked carpet. My skin already burned, reacting to the cheap booze. With my bad hand pinned and the other useless, I couldn’t fight his strength. Sarah leaned close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear, “This is payback for what you did to my dad!” I tried to shake my head, but the manager clamped his hands on either side, holding me still. I’d explained it countless times in prison. The car accident had nothing to do with me. If it weren’t for Mr. Vance, I never could have afforded art school, let alone had someone sponsor my gallery show. Why would I hurt him for money? But no one listened. Because of one accusation from her adoptive brother, Jason, I was suddenly the villain, guilty as charged. I clamped my jaw shut, my lips grinding against the rough carpet fibers. I forced the words out through gritted teeth. “Sarah… I told you… it wasn’t me…” Hearing the old nickname made her eyes flash red. “If not you, then who? My brother? Dad adopted Jason when he was five, raised him like a son, groomed him to take over the company! Are you saying he hurt Dad? The brother who’s always been there for me? And now he’s blaming you?!” “The Vance fortune was practically his already. Why would he need to?” Thinking of her father, her only remaining family, Sarah grew more agitated. She spat through clenched teeth, “Still talking? Guess you haven’t had enough to drink!” As soon as she said it, one of her friends chimed in. “Wow, this carpet really soaks it up! Let me try…” She grabbed another bottle and poured, the liquid pooling and spreading beyond the carpet now. A bitter laugh welled up inside me. When I got the call about Mr. Vance’s accident, I rushed over immediately. He only had minor injuries then. But after Jason arrived, put him in his car, and took him to the hospital… he ended up vegetative. Bitter irony. Maybe Jason didn’t do it for the money. But what if he did it for you, Sarah? I had to open my mouth to breathe, and ended up gulping down the disgusting, booze-soaked liquid. Alcohol flooded my throat, and a fierce itch started deep inside me, my allergy kicking in. The manager, startled by my reaction, muttered an excuse about me needing to clean up in the restroom, finally giving me a momentary escape. In the bathroom, I choked down the allergy pills I always carried, then shoved my face under the faucet, turning the cold water on full blast. Tears or sweat, I couldn’t tell, but my face was soaked. Just as I felt like I was about to suffocate, a hesitant female voice sounded nearby. “Excuse me, are you Liam?” I lifted my dripping face from the sink and met a pair of clear, kind eyes. The young woman was dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes – clearly from a different world than mine now. I figured she had the wrong person. I gave a slight nod and turned to leave. I still had to go back out there and earn that money. But she stopped me, her eyes lighting up with excitement, though she hesitated when her gaze fell on my scar. “I thought I was mistaken! I saw your gallery show. I loved your work, but then… I couldn’t find any news about you.” She flashed a charming smile and held out her hand. “Hi, I guess I’m one of your earliest fans. My name is Grace Norton.” Hearing her name, a vague memory surfaced. That one and only gallery show, sponsored by Mr. Vance… only one person had contacted me afterward, wanting to buy a piece. I’d been ecstatic then, thinking it was the start of my career. Turns out, it was the only time. And the last. The past felt like another lifetime. I avoided her gaze and mumbled, “You’re mistaken. I just serve drinks here.” Then I practically fled. What was once my armor—my art—was now the sharpest knife twisting in my gut. Swallowing the bitterness, I forced myself back to Sarah’s table. A few good-looking guys had joined them now, charming her friends into giggles. One of the women saw me and exclaimed, “Sarah, you were right! He actually came back! Ugh, I lost the bet! So annoying!” I took a deep breath, trying to muster a smile. Sarah was leaning against one of the guys now. She scoffed, “He kissed my ass for five years. I know exactly what he’s thinking. You only lost, what, fifty grand? Just take it out on him.” I bit down hard to keep quiet. My pride was being trampled by these people, and all I felt was a burning, helpless resentment. The woman who lost the bet brightened at Sarah’s suggestion. The next second, she slipped off her high heel, picked up one of the bottles I’d just brought, and poured the expensive liquor into her shoe. Then she covered her mouth in mock horror. “Oh my god, I’m so clumsy! This stuff is so expensive, what a waste…” Her eyes met mine, a playful smirk on her lips. “What should we do? That’s probably, like, two months’ salary for you, right? Can’t let it go to waste. How about this: you drink it, I’ll pay for the bottle. Deal?” “Besides,” she added, “isn’t it an honor for this booze to be consumed by such a great artist?” Laughter rippled through the group. Their eyes were on me, expectant, burning holes in my already shredded dignity. I turned my head, looking straight at Sarah. The woman I’d loved for five years. Honestly, deep down, a part of me still couldn’t believe she could be this cruel. Five years together. We were each other’s first love. After prison, I’d specifically checked at the hospital – Mr. Vance’s condition was stable. There was a chance he could wake up. If he did, he could clear my name. But she ignored my stare, turning back to flirt with the guy next to her. The woman with the shoe gestured towards it with her bare foot, tilting her chin expectantly. I bent down, lowering my head to hide my shame. My whole body trembled as I reached for the shoe. Just before my fingers could touch it, a hand grabbed my arm. “Liam? Fancy meeting you here. Are you looking for inspiration? Could I possibly talk to you about that painting of yours?” Seeing this, Sarah finally pulled away from the guy she was leaning on. She looked at Grace, her expression wary and cold. “I’m dealing with my own man here. What’s it to you?” I cut in, my voice flat. “Sarah, we’re divorced.” She flushed, momentarily speechless. Seeing her caught off guard, one of her friends jumped in, scowling at Grace. “You must have the wrong guy. He’s no artist now. What painting are you talking about? Something Sarah paid for back when they were together?” “I think you’re confused,” another added venomously. “That artist basically died in prison. The person in front of you now is just a crippled bartender. Possibly even an attempted murderer…” She emphasized the word “crippled,” and the blood drained from my face. Not wanting my only fan to witness this humiliation, I just nodded numbly. “Yeah, you must be mistaken. I just serve drinks.” Hearing me admit defeat seemed to satisfy Sarah. Her expression softened slightly as she tossed another thick stack of cash—maybe twenty grand—onto the table. In this age of digital payments, I couldn’t help but think she used cash specifically to humiliate me. Tapping a phone screen just didn’t have the same degrading impact as forcing me to grovel for bills on the floor. Grace watched this exchange, her earlier smile gone, replaced by a serious expression. She said firmly, “Fine. Then I want to buy his services. That should be okay, right?” Sarah’s friend immediately scowled. “Do you know who we are? Are you looking for trouble? Didn’t you hear us?” Grace blinked innocently. “I want to hire him too. I like his face. Since you’ve already bought the drinks, what’s wrong with me taking him?” In the dim light, Sarah coldly pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “Manager? Someone here is causing trouble for me. Do you want to stay in business or not? Have you forgotten who your best customers are?” Hearing her make the call, my heart jumped into my throat. I saw someone slip away, probably to get security. The other women glared at Grace. “Where did this broke bitch come from? Trying to take someone from us?” I didn’t want Grace getting dragged into this because of me. I whispered quickly, “You should go. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” I knew how much clout the Vance family had locally. Anyone hanging out with Sarah wasn’t likely to be ordinary either. But Grace just set her jaw, reached into her designer bag, and pulled out a black card. She tossed it casually onto the table. “Tonight, I’m taking him with me. Period.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392286”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel